Amy Ross - Jek/Hyde

Lulu and Jek are science nerds and have been best friends since they were young…or at least they used to be. Lately Jek has been pulling away from Lulu, just as she’s coming to terms with how she really feels about him.Just as she’s ready to see if there could be something more between them.

But Lulu’s thoughts are derailed by a mysterious new guy who’s showing up at local parties. Hyde is the definition of a bad boy, and everybody knows it…but no one can seem to resist his charms. And even though Lulu’s heart belongs to Jek, she can’t deny Hyde’s attraction, either.

She also knows that there’s something not quite right about Hyde. That the rumors of his backwoods parties make them sound a little more dangerous than what any of her friends are accustomed to. And she doesn’t like the fact that Hyde seems to be cozying up to Jek, and that they seem to be intertwined in ways that have Lulu worrying for Jek’s safety.

If Hyde has a dark secret, Lulu is determined to find out what it is, and to help Jek…before it’s too late for both of them.

Jek/Hyde

Amy Ross

For Edna Medora

“If I could rightly be said to be either,

it was only because I was radically both.”

—Robert Louis Stevenson,

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text Lulu and Jek are science nerds and have been best friends since they were young…or at least they used to be. Lately Jek has been pulling away from Lulu, just as she’s coming to terms with how she really feels about him.Just as she’s ready to see if there could be something more between them. But Lulu’s thoughts are derailed by a mysterious new guy who’s showing up at local parties. Hyde is the definition of a bad boy, and everybody knows it…but no one can seem to resist his charms. And even though Lulu’s heart belongs to Jek, she can’t deny Hyde’s attraction, either. She also knows that there’s something not quite right about Hyde. That the rumors of his backwoods parties make them sound a little more dangerous than what any of her friends are accustomed to. And she doesn’t like the fact that Hyde seems to be cozying up to Jek, and that they seem to be intertwined in ways that have Lulu worrying for Jek’s safety. If Hyde has a dark secret, Lulu is determined to find out what it is, and to help Jek…before it’s too late for both of them.

Title Page Jek/Hyde Amy Ross

Dedication For Edna Medora

Quote “If I could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radically both.” —Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

Author’s Note

Q&A

Discussion Questions

Copyright

CHAPTER 1

Now I remember why I hate costume parties.

I’m pushing my way through the mob stuffed into Jared Kilpatrick’s living room, getting shoved an inch backward for every two inches of progress. The bodies surrounding me are wearing far less than usual, and I’m disgustingly aware of their alcoholic sweat pressing up against my own damp skin through nothing more than a layer of black mesh or bondage tape. The air is rank with an aromatic cocktail of adolescent hormones and cheap drugstore body spray, all heightened by the buzzing excitement of Friday night, Kilpatrick’s legendary Halloween party and the promise of a whole weekend to sleep off its excesses.

I have a plastic cup of beer over my head, and I’m trying to keep it steady, but three boys dressed absurdly as some kind of steampunk submarine are crossing in front of me, forcing their way toward the kitchen while a peg-legged pirate tries to manhandle me from behind. One corner of the papier-mâché sub knocks my wrist and sends a foaming splash down on me, the pirate and his stuffed parrot. I curse under my breath, but my annoyance gives me an extra boost to shove my way forward and finally break through to the sliding doors opening onto the back porch.

The shock of cold autumn air raises goose bumps on my skin, thanks to my beer-damp clothes. This polyester lab coat wasn’t exactly designed for Midwestern fall weather—especially with nothing underneath but leggings and a black bra. Maybe Sexy Mad Scientist wasn’t the greatest idea for a costume, but at least I could throw it together with stuff I had lying around the house—protective goggles, latex gloves, a lab coat borrowed from a neighbor, plus about three cans of hair spray to make me look like I’ve been electrocuted.

I relax against the railing and watch the crowd through the glass doors. There’s something about a party where you know everyone but they all look different. Someone will speak to you in a familiar voice and you turn to find yourself face-to-face with Cleopatra or an evil clown or a giant cereal box. It’s disorienting and leaves me slightly seasick. Everyone is disguised, and everyone wants to be noticed. Not that I’m any different.

I turn away from them and lean out over the backyard as I pull my phone from my pocket. It’s too late in the year for fireflies, but the lawn is dotted with glowing tips of cigarettes and joints clustered in twos and threes, and the effect is not so different. The manicured backyard extends into low bushes and then the gently sloping fields beyond. The nearest neighbors on this cul-de-sac aren’t visible from this angle, but off to the left there’s a twinkling of lights from town, the view partially blocked by the twinned hulking forms of Donnelly and Lonsanto corporate headquarters. On sunny days, their curved, mirrored surfaces catch the sunlight and reflect the clouds and green and gold corn fields, but tonight, picking up the orange glow from the town’s streetlights, they look almost eerie.

“Lulu! You cannot abandon me like that.”

My cousin Camila’s voice nearly startles my phone out of my hand. She’s the only reason I even came tonight—these red-cup ragers are really not my scene. When I first started at London High, I used to hit the local scene with Camila pretty regularly. For a while it was fun and exciting to drink our way through the town’s liquor cabinets and hook up with different boys every weekend, but I lost interest in that stuff pretty quickly. People wonder these days what Camila and I see in each other, and if we weren’t family, I’m not sure we’d see much. We don’t move in the same circles or listen to the same music, and while she’s practically famous in the party circuit around here, I prefer nights curled up in my pj’s, marathoning old TV shows. But she’ll be graduating this spring and starting work, and she acts like this means we’ll never see each other again. I know she’s just being dramatic, but I let her talk me into coming out again with her anyway, “for old time’s sake.”

Tonight she’s dressed as a jockey, which is probably an excuse to wear tight pants and carry a riding crop.

“Sorry,” I say. “Thought you were right behind me.”

“I was, but I got distracted by the guy in the horse mask.” She fondles her riding crop appreciatively. “Apparently he’s been very bad.”