B.C. Johnson - Deadgirl

“Luce…just. No. Go, please. Just go.”

I frowned and squeezed her shoulder. “Wanda, you’re not okay—”

“Please. Just. Go.”

She didn’t sound angry. Her words warbled, caught in her throat. She sucked in a breath and looked at me through her curtain of hair. The smile she tried to pull off broke my heart.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Can I go home?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Of course. Yeah. Just let me…”

And I was still shaking. I felt weak, almost dizzy. I ignored the feeling.

“Is Benny okay?” she said, suddenly, her eyes lighting up. It looked like fear, or hysteria.

“I don’t know,” I said. “He got… let me just find someone who can give us a ride.”

Wanda retreated, her arms folding around herself, her eyes snapping out of view behind her hair. I didn’t know what to do. I clenched my hands into fists and left the room.

“She needs to go home,” I said to Daphne. “Know anyone with a car?”

Daphne nodded. “Mostly seniors here. I know a couple. I can…yeah. Do you need a ride, too?”

“No, just get her out of here and try to cover with her parents.”

“Yes, sir,” Daphne said, without a hint of sarcasm. I tried a smile, but she made a face and pulled me into a quick, tight hug. Pins and needles pricked at my broken hand.

Daphne ran downstairs. I searched the hallway for the bathroom and went inside. The bright compact-fluorescents stabbed my eyes when I flicked the switch.

I glanced into the mirror and immediately regretted it. My skin looked translucent—the kind of pale reserved for vampires and the Irish. I leaned in close to the mirror, my eyes wide, trying to remember if dilation was good or bad. I flicked the switch off. Waited. Flicked it on again.

My eyes didn’t change. When the lights turned on, my pupils were already two black dimes.

“Crap,” I said.

With more than a little reluctance, I pulled my twisted hand away from my stomach. A wave of dizziness crashed over me the second I jostled it, and I hurled lunch, dinner, and more than a few alcoholic libations into the toilet. When I recovered and cleaned up a little, I went back to examining the hand.

The fingers weren’t as twisted and awful as I remembered—maybe being trampled in a crowd had exaggerated my perceptions. Still, they were pretty gross. The index finger made a side-ways snake shape, the middle finger popped forward then back again, and the ring finger looked…mushy? The skin was torn on all three from the impact of the foot, and they were all red, purple, blue, and yellow. Some blood spattered my hand, but I didn’t think from any compound fractures. Mostly just the tearing.

I took another few moments to hurl. When I was finished I was shaking, and cold sweat ran in rivulets down my back. My forehead positively glistened. I took a deep breath, and the room began to spin. Not good . I cleaned up again, swirled enough Listerine to get me a little buzzed, and dug through the medicine cabinet and under the sink. Success! I tugged out the first aid kit, swallowed a handful of aspirin, and wrapped my Fangoria hand in a long roll of Ace bandages.

Wrapping the fingers was the worst part. Every tiny motion, every rasp of skin against bandage sent a wave of misery rolling up my entire body.

I went downstairs, not surprised to see the party clearing out. The crowd had thinned to mostly my friends and a few stragglers. Benny sat on the couch as Sara and Morgan attended to him. He looked thrashed—most of his face was swollen and badly cut up, and the hand cradling his ribs told me he’d probably taken a hard hit there as well. Zack stood above them all, his arms crossed, his eyes going between Benny, the door, and the ground.

Daphne stood in the corner with a catatonic-looking Wanda. Wanda had been wrapped in some guy’s huge puffy coat, and she hugged herself and stared off serenely at some phantom landscape. Daphne whispered in low tones to some senior guy I didn’t recognize, and he looked both annoyed and compliant. Daphne had that effect on people.

I didn’t make it three steps before Zack caught sight of me. He ran to meet me at the foot of the stairs, and despite everything, I smiled. Stupid hero idiot.

“Are you okay, Luce? Sara said—”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just got a little crowd-stomped. It looked worse than it was.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sara look up in stark disbelief. I waved my bandaged hand at her and tried to ignore the searing flashes caused by the sudden movement. She frowned but went back to patching up Benny.

Zack didn’t look convinced either.

“Mind if I see it?”

I frowned. “Yes, I do. A lady has some secrets, you know.”

“Wounds are not secrets.”

“Well…mine are,” I said. “Take it or leave it.”

The witty banter was really pushing my concentration. Mostly I wanted to ralph again or lie down and pass out. The pain, much to my chagrin, was getting worse, and harder to think past. That and my knees shook with every step. How bad was shock? I couldn’t remember if shock could actually kill you. Then again, could I even be killed? I moaned to myself and pushed that entangling thought away.

“You don’t look—” he began.

“Zack. Watch it.”

“I mean, you look lovely. Just like a lovely person…who needs to go the hospital.”

I smirked. “Thanks?”

Zack sighed, and his forehead wrinkled up. I took the last few steps down the stairs, and I don’t know if it was the weird night, the shock, or the Listerine, but I folded myself into his arms and rested my head on his chest. For a terrifying moment he didn’t move, and I sucked in a slow shallow breath that just might precede shameful weeping. Not enough breath to do my mind-peeking trick, I noticed distantly. Before I could embarrass myself anymore, however, he slipped his arms across my back and pulled me in closer.

Heaven. No question. He smelled like…I don’t even know. But it was wonderful, masculine and natural. The warmth of his chest made me shiver. He dragged his fingers through my hair, and I let out the most contented sigh of my whole life.

I didn’t expect it to last long, and the universe made sure to grant my wish. He held me close to him as Daphne and her senior friend took Wanda away. I wanted to say something to her, but I didn’t think I had words for it. And I didn’t think she had ears for it. It looked like I could have told her she’d won the lottery and her face wouldn’t twitch. In that moment, I wanted to end Tyler’s life.

As time spun out like taffy in Zack’s arms, I drifted away—let myself wander.

Three light taps on the front door woke me up. I felt Zack tense against me.

“Did anyone call the cops?” I heard Benny mumble from the couch.

“I don’t think so,” Zack said.

Sara, closest to the door, moved cautiously to the peep hole. She put her face against it, pulled away, and then checked again. Three light taps rang out again.

“It’s some…weird looking guy.”

I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Morgan glanced up at me from the couch, and we exchanged what could only be described as an oh crap look. We’d completely forgotten about Puck. Still, was I really ready to out myself in front of all of my friends?

No.

“Morgan…could you—”

“Yeah,” Morgan said, and stood up. “It’s just my…uncle. He gave me the ride. Luce, come say hi. He hasn’t seen you in forever.”

I raised my eyebrows. Morgan Veers—super-spy.

“Are you gonna leave?” Benny asked through swollen lips.

“No,” Morgan said, and flashed a dazzling smile. God she deserved an Oscar. “He’s probably just worried. I’ll explain the, uh, sudden exodus and be right back.”