NOT FOR SALE Page 6

  She's just tragic, I heard Chelsea say. I swam slowly for the side of the pool. I could haul myself out and sit there, let the warm wind dry me.

  It took a while to reach the side. I put my hands up, got ready to pull myself out of the water, and the just-trimmed bushes moved. There was a flash of white.

  I froze. Water ran in warm trickles down my neck, my ears clearing out. I blinked, but it was dark and the shadow- dazzle of the pool made everything shift weird. I was still there, hanging onto the side of the pool, when he appeared.

  I floundered over backward. Water gushed. My feet found the pool wall and I pushed, hard, and made it away. I got to the middle of the pool and stopped, staring goggle- eyed while trying to stay above the water.

  He hadn't moved, crouching easily on the concrete lip. Same sneakers, same worn designer jeans, same white shirt. Same olive skin, same curly hair, same dark eyes fixed on me. Only now a spark of crimson showed in each eye. When he blinked, the red—it was like a little LED light right in his pupil—winked cheerfully at me.

  "Jesus Christ," I whispered. The water splashed. Goose- bumps marched up my skin.

  "Nope." He grinned. The necklace was a gold chain and a tooth, startlingly white against his throat. "Jack. Remember?"

  I treaded water. If he jumped in, maybe I could make it to the steps in the shallow end. My heart pounded so hard even my fingers felt it. "What are you doing here?"

  "Visiting you." He cocked his head a little. His hands dangled as he crouched, and those red spots in his eyes were so unfunny. "I've been thinking about you."

  "Are you going to kill me?" It was out before I could stop myself.

  He stopped, staring at me. Those red dots blinked, dimmed. "Of course not," he said finally. "Don't be stupid."

  I didn't bother to point out that it wasn't a stupid question, everything considered. "What did you do to Chelsea?"

  His head-tilt got more pronounced. He looked just like a cat staring at something confusing. "Chelsea?" He said the word like it was foreign.

  "My friend." My arms and legs were heavy, treading water that suddenly felt far too cold. The wind picked up, making a dry whooshing sound. "At the party."

  "Ah." He grinned, white teeth flashing, and I began to feel like my head was too heavy. "Did she not enjoy herself?"

  My heart pounded in my chest. My arms and legs stopped working and my vision squeezed down to a pinhole.

  Because his teeth weren't just so pearly white they glowed. The overlarge canines curved sharply down, just like in a bad horror movie, and those red dots in his eyes dilated. My body stiffened, jolted back, and the pounding filled my skull. The dry Santa Ana wind rushed in, and I sank under the water with a grateful exhalation. I'd never fainted in my life before. That was the first time.

  I heard a splash like a body hitting water, and then the sound of the wind filled everything with funny brown darkness.

  I came to lying on concrete. My eyes opened and I saw the stars. The lights were still on. My throat hurt, and I was out of the pool. My skin was drying and my hair was, too, wet curls raveling up into dry frizz. I pushed myself up on my elbows and found out I was alone. And still alive. My heart still beat.

  There were drops of dried blood on my chest, where the swimsuit didn't cover.

  * * * *

  The next week, my phone rang again, the tinkling little notes of "Just Say Yes" filling my room as I sat on my bed with my trig book open. I was ignoring my homework and trying to do it at the same time. I snatched it up and hit the "dismiss" button, then thought maybe I should tell someone.

  Right after that Bebe called. "We're going to the Rose. Come with."

  I looked at the window. It was dark and the winds were still blowing. The stars burned dryly wherever you could see them. "Got homework."

  "You've been, like, a hermit for a week. We're kidnapping you. Get dressed."

  Yeah, no shit I'd been a hermit. I was inside before dark every day, and I stayed there. It was like being a prisoner in my own house. "We?"

  "Me and Jen and JoJo. Come on." Someone giggled in the background, and the doorbell rang. I heard Consuela yell Uno momento! as she headed for the door. "We're at your house, bitch. Get dressed." She probably meant to sound cheerful, but there was a warning in her tone.

  Translation: I was falling down on my social bargains, and I wasn't going to be part of their crowd much longer if I didn't snap out of it.

  So what could I do? I threw on a pair of jeans and a cami, brushed my hair, stuffed my ID and some cash into my bra, and headed downstairs.

  "There she is!" Jenny sang. Her pupils were dilated—she was high as fuck. Bebe giggled, and JoJo flashed me a half- ass gang sign. "I'm on the rag! Hey, your hair looks great. What have you done with it?"

  "Congrats." I whipped her the finger and all three of them broke up. JoJo was high, too. I could smell the weed on both of them. "Hey, Consuela, I'm going out. I'll be back."

  She held her pink print robe closed with one hand. "Should I tell your father?" Her tone hovered between worried and unable-to-push-it-because-I'm-an-employee.

  "He's working late, he won't care." Actually, I thought he was probably with his secretary, but it didn't matter. He wasn't home. That was the main thing.

  "Be careful, mija." The cross at her throat glittered golden.

  "Wow. Tragic." JoJo rolled her eyes.

  "Let's go." I skipped down off the stairs and headed for them, and they scattered out the front door like birds. Jen put her arm over my shoulder. She smelled like Chanel and powder deodorant, and the heavy musk of weed.

  "Dude, you've got a hickey." She blinked at my neck. I almost shoved her off the front step, the dust-laden wind pulled at my hair, and we all piled into Bebe's Mini Cooper. As soon as we did, JoJo handed me a joint and we lit up, Bebe started the car, and I began smoking like there was no tomorrow.

  I couldn't wait to be buzzed.

  * * * *

  Dancing is tragic, but on nights when there's no parties it's what we've got. So we toked up good and hard before we went in, but not hard enough to make us just want to sit in the car. It's a fine art.

  So we were trance-dancing, all in a circle, and Jenny was looking pretty happy for a girl who was on the rag. I didn't blame her. Giving birth to another Marty would be truly tragic.

  The Rose was a loud throbbing womb of lights flashing, fake smoke, kids crowding. We spent about an hour in there before getting the munchies and swarming the bathroom so Jen could replace her plug. We spilled out onto the street and JoJo lit a cigarette, despite the fat-assed bouncer glowering at her. "Move along!" he yelled, and Jenny whipped him the finger. She even kissed the tip of it before she blew it at him. We all laughed and moved down the street.

  It wasn't a long way to Druby's Diner, where all the kids went for noshing after the Rose. I had my arm over Jen's shoulders and we were both singing, just what I didn't know. Bebe was boogeying, and JoJo flicked her cigarette out into the street. "Fire hazard!" she crowed, and that broke us all up pretty good. I let go of Jen and she hooked up with Bebe instead, both of them doing some sort of dance step. There were trembling coronas of light around every streetlight, dust spilling through them. I stopped to take a look and they all went be-bopping on. I figured I'd catch up with them at Druby's. They were my ride home, after all.

  And as if I knew he was somehow going to be there, Jack stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the street. Golden lamplight ran along his curls. He stood there, hands in his pockets, staring at me.

  Same white shirt. Same jeans. Same hair, same nose, same eyes. Only they didn't have red LEDs in them now.

  He stepped down off the curb like he had all the time in the world and ambled across the street. I half expected a car to come along and mash him, but nothing did. Of course it wouldn't. He was too sure.

  He was too real. Everything else was paper and plastic, and he was something else. It was like a hole in the world where something behind it was
peeking through.

  I stood there. Waves of hot and cold went down me. JoJo yelled, and it sounded very far away.

  He reached the sidewalk. Three steps and he was next to me. His hand closed around my arm, and he pushed me around on one heel and we were walking right into an alley opening up off Elm Street.

  Why they call it Elm I don't know. There's not an elm tree for miles.

  He kept walking. It got darker. All the breath whooshed out of me. I sucked it back in. "What are you?" I sounded high, and squeaky, and scared out of my mind.

  Jack gave me a sideways glance. "You know what I am."

  "What are you going to do?" My legs weren't quite working right. He didn't seem to mind.

  "I'm going to give you a present." He stopped. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, he turned and put his arms around me. I was rigid. He sighed into my hair. "I've been watching you."

  "What did you do to Chelsea?" It took all the air I had to get the sentence out.

  "I tried her out. But I don't like blondes." A small laugh into my hair. His breath was warm. "They told me I'd get lonely after a while. They said to be careful. You're perfect."

  Nobody had ever said anything remotely like that to me before. My heart was pounding. The waves of hot and cold intensified, each one shaking me a little. I made some sort of tiny sound.

  "You, I can change." His lips brushed mine. His breath smelled like peppermints and smoky desire. He rested his forehead against mine, like he could read my mind by pressing our skulls together. "But you have to do something, sweetheart."

  "What?" I was drowning.

  "You have to say yes." He leaned against me, his arms over my shoulders, our foreheads touching, and everything else was so far away. Our bodies fit together. The only other real person in a cardboard world, and he was standing right in front of me.

  Had he held Chelsea this way? Did he do it before he . . .

  My brain stopped working. His head dipped. He kissed my cheek. Nuzzled at my jaw. "Say yes," he whispered. "Say it."

  What else did I have to say? There was nothing I could do. I was still following Chelsea.

  It was too late to back out now.

  "Yes," I whispered, and the teeth, long and sharp, drove into my throat. I jerked, my body finally realizing that I was driving it right off the edge of the cliff, but his arms were like steel bands and he still smelled of peppermint and sweetness. I understood why she'd gone with him.

  Anyone would.

  * * * *

  Sunlight. Hurt. Stinging my eyes. I blinked. My alarm clock was making a horrible noise and my throat hurt. I managed to hit the snooze button and lay there, stunned.

  What the hell?

  I blinked again. The ceiling blurred. My cell phone rang again, vibrating on my nightstand. I fumbled for it.

  It was Jenny. She didn't waste any time. "Jesus! Where the hell did you go last night? We freaked the fuck out! What happened?"

  Oh, shit. I wasn't dead. My head hurt like a steel spike was driving right through it. I fumbled around some more until I came up with sunglasses and slid them on. "My dad called." The lie came out hoarse and natural. "He was insane. I had to ditch and go home."

  "And you couldn't call? Or, like, walk five steps to tell us?" She was really worked up.

  "Jesus, Jen, you know my dad." She didn't, but it was a good line. "He said to come home right-fucking-now. I jumped in a cab. My phone was dying anyway. What's your damage?"

  It was the wrong thing to say. But Christ I was tired of putting up with the shit. And didn't she have any fucking clue that last night. . .

  Jack.

  My brain froze up briefly. I smelled peppermints, copper, hot desire, and felt his arms around me again. A bolt of heat went through me. Consuela was stirring downstairs. I smelled the bacon before it hit the pan and began to sizzle. I heard her humming to herself.

  "Well, excuse the fuck out of me." But Jen sounded oddly unrighteous. Kind of deflated. "Are you coming to school today? Did you just wake up?"

  "Just." I checked the time. My throat hurt like hell. I sounded like I had a cold. "I'll be there. See you in class." And then I hung up and tossed the phone back on the night- stand, flung my arm over my eyes.

  Oh Jesus. I wasn't dead.

  What was going to happen now?

  * * * *

  When you've got a big heaping helping of who-gives-a-fuck, school loses a lot of its importance. And worrying about your friends tossing you off the top of the food chain loses a lot of its snap, too.

  But a funny thing happens when you don't care anymore. Suddenly they can't get enough of you.

  Was this how Chelsea always felt? Take it or leave it, who the hell cares, fuck off? JoJo and Bebe both fell over themselves trying to make me talk. They gossiped and Jenny fell back into watching. It was exhausting to be the one they were trying to impress. JoJo in particular would not shut up, and during class time the teachers were talking on and on about shit that didn't matter. None of it mattered.

  Because he'd bitten me. The two scab-marks on my throat, small rough spots under my fingertips when I realized I was touching them, felt hot. Infected.

  And I wasn't dead. I wasn't in a ditch with my legs spread and my throat cut.

  Trig class gave me some time to think. I doodled aimlessly on my paper, sometimes glancing up at the crucifix over the door as Sister Lucia droned on about the wonders of mathematics. I took notes, too, whenever I could focus enough to hear what she was saying.

  I wasn't dead. My throat hurt, a dry sandy pain.

  It was near the end of trig when the idea took shape, slowly, under the surface of utter panic. I guess from the outside I looked calm, but everything was whirling inside me. Like the winds, whistling sharply around the corners of the building. The low moan ran under my thoughts, scattering them like the dust particles that had spun through the circles of lamplight last night.

  But the thought wouldn't go away, and it finally shouted itself loud enough to be heard over the wind, just as Sister Lucia said my name.

  "Are you ill?" Her eyebrows were up, her wrinkled mouth set in a thin line.

  "I don't feel good," I croaked. Convincingly, even.

  She wrote me out a pass to go visit the nurse. "Lucky," JoJo said softly as I picked up my bag and scooped my book and notepaper together.

  I almost replied Bite me, but the words died in my burning throat.

  I didn't visit the nurse, either. I got off school grounds the way Chel and I always had when we skipped, flagged down a cab on Charter Street, and went home. Consuela was out shopping, so nobody saw me when I drank two bottles of Evian and went out to the gardening shed. The water sloshed uneasily in my protesting stomach.

  I found what I was looking for, and stood staring at it for a long time before getting down to work. I almost ripped one of my fingernails off and a splinter the size of Texas rammed into the meat of my left hand. When I pulled it out, a trickle of blood followed, and I clamped my mouth over it before I could think twice.

  I came back to myself on my knees, sucking at my hand, my hips tilting back and forth as I rocked and moaned a little. The metallic tang of blood slid across the dry sand filling my throat, sharpening the thirst. And I surprised myself by bursting into tears. I sniveled until the snot ran down my face while I finished working, then I got back in the house and cleaned up before Consuela got home. I scrubbed at my hands for a long time, the lather building up, and the bubbles went down the drain with a wet chuckling sound.

  * * * **

  "You look sick, mija." Consuela put her wrist against my forehead. "You go to bed early, ay?" She set the plate down in front of me, and the sight of food made me feel like horking like that bulimic bitch JoJo.

  Dad stuck a forkful of steak in his mouth, chewed. His eyes were on me. When he finally swallowed, he set his fork down and took a sip of wine. "You do look pale. Maybe you should go to bed early instead of running around with your friends."

 
; I hung my head and tried to look repentant. "Yeah, I think so. My stomach's messed up."

  He stared at me like he knew what I was up to. Consuela shuffled out of the dining room.

  The sun was going down. I tried not to stare at the window.

  "Eat," Dad said, finally. "You're coming up on your seventeenth birthday, aren't you?"

  I nodded. My hair fell forward. I swiped it back, took a drink of milk, and immediately wished I hadn't.

  "You've got your permit, and you'll have your license soon. Have you thought about the kind of car you want?" He smiled like it was Christmas, pleased with himself.