By the Pale Moonlight (Book One of the Moonlight Series) (4 page)

I raised a brow and gave David a questioning
look. "What's going on?"

He shrugged. "Beats me."

Mrs. Kramer's voice interrupted. "I apologize
for being unable to offer further information at this time. Good
afternoon and be safe."

The speaker sputtered off and the room
erupted into complete chaos. Not a worried kind, but a "we get the
rest of the day off, so let's party" type. I must admit the thought
of having the afternoon off sounded great. It would allow me a
chance to corner Ty and, if necessary, beat the truth out of
him.

David swooped in for a quick kiss. "I guess I
better escort you home. After all, I wouldn't want to leave you
unaccompanied." He said the last in a macabre voice. I smacked his
arm.

"First I want to stop in to see my mom. Maybe
she knows what's up."

Tossing my schoolbag over a shoulder, I laced
my fingers with his and tugged him out of his seat. We pushed
through the crowd of students clustered in the hallway, no one in
any apparent hurry to go anywhere. David slapped high-fives with
several of his buddies we passed along the way, and eventually I
dropped his hand and continued on alone. I found my mother inside
her empty classroom. She had a free fifth period and, from the
looks of it, had been grading essays when the announcement was
made.

A lock of auburn hair fell across her eyes as
she hurriedly stuffed papers in her briefcase. I couldn't help but
smile. I'd be the first to admit my mom was a babe. Everyone said I
took after her, but frankly I didn't see it. Sure, we shared the
same auburn hair and green eyes, but I lacked her grace and style.
I always felt like an awkward pre-teen beside her—just hoping to
catch up.

"Mom?"

She jumped at the sound of my voice.
"Makenna! I'm glad you're here. If you give me just a few minutes,
I'll give you a ride home."

"That's okay. I'm going with David." I picked
up a paper that had wafted to the ground beside her. "What's going
on?"

Something in her eyes made me nervous. She
closed the door before taking a shaky breath to speak in hushed
tones. "A student's been killed."

A small tremor went through me. That's why
Mrs. Kramer seemed so out of it. "When? Who?" Oh, God—Ty. He hadn't
been in English earlier.

"Kimberly Urwin. They found her body not more
than an hour ago." She grasped my hand. "I know it's a shock. You
two used to be such good friends."

Guilt flooded through me at the amount of
relief I felt. "Yeah."

I tried to reconcile the image of Kim's
smiling face at the football game two days earlier with the idea of
her being gone. I couldn't. "Do they know what happened?"

"No. It's all rather..." Her voice trailed
off. "We'll talk later, okay? Right now I just want to get you
home."

I snapped out of my reverie. "But David's
waiting for me."

"Then tell him you're leaving." Her tone
brooked no room for argument. "I just have to run to the office
quick. Do not leave without me."

With one last warning look to make sure I
understood, she hurried down the hall.

I watched her until she rounded the
corner.

Kim Urwin...dead?

o0o

"Mac!" Jenna pushed through the crowd and
pulled me to the side of the hall. "What's going on?"

I bit my lip. "I'm not sure I can really
say."

David came up behind us. "They found Kim
Urwin dead under the bleachers."

"How do you know that?" I stared at him in
disbelief.

David tipped his head at a throng of students
surrounding Caleb Martin, a lanky senior known for hanging with a
rough crowd. Everyone's mouths gaped open as they hung on his every
word. He brushed black hair out of his face, and did a quick double
take when he caught me staring at him. A grim smile played on his
lips before he continued his tale for the mob of curious onlookers.
The look in his dark eyes left me a bit disconcerted, and I forced
my attention back to David who didn't miss a beat in his own
retelling.

"Guy over there found her while cleaning up
the bleachers after this week's game," he said.

I glanced back at Caleb, but he didn't look
over again.

Lowering his voice, David leaned in
dramatically. "Apparently she was ripped apart like our friend
Kermit back in class just now. They think it happened after the
football game on Saturday."

My stomach dropped. "Oh my God."

Jenna raised her eyebrows. "At least it
wasn't anyone we knew."

I curled my lip. "Jesus, Jenna. She could've
been any one of us."

More likely, she could've been me. The
presence in the school that night and her death couldn't be a
coincidence. After being frustrated in its attack on me, had
whatever it was gone in search of another victim?

"Yeah, but luckily it wasn't," Jenna said.
She pulled a hand through her hair and scanned the crowds. "Hey,
maybe we should find Smelly and see if the two of them had a
lover's spat."

David laughed along with her.

Smelly was the nickname some witty seniors
had given Melanie Hoffs—Kim's best friend. Smelly Melly—get it?
They all thought it was so original.

The conversation I'd had with the pair just
two days earlier played out in my mind. Even though I didn't get
along with Melanie, I knew she had to be hurting.

"You guys are jerks." I stormed over to my
locker and stuffed my biology book inside.

"Hey, what's your problem? You didn't even
like her." Jenna's voice carried over the crowd at my back. I
ignored her.

I slammed the locker door shut and let out a
deep sigh. Turning, I bumped into a warm body passing behind
me.

"I'm sorr...Ty!"

Ty glanced down at me absently. "Hey,
Mac."

I fumbled around for something to say now
that I finally had him face-to-face. "How are you?"
Brilliant
.

His eyes skimmed over me. "Fine."

"D-did you hear what happened?"

His clothes were rumpled, as though he'd
plucked them from one of the piles I'd seen scattered around his
room. They matched his dark hair, which stood on end, the ghosts of
his fingers having left their mark.

"What?" he said absently. "Oh yeah, I
heard."

"It's horrible, isn't it? Poor Kim."

He locked eyes with mine for the briefest
moment, a sadness playing across his features.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

"Ty?" The soft voice came from behind him,
and Carrie Murgittroyd flashed me a tight smile when he stepped
aside. "Hi, Mac."

"Hey, Carrie," I said, annoyed. As always,
she was walking, talking perfection. From her silky brown hair
without so much as a strand out of place, down to her flawless
figure poured into form-fitting jeans and a sweater that left very
little to the imagination. Her timing couldn't have been any
worse.

Ty quickly reordered his features; the
vulnerability from just a moment before disappeared behind a cool
facade.

Carrie's eyes flicked between the two of us.
"Am I interrupting something?"

"No," Ty said before I could respond.

"Good." She tugged on his arm and tried to
pull him away.

To my relief, he didn't budge.

"I wondered if I could talk to you alone for
a moment," Carrie said, uncertainty creeping into her tone.

"I think we've said it all, don't you?" Ty
carefully disentangled her hand from around his arm. With a quick,
"See ya, Mac," he took off down the hall.

She watched him go and then whipped around to
glare at me. Eyes locked, we were like two scorned mutts warring
for dominance. I turned away first and cursed under my breath.

An arm slid around my shoulders. "Ready to
go?" David asked, barely acknowledging Carrie with a slight
nod.

"I have to go with my mom," I said, backing
away. I felt Carrie's eyes on me as I headed toward the office, but
when I looked back, she was gone.

o0o

"Makenna!"

I grimaced at the sound of my mother's voice.
I'd tried asking her about Kim's death on the way home, but her
stony silence soon made it abundantly clear that she didn't want to
talk about it.

I slammed my calculus book closed and once
again pulled out the tattered photograph tucked in its front cover.
It took me a good twenty minutes to dig the picture out of my
closet, and every now and then I plucked it out to stare at the
image. I'm not sure what I was seeking—perhaps a level of
understanding or forgiveness. Either way, the grinning faces of the
twelve-year-olds staring back at me weren't providing it.

There were five of us pictured—Kim, Melanie,
Jenna, me, and Carrie—taken at one of our birthday parties.

Back then, we'd all been friends—allies who
enjoyed chasing after boys as much as we loved telling ghost
stories and playing with tarot cards and Ouija boards. I tried not
to look, but inevitably my gaze was drawn to Kim again.

"Makenna!"

I slipped the photo back in my book and
quickly checked my appearance in the mirror.

There were dark shadows under my eyes and
slight worry lines around my mouth. Could I have stopped Kim's
death if I had reported the strange presence that night? I had no
answer, but deep down I feared I was at least partly to blame.

Even before I reached the kitchen, I heard my
mother's and Mrs. O'Neill's hushed tones. Their topic of
conversation wasn't too hard to guess, or the fact that they didn't
plan on discussing matters in front of me.

My father and Mr. O'Neill were standing over
my dad's sound system in the living room. An old Queen song blasted
through the speakers and the two of them were engrossed in a debate
about which of the band's albums was the best. I threw them a
feeble wave, and with a deep breath, pushed through the swinging
door leading from the dining room into the kitchen. The smell of
lasagna hung heavy in the air, thick and spicy, and the two moms
were chopping vegetables for a salad.

"Glad you're here," my mom said a little too
brightly.

I snatched a carrot from the pile before her.
I could play along. For now. "What's up?"

"Would you mind setting the table, honey?
We're running behind."

"Sure thing." I began pulling plates and
glasses from the cupboards. "Where's Ty?" I desperately hoped my
voice sounded casual.

"He's not here?" Mrs. O'Neill asked. "I
figured you two were studying."

I pretended not to notice the brief knowing
glance they exchanged, too embarrassed to contradict their
assumptions about our relationship.

"Nope—haven't seen him." My voice wavered,
and I coughed lightly to clear the lump in my throat.

"That's odd. His car's been here all
afternoon." Mrs. O'Neill frowned and started to untie her apron.
"I'll just run over and get him."

"No—I'll go," I said, thrusting a stack of
plates into her hands. They both yelled after me, but I slipped out
the door before they could stop me.

Twilight came too soon these days and there
was little light left in the sky as I made my way toward the copse
of trees separating our houses. Long shadows pitched the trees into
near darkness.

As kids, Ty and I used to play hide-and-seek
in the thick foliage, neither of us daring to admit we were afraid
of the dark. In our pre-teens, we'd even shared our first kiss as
we dangled our legs from our hidden perch in one of the tall ashes.
It ended up being a disaster—all tongue and gnashing teeth. We both
left red-faced, vowing it was the stupidest thing we'd ever
done.

We never told anyone, partly because I
threatened to kick his ass if he did.

I knew the path to his house well, having
traversed it a million times over the years. Even so, I hesitated
at the edge of my yard. The dark thicket looked back at me,
suddenly menacing. I felt like a small child who has awoken to the
possibility of the boogey man lurking just out of sight.

"Don't be stupid," I whispered to myself and
plunged into the trees. I held my breath the entire way, and at
last emerged into Ty's side yard. I glanced up at his dark window
and punched the back doorbell. He'd probably fallen asleep.

When he didn't answer, I pounded on the door.
Nothing. I considered getting their key again, but a noise stopped
me. I cocked my head and listened, still shaky from my trip through
the trees.

A muffled crash came from the tool shed.

I quietly stepped inside the small building.
A loud grating sound assailed my ears. Ty was stooped over a
workbench as sparks flew in the air around him. He had a welder's
helmet and thick gloves on, but there was no mistaking him. Ty
always filled out a pair of jeans well, and the flannel shirt he
wore accentuated his broad shoulders.

He was cutting up metal pieces with some
medieval contraption. A bitter tang settled on the back of my
tongue. What in the world was he up to? Afraid of startling him, I
took a seat on a workbench to wait.

At last, he shut off the machinery and slid
the helmet shield up so he could inspect his work. "I'm busy."

I jumped. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I heard you come in."

"Jesus, did you develop dog ears since I saw
you last? How the heck did you hear me over all that racket you
were making?"

He ignored my question and grabbed more metal
bits from the table. "What do you want, Mac?"

"Have you forgotten it's Monday?"

He didn't answer.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I stared
at his back, long and hard. He continued tinkering with his tools
as though I hadn't interrupted. "Does this have anything to do with
what happened on my porch?"

Oh God. I didn't just say that.

He wiped a sleeve across his sweaty brow and
stared at me for the longest time. "What do you mean?"