Eternity (8 page)

He didn’t want to admit that she was right.

“And I
know
you’re not a chauffeur,” she added. “You were invited.” She smiled brightly at him.

JD tried to keep his voice neutral, but he knew he’d already given in. “By whom?” he asked.

“By Ali, silly,” Melissa said. “She said she wants you to meet her cousin later or something. So let’s go already.”

• • •

When they arrived at Pete’s Pizza, Ali was already waiting for them in a red vinyl booth. Her skin shone flawlessly under the reddish lights of the restaurant. She had on a low-cut turquoise tank top, despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly beach weather. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and again he had no trouble picturing her rolling around in a bikini on the beach with cameras flashing. Everything about her was perky and oddly—almost eerily—perfect.

“Hey guys,” she said, smiling.

“Thanks for the invite,” he said as he scooted into the booth, trying not to stare too long into Ali’s ice-blue eyes. He tugged off his peacoat and adjusted the collar of his cable-knit fisherman’s sweater, hoping he looked at least semi–put together.

“I ordered a large pepperoni with mozzarella sticks on the side,” she said once they’d settled in. “Hope that’s okay.”

“Perfect, I was actually praying for a heart attack tonight,” JD said, grinning but making a mental note:
Someone likes to be in
charge.

“Well, luckily you have a nurse nearby if it happens,” Ali responded. “Speaking of which, Mel, how’s your ankle?”

“A little better than it was,” she said. “I’ve been icing it like you said to.”

“And making me run back and forth getting things for her,” JD interjected.

Mel glared at him while Ali laughed. “I bet I’ll have to sit out of practice for a while, though. . . . ”

JD tuned out while his sister chatted, letting his gaze fall unfocused on the windows and the parking lot outside. He bent his head to one shoulder and then to the other, listening for the snapping cracks at the base of his neck. He did that sometimes when he was stressed, despite the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Winters both told him it was bad for his posture or something.

Em. He thought of how much she loved Pete’s Pizza, especially her favorite combo of pepperoni and pineapple. He was halfway through his second set of cracks when he took in a sharp breath: As though he’d conjured her, Em Winters was coming through the door of the restaurant.

“Oh, good,” Ali said just as JD was about to call Em’s name. “Ty’s here!” She waved to the newcomer and patted the bench next to where she was sitting.

As the girl came closer, JD could see it wasn’t Em after all. Her cheekbones were wider and her eyes were green and catlike, nothing like Em’s, which were big and brown and varied in darkness according to her mood. (They got lighter, weirdly, when she was angry; dark and chocolate brown when she was relaxed.) This girl didn’t have the single freckle above her left eye.

But otherwise, Ali was right: Ty and Em were total doppelgängers.

“This is the cousin I was talking about earlier,” Ali said, introducing JD to Ty, who stuck out her hand for him to shake, which made him feel awkward. Maybe she was older? He was surprised at the firmness of her grip.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

“The famous JD,” she responded, as though she’d been hearing about him for ages, which didn’t really make sense since he’d only met Ali today. She spoke with a casual drawl, as if she was from the South or someplace where time moved more slowly. “Meg is going to be jealous!”

“Oh yeah, meeting me. That’s on everyone’s bucket list,” he said drily. “Who’s Meg?”

“Meg’s the third one of our little trio. We’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time,” she repeated. Again, it was an odd thing to say, but JD still felt kind of flattered.

Once introductions were made, Ty joined the group, chiming in seamlessly as Ali and Melissa discussed the intricacies of some dance-tumble move for the cheerleading squad. JD sat back, unable to take his eyes off of Ty. Of course, as soon as he studied her more closely, the differences between her and Em became sharper: her voice was deeper, her mannerisms more extravagant, her laugh louder and throatier. She wore a bright red flower in her hair, and it reminded him of something, though he couldn’t remember what.

He was simultaneously attracted to her, immediately and
instinctively, and put off at the same time. Like he was looking at a mirage, a mist that might vanish if he tried to touch it.

“So, what do you do around here?” Ty asked JD as they waited for the food to arrive. “Other than school, I mean.”

Nothing,
he nearly said, but he could see Melissa looking at him, silently praying for him not to be a geek. So he said: “Well, I like messing around with old cars . . . and right now I’m helping my friend do the lighting for a school play.”

“Oh, cool,” Ty said, flashing him a smile that showed off her perfectly white teeth. “I’ve always been interested in theater. Lighting, especially. Isn’t it funny how one thing can look completely different depending on what light you shine on it?”

The pizza arrived, steaming and greasy, and as soon as Ty took a bite, her eyes practically rolled back in pleasure. “Ummm,
thisissogood
,” she said, her mouth full, eyes wide.

JD nodded and finished chewing. “Pete’s never lets you down.”

She wolfed down the rest of her slice and grabbed another one. “No, really, this is de-lish,” she said. Meanwhile, JD noticed that Ali had barely touched her own pizza.

“I guess I’m less hungry than I thought,” she said offhandedly when she saw him eyeing her plate. “Mel, want to come get refills on the soda? Then I’ll play you at Big Buck Hunter,” she added, pointing toward the handful of arcade game consoles in the corner.

“She literally has no idea what she’s missing,” Ty said when Ali and Melissa had gone off toward the counter. “I’m totally going to have a third piece!”

“Eat up,” JD said. He liked girls who could eat. That was one thing he’d always loved about Em: her crazy sweet tooth and obsession with all things chocolate. “I think I’m done. A little too grease-heavy for me.”

She looked at him seriously for a moment. When he stared back into her eyes, it was almost like looking into the center of a fire, where embers smoldered black-red. It sent shivers down his spine. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve had pizza,” she said, going in for another bite. “You must think I’m such a freak, huh?”

“I think you’re hungry,” JD said.

Ty threw her head back and laughed, but it was different from before. Now the sound was surprisingly hoarse—like the laughter of a much older woman. Like she had dust in the back of her throat. The happy, hazy feeling surrounding JD dissipated momentarily.

“So, how long have you and your family been in town?” he asked. “Ascension’s a little screwed up right now. . . . ”

“Oh, you mean because of all the murders?” She dabbed at her mouth with a paper napkin, leaving a smear of red lipstick behind.

“Well, they weren’t
murders
, technically. There were two
suicides and two accidents and . . . ” He trailed off.  “This is a kind of morbid conversation topic, huh?”

“When bad things happen, you can’t just pretend they didn’t,” she said.

He nodded, reaching for the stack of napkins. “That’s true,” he said. “Although lots of people seem to be good at doing that.”

“Oops, don’t take this one,” she said, whisking her lipstick-marked napkin away from him. “You don’t want to end up like Chase Singer did. . . . ”

JD’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

She smiled, looking temporarily embarrassed. “Sorry, that really
was
morbid. I was just thinking of that lipstick mark they found on Chase’s cheek.”

“Oh . . . I didn’t . . . ” JD trailed off, wondering if he’d heard that specific detail before. It seemed like something he would remember, but he didn’t. “You—you knew Chase?”

“Just by sight,” she said casually.

And just then, it hit him where he recognized Ty’s flower from: Drea’s service. Bright crimson, like the one that had ended up in Drea’s casket.

He was hit with a wave of nausea. “Where did you get that?” he asked, pointing to her hair. It occurred to him that perhaps she had sent all those orchids. He remembered how strange they had looked against the other bouquets: just like droplets of blood.

Ty removed the flower from where it was tucked into her hair and twirled it in her fingers.

“Isn’t it pretty?” she said.

“Were you at Drea Feiffer’s memorial service?”

“For a little bit. I kind of hung back. Were you close with Drea?”

“We were friends,” JD said, feeling his throat constrict. “It’s been a hard week. It just doesn’t seem right. Doesn’t seem fair.” He looked down at his lap. Jesus. This is why he didn’t go out—he’d just met this girl and so far they’d talked about nothing but death. “How did you know Drea?”

“Old family friends,” Ty said vaguely. She held her hand out as if to give him the flower, but when he reached for it she withdrew her hand quickly. Ty spoke again, but softly this time, as though through a sheet of silk. “You mention fairness . . . and I was always a big believer in justice. An eye for an eye, and all that. But these days, I’m seeing things differently. Some things just aren’t fair—you can’t
make
them fair. You know? Some things just happen. . . . And all we can do is let them.”

As she finished speaking, she placed the flower back in her hair.

JD nodded slowly. Her speech had left him feeling a little overwhelmed, like he’d been hit by a wave, or put under a spell. A good one. And she was right. Some things just weren’t fair, and he had to accept that and move on—whether it was Drea’s death or the fact that something was going on between Em and Crow.

“Don’t you two look serious,” Ali said teasingly as she and Melissa came back toward the table.

“You know me,” Ty said with a surprising edge. “Always—” She was interrupted by a low wolf whistle from across the restaurant.

JD swiveled around. Some frat boy in a baseball cap with a puffy beer face and squinty eyes was leering in their direction. Melissa was fidgeting uncomfortably. JD felt the impulsive desire to leap up and cover her.

“Hey, man, keep your eyes on your food, okay?” He made his tone good-natured yet firm, praying the guy would turn back to his pizza.

Ty put her hand on his arm. Her fingers were cold and smooth, like river rocks. “Just ignore him,” she whispered with a flirty smile. “Though I appreciate the chivalry.”

“Guys like that always get what’s coming to them,” Ali said, sliding into the booth. Melissa slid next to JD, and he put his arm around her.

“They sure do,” Ty said, but she suddenly seemed distracted. JD watched her eyes squint just a little, like she was trying hard to remember something.

And that’s when the hacking started, first loud and punctuated, then lower, gurgling. JD turned around. The frat boy, the one who had whistled, was leaning out of the booth, struggling to breathe. He had his hands around his throat. JD couldn’t even
see his face, just the visor of his cap. Everyone in the restaurant was watching.

“He’s choking,” someone shouted.

“Does anyone know CPR?” That was the waitress’s voice, high, hysterical.

JD almost missed Ali’s muttered comment: “See?” He was already getting out of the booth.

He was by the guy within seconds. He hoisted him to his feet, then spun him around to perform the Heimlich maneuver. Channeling his memories of sophomore-year health class, he wrapped his arms around Frat Boy’s stomach, made a fist, and thrust upward. Once, and again. On the third try, something was dislodged, and the guy gasped.

“Oh my . . . Oh my god.” He coughed. “Thank you. Thanks, man.”

A little old lady sitting at a wooden table with her husband started clapping. “You saved him,” she said. A round of applause swept through Pete’s;  JD felt his cheeks flush as red as the back of the booths around him.

“No problem,” he said, backing toward the doorway. He couldn’t stay inside any longer. He was dizzy, pumped from a combination of adrenaline and fear. “Look—smaller bites, okay? Come on, Melissa.” With that, he swept out into the parking lot, relishing the way the fresh air cooled his face. He paced the asphalt, waiting for the girls to follow him outside.

“You’re a hero!” Melissa said, bursting out the door after him with Ty and Ali close on her heels. “That was amazing. How did you know how to do that?”

“Even zombies can save lives,” he said lightly. “Ready to go?”

“Let me just say good-bye,” she said, turning to give Ali a hug.

Ty took the opportunity to take a step closer to JD. “It would be awesome to get a phone call from a hero,” she said with a wink.

He felt the heat rising back up his neck. “I, ah—I don’t have your, ah—,” JD stammered.

“My number? Don’t worry, I have yours. I did my recon,” she said, clicking away. A second later, JD felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

The number was blocked.

Another chill washed over him. He couldn’t tell if it was one of excitement or apprehension or both. He unlocked his phone and read the text:
Guess who?

PROPHETIC, OR ALL THE PRETTY FLOWERS

Surrounded by the chalky-strong smell of gym clothes and disinfectant, Em sat in the girls’ locker room during fourth period on Tuesday. She was cutting class, but this was more important. She was worried about Crow, and his confession about seeing visions had reminded her of the book—the one she’d stolen from Sasha’s locker last month:
Conjuring the Furies
. She carried it with her everywhere and had practically memorized most of it, although there was one section, the one she was reading now, that she’d previously just skimmed over: “The Role of the Prophet.” She remembered it talked about visions. She had to figure out whether there was something she’d missed, some key clue that she’d ignored.

According to the book, prophets were reborn over and over
again through the centuries, living lives tortured by incomprehensible visions, as vulnerable to forces of evil as to sources of good.