Fury (5 page)

The conversation had moved on: The girls were done with Sasha (“
so
tragic,” Gabby sighed), and they’d started talking about the Behemoth, a new, giant shopping center being erected out near the highway. It was halfway completed and six months behind schedule. This year’s Christmas shopping had still taken place at the old mall, which hadn’t been renovated since the 1980s.

Em excused herself from the conversation. The room was too hot; and even though she’d taken only a single sip of punch, she felt as though the room was spinning. She wondered if JD had heard the news. She turned and walked out of the kitchen to find him.

As though he’d heard her thoughts, JD suddenly appeared in the hallway, his weird purple-shirt-and-vest combo making him stand out in the crowd, as usual.

“Hey, Em,” he said. He was holding a beer, and it looked like he’d barely taken a sip. “I just heard about Sasha.”

“Me too. For some reason I just . . . I feel weird,” Em said. “I can’t explain it.” She wanted to talk about how they could have known and how they could have stopped it, but she didn’t want to start crying. And she felt guilty caring this much only after the fact.

Em knew she’d laughed at Sasha’s expense more than once. By junior year, Bowlder bashing was as much a part of the Ascension curriculum as English or math. But it had reached
new levels last week, just before winter break, when someone had plastered mortifying quotes from her email exchanges all over Facebook. In them, Sasha confessed to feeling desperate to be pretty, sexy, smart—which only made her seem more sad and lonely. She wanted to be wanted. The quotes had been up for half the day when Sasha finally noticed that everyone was staring, pointing, and laughing more than usual. Em had seen her holding her bagged lunch in one hand and a soda in the other, staring at an image on someone’s phone screen. Quietly, she’d set the lunch down before turning on her heel and walking away. Her only friend, Drea Feiffer, shouted for her to slow down as the cafeteria door slammed.

And now she had tried to kill herself.

“Do you want to leave?” JD pulled at the ends of his perpetually sticking-out hair and looked at Em seriously.

“No one else wants to leave,” she said, motioning weakly to no one in particular. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“We don’t have to make it into a big deal. Let’s just slip out. You look kind of pale.”

Em looked gratefully up at JD. “Okay,” she said. “Let me just grab my coat. . . . I think Gabby threw it into one of the upstairs bedrooms.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll wait down here.”

Em put down her punch and walked slowly up the grand staircase, which was carpeted but still creaked beneath her feet.
At the top of the stairs was a huge, stained-glass window that looked like something from a Gothic castle. It depicted a sunny landscape but looked eerie with the moon shining through it, casting red and orange shadows on the floor. She turned right and went into the first bedroom, where a heap of coats was piled on top of a queen-sized bed. The room was large and empty-feeling, with almost nothing on the walls. No one else seemed to be upstairs, and the sounds of the party were just a dull throb from below. Outside, Em could see the snow was still falling.

Em shivered. Wasn’t heat supposed to rise? Downstairs she’d been too hot; now she was freezing. She bent over the bed to look for her coat in the dim light coming through the windows.

“Looking for something?”

Em whipped around and found herself face to neck with Zach, who at six foot one seemed well proportioned next to her five-foot-eight frame. He seemed to have materialized out of nowhere—she hadn’t heard the creaking steps.

“Looking for my coat, actually,” she said. “I was thinking about taking off.”

“So soon?” Zach pouted.

“Yeah, I’m not . . . feeling that great,” she said. But now that Zach was standing next to her, she felt somewhat lighter.

“Aww . . . you should get some rest, then.” He gave her a quick hug. He smelled of beer and soap. “Hey, we on for
hanging out over break? I could really use another pair of eyes on my essay. Plus, I will destroy you in Guitar Hero to make up for last week’s upset.”

Hadn’t his hands lingered on her shoulders just a minute longer than they should have? Had he noticed how well their bodies fit together?

Em felt a flash of guilt. She shouldn’t even be thinking about Zach that way, especially not tonight.

“Yes,” she said. “And yes. I promised Gabby I wouldn’t let you out of my sight over the next week.” She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

“Well, that’s good.” He leaned in, smiling. “Seems like you haven’t let me out of your sight at all recently.”

All the heat came rushing back to Em’s body. “What—what do you mean?” she stuttered.

Zach shrugged, still grinning. “Nothing. Forget it. It’s just . . .”

He was being playful, that was all. Right? But then, before she could say another word, he held out his hand, a closed fist.

Em looked at him blankly. “What is—” Before she could finish, he flipped open his hand. In his palm lay one of the silver spiral earrings she was wearing that night. Her hands moved quickly to both ears—sure enough, the right one was missing.

“I saw it on the rug downstairs. I knew it was yours. You were wearing them last week, at Lauren’s house.”

Then, just as Em was certain that this
was
the sign she’d been looking for—
holy shit, holy shit, it’s like Mom and Dad and the stupid pom-poms!
—they heard Gabby’s voice.

“I’m fine,” Gabby was saying in a decidedly unfine manner. There was a loud crash, as though she had bumped into something, followed by a fit of giggles. She appeared in the doorway, swaying on the arm of Fiona Marcus. Her normally glossy, springy blond hair was a mess and her necklace was turned around backward. “Zachie, Em, I’m totally fine.”

“Aw, babe, you’re wasted,” Zach said, and just like that, all the charged air between him and Em was gone, deflated like a pricked balloon. He slipped an arm around Gabby’s shoulders, gently disengaging her from Fiona. “Need to go home?”

Em slipped back into best-friend zone, shaking off—with a bit of self-hatred—the last few moments.

“Where’s your coat, sweetie? Zach’ll take you home.”

Gabby waved a hand in the general direction of the bed, slurring, “Over there. And whatsamatter, Emmie? You look like the Grim Creeper spooked you.” She giggled.

“I’ll find the coat,” Em said to Zach over Gabby’s head, ignoring the Grim Creeper comment. It was the name they’d assigned to some guy who used to go to their school. He would walk the halls muttering to himself and staring too long at people. But then he’d dropped out. His name was Colin, or Crow, as some people called him, and Em realized
with a fresh pang of guilt that he was also one of Drea Feiffer’s friends. Like Sasha. Yet another person they’d all randomly made fun of, just because it was easy. Em shook her head, unable to process it all.

Zach turned to take Gabby back downstairs. Em went through the pile on the bed twice, looking for Gabby’s signature BCBG coat, black wool and belted, which Gabby had adorned with an enormous rhinestone heart pin. But after searching for a few minutes (including under the bed and in the strangely empty closet), Em couldn’t find it. Gabby must have hidden it somewhere and forgotten about it; she’d probably remember when she sobered up.

So Gabby went teetering off on Zach’s arm. He had lent her his coat, which practically engulfed her. Watching them disappear into the night together made Em feel as though she had just inhaled a mouthful of sawdust.

People were shouting drunkenly and trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues as Em and JD made their way to his car a few minutes later. She could see their breath clouding in the air.

“What a weird night,” JD said as he opened the car door for Em. She just nodded. Her brain felt like it was on fire, there were so many thoughts whirling around in there. Zach. Gabby. Sasha Bowlder. Jesus—Sasha. There was only so much she could freak out about in one night.

JD made a three-point turn to head back down Ian’s street. They sat in heavy silence; it felt as though the events of the evening had a physical shape and were sitting between them. Em stared out the window at the evergreens and bare branches, which tangled and became one as she stared deeper into the woods. They passed Chase, trudging toward his station wagon.

“We should ask him if he wants a ride,” Em said, her voice cutting the quiet. “Zach said he was trashed earlier.” She hoped JD had not noticed the hitch in her voice when she’d pronounced Zach’s name. JD nodded and Em rolled down her window.

“Hey, Chase, you need a ride?” Maybe this—helping Chase—would make up for what had almost happened upstairs with Zach.

Almost happened. The important thing was that it
hadn’t
happened. Em hated herself for feeling disappointed.

“No, I’m fine,” Chase said. He looked awful; his skin was pasty white. “Really. Go.”

“Seriously, Chase,” Em persisted. “Just hop in the back. Maybe we’ll make a run to Mickey D’s?” There was a bit of pleading in her voice.

“I said I’m fine, Winters. Thanks, though, really.” Em knew she’d never be able to reason with him. And at least he
sounded
sober. She waved, but Chase was staring at the ground and didn’t see her.

Then, as they rounded a curve, JD’s headlights illuminated three girls standing by the side of the road. Em yelped; they’d come upon the girls so suddenly, and they were so close, she was sure JD would hit them. But at the last second the car skated past them, with just a few inches of space to spare. For the briefest moment, Em made eye contact with one of the girls: a tall, voluptuous redhead with bright green eyes. Em’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt a shock of recognition. It was a combination of déjà vu and that feeling you get when you see a picture of an ancestor who looks exactly like you.

“What?” JD asked, responding to Em’s involuntary cry. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I was just afraid you would hit them,” Em said.

“Hit who?” JD scanned his rearview mirror. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“The girls right—,” Em started to say. But by the time Em swiveled around in her seat to look, the three girls had disappeared.

Chase had parked way down the road from the party. He didn’t like everyone to see the old station wagon if he could help it. Plus, the stinging cold air helped sober him up. He’d appreciated Em’s offer of a ride, but he couldn’t handle being around other people right now. What he hadn’t told her was that he planned to just sit in his car and sober up for a while before he actually went home.

Cars passed—thumping music, hooting cries—then became twin red taillights, winking out. As he walked, he could hear engines in the distance. The same ghostly snow that had been falling all night was still coming down. He felt it on his face, wet and soft.

As Chase stood there, not even feeling the cold wind biting his arms through his coat, he had a sudden jolt of memory.
Being eight years old, and Officer Worelly coming by, so many winters ago, knocking hard on their door. His mom answering in her slippers. His mom crying in the snow. Chase not understanding, as his mother shoved him—too hard—back inside the trailer. That was the day of his father’s accident. His first taste of loss.

But with that loss came a kind of relief. He had never liked his father. Chase always believed his father deserved what he got—a fatal blow to the head from a faulty piece of factory equipment. Even at the age of eight, he’d seen his dad hit his mom too many times to feel anything but numb when he found out his father was never coming back.

That numbness surrounded him again now as he walked into the darkness.

Ian’s cul-de-sac was way behind him by now, and he’d passed only two or three houses, all of them dark. No wonder no one ever called the cops on Minster. No one could even hear the party. Not like in
his
neighborhood—if you could call it that. There, you could barely flush the toilet without everyone knowing.

His fingers were numb from the cold by the time he got to his car. He was fumbling with the keys—he dropped them once and had to scoop them up, cursing, from the street—when he heard silvery voices nearby. He peered into the darkness.

“Hello?”

Out of the snowy fog emerged one girl, then two more. Chase couldn’t help but let his jaw drop a bit; these chicks were amazing. The one in front, a redhead with fair skin, was smiling. The other two—one white-blond and a little curvy, the other petite with wavy, honey-colored hair and a scarlet ribbon tied around her neck like a choker—stood behind her with serious expressions on their gorgeous faces. All three of them seemed to be enveloped in some sort of white light; probably the moon playing tricks with the snow.

Or maybe he was still drunker than he thought.

“Hey, sorry to startle you,” the redhead said, stepping toward him. As she did, he noticed a single snow-white streak that stood out from her hair on the left side of her face. “I’m Ty. These are my cousins, Ali and Meg.”

Chase stuttered, “Um, hi. Hey. I’m Chase.”

“Hi, Chase,” all three girls said, practically in unison.

“Our car ran out of gas.” Ty motioned up the road a bit, where Chase thought he could just see the outline of a vehicle. “Any chance you could help us?” For a girl stranded in the middle of a snowstorm, she seemed fairly relaxed. All at once, Chase’s head cleared.

“Do you want me to, um, drive you to the gas station? Or something?”

“That would be great, thanks,” Ty said. “Why don’t I go with you, and Ali and Meg can wait in the car?”

Chase wasn’t one for new age crap—his mom had been to see a psychic a few times and always came back muttering voodoo bullshit, all about “affirmations” and chakra. Nevertheless, for a split second, he felt like this was
fate
—like a sign from the universe. Sure, the party might have been a bust—the Sasha news was pretty much the definition of a buzzkill, and he’d been in no shape to get numbers or hook up—but now he would get alone time with the hottest girl he had ever seen in his life. It was fate, clearly.