Hate Me (11 page)

Do lots of naughty and sexy things.
 

These kisses make me want to be a very bad girl.
 

Do the kind of things I’ve only read about in books.

I mean, it’s dark. We’re not parked near a light.
 

Why not?

Aiden’s ringing phone interrupts my thoughts. He pulls it out of his jacket pocket, looking as annoyed by the sound as I feel.

“Hey, sis,” he says. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Traffic. We’re headed that way now.”

He puts the phone back in his pocket and touches my lips. “Your lips are definitely my bliss.”

“Oh really?”

“Absolutely. Come on. Annie is about to make her big entrance. We don’t want to miss the fireworks.”

Right before I open the door to the cinema room, Aiden gives me a sexy smirk. “Although, I bet there were more fireworks in my car.”

As I hand Peyton the bags full of junk food, I notice Ace and Chelsea standing in front of the big screen. The TV is turned on but the fashion show doesn’t start for a few more minutes.

All of a sudden, Ace’s eyes get huge. I don’t need to look to know that Annie and Jake just walked in. But when I do turn to look at them, I’m surprised too.
 

They’re holding hands and laughing.
 

I start to worry about the vodka.
 

Oh, please tell me he didn’t get her drunk.

But as I study them more, I realize that both their eyes look focused and clear. And when Annie pulls me into a hug, her breath smells more like Jake’s cinnamon gum than alcohol.
 

Ohmigawd!
 

I grab her hand and pull her away from the food table. “Have you and Jake been kissing?”

She blushes and looks up at the ceiling.
 

“Annie! Why?”

“Why not?”
 

“Um, I don’t know. Because you’re supposed to be in a mourning period or something, maybe?”

“If I recall, when you were
mourning
your relationship with Dawson, you got drunk and kissed, like, five guys in the same night.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, we didn’t drink. We were just talking and he kissed me. Just once. Sort of tentatively. Like, he kissed me, then moved his head back and gave me this grin. So I figured, what the heck? I leaned over and kissed him. Once. Pulled back. Smiled. Then he kissed me again and didn’t stop until Peyton called. I was a little irritated when the phone rang. I was like,
Ace who
?”

“Ace’s eyes about bugged out of his head when he saw you.”

“You know what? I don’t even care.”

“Good for you. Jake is awesome. I mean, as long as you know he’s not looking for anything serious.”

She nods. “I think I’d prefer it that way.”

“Are you two talking about me?” Jake asks, sneaking up behind us.

I start to say no, but Annie surprises me when she smiles and coos, “Busted. Should we find some seats? It’s about to start.”

“Front row or back?” Jake asks suggestively.
 

“Definitely back,” she replies, giving him a coy smile.
 

“When did you become such a flirt?” I whisper to her, as Jake grabs her hand and drags her away.

Once he gets her situated, Jake comes back over to get some drinks and popcorn.
 

“Jake,” I whisper. “I know we wanted to piss Ace off, but . . .”

He puts his hand on top of my head and messes up my hair. “Don’t worry, Monroe. My kissing her has nothing to do with Ace. She looks smoking hot. I always thought she was cute. She just, she seems more confident now. It’s sexy.”

Aiden, who was talking to Maggie and Logan, grabs a bag of popcorn with one hand and my hand in the other. “Maggie and Logan saved us seats.”

We sit down and watch the show.
 

The guys are doing a lot of hooting—Dallas, in particular, who is sitting between a couple of the newly-single cheerleaders. Ace is sitting next to Chelsea, but he’s not touching her, and he keeps looking back at Annie and Jake, who are cuddling.

Aiden is eating popcorn, enjoying the show, but he’s not cheering. Instead, one of his fingers is running along the top edge of my yoga pants. Warmth and desire flow from his fingertip to my soul.
 

I look at him and smile.
 

“Your eyes look purple tonight,” he whispers. I lean my head on his shoulder, my thoughts taking me to happy far-away places.
 

“This is it!” Annie says excitedly. “The extended trailer for Abby Johnston’s new movie. I heard it’s really hot.”

I sit up straight, my eyes glued to the screen.
 

The trailer starts out with Mom sitting at a desk writing
To Maddie, With Love
in a journal. The music moves as painfully slow as she writes. Mom looks beautiful as a brunette, but a little ragged. The slow music is replaced by a techno beat and images flash quickly across the screen. Maddie cutting her wrists. A hospital. Drugs on a kitchen table. Bottles of alcohol. Then back to her writing again. Same desk. Same stress on her face. Then techno. Faster images. Happy Maddie. Dancing. Kissing a man in a dark alley. A flash of Maddie’s body. Lips. Hips. Sex in the alley. A bed. Nakedness. Sheets. Smiles. The music changes as we watch Maddie writing again. Then more flashes. Drugs. A club. Dancing on a bar. More men. More sex. The flash of money. Then back to Maddie.

The images are powerful, emotional.

Even though I don’t want to see her naked, I want to see this movie. I want to know how Maddie went from a seemingly happy party girl to trying to commit suicide.

“That looks really good,” Aiden leans over and whispers to me. “We should go see it.”

In front of me, Dallas say, “All I know is Abby Johnston looks fucking hot. We definitely need to go see that one.”

“I’m not sure if I’d like it,” I say to Aiden.
 

Dallas’ response to the trailer upsets me, and I can see why it upset Vincent. Maddie looks like she lived a very wild life. And I know she did. Mom let me read the script last year when she was considering the role. Reading about it was interesting. Seeing it played out before my eyes is another thing altogether. And I know that the movie, though poignant, is also supposed to be disturbing.
 

A little bit sick and twisted.

And, right now, I’m feeling a little sick to my stomach. Not because I’m not proud of my mom, but because I know it’s images like these that set Vincent off.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t hear the commotion until Aiden startles me by quickly standing up.
 

I turn around to see Ace standing in front of Annie and Jake, his hands in fists and his body tense.
 

Whitney quickly steps in between them. “Ace, I think maybe you should leave.”

“I’m not leaving unless Annie comes with me.”

“Aaace!” Chelsea whines. She puts her hand on his back.

He shrugs it off and says, “Get away from me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Annie says. Her jaw is set, but her eyes are filling with tears.
 

Jake stands up. He’s taller than Ace, but not as broad.
 

“She’s not going with you. Do as Whitney asked. Leave, and take
her
with you,” he says with a sneer toward Chelsea. “We’re all just here to have some
fun
.”

The way Jake says fun makes it sound like he and Annie are hooking up and it sets Ace off. He starts to throw a punch at Jake, but Aiden and Riley are there in a flash. They have Ace’s arm pinned behind his back and are out the door in a few seconds.
 

Once the door slams shut behind them, Whitney says, “It’s not a party ’til someone gets in a fight. Enjoy the rest of the show.” Then she holds up a few Shark logo flasks and asks, “Anyone care to join me?”

Aiden grabs bottles of water for us and sits back down.
 

“You handled that well,” I tell him.
 

“I have something else I need to handle,” he says with a sly grin.
 

“What’s that?”

He picks up my purse. “Is this the bag you took to St. Croix?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He starts digging through it and pulls out the glow-in-the-dark moon. “I’m putting this back up. Where do you want it? My ceiling or yours?”

“Where do
you
want it?” I ask. The moon and my stupid wish are kinda the last things on my mind right now.
 

“Well, I wanted it on your ceiling, that’s why I put it there. But I don’t want it to mock you.” He’s trying to suppress a smirk.

“I don’t know,” I say. Part of me wants to see it on my ceiling every night and part of me wishes I never had to look at the moon again.

Aiden holds up a finger. “Wait. I have a better idea.”

“What?”

“I know the perfect place for it. I’ll show you later, okay?”

“Okay. Um, I’m not feeling great, Aiden. I think I’m going to head back to my room.”

He gets up, looking concerned, and says, “I’ll walk you.”

When I’m alone in my room, I grab my laptop and watch the movie trailer again and again.
 

Watching it makes me feel nauseous.
 

It’s way worse than I ever imagined. And I know without a doubt that I have to do something about Vincent.
 

And fast.

I text Garrett.
 

Me:
 
I saw the extended trailer.
 

Garrett:
 
Me too.

Me:
 
Are you in Vancouver with my mom?

Garrett:
 
Yes. And no one knows this, but we’ve moved up our timeline. We’re not waiting until Thursday. We’re leaving now.

Me:
 
You’re going with them?

Garrett:
 
Yes, I’m one of many who are.
 

Me:
 
Thank you.

An old map.

12:30am

Dallas:
 
Most everyone took Whitney up on her offer, got drunk, and went to bed. You up for a little adventure with Riley and me?

Me:
 
Yes.
 

I throw on some warm clothes and ease quietly out the window.
 

Dallas and Riley are waiting for me at the clearing.
 

“It’s cold. Are you sure we want to do this?”

“There is one other place we could go,” Dallas says.
 

“Where?”

“You know how the chapel is always left open?”

“I have to draw the line at smoking in church.”

“God made weed, you know.”
 

“I know, but . . .”

“Cool your panties,” Riley says. “It’s not just the chapel that’s open. There’s also the social center in the basement, and we think there’s some kind of special room there.”

“Special room?”

“Cam sent me an old map, a key, and a list of rules.”

“What kind of rules?”

“About taking care of the place. Passing on the key to someone worthy.”

“Why didn’t he give it to Dawson?”

“Dawson may have had a wild summer, but he’s a good boy compared to the rest of us.”

“So, by worthy you mean someone not afraid to take risks?”

Dallas says, “It’s colder than a witches’ tit. Can we discuss this later?”

“Wanna run?” Riley asks, both of them taking off before I can reply.

At the chapel, we go in the front door, up the side aisle, through a skinny door, down a set of stairs, and through a dark hallway. Once we leave the stairs, Riley starts counting.
 

“Twenty-seven. Stop. This should be it.”

Dallas shines a flashlight in front of us. There’s nothing but a dead end. He points it toward the wall on our left. On this wall is what appears to be a memorial stone for a Mary Jane Stockton, who died on April 20, 1920. Dallas points the light toward the other side. Nothing but a blank wall.

“There’s a door back there,” I say, pointing back. “Maybe you counted wrong.”

“Hang on,” Riley says, pulling the note out of his back pocket. Dallas shines the flashlight on the note. “See this? I didn’t know what this was, but maybe it’s a clue.”

I move the paper closer to the light. “That’s a pencil engraving.” I look up at the circular carving above Mary Jane’s name and laugh. It’s a flower with leaves that look suspiciously like a marijuana plant. “Her name is Mary Jane and she died on four-twenty? This has to be the place.”