Lunatic Revenge (7 page)

“Hey, Lunatic. We saw your boyfriend getting arrested. Are you next?”

Tara glared. “Get out of my way, Prissy. You’re going to make me late to class.”

Prissy didn’t move fast enough to suit Millicent.

All of a sudden Prissy went flying backwards, scattering books and people in her wake.

Tara grabbed a notebook out of her locker and walked away.

“Hey! She pushed me! Did you guys see that? She pushed me!” Prissy yelled.

Two of the girls from the cheerleader squad were passing by right after Prissy went down. Head cheerleader, Bethany Fanning, frowned as her friend Mel helped Prissy up. Prissy was persona-non-grata in their little clique since she’d gotten kicked off the cheerleader squad for cheating on a test. Bethany was not as sympathetic, but Mel still felt sorry for her.

“She didn’t touch you, Prissy, and you know it,” Mel whispered. “Stop making a scene and get up.”

“Well, her crappy boyfriend
still
got arrested!” Prissy yelled.

Tara had been willing to ignore her, but that last shot was one too many. She turned around and headed back up the hall toward Prissy.

“OMG, she’s coming back,” Mel said.

Prissy’s heart skipped a beat.

“Seriously, Pris, what’s the matter with you?” Brittany said and walked off, leaving Prissy to face her fate alone.

“I’ve got to go,” Mel said, and ran off as Tara came striding back, her long legs making short work of the distance.

Tara was so mad she was shaking. She stopped just inches from Prissy’s face and jabbed a finger in her shoulder.

“Here’s the deal, Prissy. It’s a long sad story, but the bottom line is that the police were not arresting Flynn. They’re protecting him. And, they were here to take him back to his mother’s house because his father died last night. Flynn has had a very rough two days. He’s sad. And he came to school to take an important test and now he’s going home and won’t be back until after the funeral.”

Tara shifted the jab to Prissy’s chest and proceeded to punctuate every sentence with a poke. “Now that you know this, I expect you to spread the truth to one and all, because if I hear even one more person say he got arrested today, I’m coming after you. Poke. It won’t matter if you’re not the one who said it. Poke. You’re the one I’m coming after because you did more than your part to start the lie and it’s up to you to spread the truth. Do you get my drift?” Poke, poke.

Prissy couldn’t speak and barely had the sense to nod because Tara Luna looked like she was glowing. It had to be the sunlight coming through a window behind her, but it was a daunting sight just the same.

Tara gave Prissy her best evil eye and then stomped off, unaware that someone else was watching her every move—the same someone with a scar on his face who’d saved her from falling the day before.

It was lunch time before
Tara caught up with Nikki. She had to let her know she and Flynn could not go out with her and boyfriend, Corey, Friday night.

She slid into a seat beside Mac and across the table from Nikki and Penny.

“I heard about Flynn’s dad dying. Really sorry,” Nikki said.

“Yeah, sorry,” Mac and Penny echoed.

Tara nodded. She wasn’t going to talk about the kidnapping at all. The less people who knew about it, the better, especially until the police arrested whoever it was who killed Floy Nettles.

“On another note, did you see the new guy?” Penny asked.

“You mean Dracula’s spawn?” Mac asked, and then giggled.

Nikki frowned. “Guys
 . . .
seriously?”

Penny sighed. “Okay
 . . .
live and let live. To each his own. Whatever floats your boat. Is that apology enough?”

Nikki shrugged. “We don’t make fun of people and we don’t bully.”

Mac shrugged. “Well, I seriously doubt
anyone
is bullying that guy. Did you see how tall he was? And all those black clothes, even a black poncho? OMG! Anyone with a Dracula fetish? Have I got a dude for you?”

Tara hid a grin by taking a bite of her burger. She was chewing and dunking a fry in ketchup when her inner self said
look up now.
So she did, straight into the forbidding gaze of French Langdon.

He was sitting at the table right in front of her, staring at her over Nikki’s shoulder. She started to smile. After all, they’d already almost met, and he
had
saved her from a nasty spill, but the moment he knew he’d been caught, he stood up and walked away.

Tara frowned. That was weird, but then so was French Langdon. Whatever. She poked the fry into her mouth and tuned back into what the girls were saying.

“So, can you come?” Nikki asked.

Tara blinked. “Come where?”

“To the slumber party at my house Saturday night? It’s my birthday and Mom and Dad said I could invite three girls.”

Tara was so surprised she almost choked, then took a drink to clear her throat. “You’re asking me to a slumber party?”

Nikki frowned. “Well, yeah. What’s so surprising about that?”

Tara grinned. “I’ve never been to a slumber party before.”

“You’re kidding. Why not?”

Tara shrugged. “Never lived in one place long enough to make friends who asked.”

Nikki laughed and then high-fived her. “Girl, you do have some life left to live. Do you think your uncle will let you come?”

“Yes, he won’t care. OMG, this is amazing. I am so stoked,” Tara said, and then dunked a fry in the ketchup and popped it in her mouth to celebrate.

“So. My house Saturday at 3:00 p.m. No presents. The party is my present, okay?” Nikki said.

“Deal,” the girls said.

“Deal,” Tara echoed, then asked. “Uh
 . . .
so Nikki?”

“Yeah?”

“What do we do at slumber parties?”

“Eat, stay up all night, watch mushy movies, paint our nails, talk about people we don’t like and hot boys.”

Tara grinned. “I can do that.”

“This is going to be the best slumber party ever,” Nikki said.

The bell rang.

Everyone still in the lunchroom started scrambling, dumping their scraps and trays and heading for the next class.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Prissy was noticeably absent in the halls, and French Langdon seemed to be missing in action, too, but Tara hadn’t given them another thought. She was too focused on telling her uncle Pat about the invitation and wondering what was happening with Flynn.

Tara had supper all ready
to eat, but Uncle Pat was late. Then he called to tell her there was a big water-main break just off Main Street and they’d roped in some extra help, including him. It left Tara with time on her hands and a guilty conscience she had yet to address.

Twirp him, Tara.

Tara sighed. “Not Twirp—it’s Tweet, and it’s still not the right contact. I need to text.”

Tex? Isn’t that a state?

Tara laughed. “You’re thinking of Texas, not text, and before you ask another question, I’m going to contact him. Now.”

Be gentle
.
Henry says he’s been crying a lot.

Tears welled. “I didn’t help make him feel any better.”

So now you will.

Tara’s shoulders slumped. “I will try.”

She picked up her phone, linked to her contact list, and then hesitated a few moments, trying to figure out what to say then realized there was only one thing
to
say to Flynn.

I’m sorry.

She hit Send, then sat motionless, staring at the screen and praying for an answer.

The house grew so quiet she lost touch with the outside world. She could hear a clock ticking. The scent of macaroni and cheese she’d made for supper was in the air, but the thought of food in her stomach made her sick. She closed her eyes, willing her thoughts to Flynn, wishing he was able to hear her as easily as she connected with him. The tears in her eyes were welling faster and faster until they spilled over. Just as she broke out into an all-out sob, her phone signaled a text.

Shakily, she swiped at the tears on her face before she pulled up the text.

Me too.

Tara answered instantly.

Don’t be mad. I can’t stand it.

She hit Send. The answer came back just as fast.

I scared you. I understand.

Tara started smiling through tears.

I saw you. I saw all of it.

Flynn’s answer said it all.

Wow. I get it.

Tara sighed as she typed and hit Send.

Watch your Mom. Watch your back.

There was a pause before he answered.

Really?

Her eyes narrowed. Please, Flynn, get this.

Really.

The answer was swift.

I hear and I heart you.

Tara gasped. Heart? Love? Did he just say he loved her? She typed her answer, but her finger hovered over Send. Was he saying this because everything was so dramatic and tense, or did he really mean it? She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then sent the text.

I heart you, too.

It wasn’t like they’d actually said the
real
word face to face. Plus, this was a serious time. They needed to have each other’s back.

Satisfied that the monkey of guilt was off her back, she left her phone on the end table and went to finish supper. If her uncle Pat didn’t come home soon, she was eating without him. Suddenly she was starving.

If she’d happened to glance out the front window instead of going to the kitchen, she might have spotted a tall guy slipping between an empty house and a stand of unkempt shrubs across the street. But she didn’t, and had no idea the man stayed in place, even as it began to rain, until Pat pulled into the driveway and went inside the house. By then it was dark as he hunched his shoulders against the cold downpour and disappeared into the night.

It was pouring by the time
Pat pulled his car into the drive.

“Hey Tara, I’m home and something sure smells good,” he yelled, as he dashed inside.

“I’m in the kitchen. Wash up. I’m starving.”

She could hear her uncle’s footsteps as he hurried down the hall to the bathroom. She glanced at the raindrops peppering the kitchen windows and then began making their drinks and setting the table. By the time Pat came into the kitchen, the macaroni and cheese casserole was on the table and Tara was tossing dressing on the salad.

“This looks so good,” Pat said. “Anything I can do?”

“Just sit and eat,” Tara said. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m just glad I don’t normally do that kind of work. I think I’m either too old or not in good enough shape. I am certainly glad we finished ahead of this thunderstorm, though.”

Then he pretended to flex his muscles, which made Tara laugh. The end of this day was turning out to be way better than the morning had been.