Overtaken (7 page)

Chase Cochran grabbed me in a bear hug and planted a kiss on my cheek. He was aiming for my mouth, but I had the sense to turn my head at the last moment. We were in the school quad at seven forty-five a.m., in full view of everyone, including teachers.

“Aw, come on,” he groaned, acting like a sad Labrador puppy dog. “Don't be like that.”

“I'm not like anything,” I replied, gently pulling away, taken aback by his sudden appearance and quite public display of affection.

“I'm single now,” Chase offered. “Still recovering from my coma. Take pity.”

“You seem perfectly healthy to me,” I bantered back, my guard up. “Glad you're okay.”

“Awww,” he said brightly, with the kind of hopeful, excited expression one has on Christmas morning. “Nica Ashley missed me.”

“Don't get carried away, cowboy,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes, hoping to knock his ego down a few pegs.

“I'll take that as a yes.” He grinned, nearly blinding me with his confident, megawatt smile. Some things never changed.

Fortunately, a steady stream of friends and wannabes swarmed around to welcome the prince back to his kingdom, so I took off while he was distracted.

It was nothing short of amazing how quickly Chase had recuperated from his close call with the hereafter. My dad and the team of doctors at the hospital gave him a clean bill of health and discharged him only two days after he had emerged from his coma. And here he was back at school as if nothing awful had happened.

Last time when Chase had attempted to kiss me, he was still dating Maya. For me, that cemented his status as a “never going to happen” once and for all. Besides, he was also Richard Cochran's son and Oliver's half brother, which made him extra toxic. Even worse, I had overheard him betraying Maya to his father. Even if I was interested in Chase Cochran, which I was definitely not, I knew for sure that I could never trust him.

I barely made it a few steps inside the school lobby when Dana spotted me and insisted we grab a preclass latte from the cafeteria. Despite my deep mistrust of Dana, I knew it was a golden opportunity for me to get closer and bond with her. You can catch more bees with honey, my grandmother used to say. Not to mention, I was also feeling awfully draggy from sleep deprivation after my previous night's heart-to-heart with Dad, so I took Dana up on her offer.

“Please tell me you were just playing hard to get,” Dana remarked as she and I grabbed our large to-go cups frothy with steamy foam.

My furrowed brow and puzzled expression made one side of Dana's mouth turn up into a half smile.

“I saw Chase making eyes at yours truly,” she explained with an encouraging wink.

“More like keeping the lion at bay with my bullwhip.” My diaphragm forced up a fake laugh as cover. “I don't think so. Not really interested in joining the horde of hormonal girls vying for his divine attention.”

“Just don't write him off, okay?” Dana pleaded. “I've known Chase since second grade. He might've been the jerk chugging milk for the attention of the whole cafeteria, but he's the same one who stopped ‘Dana Pox' from catching on in middle school.”

“No way.” It slipped out before I could shut the gates. It was hard enough to imagine Dana on a bad hair day, let alone being made fun of by pimply adolescents.

“I was a disaster,” she confided. “Probably could've sold my before and after to Proactiv. No lie. Chase is a much cooler guy than he lets on.”

Dana's honesty was unexpectedly refreshing, giving me a new perspective. Sure, Chase had his moments. Rarely. Occasionally. And he was sort of, maybe, a little bit—fine, absolutely—drop-dead good-looking. But Chase Cochran and me together? Not when Jackson was still deep in my heart. It would be bizarre on all fronts. Hypothetically speaking, of course. As if I'd let anything really happen.

Strolling down the hallway sipping my latte, I listened politely while Dana rattled off Chase's many stellar qualities (loyalty, generosity, hunky body, to mention a few) when I spotted Mr. Bluni in one of the Biology labs behind closed doors. Through the door's narrow vertical window I could see that he was locked in a heated discussion—argument, actually—with none other than Richard Cochran. I was so flustered to see them alone together that I stumbled and nearly tripped over my own feet, recovering my balance at the last second before making a fool of myself.

“Nice save,” Dana said approvingly. Flashing a suggestive look, she added: “What was that about?”

Though Dana was insinuating that my head-in-the-clouds wobble had something to do with Chase, I was mulling the same question about an entirely different matter.

What secret business was Bluni and Cochran arguing about behind closed doors?

My curiosity and suspicion were definitely stoked by my all-too-wild imagination, weaving evil plots worthy of a James Bond villain. It must be more than random coincidence that they were together. Knowing Cochran even in the limited way that I did, I wasn't surprised that he might have hooks into a biology teacher like Mr. Bluni, whose interests ran to genetics.

Which then left me to wonder: Was my paranoia making connections and inventing conspiracies that weren't really there? Or had I truly discovered something beyond what I—or even my father—already knew? There was only one way to find out. And it required me eating a major slice of humble pie.

•  •  •

“So you've had a change of heart, Nica,” Mr. Bluni said brusquely as he strode down the hallway without stopping, barely giving me more than a passing glance.

I'd been hovering by the cafeteria entrance during lunch, waiting for Bluni to make his routine walk by on his way to brown-bagging it in the teachers' lounge. As soon as he appeared, I scurried after him like a needy, slobbering puppy.

“You were totally right,” I admitted with unbridled enthusiasm. “I just had a lot on my mind and wasn't thinking clearly when I turned you down.” I flashed a sweet smile so broad and unnaturally taut that my cheeks began to ache from overstretching my facial muscles. “Assisting you would be an amazing opportunity.” I was willing to kiss a lot of ass to convince him.

“I know,” Bluni snapped back, continuing on ahead, never breaking stride. “Which is why I've offered it to someone else.”

“Who?” Spirit unbowed, I trotted after him, not prepared to concede defeat so easily. I had to convince him to give me another shot.

“Lacey Dane,” he announced.

“Seriously?” Though the girl was in my biology class, I barely knew her and had to think fast about what to do. “She said yes?” The insinuating inflection in my voice suggested that something was amiss with her.

Lacey Dane always reeked of a sinister bouquet of Listerine strips mixed with some pop music monstrosity's signature fragrance. Apparently all in a vain attempt to cover up her oh-so-rebellious but really gross habit of smoking in the bathroom between classes. The heavy-handed aroma that wafted around her designer-clad body was toxically sweet. I could always smell when Lacey Dane was approaching or had just left the area. Odorous excessiveness aside, I had nothing against her.

“Why wouldn't she?” Bluni stopped and stared at me with a sharp, suspicious eye. Head tilting, arms crossed expectantly, foot tapping impatiently. He demanded an answer.

“No reason . . .” I shrugged noncommittally, hesitating a half second before continuing. “I guess she's fine.” Vague but pointed. “Forget I ever mentioned it.”

And then I hustled off, leaving behind a concerned and somewhat bewildered Mr. Bluni scratching his head in the middle of the corridor.

As I disappeared around the corner, I winced and gritted my teeth, fighting off a nasty bout of self-loathing. Had I actually resorted to playing a twisted game of mind-fuck the teacher? Even worse, trashing a nice-enough girl who had never done anything unkind to me? Deep in my heart I prayed for forgiveness and hoped that I wouldn't be struck down by lightning for being such an awful, hateful person, but I had to snag that assistant job if I wanted to find out more about Cochran's plans. Whether Mr. Bluni swallowed the bait remained to be seen.

Strangely enough, as the afternoon wore on, I kept running into Chase in a series of awkward encounters. I bumped into him several times in the stairwell between classes and once nearly collided with him as we came out of our respective bathrooms. It seemed weird. What were the odds of so many coincidences in a single day? Each time Chase made sure to say something flattering about my hair or clothes. Of course, I didn't fall for his phony fawning bullshit, though it was nice to be complimented. And since Jackson seemed to be sticking to Dana like glue every time I saw him, what was the harm in enjoying some meaningless flattery?

The more I saw Chase, the more I sensed that something had changed—something was different about him. Not that he and I had ever been good friends before, but Chase Cochran was a pretty transparent guy. His wardrobe was predictable—J. Crew from head to toe. He liked football, being in charge, and throwing his money around. He also liked bossing Maya around and having her at his constant beck and call. He was certainly not one to betray emotion or vulnerability. And yet that's precisely what I caught him doing.

I spotted Chase sitting alone at one of the picnic tables in the quad after school. At first I thought he was asleep. His head was slumped down toward his chest. Locks of blond hair covered his eyes.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” I teased as I approached. But as I got closer, I realized that he'd actually been crying. I'd never seen him look so dejected and incredibly sad.

“Yeah.” Chase quickly wiped his moist eyes and flashed a phony smile.

“Everything okay?”

He nodded. “Just waiting for my ride.”

Even though Chase had been given the okay to return to school, he still wasn't allowed behind the wheel of his car just yet. Which meant that he needed to rely on his friends, or worse yet, his father, for a lift to and from school. A lift from Dad was humiliating enough when you're twelve—mortifying when you're seventeen.

“You sure you're all right?”

“Of course.
I'm me
,” he said with a sarcastic laugh. Though I definitely saw a crack in his normally invincible, devil-may-care facade.

“That you are,” I retorted, keeping the mood light, not pressing him further. I needed to hustle off and find Oliver.

“Nica?”

“Yeah.” I stopped and turned back.

“You heard from Maya at all?”

Maya? Really? Not what I was expecting. I covered up my surprise and just shook my head. “Sorry. Not a word.”

Maybe Chase was playing me. Gossip around school that day branded Maya's disappearance a “private family matter.” Which was Barrington-speak for don't ask too many questions about what happened. Eerily similar to what was said when Dana vanished. It was no secret that Maya had been publicly losing it those last few weeks, culminating with Chase's near-fatal brush with the great hereafter. The fact that Maya was gone meant that she'd either been sent to stay with relatives out of state, or sent to a mental hospital because of stress.

“It sucks not remembering what happened,” Chase confessed with wounded pride. Stripped of all his usual bravado and coolness, he actually displayed a touching vulnerability.

For a brief moment, I felt sorry for him, the way I might feel compassion for a lost puppy that I found wandering the streets. Then I remembered what a conniving bastard Chase had been before his unfortunate coma. And what he'd done to Maya. Best to keep my distance and proceed with caution.

Just then a car horn honked twice. I looked up to see a sleek black Mercedes-Benz sedan pulling up to the drop-off area. All the muscles in my body instinctively tensed with apprehension. I recognized Richard Cochran's car even before the darkly tinted driver's-side window slid down to reveal him sitting there, flashing that charming but vaguely menacing cobra-like smile.

“How's our boy doing, Nica?” Impeccably attired in a crisp midnight-blue designer suit, Cochran tilted his green-mirrored aviator sunglasses down along the bridge of his aquiline nose.

Our?
When had the man who I regarded as my mortal enemy suddenly gotten on such intimate terms with me?

“Great,” I replied, turning back to Chase, hoping my face didn't betray any uneasiness or animosity at being in his father's immediate presence.

“You're late,” snapped Chase as he hopped off the table and tramped over to the car. I'd never seen him act so testily before—least of all around his father.

“Busy afternoon,” Cochran explained, never taking his sharp gaze off me. “Unavoidable.”

“Always is.” Chase shrugged dismissively, popping open the passenger door, having zero interest in his father's excuses.

“Can we drop you somewhere, Nica?” Cochran eyed me.