Poor Little Dead Girls (7 page)

Sadie wrinkled her nose. “Not my type. I hate guys who look like they take longer than I do to get ready.”

Jessica pointed to the football field, where the Graff team was stretching in orderly lines. “And that guy up front, number twelve? Brent Taylor. Grace went to a dance with him last year, and he totally slipped something in her drink. She woke up the next day and couldn’t remember anything that had happened.”

“Scary,” Sadie murmured.

“Oh, and not that he’s available, but we should probably warn you about Finn, too,” Jessica said. “He’s the biggest dick of them all. Well, not you know, literally. Ew.”

Brett frowned. “Finn’s not so — ”

Jessica cut her off. “He used to cheat on Thayer constantly, and he would never even admit they were really dating. Last year he dated like three other girls, then suddenly one day he and Thayer were back together, and they’ve been acting like Barbie and Ken ever since. Thayer of course pretends it never happened.”

“Jeez, who did he date? I’m surprised Thayer let them all live,” Sadie joked.

Both girls hesitated, until finally Jessica waved a hand. “No one you know. I’ll tell you later.”

“So, besides Josh, is there anyone who isn’t a complete douchebag?” Sadie asked, looking out over the crowd of minidresses and blazers.

“Meh,” Jessica said. “I’m sick of all of them.”

Brett smacked her on the arm. “Do not listen to her. There are tons of guys you might like, especially on the lacrosse team. Did you meet Stephen and Morris back there?” Sadie nodded, remembering two guys who mentioned they played defense. “They’re both pretty cool. And single. Oh! And then there’s Jeremy, the new guy.”

“Wait, what?” Jessica perked up. “Where?”

Brett pointed back to where Josh was sitting. Next to him was a guy with shaggy, dark blonde hair. He was sitting on the bleachers with his elbows on his knees, and he didn’t look like the rest of them, like he was carefully considering everything he did, right down to which side he parted his hair on. His blazer was stretched tight against his shoulders and Sadie could see the outlines of his biceps under the fabric. She felt excitement bubbling up in her stomach. Crap.

“Cute, right?” Brett said. “Josh told me he’s really good, too. He just transferred from some school in California. I heard his mom’s like, some major up-and-coming movie producer. She made that indie film everyone went nuts over last year about the guy who ate himself to death on live TV. Maybe you guys’ll have something in common?”

Jessica poked Sadie in the ribs. “Hey, if you don’t want him, I’ll take him. He’s fucking hot.”

Sadie bit her lip. “I guess he’s pretty cute.”

“Hey, the game is starting soon,” Brett said. “Do you guys want to sit with Josh and me?”

“Sorry, we promised to sit with the twins,” Sadie said. “But we’ll find you guys after, okay?”

“Cool, see you later,” she called, then jogged a few steps up the bleachers toward Josh and Jeremy. Jessica waved at Josh, and Sadie caught Jeremy’s eye. Brett said something to him, and he looked back down at them and smiled. Sadie quickly looked away.

She started toward the next section of the bleachers, where she could see Gwen and Trix sitting in a circle of blue blazers. Nice work, idiot. She resisted the urge to pound her fist against her forehead. She was the worst flirt ever.

“He totally smiled at you,” Jessica said, plopping down next to Gwen. “And you just ran away.”

“He smiled at us, not at me. I’m sure Brett was just talking about us being on the team or something.”

“Yeah, whatever. I know when I’m being smiled at, and that wasn’t it.” She grinned. “Don’t be such a pussy. You’re so talking to him at halftime.”

Sadie tried to hold back a smile.

“Unbelievable. One stupid football game and you already have a crush on someone. I knew that would happen. And meanwhile, I’m totally going to end up going to all the events with Gene again.”

“Gene?” Sadie raised her eyebrows.

“Ugh, do not ask. Trust me.”

The whistle blew for the kickoff, and they all turned their attention toward the field. The game turned out to be really exciting, even though Gwen and Trix spent the entire time complaining about how confusing “American football” was. By halftime, Graff was ahead 14–13.

Jessica popped up out of her seat and stood on her tiptoes to peer over the crowd. “Let’s go. You’re not getting out of this. Actually, wait … damn it. He just left.”

Sadie stood up and watched Jeremy’s lanky stride as he made his way down the aisle and disappeared into the crowd. In response, her stomach fizzled with nervous, frustrated energy, but Jessica wasn’t fazed.

“Nachos?”

During the second half, Sadie tried to keep an eye on Brett and Josh, but Jeremy never came back. When they finally caught up to Brett on the way back to campus, she told them he had left early.

“He said he was nervous about practice tomorrow and wanted to go over the plays again.” Brett shrugged. “Can’t say I blame him. I’d be nervous if I was the new kid, too. No offense.”

Sadie groaned. “So I should be nervous?”

“Um, yeah. Especially for the test,” Jessica cut in. “Have you been training?”

“Yeah, I guess. But I didn’t even know about the test until last night.”

Brett frowned. “Well, there’s not much you can do about it now. Don’t stress about it. I’m sure you’ll pass. And if you fail, you just get to take it over again.”

Jessica raised her eyebrows. “You do not want to do that. Trust me.”

As they turned onto the beach road, Sadie looked back and saw the tower darkening as the sun dipped down behind the trees. She felt the knot in her stomach grow a few sizes.

The lacrosse team was the entire reason she was here, and failing the running test would be the worst possible way she could start things off. She would have to do everything she possibly could for the next three days to make sure that didn’t happen — starting tonight.

Over a disturbingly raw block of tuna in the dining room (Brett called it “seared”), Sadie pondered her plan. First, she thought about working out in Ashby’s fitness center, but she knew that wouldn’t be the same. She had to run outside — feel the turf under her cleats so the field wouldn’t feel so foreign come Monday. She remembered their after-dinner curfew and the 10
P.M.
lights-out time and took a deep breath. She was going to pass this test, even if it meant breaking a few rules.

After dinner she went immediately back up to her room, leaving Brett, Jessica, and the rest of the team watching TV in one of the common rooms. She slipped through the door and checked the clock. 8:36. Technically she wasn’t allowed to leave campus after dinner, but as long as she made it back before lights out she would probably be okay. At least, that’s what she had been telling herself for the last two hours.

She changed quickly into running clothes, then threw on a huge gray sweatshirt that hung down past her black running shorts. She sneaked a glance in the mirror to make sure her camouflage was effective. The running shoes were kind of a giveaway, but she would have to make it work. She grabbed a water bottle, clipped on her Shuffle, and headed back toward the stairs.

She followed an exit sign in the lobby down a short hallway until she found a side door. It was labeled as an emergency exit, but no alarm sounded when she cracked it open and pushed her way through.

Outside it was completely quiet, the campus dark and deserted. Still, she tiptoed silently until she made it down the hill to the beach road. When she was far enough away, she switched on her music and let it fill her head.

She broke into a light jog and slowly accelerated as she made her way toward the stadium. By the time she passed the wooden sign in the woods, she was hot and sweaty and gasping for breath. The humidity made the air feel thick, like she was drawing hot steam into her lungs. Running here might be more difficult than she had thought.

Just outside the stadium, she stopped to catch her breath and stripped off her sweatshirt. She leaned against a wall, and the brick spread a cool calm up and down her spine. Her head was aching, and she winced as she remembered the swigs of whiskey she had taken earlier. Finally, she stood up and took another few steps toward the turf.

The game had ended almost two hours ago, and a cleaning crew must have long since finished and left. The field was pristine, the moonlight casting it in a watery blue haze. But it wasn’t empty.

A guy stood on the 50-yard line, hands on his hips with his back toward her. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she could see the light reflecting off his broad, angular shoulders. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized his shaggy blonde hair. Jeremy.

His chest was heaving as if he had just stopped to catch his breath. As she watched, he looked down at his wrist, pressed a few buttons on his watch, and then took off in a full sprint. He ran a few dozen yards, then cut back and sprinted toward the center of the field, brushing the turf with his hand as he turned. She watched, mesmerized as his legs and arms pumped hard through the humid summer air. He was fast — really fast.

He did six lengths before stopping, then checked his watch and put his hands behind his head. He stood there for a while, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. For a few moments, she felt like they were the only two people in the world. Then he turned around.

She jumped and tried to duck back behind the wall, but it was too late. She felt excruciatingly exposed, like she had just been caught spying by someone in the middle of her own dream. He waved.

At a loss for a more appropriate response, she waved back. They stared at each other for a few moments, until awkwardness won out and she turned away. She abandoned her plan to do sprints completely, instead heading back toward the woods.

She ran along the path back toward the beach, and soon the crashing waves were loud enough that she could hear them over her headphones. She turned the music off and just listened to the rhythmic sound of her breathing, the rolling waves, and her footsteps pounding on the gravel. When she ran, she let her mind go completely blank, listening only to her body. She loved that feeling. She craved it. Even if it sounded like something only a hippie from Oregon would do.

She drew level with the Graff tower and slowed to a walk. She had never been this close to the tower before, and for the first time she realized how huge it was. The spit of land it sat on looked like it had once been paved with smooth stones, but now they were cracked and worn, and weeds had wound their way up through the fissures. She stood there for a moment in the dark, staring up at the black, hulking structure. She could have sworn she could see a hint of light glowing in one of the slits that served as windows, but she knew it was just her eyes playing tricks. A cloud had passed over the moon, and it was so dark, she could barely even see where the beach ended and the sea began. She turned her headphones back on and took off back toward Keating.

She was dripping with sweat by the time Ashby loomed into view. She thought about a long, hot shower and hesitated, tempted to head inside. Then she remembered Thayer’s smug smile and thought about how much satisfaction she would get if Sadie failed. Instead she turned up the volume and sprinted back toward Graff.

Near the tower once again, she took off her headphones and doubled over, heaving, against a tree. As she waited for her pulse to slow, she heard an unmistakable sound: the crunch of gravel and the soft purring of a car engine.

Instinctively, she ducked a little farther into the woods. She angled herself so she could see a few hundred yards down the path. As she watched, a black SUV appeared on the road beyond the tower, crawling slowly along with its lights off. It was just a truck, like the kind a nighttime security guard might drive, but still Sadie felt goose bumps pushing up through her skin. She pressed her body even closer against the tree trunk.

When the car got to the tower, it turned onto the little spit of land, curved around the side of the building, and disappeared. She stepped out from behind the tree to get a better view, but the truck was gone.

She squinted at the tower windows, willing her eyes to see another flicker of light or movement, but there was nothing. Jessica had said the tower was abandoned, just some old, empty ruin that was too old to tear down and too expensive to maintain. Sadie cocked her head as she heard a car door slam. Or maybe not so empty.

Suddenly she was very aware of where she was — alone, in the dark, a mile from anyone she knew. The fear moved in quickly, flowing in icy waves from her chest out to the tips of her fingers. Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed, willing herself to relax. She moved to slip on her headphones, but something stopped her. She froze, barely breathing until she heard it again. A twig snapping, then the soft crunch of gravel. Someone was there.

She heard another twig snap, closer this time, and she whipped her head in the direction of the sound. She knew she should run, but her legs felt weak and grounded, like the kind of half-baked paralysis that always happens in dreams. Somewhere far away, she heard the truck’s engine roar back to life, and the sound brought the blood back into her limbs. She took a step toward the path, but she stumbled over a tree root and pitched forward into the darkness, branches scratching at her cheeks as she fell. As her palms hit the dirt, she cursed. Then, straight ahead, she saw them.