Shot Through the Heart (19 page)

“Have you been running in real life? As opposed to when you’re sleeping?”

“Sure. Miles upon miles every day.”

She frowns at my sarcastic response. “Maybe your subconscious craves a bit of freedom. I find it in yoga. Maybe you’ll find it in running?”

“I think not. Do you know how humiliating it is when I run? I’m as graceful as an ostrich.” I pull a cute, ruffled white top out of the closet and match it to a pair of gray shorts. “I’m happy to run in my dreams and leave it at that.”

I’m about to pull on the shorts when Tessa snatches them from my hand and deposits them on the end of the bed, then does the same with the white top. “Not today. Get your running shoes. And I know you have them, even if you don’t use them. Let’s go.”

“I’m not going running, Tessa. I’m barely awake.”

She kneels in front of my closet and digs around on the floor. Her hair flops over her face just before she comes up with the Asics Mom bought me last year. Tessa presents them to me with a flourish, the way a model might display a game show prize. “You taught me that I needed to figure out what matters most to me. Now it’s your turn.”

“Running does not matter to me. I know this for a fact.”

“I didn’t say running matters to you. I said you need to figure out what matters. To do that, you need to clear your head. Now put these on. If you don’t, I’m going to tell Josh what’s on your desk.”

I stare at her. How can she look so innocent when she’s not? “You were snooping while I slept? Tessa!”

“Where do you think Josh learned? At the feet of the master, of course.” Her self-satisfied grin makes me want to clock her. “Making Academic Olympics as a junior? Not bad. But I bet that’s not what was keeping you up last night. While we run, we’re going to talk about what else I saw on your desk.”

“What are you talking about?” I’m no idiot. I don’t keep a diary or draw little hearts on notepaper with my name attached to a guy’s. Ever. I hazard a glance at the desktop. The Academic Olympics packet is exactly where I put it last night after Connor left, next to my AP Chemistry binder and my textbooks. Connor’s binder is at the bottom of the stack, apparently undisturbed.

Then I realize that my cell phone, which I’d left charging on the corner of the desk, is now on top of my scribbled trig homework. Tessa’s gaze tracks mine, so there’s no denying what she’s done.

“That’s not cool!”

“Neither is telling Josh whose name popped up more than once on your caller ID this weekend. Or telling him that your trash can contains roughly two boxes’ worth of used tissue, and that I’m soooo worried it’s a coincidence. It would be for your own good, of course.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about with my caller ID, and you know I have allergies.”

“Yeah, in the spring. According to my handy dandy calendar, today’s the second of October.” She angles an eyebrow and flips the Asics up and down to mimic a jog.

She’s evil.

I yank the shoes from her hand. She’s out of my room and to the top of the staircase before I can add the caveat, “We’re not going far!”

Chapter Sixteen |
Connor

“M
om!”

Is everyone in my house deaf? Or can’t they hear me over the doorbell, which sounds like it’s stuck? I burrow further under my pillow, squeezing the sides to my head even as the doorbell grows more insistent.

What jerkwad holds down a doorbell at seven-thirty on a Sunday morning?

Unless my parents both managed to lock themselves out when nabbing the paper from the end of the driveway. They wouldn’t be that stupid, would they? Then again, it would explain the belligerent ringing and the fact my parents haven’t responded.

With a groan, I heave my pillow in the direction of my closet door and stumble out of bed, pausing to snag yesterday’s filthy soccer shorts from the floor and pull them on over my boxers. I better earn serious brownie points for this, because I am not in the mood.

I thump down the stairs and whip open the front door to see none other than Josh. His car’s in the driveway, while my dad’s is nowhere to be seen. The paper’s gone, too.

“About time you got your tail out of bed,” he says, as if it’s noon and everyone’s moving but me. “Your parents left for breakfast without you.”

“Because I wasn’t awake, Josh. The birds aren’t awake.
You
shouldn’t be awake.”

“Tough. My stupid sisters woke me up, jabbering in Peyton’s room at six a.m., so here I am.” He lets out a long, smelly burp to punctuate the sentence.

“Really? Was that necessary?”

“Of course not.” He rolls his eyes as if he can’t believe I asked the question. “Open up. It’s confession time. And while I’m here, got anything I can eat? I’m starving.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” I mumble, rubbing sleep from the inside corner of my left eye. “I haven’t even brushed my teeth.”

The thought of freshly brushed teeth makes me think of Peyton, which makes me want to crawl back in bed even more.

Wait…did he say confession time? And if Tessa is home from Syracuse talking to Peyton at six in the morning…I grind the heel of my hand against my temple.

On an exhale, I open the front door wide enough for him to walk past me. “Come on in. Guess I don’t need you kicking my ass in front of the entire neighborhood.”

He scoots by me, heading straight for the fridge. I close the door and shuffle behind. The smell of freshly-brewed coffee hits me at the same time I see a note from my mom propped on the kitchen counter, telling me that she and dad will be back soon.

I hold up the pot. “Want some?”

Josh shakes his head. He’s already pulling a tub of butter from the fridge. “But I’ll throw in a piece of toast for you if you want.”

“Nah.” I pour myself a mug of coffee and stir in a massive spoonful of sugar. Once he’s dropped two pieces of bread in the toaster, I say, “Look, I’m really sorry I walked out on Peyton yesterday, but it was for the best. I’m sure she’s mad, but I swear, I didn’t do it to be mean. I wanted her to take some time to think about things.” This has to be the most bizarre conversation I’ve ever had with Josh. “And I know I probably should’ve talked to you before any of this happened, but I thought it’d work out, and then we’d—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Josh waves both hands, palms out, and turns his face away as if in pain. “First, because you’re starting to sound like a girl, and second, because I don’t want to know.”

“Wait a minute.” I set my mug on the counter and eye him. “On Friday, you specifically asked if there was anything you should know about Peyton and me. Now you show up here at the crack of dawn asking for a confession—”

“I didn’t show up asking for a confession, you spongebrain. I’m
offering
one.”

“What the hell for?”

The toaster pops. Instead of stuffing a slice in his mouth, Josh opens a cupboard and grabs two small plates. “You got my text about being eliminated at Cumby’s yesterday, right?”

“Couldn’t wait for your Cherry Chill Zone fix.”

“I wasn’t there for a Chill Zone.” He slathers butter on both slices of toast, handing one to me even though I’d passed. “I was there to see Molly. I knew it was a risk to leave the house, but I figured Joe couldn’t shoot us both at once and I couldn’t wait.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to ask her out.”

“Yeah, right!” I start to crack up, but a sheepish grin hooks up the edges of his mouth and I realize he’s serious. I stare at him. “No way. No. Friggin’. Way.”

After all these years of Josh’s insistence on remaining single, he settles on Molly? And after everything that happened this week? Personally—though I understand what drove her to do it—I want to throttle her for fixing the tournament assignments.

Apparently Josh had his own plans for how to handle her.

He takes his toast to the table, plucking an apple from the fruit basket on the way. “She said yes, by the way. We’re doing the ever-so-corny dinner and a movie tonight so we can get home before the next round of Senior Assassin begins. Her team’s still in, you know. If we draw her next round, it could get very interesting.”

“This is your confession?” I hop up on the counter opposite the sink and take a bite of my toast. “Don’t get me wrong, because this is fairly big news, but you had to get me out of bed to tell me?”

“Had to tell someone.” He gives me a wry grin. “I’ve liked her for years. But first she was with Drew, then getting over Drew. Then I was afraid she liked you and I wasn’t going near that.”

I wash down the toast with a slug of coffee and say, “That’s why you kept asking and asking if I liked her?”

“I had to be sure, you know? Then when she laughed in your face at lunch and hinted that she might like someone else, well, I knew I’d never get my chance if I didn’t ask her out right away. So I did.” He stretches his arms in front of him, cracking his knuckles as he rolls his shoulders. “Sometimes, my friend, you’ve gotta take a risk to get what you want.”

I’m not sure whether he means a physical risk—that is, being eliminated—or an emotional one, but then he adds, “You’ll figure things out with Peyton, too.”

“Nothing for me to figure out.” I know I’ve fallen for her, from her brilliant-yet-confused blonde head to her purple-painted toenails. I grimace at Josh over my coffee mug. “I won’t give you the down and dirty details, but the bottom line is that, as much as I like your sister, she’s the one who has to do the figuring. Ball’s out of my court.”

Josh swallows his last bite of his toast and runs his hand along the tabletop, gathering stray crumbs before depositing them on his plate. He’s as solemn as I’ve ever seen him when he looks at me again. “For the record, Peyton could do a lot worse.”

I finish my coffee and set my mug in the sink. “So could Molly.”

“She has,” he says, unable to resist the chance to take a dig at Drew, especially if it means breaking a moment of seriousness. “And Peyton will do what’s right. I know you will, too.”

“Thanks.” I might not end up with the girl, but it’s a relief to know Josh and I are cool. I glance at the clock. I should shower and get dressed before my parents return, but Peyton wasn’t the only thing keeping me up late last night. Josh and I never did decide how to handle the fact Molly rigged the game.

“Speaking of doing what’s right…we can’t let this go on with Senior Assassin. I want that Toyota more than anything, but—”

“Don’t even think about it.” Josh sets his plate beside the sink, then nails me with a glare. “If we rat out Molly, she’ll dump me before we even go on our first date.”

“Josh—”

“And it’s not just Molly. Or us. Think about Jayne.”

“Josh, we need to make things right.” I slide off the counter and cross the kitchen to grab my cell phone off the table in the front hall. Josh is close on my heels.

“Who are you texting?” he asks when I start to type.

“You’ll see.” He makes a grab for the phone, but I anticipate his reach and turn to block him. When I’m done, I start up the stairs, cell phone safely in hand. “I’m hitting the shower. You can either wait for me here or meet me in the senior parking lot in a half hour.”

Josh leans on the railing, watching as I round the corner at the top of the staircase. “You can’t go outside, not until noon. You know Joe’s around here somewhere. He has to be!”

“If he is, he’ll be leaving in a sec.” I hold the phone aloft and wiggle it. “Trust me.”

Chapter Seventeen |
Peyton

M
y lungs are seconds away from burning through my chest cavity, causing my instantaneous, gory death. Worse, it’s going to happen in front of half the cross country team.

I have no idea how far Tessa and I have run—maybe an entire mile—but she’s chattering about the blue sky and the birds and how much she loved Eastwood High as if we’re strolling through the freakin’ garden of Eden with glasses of lemonade in our hands, rather than slogging through the woods at what I consider a grueling pace.

“Let’s stop at the tree.” I gesture in the direction of a massive oak at the edge of the trail, one so old its spreading roots have caused the ground to heave. My request cuts off her animated description of a trash-clearing community project she and her friends organized along these trails back when she was a sophomore, but I don’t care. Even if I could speak without yelping out each word she hasn’t given me the opportunity, and at this point I’m desperate. Worse, I hear male voices on the trail that parallels ours, meaning that within a few minutes they’ll reach the end of their trail, take the narrow cut-through to ours, and then pass us going the opposite direction.

If I die here, I don’t want them to discover Tessa dragging my carcass into the woods.

When she resumes her account of the various liquor bottles she and her friends found in the woods, I whimper, “Please?”

“Why?” She has the gall to turn around and jog backward, glancing down at my shoes to see if they’re untied.

“I want to survive to attend my graduation.”

“Really? You’re that tired already?”

“Not tired so much as my lungs hurt.” I slow to a walk. “Can we quit now? I suck at this.”