So Not Happening (25 page)

Seconds pass, the only sound being the push and pull of Zach's ventilator.

Kelsey considers her fingernails for a moment. “Okay.” She reaches for her water bottle. “What do you want to know?”

Luke doesn't hesitate. “Why do you think Zach didn't let you go to the last few parties with him?”

She stares at her boyfriend and smoothes a piece of hair from his cheek. “I don't know. I guess I'll never know.”

Luke sits on the arm of my chair. “Which players was Zach closest to?”

“That was kind of odd last year. He was always best friends with Budge.” She looks directly at me. “Your stepbrother and Zach were inseparable. But during the fall semester Zach and Budge just went their separate ways. Zach started spending more and more time with the team. He mostly hung around Dante and that guy who got suspended this year—”

“Reggie Lee,” Luke supplies.

“Yeah . . . Sometimes he hung around Jared Campbell. There were some others.”

“These parties—were they at a cabin?”

She shrugs at Luke's question. “A few—they'd change up the location I think.”

“Did he ever mention anything unusual going on there?” I ask.

“No. He got really tight-lipped about their get-togethers in the end. Said I would've just been bored, that they were just talking football and planning for the next night's game.”

“Why would they drink the night before a game?” I wonder aloud. “If they are all so obsessed with winning, how stupid is that to wake up on game day with a hangover?”

“Did you see anybody drunk out there?” Luke lifts a dark brow. “I didn't see any signs of people getting hammered. At least not the players.”

Kelsey stretches her back and yawns. “I remember the last few parties I went to, Zach would drink a single beer. It was so unlike him. His daddy's a drunk, so Zach couldn't stand alcohol much. And when I'd ask him why he was drinking, he'd say, Liquid encouragement,' like he needed bolstering or something.”

“Encouragement for what?” Luke asks.

“I don't know.”

“You mentioned that you had asked a lot of questions, Kelsey.” I lean around Luke and catch the fading scent of his cologne. “What sorts of things didn't add up to you?”

“His car. The fact that he was driving it so fast—and so crazy. That wasn't Zach at all. He loved that Camaro. It was his baby. Washed it every Sunday by hand. He didn't use it like a hot rod. He was always so careful with it.”

“It's only natural to want to show off at least once if you have a car like that—see how fast she'll go.”

“Not Zach. He was fanatical about that car. Wouldn't let anyone else drive it. He wouldn't have done anything that might've so much as put a scratch on it.”

“Accidents happen,” I say.

Luke twists around. “But the police report says that some of the players witnessed Zach bragging about his car. Said he wanted to prove what it could do.”

“He was at one of those parties. The guys denied it was a party to the police, but that's what it was. Zach hadn't let me go. When the police checked out the scene, everyone had cleared out. Only a few of the guys remained, like they were just hanging out for the evening or something. Reggie told the police that Zach left, tires squealing, his engine roaring. Reggie said they tried to talk him out of it. It was raining that night.” She shudders. “So dangerous. And stupid.”

I take a deep breath and try to align the facts. “Kelsey, I understand your reservations, but as someone who's not as close to the situation, it kind of all makes sense. It was an unfortunate accident, but it sounds like your boyfriend just overdid it and lost control of the car. What's suspicious about that?”

“Nothing.” She runs a hand over her tired face. “But the phone call certainly was.”

Luke sits up straighter. “Call?”

Kelsey's hand begins to tremble. “Zach called me from the car—during that joyride. He was panicked, talking nonsense. He kept saying, 'I didn't want to do it. He made me do it. He made me.' Told me he couldn't see a thing, and if he scratched the paint his dad would kill him. Then he said something I'll never forget.”

Kelsey sits down on the bed beside her boyfriend. I hold my breath and wait for her to speak.

“He said, 'Stupid coach's son. Trying to make us into something we're not.'” The tears flow freely down her cheeks. “Then I heard it. The crash.” Her voice gains in intensity, grows stronger. “You find out what happened. The police wouldn't listen to me. And every time I tried to talk to the players, they'd tell me to let it die. Something isn't right here, Luke. Something happened that night, before the wreck.” She chokes on tears.

Luke goes to her and wraps her in his arms. “We'll find out what happened.” He rests his head on hers, and his eyes lock with mine. “And I think our Coach Dallas is the guy with all the answers.”

chapter thirty

B
y Wednesday morning, Luke's kinder alter ego is as dead as my MasterCard.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?” I ask him for the tenth time. My temples pound with a stress headache that Tylenol can't touch. The only prescription is Luke getting out of my face. “We need answers.”

“You are not going to ask Jared Campbell if he knows his stepbrother is evil.”

Okay, so it doesn't sound so good coming out of Luke's mouth, but in my head it made a lot of sense. Jared's so nice, so innocently naïve. I really think he'd tell me if he knew Coach Dallas was up to no good.

“What did the coach possibly stand to gain by pressuring Zach to drag race his car?” Luke taps his pencil to his chin.

“Maybe when he was in high school a girl stomped on his heart, cheated on him, and the other guy drove a Camaro. And so he wants to see all of them turned into scrap metal.”

“This is not some low-budget horror movie we're working with here.”

“It could happen,” I mumble.

“Have you talked to your stepbrother? Does he know anything?”

“Budge won't even talk to me about it. For that matter, he won't talk to me, period.” Which would be a total gift from the heavens if I didn't need information concerning his former best friend.

“What about Reggie Lee? Kelsey said he gave a statement to the police about Zach on the night of the accident. We need to work on that angle.”

“I heard he moved out of town. When are we ever going to see him?”

“He still goes to my church sometimes. We could talk to him Sunday.”

“If he's there.” I sit on the table and swing my legs, admiring my last new pair of Michael Kors flip-flops. “Sounds like a long shot. We need to be more aggressive than that.”

The bell rings, and I hop down.

“Bella, leave the
aggressive
stuff to me.”

My heart quirks in my chest. I may not like this guy, but that sounded so hot. “Um ...”
Focus, focus.
“What?”

His eyes sear through mine. “Your days of taking off alone to trail some guys into the woods are over. No more careless moves. We work together on this or I pull you from the story.”

My headache pushes tight on my skull. “I don't need you to watch out for me, Luke. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Think about me saving you in the woods.”

Strangely enough, I do. A lot.

“If you go and do something rash, not only will you get hurt or in trouble, but you'll get the paper in trouble.”

“Oh, right.” My heart sinks a bit. “Wouldn't want you worrying over your paper.”

He stands up, planting both palms on the table. “It's not just that—it's ...”

“Yes?” I lean in.

“The more we find out, the more I'm convinced the people involved in this could be dangerous. It would have to take a lot of intimidation for somebody like Zach Epps to cave in to peer pressure.”

At lunch I sit beside Lindy, with a sullen and silent Matt across from us. Neither one of them says a word. The tension is thicker than cafeteria gravy.

“So ...” I sprinkle sugar into my tea. This stuff grows on a person. “FCA was good this morning, eh? I liked what the speaker said about forgiveness and accepting others as they are.”

Matt glares over his sandwich. “I've heard better messages.”

“Yeah,” Lindy adds. “And the donuts were stale.”

“Um, Matt, I was wondering if there was another party this Thursday. I had fun dancing. Meeting people.” Not to mention eating Fritos and following people into the woods.

“I'd like to go too.”

Eating stops as we stare at Lindy.

“I would. I have a new outfit and there's someone that I want to see it. I think he'll be there.” She giggles as she waves to a few guys across the cafeteria.

Oh no. I've created a monster. A flirting, party-going, man-eating monster. While I encouraged this in the beginning, it's not natural for Lindy. It's like asking the football team to wear tutus. Not a good combo.

“Who's this guy you like, Lindy? Just tell me. You used to tell me everything.”

She bites into her salad and smiles coyly. “One guy?” She spears a tomato. “I have a few options I'm pursuing, actually. And things are going . . . really well.”

Matt looks to me for confirmation. I stretch my cheeks into a stiff smile.

“I'm not going Thursday night, so I guess you'll have to scope out your guys somewhere else.”

Lindy cuts him a dirty look. “You're just trying to keep me away from the party.”

“Like I care if you're going. You do whatever you want, but I won't be there.” He grabs his tray and stomps away.

I grasp a piece of my hair and inspect the ends. “That went well.”

“Bella, it's
not
going well. This wasn't part of the plan.”

“But he was obviously bothered by the idea of you on the hunt for a boyfriend.” Or two. “That's encouraging, right? I really think he's coming around.”

She props her chin on her hand. “Then why don't I feel encouraged?”

In English Thursday, I slide into the desk behind Jared Campbell and smile, an open invitation to conversation.

A few seconds later he turns around. “This novel is making me miss Hester and The
Scarlet Letter.”
He holds up his copy of Great
Expectations.

I swat his hand and laugh. “I know, instead
of Great Expectations
it should be called
Crappy Letdown.”

He grins and turns all the way around in his seat. “Great
Expectations—of Insomnia.”

I smile into his eyes, letting mine linger a little longer than a new friend would. “You know what else is a letdown?” I pucker my glossy lips in a pout. “Not getting the chance to dance with you any more. I had a really good time last week.”

“Thanks. Me too.”

I lean forward on the desk. “It's been so hard adjusting here. But last week at the party I was able to forget all about my worries and just be me, you know?” I wave my hand. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for, you know, talking to me again.”

“Sorry we didn't get to talk a lot last Thursday.” He rests his arm on my desk. “I like to work the crowd to make sure no one's getting too crazy.”

“I think that's great. It's really thoughtful of you.” My cooing voice sounds obnoxious to my ears.
Forgive me, Hunter.
“Makes a girl feel safe to know someone like you is looking out for . . . her.” I giggle.

“I keep an eye on everyone.”

“So is it your party?”

He laughs. “It's the
teams
party. It's all for the team. Everything we do is for that win.”

“Jared, if you ever find yourself at another get-together and need a dance partner, here's my number.” I scribble on a piece of paper and slide it over.

He holds it between both hands then folds it in two. “Actually...”

Yes? Come
on, big boy.

“I hear there's a party tonight.”

“Really?” I'm all innocence.

“I don't usually do this, but if you'd like to go, I could pick you up.”

I clap my hands to my chest. “I would
love
to go! But hey, why don't I just meet you there? I have some stuff to do tonight, so I might be a little late. You could give me directions.”

“Wow, I'm sorry, Bella. But the location is top secret.”

“So it's not at the same cabin? Do you know where it is?” I purr, like I think this is all totally cute.

“Maybe. But if I tell you where it is, I will be toast.”

Because your stepbrother would hurt you? Kick you off the team? Maybe Dante would rough you up? Short-sheet your bed? What?

“Then I guess I'll have to meet you somewhere.”

He reaches into his pocket and hands me a purple piece of paper. “You'll need this, even if you're with me. Meet me at the old cemetery. Can you be there by eight?”

I pull the ticket out of his fingers, my hand grazing his. “I can't wait.”

“Bella, you can't tell anyone about the party. It's top secret, okay?” He lightens his serious tone. “We don't want the entire high school out there.”

I tuck the paper into my backpack as the teacher opens her book to start class.

“Today, students, we're going to discuss what Dickens had to say about pretending to be something you're not...”

Stupid book.

chapter thrity-one

W
hen Jared takes the blindfold off my eyes, I blink a few times to bring the fuzzy surroundings into focus.