Death and the Girl Next Door Page 7

He glanced back up. “I could have sworn—”

“I want one,” the boy said with a shrug, “but my mom says I have to wait.” His voice was deep and smooth. It slid over me like warm water and caused a sharp tug in my belly.

“You’re new,” the principal said after sizing him up for a long moment.

“Yes, sir.”

“And your name is?”

The boy paused, hesitated. His dark gaze slipped back to me. I didn’t jump back this time, because it quickly glided past me to land on something farther away.

“Jared,” he said, returning his attention to the principal.

Jared. I liked it. Though Supernova would’ve been more to the point.

“Jared?” the principal asked, pressing for a last name.

With an almost imperceptible sweep of his lashes, Jared scanned past me again. “Kovach, sir. Jared Kovach.”

The principal wavered. He glanced in my direction but seemed unconcerned with the fact that I still hadn’t gone to class. Odd. Mr. Davis lived for herding stragglers to their respective cells.

“Well, Mr. Kovach, I’m Principal Davis.” He offered his hand. Jared hesitated, then took it in a firm grip. Even though Mr. Davis was tall, Jared seemed to tower over him. The principal had to tilt his head back to look at him. “Have you filled out a registration packet?”

“Yes, sir. Would you like it now?”

“Please.”

A backpack slid off Jared’s right shoulder. I couldn’t remember seeing a backpack before that moment. Apparently I’d been blinded by muscles and exquisitely fitted jeans. After Jared produced the packet, Mr. Davis took out a few pages and thumbed through them.

“My parents couldn’t be here today. I hope that’s okay.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. Los Angeles, huh?”

Los Angeles. Cool.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I hope small-town life won’t disappoint you.”

“I like small towns.”

There is a God.

“Good,” the principal said. “Let’s just hope small towns like you.”

Jared wrinkled his forehead, his head tilting slightly. “Let’s hope,” he agreed.

“See that door over there?” Mr. Davis pointed past me to the counselor’s door across the hall.

Jared nodded.

“Why don’t you take these papers to Mrs. Geary. She’ll help you with your class schedule while we get your information entered into the system.”

“Thank you,” Jared said, accepting the packet of papers then slinging the backpack onto his shoulder.

When he started toward Mrs. Geary’s office, I thought my knees would give beneath me. Every move he made was powerful, full of strength and dangerous grace.

Mr. Davis called to him. “You wouldn’t have any relatives around these parts, would you?”

He stopped and turned back. “No, sir.”

With an unconvinced nod, Mr. Davis dismissed him again.

And Jared started toward the counselor’s office again. Toward me again.

In an act of desperation, I jumped back and tried my darnedest to become a corner. But as he walked past, he slowed his stride and sent a whisper of a glance over his shoulder. Then he smiled. The slimmest smile lifted the corners of his full mouth. Did he see me? I was certain the corner thing would work beautifully.

Without hesitation he stepped inside the counselor’s office and I eased out of my disguise. That’s when I noticed the poster beside Mrs. Geary’s door.

A photograph of Jaredan Scott, a Riley High football player, hovered underneath a snarling wolverine. His name stood out in red and black 3-D font as most valuable player. The parts I found most interesting were the letters J-A-R-E-D. And the fact that Jaredan Scott had been sponsored by Kovach Plumbing and Supplies, as stated at the bottom of the poster.

Jared Kovach. Now what were the odds of that? Two more questions sprang to mind immediately. First, why would he lie about his name? And second, how could he have read the fine print of that poster from so far away?

I scanned the distance back to see if Mr. Davis was still standing watch. Instead, I found Cameron Lusk. He hadn’t gone to class. I could see him through the plate-glass windows that lined the front of Riley High. He stood leaning against the building, looking directly at me, a strange expression I couldn’t decipher shadowing his face.

I offered my own glare, completely perplexed. The guy had never shown the slightest bit of interest in me. Then, out of nowhere, I couldn’t turn around without finding him waiting for me, watching, like he was mentally calculating how long it would take to strangle the life out of my body. A cold chill shimmied down my spine with the thought.

And worse, I didn’t know what to do about it. I didn’t want to alarm my grandparents. They had enough to worry about. The anniversary of my parents’ disappearance always put them in a strange state, as it did me. I didn’t want to call the police. Naturally, they would have to tell my grandparents. And I was nowhere near moronic enough to pretend I could take him. Boys, no matter how lanky, were generally strong.

“I’m stronger.”

I jumped at the sound of a male voice behind me and whirled around to slam face-first into a brick wall. My notebook flew out of my arms, launching a ticker tape parade of science notes into the air. They floated down to land in whispery chaos on the ground.

For a second I just stood there in shock until humiliation took hold and surged through me with a fiery vengeance. I could feel my cheeks heating as I looked up. And up. Into the eyes of the offending wall.

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