Page 58 of Reckless
Dante had tried to play a prank on Chelsea and Deetra—a gross prank, but a prank nonetheless. If it had gone to plan, it would’ve been full circle. I’d been drugged at that first party, after all. It’s what they wanted to do to me, minus the laxatives. Those had been a new addition thanks to Dante, and I had to admit, if they wouldn’t have ended up dead, I would’ve been quite happy with his plan.
But they were dead, so now we all had to deal with that.
The next week at school was somber. I wasn’t called into the station again, but Ollie had told me that Detective Wilde might want to speak with me again. He’d spoken to Jacob, Archer, and a bunch of other kids who’d gone to the party. There were no arrests made, as far as I knew. The gossip mills would be churning if there had been.
No one was really talking, not even in homeroom. Archer kept to himself, but we did text a lot. We’d decided it would be best to try to downplay our relationship, whatever it was, for now, while things were so crazy.
Chelsea and Deetra’s funerals were set to be later this week, and I bet, just like with Ryan’s, most of the school would end up going. A place like Midpark didn’t get much crime in general, I bet, and when it did, the crimes were always swept under the rug with their money and their power. This, the murders…you couldn’t sweep something like that under any rug.
When I saw Bobbi in choir, she looked pale. Her brown hair was greasy for once, like she hadn’t washed it the night before. Gosh, and I’d thought greasy hair was a thing of the past. In Midpark, no girls came to school with unwashed hair; it was a cardinal sin.
She was quiet for a while. Ms. Haber was still in her office, so we had time to talk, if we wanted to. The rest of the class was pretty silent, the expressions they wore unreadable, and I wondered if they were worried they could be next. After all, Midpark students had begun to drop like flies.
“Bet you regret being friends with me now,” I muttered, causing Bobbi’s hazel eyes to snap up at me. She’d been picking at the sleeves of her oversized sweater, but that immediately stopped when I said what I said.
Sad as it was, I meant it. Everyone around here would’ve been better off not meeting me.
“No, that’s not—” Bobbi sighed, shaking her head. “Things are just crazy around here, you know? The last time things were this crazy was…” She paused, frowning to herself. “Three years ago. I hated it then, and I hate it now. As a freshman, I thought nothing could touch me. But now? Now I’m worried none of us will make it to graduation.”
“We will,” I said, wanting to say more, to reassure her that things would calm down, but it was then Ms. Haber came out of her office. Of course, today of all days she’d start class timely. Ugh.
We had to quiet and start doing our vocal warm-ups.
I didn’t get to talk to Bobbi at all the rest of the period, we sang so much. By the time the bell rang to signal my lunch period, I figured Bobbi didn’t really want to talk about it. She hurried away, and I let her go, knowing some people needed more time. Time to get used to the craziness, to the death and the chaos.
I didn’t bother to grab my lunch; I wasn’t hungry. Instead, I headed straight to the cafeteria and set down my books on the table. I’d beat both guys there for once, since I didn’t stop at my locker, and I waited for their presence. I’d come up with a few questions to ask Dante, because, as much as I wanted to forget about it and move on, Deetra and Chelsea were dead, and Dante was the last one that I knew of to see them alive. If the cops hadn’t spoken with him yet, it was only a matter of time.
And then…then what? What if they linked him up to Ryan and his friends? That would be downright horrible.
Vaughn came out of the kitchen carrying a tray of pizza, pizza I knew he wouldn’t eat. Dante had taken to eating his food most days; saved Dante the money and Vaughn the trouble of playing with it for thirty minutes like he used to. Today his black hair was combed to the side, his torso in a short-sleeved shirt, revealing the tattoos on his knuckles.
Even if he was a killer, he was mine. He was sex on two legs, and though he came from a psycho family who was hiding a wanted serial killer, I didn’t care. How messed up was that? My morals had taken a turn for the worse here in Midpark, I couldn’t deny that.
He slid in the seat across from me, his dark gaze meeting mine.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he echoed, his voice that low, deep timbre that sent shivers down my spine on a good day. Today, though, I was much too concerned with what had happened at the party to let my hormones get out of control.
I said nothing else, biting the inside of my cheek as I waited for Dante to stroll up to the table and pop a squat. The minute he sat down, I’d jump on him.
Not literally, not like usually, but you know what I meant.
Dante must’ve taken his good old time in walking to the cafeteria of the school, for it was a few minutes until he arrived, and when he did, he took the chair beside me, his leg bumping up against mine. “Ooh,” he mused, instantly spotting the pizza on Vaughn’s plate, “pizza.” Licking his lips, he reached over the table and grabbed a slice.
I watched him chow it down, amazed that he could act so normal after everything. Although, it shouldn’t surprise me, given that, the night he’d killed Ryan’s friends and severely wounded the would-be rapist himself, he’d come to my choir concert and got me all worked up.
“Not to interrupt your pizza,” I said, causing those icy blue eyes to flick to me, “but I have to ask you something.”
I kid you not, the leather-clad man had that pizza slice gone in less than five bites. He either had an appetite, or a really big mouth. Or both. That mouth did know what it was doing when attached to certain places, I’d give it that…
Not a good thing to think about, Jaz, I told myself.
“Did anyone see you go upstairs with them?” I dared not say their names, lest someone around us at one of the other tables was listening in. The cafeteria was somber, quieter than it had ever been, probably because most of these rich kids were finally realizing that their money couldn’t protect them from everything. Life was fragile, and when a killer was involved, things tended to get messy and stay messy.
Dante started to roll his eyes, but he knew I’d only grow aggravated at that, so he stopped himself, straining to sound normal and not annoyed as he said, “No. By the time I got to them, everyone was deep in their own shit.”
Deep in their own shit. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I knew it would be the only answer I’d get for now.
