Page 73 of Reckless At Raleigh High
“Oh my god.” I smile, bending to collect one up from floor. Alex must have arranged this. It must be part of his second, albeit unnecessary proposal. Turning the small shred of paper I’ve just collected over in my hand, I expect to read something sweet written on it. One of a thousand ‘I Love Yous’ Alex must have slipped through the grate on the locker door, only…
Silver Parisi: most likely to suck dick for a dollar.
“What the fuck?”
I pick up another, and then another.
Silver Parisi: most likely to contract syphilis.
Silver Parisi: most likely to cook meth.
Silver Parisi: most likely to fuck your boyfriend behind your back.
I’m too shocked to process what this is for a second. And then it all comes rushing back to me in a tidal wave of horror—months ago, the day I saw Alex for the very first time. I was in detention. Jake had been there. And I’d been tallying up the nominations for the Raleigh High yearbook’s ‘most likely to’taglines for the student photos.
I was hurt by the litany of insults my fellow classmates had written about me. There were score upon score of them, each progressively worse than the last. They’d cut, sharp as knives, every time I’d read a new and awful suggestion for the yearbook.
There had been one nomination that had repeated itself over and over again, as I’d trawled through those never-ending ballots. One that had made my blood run cold. It’s as cold as ice in my veins as I scoop up a handful of the scraps and find the phrase repeated here, too, over and over again.
With horror coursing through me like a river, I realize that I’m all alone in the hall.
I take off, running in the direction of the gym, stumbling, rolling my ankle, as a sharp jolt of pain fires up my leg. Cursed heels. I kick them off, discarding them, sprinting as fast as I can back toward the gym.
“No running, Ms. Parisi!” Karen calls, as I dodge around the 007 photo booth.
I don’t stop running. I barrel forward, scanning the packed gym for a sign of Alex, and when I see him standing by the far wall, talking to Halliday and Zander, I run even harder, shoving through the crowd, deaf to the irritated shouts of the people I slam into.
Alex, so dashing in his suit, dark hair swept back out of his face, pales when he sees me flying towards him. He stops whatever he was saying to Halliday. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
In my attempt to hand them over, I drop most of the yearbook ballots I brought with me. Alex grabs one of them, though, and quickly scans the scrawled black in on the paper’s surface.
Silver Parisi: most likely to die on prom night.
“What the fuck is this?” he asks, his eyes suddenly sharp, boring into me. “Where did you get this?” He reads two more of the ballots, a dark, palpable fury pouring off him like heat.
“They were in my locker. Hundreds of them.”
“I don’t understand.”
Fighting for breath, I try to order my thoughts enough that I might be able to explain further and tell him their significance, but a low chorus of chatter sweeps across the gym. Alex looks up, Halliday and Zander mirroring his confused glance across the room…and that’s when I see him. Seethem.
Wearing a suit as black as midnight, his blond hair slicked back, and amused cornflower blue eyes skipping over the faces of Raleigh High’s senior year, Jacob Weaving enters the gymnasium. And on his arm, dressed in a sequined gold dress with a plunging neckline, walks Kacey fucking Winters.
39
SILVER
“This isn’t real. This isn’t real, is it? I’m seeing things.” Halliday’s high pitched, question parallels the racing thoughts screaming loudly in my head. This isn’t real. There’s no way this is actually happening. It just can’t be. But Jake and Kacey look more than real, as they head into the crowd. They look like royalty, and they’ve come to claim their prom crowns.
“Last time I saw that bitch, she shot me,” Alex snarls under his breath. His hand moves to the point where, beneath his clothes, the bullet from Leon Wickman’s gun pierced his skin and came damn close to taking his life. “Why the fuck would she come back here? And why would he be stupid enough to think he’d be welcome.”
The music continues to play. People carry on dancing. Conversations, muted and confused, proceed, even though two of Raleigh High’s most notorious ex-students have just waltzed into the building like they have every right to be here.
“I’ve gotta go,” I rasp out hoarsely. “I’ve got to get out of here. Now.” It was one thing being here, in this place, where I nearly had my neck broken, to celebrate prom with my friends. But I can’t sufferJaketo be here and keep my shit together at the same time. I’m about to have a panic attack. Jake put those ballots in my locker. Jake, with Kacey’s help. This stinks of her brand of evil.
Alex takes me by the arm. “Okay, it’s alright. Come on. I’ll take you home.” He leads the way, cutting through the crowd, giving Jake and Kacey a wide berth. I stumble after him, my legs numb and unresponsive. How can Karen have let the two of them in? She’s as quiet and shy, but Ms. Gilcrest’s a stickler for the rules. She wouldn’t allow two non-Raleigh students to attend a school event like this. Even if they did used to be enrolled here. Not unless…Darhower expressly told her they were to be permitted entry.
Something hot and nasty churns in my stomach.
