Ember X (Death Collectors) - By Jessica Sorensen Page 0,23
believe I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry.” She pauses, considering something, and then shifts the subject, stepping out of my way. “Come on. You and I are going shopping because you need some cheering up and I need a sexy new outfit for school tomorrow.” She skips up her driveway.
I follow her and wait by her Corolla while she runs inside the house and gets the keys. That’s the thing I love about Raven. She hardly asks questions. She didn’t ask how I got home. What I was going to do about my dad’s car. Why I didn’t go to the hospital. But as much as I love not being grilled, I wonder if there is something wrong with our friendship, if she should have asked those questions. I once read a quote by William Shakespeare about friendship: “A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.” If I told Raven the wrong thing—something she didn’t want to hear—would our friendship end?
“Okay, so we have to stop and put some gas in because it’s low.” She swings the keys around her finger as she exits her house.
“I think I might stay home,” I tell her, leaning against the car door. “I’m feeling kind of sick.”
She points a finger at me as she trots down the front steps. “No way. You have to come be my fashion advisor.” She eyes my clothes over as she stops in front of me. “Or at least keep me company.”
I surrender and climb into the car. “Can we at least stop and pick up a new cell phone? Mine is somewhere at the bottom of the lake.”
“Sure.” She climbs into the car, then backs down the driveway, but slams on the brakes as a U-Haul drives up the road, followed by a red Jeep Wrangler. The U-Haul parks in the driveway of the house across the street and two doors down, and the Jeep parks out front. It’s one of the larger brick houses on the street, two stories with an upper deck and flourishing rose bushes in the yard.
“It looks like someone is finally moving into Old Man Carey’s home,” she says with inquiring eyes.
Two guys climb out of the moving truck, dressed in grey coveralls; movers, I assume.
We’re pulling onto the street when long legs stretch out of the Jeep, a guy hops out, and Raven slows down the car again. His blonde hair glimmers in the sunlight and hands in his ash eyes, which burn with intensity as he takes in the house. Jeans hang loosely on his hips, boots cover his feet, and a tight-fitted Henley shows off his rock-solid abs and lean arms.
“That’s the guy from the cemetery,” I mutter aloud, taking in the sight of him in daylight.
“What guy from the cemetery?” Raven watches him like he’s something delicious as he struts across the lawn. She fans herself. “Good God, he’s hot.”
“We should get going.” I reach over and shift the car into drive for her. “I promised Ian I’d be back by dinnertime.”
We’re parked in the middle of the street and it’s obvious we’re staring at the new neighbor. He starts to head across the lawn, but then stops in the middle, titling his head in our direction, and he watches us, an amused smile playing at his deep red lips.
“Oh my God! He’s the grave robber.” Raven slams her hand on the steering wheel as it clicks. “We so have to go over there.”
“Don’t even think about,” I hiss, but she’s already turning the steering wheel. “You just said it yourself—he’s a grave robber.”
Her eyes sparkle mischievously and I slouch in the chair as she drives toward his house.
“What’s your problem?” she asks, turning down the radio as she pulls up to the curb. “Don’t you want to find out who he is? And why he was digging up a grave in the middle of the night. I mean, maybe you misunderstood what was going on and now he could explain it to you.”
I shake my head and shield my face with my hand, letting my hair fall forward. “Why? So you can date him?”
“Or maybe you could?” She parks in front of the Jeep. “You really need to get over this fear of men, Em. We’re nineteen-years-old. We can drink and go to bars with fake IDs, get laid whenever we want to; yet, you’re so God damn terrified, you’ve never even kissed a guy.”
“Because I can’t. Not because I don’t want to.” I’m growing annoyed