Touched - By Cyn Balog Page 0,50
have come,” he hissed. I was aware some people were beginning to turn, but then Pedro just broke into a sprint toward the line of cars. It was like he was being chased by the devil. He even looked back a few times, as if he was expecting to see Satan.
It was over ninety degrees, but I shivered. Wow. What the hell had happened to him?
The priest began to speak about finding comfort in one another. He said, “It is unexpected tragedy that brings us together today.”
“The unexpected in life is often the most difficult to deal with,” I mumbled under my breath, along with the priest. I looked over and saw Mrs. Reese with her head against someone’s shoulder. Mr. Reese, I supposed. When she pulled away, I saw that it was a younger guy. Emma’s brother, the one at Penn State. He stared ahead, unblinking, as Mrs. Reese continued to sob into his suit jacket. Mr. Reese, a white-haired version of his son, stood next to him.
The crowd parted for a split second, and I managed to see the coffin. It was a little one. Too little. I bowed my head and rocked back on my heels and wished for it to be over. In my peripheral vision, I could see two pale feet in black stringy sandals coming up behind me. The toenails were painted red. I knew those feet. Hell, I worshipped those feet.
I cleared my throat. I would not look at her.
She stepped beside me and paused a beat, as if to say, Look at me, I’m here, I came anyway, and then kept right on walking, as if being at a funeral didn’t scare her as much as she’d said. Another girl was with her, the girl with the pixie haircut from track tryouts. The crowd accepted them, made room for them, making me feel like I was the one who had been left behind. After a minute, the boy with Mrs. Reese turned and looked hard, right at Taryn. It was the same look Sphincter had given her. She stared straight ahead, at the casket, but it was clear that there was something between them.
Great. First Sphincter, now this guy. She’s going to drive me to an early grave, I thought, before I realized I probably shouldn’t tempt fate.
After the longest twenty minutes of my life, the funeral ended and the crowd spread out. I kept looking around for some hint as to who had messed with Pedro, wondering if they’d pick me next. I meant not to look at Taryn, but I found myself staring right at her when she spun around to leave. I thought she would give me eye daggers. Instead, she smiled. And not a wicked smile, either; a hey-how-are-you? smile. The kind that’s out of place at a funeral. She made a beeline over to me, her friend following at her heels.
“Did you forget about picking me up?” she asked, still not sounding angry.
“Um. Yeah. Oh.” I tried to play it off as if I had forgotten, but realized too late that I should be apologizing. I mumbled a “sorry,” but I didn’t think she heard it.
“That’s okay. You’ve got stuff on your mind, I understand.”
I nodded. Why the hell was she being so nice?
“Anyway,” she said, “I made it. How are you doing with all this?” She motioned toward the coffin.
“Fine. I was just … leaving …,” I said stiffly. Yeah, I had to leave. Pronto. The You Wills agreed with that.
“Oh.” Pixie grabbed Taryn’s wrist and started to pull her away, but Taryn shook her friend loose, looking annoyed. Then it was as if she regretted it, because she smiled, embarrassed, and made the introduction. “This is Devon.”
Devon and I mumbled hi to each other. She looked about as excited as I was. She stood close enough to Taryn to be her Siamese twin, like she wanted her all to herself.
The only one who seemed interested in conversation was Taryn. But she didn’t notice this. “I had to drag Devon along. Didn’t want to go myself. I hate these things.”
I looked away, feeling like crud. She was too damn cute. I couldn’t take it anymore. “So you got a ride with Devon?” I finally asked.
“No, believe it or not, I have my own car.”
“You drive?”
She nodded. “But I hate it. I know, most people can’t wait to get their licenses, but I have this big fear of driving. I always have this feeling like I am