Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers) - By Michelle Rowen Page 0,71
linoleum floors and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights gave me a welcome sense of calm. At least, a small piece of it.
I stared at Carly’s abandoned locker for a full minute before opening my own next to it.
“Why do you always worry so much?” she’d say when I was down or overwhelmed about something. Pick a topic, there was always something on my mind causing me angst. “Worrying doesn’t change anything. And it’s a complete waste of energy.”
“Plus, it causes wrinkles,” I’d add drily.
“Exactly!”
Don’t worry, be happy. Yeah, easier said than done.
I slid down to the ground, pulling my legs in to hug them to my chest. Today I wore black opaque tights and a skirt that fell to my knees. Much easier access to the dagger if I needed it. I touched the reassuring outline of the gold knife through the garment. Just to be annoying, my mind immediately delivered an image of Bishop kneeling in front of me, his warm hands brushing against my skin.
I squeezed my eyes shut, tried to breathe normally and attempted to focus on what I was going to do next. Thinking about Bishop was a distraction, even on good days, and right now I didn’t need to be more distracted than I already was. I told him I’d find the answers on my own. I’d meant it.
Last night, however, I’d been way more confident. Today...well, today just seemed hopeless.
Then again, Tuesdays had never been my favorite day of the week.
Someone nearby made a sound of disgust, an “ugh” that made me crack one eye open to see who was at school as early as I was.
Jordan stood in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Free country, last time I checked. You?”
“I have stuff to do.”
I couldn’t help notice the dark circles around her eyes. Since I was certain they were from sleepless nights thinking about Julie’s suicide, I chose not to mention them. I didn’t like Jordan, but I wasn’t that cruel.
“Stuff to do at seven in the morning?” I asked.
“I wanted to get an assignment done early.”
“Good for you. Don’t let me stop you.”
Jordan rummaged through her purse and something fell and hit my leg. I reached for the business card and pack of gum.
“Give that to me.” She thrust her hand out to me impatiently.
It was the card to the modeling agency—the one the scout had given to Julie. “Why do you still have this?”
She snatched it away from me. “Because I’m going there. I just need to drop my assignment off at first period, then I’m out of here. I’m going to find out if I’m right—that there was something strange about that woman.”
I pushed myself up to my feet and looked at her warily. “Not a good idea.”
Her expression only became more determined. “There’s something strange going on in Trinity.”
She worried me when she said stuff like this. Knowledge was power—but it could also be dangerous. And in some cases, deadly. “It’s a big city. There’s always strange stuff going on.”
“Stranger than normal.” She let out a shaky sigh and rubbed her eyes, which made me realize she wasn’t wearing any makeup today. Not a stitch. For an aspiring model who prized her beauty more than her brains, this was more surprising than anything else. “It’s like...I don’t know, it’s like I’m the only one who can see it. Everyone else goes about their days normally, like they don’t realize there’s something horribly wrong. But I see it. I feel it. And what happened to Julie, it—it just made everything more real. I can’t ignore it anymore. I need to figure out the truth.”
What Seth was rambling about last night, about the girl who fell—I was sure he meant Julie. But then he confused me, as he tended to do, and I’d mostly forgotten it. But still, why would he mention her if there wasn’t something truly wrong about her death?
“I know you’re in pain,” I said evenly. “But you should calm down.”
“I’m not going to calm down. Julie... She wasn’t suicidal. Not at all. I keep going over and over and over it in my head. She was fine. And then something changed.” Her face was etched in confusion and despair as her green eyes tracked to me. “Do you know there’ve been twenty suicides in less than a week? And none of them were clinically depressed.”
My chest clenched at the news. “How do you know this?”