The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,5

Ashton yanks me by my belt loop. I crash backward through the bushes and land on my butt with a grunt.

“What the—”

She covers my mouth with her hand.

“I said to the kid, ‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ The arrogant prick told me, ‘I don’t go here,’ like that explained why he was walking around campus like he owned it. I told him to get the fuck off the school’s property before I arrest him.” The voice gets louder as the patrol passes in front of us. And then slowly fades as they round the corner. “Telling you, these fucked up kids need to have their asses beat, not sent …”

I push myself off the ground when we can’t hear him any longer. Sighing, I brush my hair out of my face. I am forever going to be plucking green needles out of my hair. Seriously, I’m not made for this covert bullshit.

“Let’s go,” Ashton whispers, taking off across the field without me.

Did I mention how much I hate running?

Ashton leaps across the expanse of tall grass toward Screaming Point like a gazelle. In extreme contrast, my short legs pump wildly beneath me with way less grace. I’m huffing and holding a stitch in my side when I finally reach Ashton. She’s squatting by the wrought iron fence. Not even winded.

“You have to be careful to only touch the last bar,” Ashton instructs, “or else you’ll set off an alarm. Maybe even get electrocuted.”

“What?!” I exclaim, only registering alarm and electrocuted.

“It’s just a rumor, but I’d rather not find out,” she says as she holds on to the last bar of the wrought iron fence and swings her left leg onto the other side in a fluid motion, setting a foot down and then lifting the other leg to follow. It only takes her a couple seconds.

I stare at her through the bars as she waits expectantly for me to do the same.

“Your turn.”

“To die!” I practically shout.

“Shh!” she hisses, panic-stricken as she searches over my shoulder. “It’s not hard. I do it all the time.”

“But you also have legs that reach my shoulders,” I argue. “There’s no way I can do that.”

“Okay,” she says, gathering her patience. “Take it step by step. I’ll help you. Hold on to the bar.”

I do, which is the easiest part. It goes downhill from there.

“Now get as close to the edge as you can, but do not look down.”

I think I might throw up because, of course, I look down as soon as she says it. I stare motionless at the dark, glistening water lapping over sharp, tooth-shaped rocks, waiting to impale me.

“Lana! Look at me!” Ashton grabs my chin and redirects my gaze to her face. “Focus.”

I swallow hard and nod.

“Now swing one leg over, so you’re straddling the fence, and lift the other right after. It’s all about momentum.”

I close my eyes, silently swear a thousand curse words and then open them as I swing my leg across. My foot slips as soon as it makes contact with the dirt, pebbles scattering beneath my boot. I can feel myself falling onto my ass, except there’s nothing beneath my ass.

“Whoa!” Ashton calls out, her hands tight around my waist. “Let go!”

That sounds like the most insane thing in the world to do right now. But instinct takes over, or maybe it’s blind trust because I release my white-knuckle grip of the bar just as Ashton tugs me toward her. Momentum, as Ashton said it would, sends us both to the ground. Ashton on her butt and me face-first beside her.

My heart is in my throat along with a lungful of dirt.

“Please don’t make me do that ever again.” I push up onto my hands and knees, waiting for my breaths to even out.

“Well … we do have to get back,” she says apologetically. “But maybe you’ll turn into a gymnast after a few beers.”

I brush the dirt from my chest and my jeans … again. “They better have something stronger than beer if you’re expecting miracles.”

Ashton pulls out a small LED flashlight from her front pocket. It’s the size of a pen but surprisingly bright when she twists it on. I walk slightly behind her, focused on what little I can see of the ground so I don’t trip.

“How do you know where to go?” Everything looks the same, especially in the dark.

“There are breadcrumbs,” Ashton answers elusively. But then she shines her light on a blue plastic ribbon tied