Prom Nights From Hell Page 0,46

nowhere' to knock weapon from assailant's hand." Finally, from seven months earlier, "Convenience store heist getaway halted by falling lightpost; two arrested." She started to get a sinking feeling in her stomach.

At least it was only three out of, what, a dozen different incidents she told herself. But that didn't really make her feel better. No one was supposed to link any of those events together. Ever.

The convenience store was the first one. It was dusk, fog coming off the ocean, the streetlights making misty halos in the air. She'd been driving down a side street in Santa Barbara on her way to roller derby practice when she'd heard the threats from inside Ron's 24-Hour Open Market #3 and just... acted. She'd had no control over what she did, it was like she was in a dream, her body knowing exactly what to do, where the robbers would go, how to stop them. Coming back to her the way the words from a favorite song did even if you hadn't heard it in years. Only she had no idea where it was coming back from.

She'd spent the three days following the convenience store incident in bed, curled in a ball, trembling. She told Kenzi she had the flu, but really what she had was terror. She was terrified of the powers she suddenly couldn't restrain.

Terrified because using them felt so good. So right. Like she was alive for the first time.

Terrified because she knew what could happen if people found out. To her. And to-

She waved the copies toward Kenzi, demanding, "What are you doing with these?"

"Whoa, Drill Sergeant Kiss in the house," Kenzi said, saluting. "All due respect, ma'am, but as they say in the military, SSTB. You won't get away with changing the subject just by using your scary voice."

SSTB stood for So Sad Too Bad. Miranda couldn't not laugh. "If I were trying to change the subject, army of one, I'd point out that the stuff on your body is flaking all over the rug your mother's decorator tracked over three continents because it supposedly belonged to Lucy Lawless. I seriously want to know, why are you interested in street crime in Santa Barbara?"

Kenzi stepped from the rug onto the wood floor. "Not street crime in Santa Barbara, foiled street crime. It's for my journalism final project. Some people are saying there's a mystical force at work. Maybe even Santa Barbara come back herself."

"Can't it just be a coincidence? Criminals mess up all the time, right?"

"People don't like coincidences. Like the way it's no coincidence that you are trying to make me talk about this rather than answer my questions about what happened with you and Will. One minute it looks like you two are totally-and I might add, finally-hooking up and the next you are back here in our room. Ruining, I might also add, a totally ace romantic evening for me."

"I did tell you," Miranda groaned. "It was nothing. Nothing happened."

Slouching against the Town Car now as the last of the daylight faded, Miranda thought that nothing was an understatement. It had been worse than nothing. That expression on Will's face, the one that hovered between you've-got-something-green-caught-in-your-teeth and oh-hello-Professor-Crazy, a mixture of horror and, well, horror, when she'd finally gotten up the guts to-

That's when it hit her. The articles on Kenzi's desk had all come out on Thursdays, reporting on things that had happened-things she'd done-on Wednesdays.

"Wednesday and Saturday afternoons free," she heard Caleb saying, repeating her words.

That was bad. That was really bad. She was going to have to lay low.

The gold Lexus SUV behind her pulled away from the curb and Miranda could hear the couple inside fighting over the sound of their air conditioner. The woman at the wheel turning her head to yell at her husband-Don't lie to me! I know you were with her! - hitting the gas hard right as the family with the little blond girl stepped into the crosswalk in front of her...

Afterward no one was really sure what had happened.

One second the car was careening toward the family in the crosswalk, the next there was a blur and they were on the curb, bewildered but safe.

As she watched the gold SUV speed off into the distance, Miranda felt the adrenaline thrill she always got after she'd acted without thinking, saved someone. It was addictive, like a drug.

And dangerous, like a drug, she reminded herself.

I think you should get yourself a dictionary. That is