Chapter 2
I stomped down the hallway toward Father Dominic's office during third period. I had to be told three times by three different novices to slow down, but it didn't matter. I was still furious from that morning. It turned out that Paul was in my homeroom, which just added to my sour mood. How exactly was I supposed to start out my junior year right when I had to see Paul Slater-who had purposely left the seat behind him open when there wasn't any other open seats-everyday?
I was relieved when Miss Edmonds, my Algebra teacher, told me that Father Dom wanted to see me. I hadn't really seen Father Dominic since I'd gotten him to exorcise me so I could go after Jesse.
I burst into his office and stopped dead in my tracks. Father Dominic was sitting at his desk, as usual, but the only thing I saw was who was sitting in the chair I always occupied. At first, all I saw was the back of his head-which, by the way, was covered in curly black hair-but I knew who it was.
I stood, posed in the doorway, staring at him. Father D stood up suddenly, but I barely noticed. "Susannah," he said, sounding a bit agitated.
I walked up and sat down in the other chair opposite of Father Dominic, and turned back to the ghost sitting in the other chair next to me.
Yes, you read that right. A ghost.
Jesse gave me this look that I couldn't quite understand. It was like a mix between worried-and I'll admit, for a minute I thought he was worried because he'd found out about Paul-and hurt. I couldn't get why he would feel hurt just then, but I knew that it had to be something big since, of course, Jesse didn't get hurt very easily.
I narrowed my eyes. "What's wrong?" I looked from Jesse to Father Dom and back again. "What happened?"
Father Dominic sat down again and looked at Jesse as he said, "I do not see how this could possibly be so important that it could not wait until after school. We can't just take Susannah out of class, you understand, Jesse, because you wish to. er. speak privately with her." He gave me a pointed look before he stood again. "If you need me, I will be outside in the lobby. Call me when you're finished." He left the office.
I turned toward Jesse. Before I could say another word, he started talking. "Susannah, Spike is gone."
I blinked. Spike is our cat. Ours meaning Jesse's and mine. Spike, unlike normal animals, seems to like Jesse, a ghost, his mortal enemy, more than he likes me, a living, breathing person who just happens to feed him and clean his litter box. The little flea bag, though, had actually started to warm up to me recently, which I found a bit unsettling, considering it had taken me eight months to get used to the fact that he hated my guts. But Jesse he adored for some reason.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
Jesse got up and started to pace. He was really getting worked up about this, I could tell. I swear I thought that he was going to start balling or something. But of course, he wouldn't. Jesse, being a guy, isn't exactly the type to cry.
"He hasn't been home since last night," Jesse said as he turned back to face me, looking seriously disturbed.
To tell you the truth, I really wasn't all that worried. I mean, I was perfectly certain that Spike could take care of himself. He spent all the time that he wasn't eating or getting attention from Jesse-attention, I might add, that I should have been getting, if you asked me-he was outside, doing whatever it is cats do. So, of course, I wasn't very concerned about Spike. But I could see that Jesse obviously was. So I did what any sixteen- year-old girl in my situation would do.
I went over to Jesse and grabbed his arm before he could continue pacing. Jesse looked down at me. Apparently, he saw in my expression that I wasn't all that concerned. "Susannah," he said, sounding irritated. "This is serious."
"I know," I said defensively. "Look, Jesse, I know Spike, okay? He goes out all the time. He'll come back sooner or later. I mean, he does have to eat." I gave him a little hug, happy for my chance to feel his arms around me, even if it was in Father Dom's office and he was right outside. "It just makes me worried, you know, to see you so worked up." I tilted my head up and met his gaze. "Listen, I'm sure Spike's fine. The cat can take care of himself."
I swear, at that moment Jesse's mouth was so close to mine that, for a minute, I thought he would kiss me. He'd done it a few times in the past two months. Mostly after I'd nearly died just to save him. I hadn't even uttered the "L" word to him, yet.
But, of course, he didn't. Kiss me, I mean. Because at that moment Father Dominic walked into the office and interrupted what could have been a very romantic moment.
"I beg your pardon," Father Dom said, clearing his throat loudly. "I think it's time for you to get to class, Susannah." He looked pointedly at Jesse who still had his arms around my waist. Jesse stepped away from me and I silently wished that Father D would go back outside.
I crossed the room to the door. "I'll see you later, Father D," I said, putting my hand on the knob and glancing back at Jesse. "I'll keep an eye out for Spike," I told him. I left the office and started back to class.
As if my day couldn't get any worse, on my way down the hall I ended up bumping right into some big oaf who had been barreling down the hall.
"Hey, watch it!" I said, trying to sidestep him. I looked up and realized that the oaf was actually Brad-or, as I call him, Dopey-my stepbrother. He's not exactly the shiniest rock in the garden, hence his nickname, but he's on the wrestling team, so what can you expect? As it turns out, "oaf" is actually a very fitting term for him.
"What are you doing out here?" Dopey asked.
"I was talking to Father Dominic," I said, walking past him.
Dopey looked like he wanted to say something more, but I was already halfway down the hall, heading toward the classroom door. "Later," I called to him.
I walked through the front door that day after school and practically ran into my mother on her way out.
"Oh, Suze," she said, "there's a boy in the kitchen who wants to see you." You could totally tell from her tone that she was excited. See, back in New York, I wasn't exactly Ms. Popularity. I didn't exactly have boys knocking down my door. So whenever a guy comes by, she gets even more excited than I do.
"Oh, yeah? Who?" I asked curiously, starting toward the kitchen.
My mom didn't get a chance to answer my question, because I pushed my into the kitchen and saw-who else?-Paul Slater sitting at the kitchen table.
I stared at him. "What are you doing here?" I hissed.
Paul raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. "Suze, " he said, smiling slyly. "It's good to see you, too." He stood up and walked up close to me. Too close for my taste, if you ask me.
I took a step back, and he smiled. "I was just wondering if you had thought about this morning," he said, giving me a knowing look.
"This morning?" I croaked. God, why couldn't I stop shaking? He couldn't do anything to me in my kitchen. At least, I don't think he could. I took another step back, and suddenly I was backed up against the wall, with Paul only inches away from me. I could feel his chill as I stared at him, all too aware of the fear in my eyes.
Paul's smile widened. "Now, Suze," he chided, "you know I wouldn't hurt you." He reached up and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. I flinched. Paul leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "Of course, I seem to remember me promising that boyfriend of yours that he would pay one day. And I think I know how to do just that." Then he pulled something from his pocket.
Okay, I'll be honest: I thought he was going to kill me right then and there. But instead, he held up a little slip of paper. I took the paper and stared down at it. All it said on it was a phone number and an address.
"That's the number of where I'm staying," Paul informed me. He turned and went to the kitchen door, leaving me still plastered against the wall. "You can call me when you're ready." He said that last part like he knew for sure that I would. Call him, I mean.
I stood there in the kitchen for a long time after Paul left. I stood there for so long that Doc-also known as David, my youngest stepbrother-asked me if I was okay.
I blinked at him. "Excuse me?"
"You looked kind of dazed," Doc informed me. "Like you were thinking too intently about something and just forgot to move or whatever." He shrugged before going to the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice. He opened that carton drank straight from the carton.
Sick, I tell you. It's just sick. I mean, why do guys always insist on drinking juice straight from the carton? I swear in the past eight months I have been drinking less and less milk and juice.
I went up to my bedroom where I found Jesse sitting in the window seat.
It really isn't fair. I mean, I can't go one minute without someone intruding. Okay, I love Jesse, and usually I like seeing him and everything, but not right now. It hadn't exactly been the best day of my life, after all, and I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to lay down and take a nap for awhile. Anything that would get me away from everyone who seemed to enjoy jumping into my life every five minutes.
I sat down on my bed, looking wearily at Jesse. "Look, Jess, I'm really tired right now. I've had enough of people for one day." I laid back on my bed, sighing. "I swear if I talk to one more person I will go nuts."
Jesse stood up and walked over to my bedside to look down at me. "Is something wrong?" he asked, smiling, but just a little.
I frowned at him. "No, I'm just tired, that's all. It's been a long day, you know." I closed my eyes, hoping that he'd take the hint and leave.
But he didn't. Instead he sat down on my bed next to me and I had to yank my arm out of the way before he could squash it. "Susannah," he said in that silky voice of his that always seems to make me melt whenever he uses it. He tugged gently on my cashmere sweater, causing me to open my eyes and stare up at him. He smiled at me. "Listen to me, I realize that you are tired, but I want to talk to you, Susannah."
I sat up, carefully not touching him for fear that I might turn into a quivering pile of goo if I did. I sighed. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?"
"This morning in Father Dominic's office-"
"Ugh, no." I turned over on my stomach and buried my face in my pillow. "Can we not talk about that stupid cat right now? I promise we'll find him, sooner or-"
"Susannah," Jesse interrupted. He turned me back around so that I faced him. "That is not what I wanted to talk to you about." He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. When Paul had done it twenty minutes earlier, I'd felt scared. But when Jesse did it, it made me feel warm and happy for some reason.
Suddenly I pulled away from him, rolling onto my side so that my face was tilted away from Jesse. I remembered what Paul had said. He said that Jesse was going to pay someday. And that I had something to do with how he would pay. Well, I wasn't going to give Paul a chance. I had to stay clear of Jesse, I decided, for our own good.
Jesse looked down at me bewilderedly. "Susannah, is something wrong?" he asked, trying to get me to face him.
Yes, something's wrong, I wanted to shout at him. Just when you're finally showing some interest in me-at least, I think you are-I have to pretend not to feel anything for you because I'm afraid of what Paul might do to me.
That's what I thought. What I said was, "No, nothing's wrong. I'm just tired, that's all."
Jesse blinked. "I see," he said, sounding a little hurt. I wanted to reach out to him and tell him that I really wanted to be with him right then. But I couldn't. I took the coward's way out and pretended not to care.
Jesse stood up. "Well, I will go, then, I suppose. I'll let you get your. rest." You could tell from his tone that he wasn't very happy with me. Nor did he really believe that I just wanted to take a nap. I mean, I did, but I would have given anything to spend that time with Jesse instead.
But, I thought as Jesse dematerialized, that couldn't happen just yet. Not until I figured out a way to handle Paul, anyway. And I wasn't about to drag Jesse into this. I know it was cowardly, but I truly was afraid of what Paul would do to me if he thought that he could get to Jesse through me.
I sighed. I would still have to deal with Paul, I knew. I mean, he was right: there was a lot I didn't know, a lot I wanted to find out. And apparently he was the only person who could give me the answers. And he knew it, too. That's why he knew that I'd call him. I was curious, and the only person who could feed my curiosity was him. Besides, if I didn't I'd continue to have nightmares about him.
I wondered, though, why Paul would bother telling me anything if he was going to. well, kill me, I guess. Because that's what he planned to do, I knew with all too much certainty. And he knew that I knew it, too. He had information that I wanted, so I had to come to him sooner or later. And when I did, he'd do what he'd been planning to do the whole time-what I was sure that he would do the first opportunity he saw-and then I'd have to do something rash. I wasn't sure exactly what yet, but I knew I'd have to do something.
So, as weird as it might sound, I came up with a plan. If I was going to get lured into a trap, I was going to do it in style. I wasn't going to let Paul get the best of me, not if I could help it, anyway. Two could play at this game, and I wasn't about to lose.
The next day I decided I was going to take my new wardrobe and milk it for all it was worth. Dressed in my khaki skirt-you know, one of those that buttons up in the front-and a white, ruffled shirt with a totally cute floral design (not to mention my high-heeled sandals) I strutted into the breezeway, getting a few looks on my way, if I may mention it.
I spotted him at his locker. I took a deep breath and crossed the floor to him, trying to look graceful and sexy when my heart was racing. Paul saw me coming and smiled broadly, looking me up and down as I sidled up next to him.
"Well, good morning, Suze," he said knowingly. "And to what do I honor this little visit?"
I plastered a sweet smile on my face, leaning forward a little. I prayed that he couldn't see my fear, because I really was terrified. But this was for Jesse, I reminded myself. Yeah. For Jesse.
"I was just thinking about what we were talking about last night," I replied, placing a hand on his arm. I cringed inwardly. I tossed my hair a little, smiling up at him. "I mean, you're right, there are a lot of questions I have for you." God, I thought, why did he have to look so good? It would have been so much easier to hate him if he wasn't so damn good- looking. I mean, seriously, while we were standing there-and, unfortunately, his locker was right in the middle of the breezeway-people would shoot looks at us as they passed. More than a few girls shot me envious looks. Well, I mused, they could have him, because I certainly didn't want him.
Focus, Simon, I ordered myself. Just say what you came here to say. I cleared my throat. "But, you know, I was thinking of something else you said, too."
Paul raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly would that be?" He smiled.
"Well, after all, you know, you were right." I laced my fingers around his wrist and gazed up at him. "Jesse really isn't my type," I said, pretending to admire my perfectly manicured hands against his darkly tanned-and, may I point out, very muscular-arm. Then, feeling the urge to vomit, I met Paul's gaze. God, he was good-looking. I shook myself mentally. "But, you know, I was thinking, maybe you and I could." I raised my eyebrows suggestively.
Paul's smile widened. He knew I was lying. I mean it, I am not that good an actress. In fact, I probably would've gotten kicked out of the drama club- that is, if I'd been in drama club-for my little performance just then.
Paul leaned against his locker, regarding me with an amused glance. "Suze, are you trying to ask me out?"
I raised my eyebrows, unable to bite out just a little sarcasm. "Are you, Paul, accepting? Or am I just wasting my time?" To emphasize my point, I turned on my heel and started to walk away.
"Wait," Paul said, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. "I didn't even answer your question yet, Suze," he said, smiling. "But, since you asked. well, I would like to go out with you." He looked down, smirking slightly. It took me a minute to realize what he was looking at, and it was all I could do not to cross my arms over my chest. "I have plans tonight, but I'm free tomorrow."
I nodded. "Okay, umm, sounds good," I stammered, stepping back.
"Suze!"
I turned around to see Adam walking toward me. I don't think that I've ever been so happy to see anyone in my whole life more than I was at that moment to see Adam. A quick glance around told me that CeeCee was no where in sight.
"Hi!" I said, a little too perkily. I grabbed onto his elbow. "Mind walking me to class?" I sent Adam a look that said if he didn't I'd break his arm.
"Suze," Paul said smoothly from behind me. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Without waiting for my answer, Paul stepped forward and held out his hand. "I'm Paul Slater."
Adam glanced down at the hand before shaking it. "Adam McTavish," he greeted. "Are you and Suze-"
"Friends," I interjected, even though it wasn't true. "Paul and I are friends. I baby-sat his little brother last summer," I explained hastily to Adam. Then, in a low whisper, "Would you mind walking me to class.now?" I squeezed his elbow tightly in case he wasn't getting the importance of my getting out of there.
"Ah, yeah, it was nice meeting you, Paul," Adam said, glancing curiously down at me. "But we've really got to be getting back to class."
With that, I hauled out of there, using Adam as a sort of shield, not bothering to glance back at Paul just so I could see his knowing smile again. Once I was sure we were out of Paul's line of sight, I released Adam's elbow. "Thanks," I muttered to him as we continued down the hallway. "I appreciated that."
"Yeah, I could tell." Adam looked over his shoulder. "What was that all about anyway?" He glanced back at me.
I shook my head. "Nothing all that important," I lied. "He just makes me uncomfortable, that's all." But, as I knew only too well, that wasn't the half of it.
I stomped down the hallway toward Father Dominic's office during third period. I had to be told three times by three different novices to slow down, but it didn't matter. I was still furious from that morning. It turned out that Paul was in my homeroom, which just added to my sour mood. How exactly was I supposed to start out my junior year right when I had to see Paul Slater-who had purposely left the seat behind him open when there wasn't any other open seats-everyday?
I was relieved when Miss Edmonds, my Algebra teacher, told me that Father Dom wanted to see me. I hadn't really seen Father Dominic since I'd gotten him to exorcise me so I could go after Jesse.
I burst into his office and stopped dead in my tracks. Father Dominic was sitting at his desk, as usual, but the only thing I saw was who was sitting in the chair I always occupied. At first, all I saw was the back of his head-which, by the way, was covered in curly black hair-but I knew who it was.
I stood, posed in the doorway, staring at him. Father D stood up suddenly, but I barely noticed. "Susannah," he said, sounding a bit agitated.
I walked up and sat down in the other chair opposite of Father Dominic, and turned back to the ghost sitting in the other chair next to me.
Yes, you read that right. A ghost.
Jesse gave me this look that I couldn't quite understand. It was like a mix between worried-and I'll admit, for a minute I thought he was worried because he'd found out about Paul-and hurt. I couldn't get why he would feel hurt just then, but I knew that it had to be something big since, of course, Jesse didn't get hurt very easily.
I narrowed my eyes. "What's wrong?" I looked from Jesse to Father Dom and back again. "What happened?"
Father Dominic sat down again and looked at Jesse as he said, "I do not see how this could possibly be so important that it could not wait until after school. We can't just take Susannah out of class, you understand, Jesse, because you wish to. er. speak privately with her." He gave me a pointed look before he stood again. "If you need me, I will be outside in the lobby. Call me when you're finished." He left the office.
I turned toward Jesse. Before I could say another word, he started talking. "Susannah, Spike is gone."
I blinked. Spike is our cat. Ours meaning Jesse's and mine. Spike, unlike normal animals, seems to like Jesse, a ghost, his mortal enemy, more than he likes me, a living, breathing person who just happens to feed him and clean his litter box. The little flea bag, though, had actually started to warm up to me recently, which I found a bit unsettling, considering it had taken me eight months to get used to the fact that he hated my guts. But Jesse he adored for some reason.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
Jesse got up and started to pace. He was really getting worked up about this, I could tell. I swear I thought that he was going to start balling or something. But of course, he wouldn't. Jesse, being a guy, isn't exactly the type to cry.
"He hasn't been home since last night," Jesse said as he turned back to face me, looking seriously disturbed.
To tell you the truth, I really wasn't all that worried. I mean, I was perfectly certain that Spike could take care of himself. He spent all the time that he wasn't eating or getting attention from Jesse-attention, I might add, that I should have been getting, if you asked me-he was outside, doing whatever it is cats do. So, of course, I wasn't very concerned about Spike. But I could see that Jesse obviously was. So I did what any sixteen- year-old girl in my situation would do.
I went over to Jesse and grabbed his arm before he could continue pacing. Jesse looked down at me. Apparently, he saw in my expression that I wasn't all that concerned. "Susannah," he said, sounding irritated. "This is serious."
"I know," I said defensively. "Look, Jesse, I know Spike, okay? He goes out all the time. He'll come back sooner or later. I mean, he does have to eat." I gave him a little hug, happy for my chance to feel his arms around me, even if it was in Father Dom's office and he was right outside. "It just makes me worried, you know, to see you so worked up." I tilted my head up and met his gaze. "Listen, I'm sure Spike's fine. The cat can take care of himself."
I swear, at that moment Jesse's mouth was so close to mine that, for a minute, I thought he would kiss me. He'd done it a few times in the past two months. Mostly after I'd nearly died just to save him. I hadn't even uttered the "L" word to him, yet.
But, of course, he didn't. Kiss me, I mean. Because at that moment Father Dominic walked into the office and interrupted what could have been a very romantic moment.
"I beg your pardon," Father Dom said, clearing his throat loudly. "I think it's time for you to get to class, Susannah." He looked pointedly at Jesse who still had his arms around my waist. Jesse stepped away from me and I silently wished that Father D would go back outside.
I crossed the room to the door. "I'll see you later, Father D," I said, putting my hand on the knob and glancing back at Jesse. "I'll keep an eye out for Spike," I told him. I left the office and started back to class.
As if my day couldn't get any worse, on my way down the hall I ended up bumping right into some big oaf who had been barreling down the hall.
"Hey, watch it!" I said, trying to sidestep him. I looked up and realized that the oaf was actually Brad-or, as I call him, Dopey-my stepbrother. He's not exactly the shiniest rock in the garden, hence his nickname, but he's on the wrestling team, so what can you expect? As it turns out, "oaf" is actually a very fitting term for him.
"What are you doing out here?" Dopey asked.
"I was talking to Father Dominic," I said, walking past him.
Dopey looked like he wanted to say something more, but I was already halfway down the hall, heading toward the classroom door. "Later," I called to him.
I walked through the front door that day after school and practically ran into my mother on her way out.
"Oh, Suze," she said, "there's a boy in the kitchen who wants to see you." You could totally tell from her tone that she was excited. See, back in New York, I wasn't exactly Ms. Popularity. I didn't exactly have boys knocking down my door. So whenever a guy comes by, she gets even more excited than I do.
"Oh, yeah? Who?" I asked curiously, starting toward the kitchen.
My mom didn't get a chance to answer my question, because I pushed my into the kitchen and saw-who else?-Paul Slater sitting at the kitchen table.
I stared at him. "What are you doing here?" I hissed.
Paul raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. "Suze, " he said, smiling slyly. "It's good to see you, too." He stood up and walked up close to me. Too close for my taste, if you ask me.
I took a step back, and he smiled. "I was just wondering if you had thought about this morning," he said, giving me a knowing look.
"This morning?" I croaked. God, why couldn't I stop shaking? He couldn't do anything to me in my kitchen. At least, I don't think he could. I took another step back, and suddenly I was backed up against the wall, with Paul only inches away from me. I could feel his chill as I stared at him, all too aware of the fear in my eyes.
Paul's smile widened. "Now, Suze," he chided, "you know I wouldn't hurt you." He reached up and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. I flinched. Paul leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "Of course, I seem to remember me promising that boyfriend of yours that he would pay one day. And I think I know how to do just that." Then he pulled something from his pocket.
Okay, I'll be honest: I thought he was going to kill me right then and there. But instead, he held up a little slip of paper. I took the paper and stared down at it. All it said on it was a phone number and an address.
"That's the number of where I'm staying," Paul informed me. He turned and went to the kitchen door, leaving me still plastered against the wall. "You can call me when you're ready." He said that last part like he knew for sure that I would. Call him, I mean.
I stood there in the kitchen for a long time after Paul left. I stood there for so long that Doc-also known as David, my youngest stepbrother-asked me if I was okay.
I blinked at him. "Excuse me?"
"You looked kind of dazed," Doc informed me. "Like you were thinking too intently about something and just forgot to move or whatever." He shrugged before going to the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice. He opened that carton drank straight from the carton.
Sick, I tell you. It's just sick. I mean, why do guys always insist on drinking juice straight from the carton? I swear in the past eight months I have been drinking less and less milk and juice.
I went up to my bedroom where I found Jesse sitting in the window seat.
It really isn't fair. I mean, I can't go one minute without someone intruding. Okay, I love Jesse, and usually I like seeing him and everything, but not right now. It hadn't exactly been the best day of my life, after all, and I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to lay down and take a nap for awhile. Anything that would get me away from everyone who seemed to enjoy jumping into my life every five minutes.
I sat down on my bed, looking wearily at Jesse. "Look, Jess, I'm really tired right now. I've had enough of people for one day." I laid back on my bed, sighing. "I swear if I talk to one more person I will go nuts."
Jesse stood up and walked over to my bedside to look down at me. "Is something wrong?" he asked, smiling, but just a little.
I frowned at him. "No, I'm just tired, that's all. It's been a long day, you know." I closed my eyes, hoping that he'd take the hint and leave.
But he didn't. Instead he sat down on my bed next to me and I had to yank my arm out of the way before he could squash it. "Susannah," he said in that silky voice of his that always seems to make me melt whenever he uses it. He tugged gently on my cashmere sweater, causing me to open my eyes and stare up at him. He smiled at me. "Listen to me, I realize that you are tired, but I want to talk to you, Susannah."
I sat up, carefully not touching him for fear that I might turn into a quivering pile of goo if I did. I sighed. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?"
"This morning in Father Dominic's office-"
"Ugh, no." I turned over on my stomach and buried my face in my pillow. "Can we not talk about that stupid cat right now? I promise we'll find him, sooner or-"
"Susannah," Jesse interrupted. He turned me back around so that I faced him. "That is not what I wanted to talk to you about." He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. When Paul had done it twenty minutes earlier, I'd felt scared. But when Jesse did it, it made me feel warm and happy for some reason.
Suddenly I pulled away from him, rolling onto my side so that my face was tilted away from Jesse. I remembered what Paul had said. He said that Jesse was going to pay someday. And that I had something to do with how he would pay. Well, I wasn't going to give Paul a chance. I had to stay clear of Jesse, I decided, for our own good.
Jesse looked down at me bewilderedly. "Susannah, is something wrong?" he asked, trying to get me to face him.
Yes, something's wrong, I wanted to shout at him. Just when you're finally showing some interest in me-at least, I think you are-I have to pretend not to feel anything for you because I'm afraid of what Paul might do to me.
That's what I thought. What I said was, "No, nothing's wrong. I'm just tired, that's all."
Jesse blinked. "I see," he said, sounding a little hurt. I wanted to reach out to him and tell him that I really wanted to be with him right then. But I couldn't. I took the coward's way out and pretended not to care.
Jesse stood up. "Well, I will go, then, I suppose. I'll let you get your. rest." You could tell from his tone that he wasn't very happy with me. Nor did he really believe that I just wanted to take a nap. I mean, I did, but I would have given anything to spend that time with Jesse instead.
But, I thought as Jesse dematerialized, that couldn't happen just yet. Not until I figured out a way to handle Paul, anyway. And I wasn't about to drag Jesse into this. I know it was cowardly, but I truly was afraid of what Paul would do to me if he thought that he could get to Jesse through me.
I sighed. I would still have to deal with Paul, I knew. I mean, he was right: there was a lot I didn't know, a lot I wanted to find out. And apparently he was the only person who could give me the answers. And he knew it, too. That's why he knew that I'd call him. I was curious, and the only person who could feed my curiosity was him. Besides, if I didn't I'd continue to have nightmares about him.
I wondered, though, why Paul would bother telling me anything if he was going to. well, kill me, I guess. Because that's what he planned to do, I knew with all too much certainty. And he knew that I knew it, too. He had information that I wanted, so I had to come to him sooner or later. And when I did, he'd do what he'd been planning to do the whole time-what I was sure that he would do the first opportunity he saw-and then I'd have to do something rash. I wasn't sure exactly what yet, but I knew I'd have to do something.
So, as weird as it might sound, I came up with a plan. If I was going to get lured into a trap, I was going to do it in style. I wasn't going to let Paul get the best of me, not if I could help it, anyway. Two could play at this game, and I wasn't about to lose.
The next day I decided I was going to take my new wardrobe and milk it for all it was worth. Dressed in my khaki skirt-you know, one of those that buttons up in the front-and a white, ruffled shirt with a totally cute floral design (not to mention my high-heeled sandals) I strutted into the breezeway, getting a few looks on my way, if I may mention it.
I spotted him at his locker. I took a deep breath and crossed the floor to him, trying to look graceful and sexy when my heart was racing. Paul saw me coming and smiled broadly, looking me up and down as I sidled up next to him.
"Well, good morning, Suze," he said knowingly. "And to what do I honor this little visit?"
I plastered a sweet smile on my face, leaning forward a little. I prayed that he couldn't see my fear, because I really was terrified. But this was for Jesse, I reminded myself. Yeah. For Jesse.
"I was just thinking about what we were talking about last night," I replied, placing a hand on his arm. I cringed inwardly. I tossed my hair a little, smiling up at him. "I mean, you're right, there are a lot of questions I have for you." God, I thought, why did he have to look so good? It would have been so much easier to hate him if he wasn't so damn good- looking. I mean, seriously, while we were standing there-and, unfortunately, his locker was right in the middle of the breezeway-people would shoot looks at us as they passed. More than a few girls shot me envious looks. Well, I mused, they could have him, because I certainly didn't want him.
Focus, Simon, I ordered myself. Just say what you came here to say. I cleared my throat. "But, you know, I was thinking of something else you said, too."
Paul raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly would that be?" He smiled.
"Well, after all, you know, you were right." I laced my fingers around his wrist and gazed up at him. "Jesse really isn't my type," I said, pretending to admire my perfectly manicured hands against his darkly tanned-and, may I point out, very muscular-arm. Then, feeling the urge to vomit, I met Paul's gaze. God, he was good-looking. I shook myself mentally. "But, you know, I was thinking, maybe you and I could." I raised my eyebrows suggestively.
Paul's smile widened. He knew I was lying. I mean it, I am not that good an actress. In fact, I probably would've gotten kicked out of the drama club- that is, if I'd been in drama club-for my little performance just then.
Paul leaned against his locker, regarding me with an amused glance. "Suze, are you trying to ask me out?"
I raised my eyebrows, unable to bite out just a little sarcasm. "Are you, Paul, accepting? Or am I just wasting my time?" To emphasize my point, I turned on my heel and started to walk away.
"Wait," Paul said, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. "I didn't even answer your question yet, Suze," he said, smiling. "But, since you asked. well, I would like to go out with you." He looked down, smirking slightly. It took me a minute to realize what he was looking at, and it was all I could do not to cross my arms over my chest. "I have plans tonight, but I'm free tomorrow."
I nodded. "Okay, umm, sounds good," I stammered, stepping back.
"Suze!"
I turned around to see Adam walking toward me. I don't think that I've ever been so happy to see anyone in my whole life more than I was at that moment to see Adam. A quick glance around told me that CeeCee was no where in sight.
"Hi!" I said, a little too perkily. I grabbed onto his elbow. "Mind walking me to class?" I sent Adam a look that said if he didn't I'd break his arm.
"Suze," Paul said smoothly from behind me. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Without waiting for my answer, Paul stepped forward and held out his hand. "I'm Paul Slater."
Adam glanced down at the hand before shaking it. "Adam McTavish," he greeted. "Are you and Suze-"
"Friends," I interjected, even though it wasn't true. "Paul and I are friends. I baby-sat his little brother last summer," I explained hastily to Adam. Then, in a low whisper, "Would you mind walking me to class.now?" I squeezed his elbow tightly in case he wasn't getting the importance of my getting out of there.
"Ah, yeah, it was nice meeting you, Paul," Adam said, glancing curiously down at me. "But we've really got to be getting back to class."
With that, I hauled out of there, using Adam as a sort of shield, not bothering to glance back at Paul just so I could see his knowing smile again. Once I was sure we were out of Paul's line of sight, I released Adam's elbow. "Thanks," I muttered to him as we continued down the hallway. "I appreciated that."
"Yeah, I could tell." Adam looked over his shoulder. "What was that all about anyway?" He glanced back at me.
I shook my head. "Nothing all that important," I lied. "He just makes me uncomfortable, that's all." But, as I knew only too well, that wasn't the half of it.