Chapter 2
"Nothing. There's nothing here!" I exclaimed, frustrated. I pushed my padded rolling chair away from my laptop, attempting to get up. But—again, just being me—my chair rolled unevenly over my bunny slipper and toppled to the ground. I went flying at Duke, who was lounging on my beanbag chair with his arm around thin air, as if waiting for something to fill the space next to him. He got his wish. I landed right under his arm, practically on top of him, my body pressed up against his. He looked at me in wonder for a moment, then came to his senses.
"Whoa. Are you okay?" he yelled, getting up and helping me to my feet. Always concerned. It was a freaking beanbag chair! Also, he had this (weird) habit of keeping a minimal amount of air between us when we were together. Hmmmm.
"What do you mean?" he continued, nodding to my computer. He was also intrigued by the disappearing students, so he suggested we Google Mrs. Coshell and see what we can find. "How can there be nothing there?!" Duke demanded. I looked at him and thought, Wow, even when he's mad he's hot!!! His long brown hair was layered and fell to his ears, scattered freckles across his nose like ants on a picnic table, and the deepest, most chocolaty brown eyes I've ever had the fortune to see. And he was a good two inches taller than me, was tan, and had a 6-pack, biceps bulging like miniature watermelons, and a shark tooth necklace the sharpness of a dull razor blade. Yeah, that worked.
"I'm telling you, there's nothing there," I said softly, dispirited. I could see the irking fear of failure creeping into his eyes, yet I continued. "Just the normal stuff. Born in Nebraska, graduated from A&M College in 1985, now a Delaware teacher. And that's it."
"Oh. Is there any pictures?" he asked hopefully (hence the "hopefully").
"Um, yeah, I think," I replied, pulling them up from the task bar. "Here," I continued, pushing the laptop towards him. "Look."
"Whoa!" he shouted, jumping up to get a better look. "Our teacher was a babe!!!!"
"Hmph." I snorted through my nose in disbelief of the maturity levels of certain teenagers.
"Uhh…." He droned, looking at me and grinning. "I never said that."
"How could someone be on the phone for this long?!" I demanded of my empty room after school the next day. I called Dee like, five billion times but the only thing I got was the persistent buzz of the busy signal. I wanted to tell her about the attempt Duke and I had been making to learn about Mrs. Coshell, because there had been another disappearance!!! The weird part is that no one seemed to notice except Duke and me. Seriously, I think Dee was right when she said Mrs. Coshell was…weird. She had given me an A on something that deserved a C…not that I'm complaining. But it's like all these attacks (if one could call them that) we sucking up all her energy for teaching. Thank God.
"So, I was thinking," Duke said, leaning casually against the surrounding lockers, staring intently at me while I collected my books. "I want you to come to the Fall Fair with me tonight." He rushed on, his lips curving into a smile. "Please?" he offered, attempting to soften my response.
"Yeah. I think I will!" I grinned, sighing internally with pleasure.
"Cool," he said with satisfaction, flashing his dazzling, melt-my-heart smile. "I'll pick you up at seven."
"How do I look?" I asked my bedroom mirror that night. I was wearing these awesome Converse (gray plaid with black roses on the sides), my favorite—and tiny—denim skirt, and a white tee that hugged my every curve, showing black electric guitar graphics and clear rhinestones. The doorbell chimed and I ran down the stairs, kissed my mom good-bye, and tried to collect my nerves before I walked out the door.
"Hey!" Duke half-yelled and gave a long, low whistle as I ran into his awaiting arms.
"Let's go," I giggled as Duke kissed my neck and across my collarbone. His strong, taught arms lifted me up a little and swept me to his car and into the night.