Authors: Pat White
When he turned back, three football players were blocking the sidewalk. J.D. was totally screwed.
“Hey, Pratt,” Bryce Sommers said, taking a step toward him. “We heard you got out of jail. Can you score us some weed?”
“I’m not a dealer.”
“That’s not what we heard,” another kid said. J.D. didn’t know his name.
“I don’t have anything.” His pulse raced, a familiar response to the anticipation of violence.
“You mind if we check your pockets?” Bryce said.
J.D. turned to run but the third guy, Pete Striden, grabbed his jacket. Pete flung J.D. to the lawn, knocking the wind out of him. He struggled for air.
“Do it,” a guy said.
Were they nuts? He’d seen their faces and could identify them.
Yeah, and who would the cops believe, three football stars or J.D., who was just released from jail?
Someone shoved a sock into his mouth and pulled his arms behind his back. J.D. kicked and twisted, but without the use of his hands or the ability to call out for help he was completely screwed.
They dragged him to a sedan and shoved him in the trunk. “Have a nice night.” Bryce slammed the trunk closed, plunging J.D. into complete darkness.
* * *
I pace the front porch of the party house, wondering what happened to Greg. He got a mysterious text and said he’d be right back.
That was over an hour ago. Before I could spike his beer.
I wasn’t worried at the time because he seemed okay, not crazed or anything. After he’d spotted me with J.D. it took me a good twenty minutes to calm him down. I explained that J.D. was asking if he could still take notes for me and I threatened to file a harassment complaint if he didn’t leave me alone. That pleased Greg immensely. He hugged me and said that’s what he loves about me the most: my strength.
Love? I don’t think so. It feels more like possession.
I glance at my cell phone. Eleven thirty. I wish J.D. would text me, but he’s probably still angry about my plan to stick close to Greg. Well, I’m not close to Greg right now, damn it. Panic tangles my insides at the thought of Greg out there somewhere playing pyro.
Two of Greg’s friends, Bryce and Alan, get out of a car and walk up to the house. They’re laughing and high fiving each other.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey, back,” Bryce says.
“Have you seen Greg?”
“Oh, we’ve seen him all right,” Alan snickers.
“Where is he?”
“He’ll call,” Bryce says. “He’s got a surprise for you.”
They lumber into the house and the group cries out with congratulations on winning the football game.
I could care less about football. I’m focused on finding Greg. I shoot him a text:
Where r u? I miss u
I pace back and forth. Wait. No response.
I text J.D.:
U OK?
Another few minutes pass.
Pacing the porch like a caged panther, I consider heading to school. But what if Greg has changed his plans and gone someplace else?
Which is possible because things have changed since the original HULU. Anything can happen and I can no longer anticipate what Greg’s going to do next.
I remember Greg’s eyes, glaring death rays at J.D. across the street earlier. Greg looked like…
He could kill J.D.
I rush into the house and spot Bryce in the living room dancing with Clarisse. Well, kind of dancing. She’s leaning away from him as he tries to kiss her.
I push my way through the group and yank him off of her. “Where is he?” I shout over the music.
“Hey, back off.”
I rip off my sunglasses, but I hope he’ll talk to me so I don’t have to jump into a HULU.
“Where the hell is Greg?” I demand.
“He’ll be here when he’s done.”
“Done with that?”
He leans forward, his eyes sparkling. “Your surprise.”
I grab his arm and dig my fingernails into his skin to get his attention. “Tell me where Greg is or—”
“What, you gonna cry, moron?”
That one word triggers a HULU. I plummet into a bottomless pit and land in the middle of the street. I look up and see three guys carrying a body and tossing it into the trunk of a car. I recognize the Vans skateboard shoes.
“No!” I jump to my feet and pound on the trunk. “J.D.!” I cry.
Silence.
I blink a few times to focus. I’m back in the living room and it’s deadly quiet. Someone turned off the music. Although drunk or stoned, everyone’s staring at me like I’m a total whack job.
I glare at Bryce. “Where did you take him?”
“Who?”
“J.D. Pratt. You shoved him into the trunk of a car. Where is he?”
He pulls away from me. “What the hell?”
“Tell me!”
I grab a glass ashtray and wield it over my head. “I swear to God I’m gonna smash your—”
“Okay, okay!” He puts up his hands. “They’re at school.”
I hand the ashtray to Taylor whose mouth hangs open in shock. As I march for the door, everyone steps aside as if I’ve got cooties.
“Crazy bitch!” Bryce calls after me.
I storm out of the house and into the dark night, digging in my wallet for Detective Ryan’s card. I hesitate on the porch and make the call, but it goes into voice mail.
“Hey, it’s Cat Westfield. It’s happening. The fire. Meet me at Evergreen High. I think Greg’s got J.D.” I hesitate, feeling J.D.’s fear, his helplessness. “Damn, I hope you get this.”
As I march away from the house the music starts up behind me. I don’t look back.
I’m branded now. My reign is over at Evergreen High. After all, I just threatened a jock with an ashtray.
For J.D. Pratt.
“Catherine?” Clarisse calls after me.
I keep walking.
She catches up to me. “You want a ride?”
“Why?”
“You’ll get there faster.” She hits the FOB and unlocks her Jeep.
“No, really, why?”
“Because you’re always nice to me?” She shrugs.
I nod and get into her car, but I can barely breathe past the fear squeezing my lungs. She takes off for school. We can’t get there fast enough.
I realize J.D. spends his life protecting the people he cares about: his little brother, then me after the accident. He wasn’t stalking me when I came back to school. He was trying to help because he felt awful about what had happened.
Then, when he found out about my HULU’s, he challenged me to make things work instead of denying my ability. He accepted me in my “new normal” state.
We turn into the high school parking lot. It’s packed with cars and the B wing is lit up.
“Why are there so many people here?” I grip the dashboard.
“Battle of the Bands,” Clarisse says. “It’s a sold out show.”
My heart sinks into my stomach.
“Call 9-1-1,” I order Clarisse and get out of the car.
“And say what?” she calls after me.
“I don’t know, suspicious activity at Evergreen High school?”
I sprint toward the main entrance. Where would Greg be? In my HULU he was making a bomb in the locker room. But he wanted to bench Mr. Cooper, which means…the art room which is not far from the auditorium.
I whip open the metal door and rock music echoes from the auditorium. Just then a few kids spill out into the hallway. I rush around the corner to Cooper’s room. The lights are off and the doors are locked.
“Damn!” I pound on the door with both fists.
Where the hell is Greg? And what has he done with J.D.?
“Catherine?” Greg says, walking up to me. His eyes aren’t quite focused and his cheeks are red, either from excitement or too many beers. Maybe a little of both.
Voices drift down the hall. He presses his forefinger to his lips and pulls me into an alcove.
“You found me.” He plants a kiss on my lips.
I try not to visibly shudder.
He leans back and smiles, a wicked curl to his lips. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
I wonder if coming in here alone was a good idea.
He opens the door to the art room and flips on the lights. I bite back a gasp at the sight of J.D., gagged and tied to a chair in the middle of the room. I’ve got to play this right or my HULU will come true.
No, I won’t let anything happen to J.D.
“What is
he
doing here?” I pretend to be horrified.
J.D. glares at us, pulling on his wrists, bound behind him by strapping tape. He’s helpless.
“This, my love, is my gift to you,” Greg says, stalking J.D. “I present to you, your enemy.” He waves his arm in a grand gesture. “Do whatever you’d like to him.”
Uh, that probably doesn’t include untying him, hugging him and kissing him.
Where are the cops? They should be here by now, unless Clarisse was too timid to make the call. In the meantime I have to manage this psycho who’s trying to please me.
“I’ve got ideas,” Greg says, grabbing J.D.’s hair and yanking his head back.
“Me too!” I snap, rushing to J.D. I can’t stand Greg touching him.
“You’ve got to hate this loser more than anyone,” Greg says.
“Hate doesn’t even come close.” I glare at J.D.
Greg releases him and paces to the front of the room. I try to catch J.D.’s attention, but he won’t look at me. His eyes are locked onto Greg with a kind of hatred I’ve never seen before.
“I mean, this jerk ran you down in the street,” Greg says. “You’ll never be on Cheer again.”
I sense where he’s going so I play along to buy time. “I was dropped from AP.”
“You may never drive again.”
“I depend on a note-taker.”
“How many meds are you on?” Greg asks.
“Too many.”
“Probably forever. Because of this jerk.” Greg walks up to me and leans close. “Go on, hit him. It will make you feel better.”
I’ve got to keep up the pretense, but —
“What are you waiting for?” Greg prompts.
“You jerk!” I slap J.D. across the face. My hand stings and my heart shatters.
“That’s my girl.” Greg grabs me by the shoulders and kisses me.
J.D.’s verbal protest is muffled by the tape over his mouth.
Greg breaks the kiss. “I think the juvenile delinquent has a crush on you.”
“Gross.” I rip my gaze from J.D. He’s got to know I’m acting, pretending to be disgusted by him. I turn around and see a Wicked G bottle with a rag sticking out of it on Mr. Cooper’s desk.
Don’t panic. Take a deep breath.
“What’s that?” I wander toward the bottle, considering my options. Snatch and run? Dismantle? Toss into the sink?
Wait, I don’t see matches.
“That is a little payback for Cooper,” Greg says.
CLICK.
I snap my attention to Greg. He’s flicking a lighter on and off, on and off, fascinated by the flame.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“After you’re done with the delinquent, I’m going to burn Cooper’s stuff, just like he burned me.”
“But—”
“They’ll find Pratt’s body and blame it on him!”
He’s insane, completely psycho.
“You can’t set fire to—”
“I can do anything I want!” he shouts.
“I don’t want you to be expelled. What about your scholarship?”
“Aw, she’s worried about me.” He looks at J.D. “See, Pratt, that’s what love looks like. She loves me, don’t you babe?”
I’m the deer. Caught between the hunter and the speeding car. My goal is to keep J.D alive, to keep everyone in the building alive.
“I’ve loved you since freshman year,” I say, touching his arm.
He grabs my wrist. “Liar.”
I look into his cold, hateful eyes. Somehow he knows about me and J.D.
“You kissed him.” Greg squeezes my wrist tighter.
Think fast, Cat
.
I have to weaken him somehow.
“How could you do that to me, with this, this, loser!” Greg screams.
His grip tightens and my mind races with panic.
And stops on…
The HULU of a little boy crying in the shed, being taunted by his sisters…was Greg. That gives me an idea.
“Why would I kiss that degenerate, you stupid, dummy!”
“What did you call me?”
For a second I think he’s going to hit me. I’ll take the hit if it keeps J.D. and me alive for another five minutes.
“Why would I kiss the guy who tried to kill me?” I shout. “You stupid, dummy dork!”
“I’m not stupid!” He shoves me away and I stumble against the counter.
It’s progress. I’m free.
“You are stupid.” I continue. “You’re going to set fire to the art room to get back at Cooper? You’ll burn the school down and we won’t be able to finish senior year which means no one’s going to college.”
“I won’t burn the school down!” He sounds like a child.
“Fire travels, you moron!” I grab the Wicked G bottle and hurl it at him.
He dodges the bottle and it crashes against Coop’s desk.
Shatters.
The liquid spreads across the floor.
The smell of gasoline makes me gag.
I rush to J.D., remove the gag from his mouth and pull on the tape binding his wrists. I need a knife, scissors, something.
“You bitch.” Greg starts toward us.
Sirens wail in the distance and he stops short, glancing at the window with round, panicked eyes.
“Go on and run, you coward!” I shout, then refocus on J.D. I tear at the tape around J.D.’s wrists with my teeth.
“You’re both going to burn.” Greg threatens.
J.D. is almost free.
CLICK.
I glance over my shoulder. Greg waves his lighter, the flame seducing him.
“Get into the matte room!” J.D. orders me.
But the gasoline is creeping closer to his feet. I’ve got a split second to choose. My life or J.D.’s?
Greg tosses the lighter…
I jump behind J.D. and push his chair toward the matte room, away from the gasoline, away from the flames I sense are chasing us.
“I got it, I got it!” J.D. frees his hands and grabs my arm.
The crackling sound terrifies me and all I can think about is the sketch of the doe, helpless and burning.
J.D. pulls me into the matte room and slams the door, although we both know a door won’t stop fire. We cower in the far corner. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. He’s scared too, but at least we’re here.