CHAPTER 49
1180 Words
Cooper sat in silence, bracing his elbows on his knees and staring listlessly down at his shoes. Coach Wallace stood at the base of the bleachers, reading names off a broken clipboard. Cooper barely recognized his name in time to say here ; the back
of his head ached. He rubbed at the tender spot, wincing at bruises he couldn't see.
It was his fault, really. He was around her so often he'd almost forgotten what she
was. He'd forgotten about the cold darkness resting in her eyes. He'd forgotten
about the iron strength of her hands, the cruel curve of her fingers.
He'd forgotten about the shadowy figure standing in the window when he found his
dead cat in the field.
It was easy to forget nowadays. Surrounded by death and horror and his own
impending doom, Cooper had grown accustomed to her dark presence. She was,
after all, his only chance of survival. He'd been consumed by the idea that maybe
she wasn't the murdering, vindictive little psycho he thought she was. But he'd been
wrong. Worse: he'd been too fixated on the beast coming for his throat to pay
attention to the one already hovering at his back.
How the hell am I ever going to get out of this mess? Cooper thought, shoving back a
wave of desperation. Is this going to be my life? Running from serial killers and Calla
Parker until one of them comes bursting through my door to finally end it all?
A depressing thought. So why the hell did he suddenly feel like laughing?
"Lunch time."
Cooper looked up, startled. Vincent towered behind him, his hands shoved in the
pockets of his letterman jacket. His eyes were downcast, unhappy. But when the
other guys he'd been sitting with—a couple of players on the JV team—motioned for
him to join, he waved them off, signaling for them to go ahead without him.
Despite the awkward tension that had been drifting between them all day, Vincent
still wanted to walk to lunch with his best friend. Cooper felt his heart swell.
And yet, the warmth lasted only a millisecond. Neither one of them said a word as
they made their way down the bleachers and across the gym floor. Calla walked
arm-in-arm with Stephanie several yards ahead, Cory on her other side. He said
something that made the girls laugh.
Vincent scowled. "Hey, Coop?"
"Mmm?"
"Mind if we, ah, stop by my locker?"
"Your—" Vincent's locker was on the other side of the school, in the farthest wing
possible from the cafeteria. But the look on his face was still troubled, his features
twisted in a scowl as his eyes tracked Cory.
Cooper relented, his stomach growling. "Sure, dude."
The things I do for friendship.
They kept walking as the others veered off to get in line for a sack lunch. Further
ahead, Cooper caught sight of long, white-blonde hair and a petite brunette with
bronze skin. His heart sank.
Vincent made a noise in the back of his throat, and Cooper was suddenly very glad
they were skipping lunch. He really didn't want to be at the same table as Jess,
Astrid and Calla—or even in the nearby vicinity. An unholy trinity like that had an
expiration date. Eventually, someone was going to explode.
Vincent didn't say a word until they reached his locker. Even then he procrastinated
for as long as he could, fiddling with the lock and pretending to shuffle around in his
athletic bag until he finally shrugged off his jacket, hung it up, and gave a huge,
frustrated sigh.
He hung his head in the locker, hiding his face from Cooper. "Dude?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you and Calla...like, a thing?"
"I...wait." Cooper felt his insides twist—in horror. "A what?"
Cooper was a good guy. But he was still a guy , which meant Vincent's suggestion
took his imagination on a wild ride. For one terrible moment, he imagined Calla
straddling his lap in the front seat of his Mustang, wearing the sort of smile she
usually reserved for Cory. In this scenario, the top buttons of her shirt were undone,
and her hair framed her face in an angelic halo of red.
He could even imagine the smell of her breath, something minty and fresh. She
would lean down, her lips inches from his. Her hands would cup the back of his neck
—
And then she would snap it. Because she was batshit crazy.
"Nope," Cooper said quickly, the sexy little movie reel in his head skidding to an
alarming halt. He'd never felt less horny in his entire life. "It's gonna be a no from
me, dawg."
Vincent pulled his head out of the locker to glare down at Cooper, but there was no
heat behind it. If anything he looked strained, as if he were desperately trying to hide
some other emotion.
"I mean...c'mon." Cooper rubbed his hands—which were suddenly very sweaty—
against his jeans. "You can't seriously think me and Calla are...are whatever, can
you?"
Vincent still said nothing. His eyes were downcast, pinned to the floor.
"Look," Cooper finally burst out, taking a step toward his friend. "Okay, serious time.
It's not like that. It's actually so far from that, it's physically painful. I mean, we're
friends—"
"Friendship doesn't mean a whole lotta s**t these days. Does it, Townson?"
They both looked up, startled. Gareth Walker stalked down the hall, his face twisted
in what could only be described as rage.
He and Vincent were dressed almost identically; the two could have passed for
brothers. Gareth had a smaller build, but they had the same thick brown hair and
deep-set eyes, though Gareth's were green, not brown. Even their noses had the
same tilt, having been broken more than once.
The only notable difference between the two was the childhood scar that turned
down the corner of Gareth's mouth. At a distance, one might not even spot it. But
when he was up close and personal—and extremely pissed off—the scar became
more prevalent. With his mouth twisted, the scar gave his expression a possessed
quality.
This is not going to end well.
"Gareth." Vincent shifted so that he stood shoulder-to-shoulder—figuratively
speaking—with Cooper.
Gareth slashed a hand through the air. "I don't want to hear it."
The other boy ripped off his letterman jacket, flinging it at Vincent's feet.
"Does that mean anything to you?" he snapped, chest heaving. "Y'know,
brotherhood . All that teammate bullshit you've been spouting for years. How about
the I'll always have your back part? Ringing any bells?"
Cooper sucked on the inside of his cheek. Secondhand embarrassment rolled from
him in waves. He wanted to crawl under a rock and die.
Vincent took a step forward, putting Cooper at his back. "Look. I'm sorry, okay? I'm
more sorry than I've ever been about anything. I messed up. Big time. I wanted to tell you—"
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