stockier guy with years of experience on the wrestling team, he stood with his feet apart and fists at the ready.
“No freaks allowed in the first tier,” Chris added.
I held up my hands in the “don’t shoot” position, my fingers wrapped around my cell phone. “No trouble here, guys. Just taking a call, and I needed better reception. I’m leaving.” As much as I hated their privileged asses, I wasn’t about to start a fight on their turf. I’d get blamed for it and I’d lose. Two against one wasn’t fair. Sixteen against one, as it would end up being when all the sheep jumped in to follow their leaders, was a bloodbath.
I started to walk around them, back toward the stairs, but I didn’t get very far. A small wisp of black smoke appeared out of nowhere in the center aisle, on the second-tier steps. It looked like exhaust from an oil-burning car. I stopped, my heart pounding in dread. Almost instantly, as if it had been waiting for me to see it, the little wisp of smoke grew to a roiling and seething mass of black vapor.
“Um, Killian? Gloomy Gus straight-up noon,” Alona called from behind me, tension threaded through her voice.
For once she had the clock right. “Yeah, I see him,” I said tightly.
I heard her drop down from the stage, landing lightly on the ground behind me. “So what’s the plan?” Her voice shook a little, and yet she was still there with me.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what, Will Kill?” Ben eased around to stand in front of me. He smiled, showing a little too much teeth. Chris followed him, slamming his meaty fist into the palm of his other hand in a rather effective use of a cliche.
Damn, I’d forgotten about them.
Everyone in the caf was watching, waiting to see what happened next. Joonie, at the top of the center aisle, seemed to be praying, her hands tucked securely inside her bag, her eyes half closed and her lips moving silently.
Then Gloomy Gus, as Alona had apparently dubbed him, lurched forward suddenly, pouring toward us in a rush.
“Alona, get out of here now,” I said sharply and without thinking. The without-thinking part turned out to be kind of key.
“What did you say?” Chris demanded.
Oh, shit.
Twenty minutes later, I sat in the nurse’s office with an ice pack against the left side of my face. Okay, so lessons learned: first, talking to a guy’s dead girlfriend in front of him, even when he’s moved on to greener pastures, is a big mistake. Second, the entity once known as my father, now known as Gloomy Gus, did not like competition. He disappeared, thank God, the moment Chris hit me. Third, Alona Dare may be my spirit guide, whatever that is, but Mrs. Piaget is my guardian angel. She got Mr. Gerry to break up the fight, and remained firm in her conviction that Chris had taken the first swing. I got another detention, but I could live with that.
I leaned back in the uncomfortable molded-plastic chair in the nurse’s office, wincing at the new ache in my ribs, and pressed the bag of ice cubes tighter against my swelling cheek.
The chair next to me wiggled and jolted, sending little shocks of pain through my side.
“What is your deal?” I said to Alona, who couldn’t seem to sit still, moving from one position to another. We were, fortunately, alone for the moment. Judging that it would not be wise to stuff both Chris and me into such a small room, Nurse Ryerson had stepped out to take care of him. Yeah, I managed to get in a swing or two. Bloodied his nose, at least.
She shifted her feet to the floor and stared at them for a long second before looking over at me. “You defended me. Why would you do that?”
“That’s what’s bothering you?” I asked. “Technically, I was just defending myself from your boyfriend’s fists of fury.” I opened my mouth and wiggled my jaw experimentally. Damn, wrestlers could really pack a punch, maybe even more so than the various football players who’d whaled on me in my younger years.
She shook her head with an impatient noise. “Not him. Though”—a faint smile appeared on her face—“that must have really pissed Misty off to see you two fighting over me.”
I rolled my eyes. “We weren’t fighting over—”
“Also, smooth move shouting my name in the middle of the cafeteria.” She slapped my shoulder hard, and the sensation traveled down to my ribs, making me grunt in pain. “But what I meant was you trying to protect me from Gloomy Gus.”
“Oh.”
“You were just covering your own ass, right? I mean, I’m your spirit guide now and you probably love the idea of bossing me around too much to give it up this soon.”
The words sounded like something she would say, the bitchy arrogance of them, but beneath that, I could hear the question she wasn’t asking, the vulnerability she was trying to hide. Had anyone ever defended her in her life, except for when it benefited them? True, she didn’t
She had her head tipped down, pretending to examine her nails. The glossy curtain of her hair hid her face from me. It was the perfect time to say something classy, something that would convince her that even though she drove me crazy sometimes, I admired her strength, even more now that I knew some of what she must have lived through to get it.
“Um …” My heart beat fast in the back of my throat, and the words, any words, seemed to have vanished from my brain.
She made a disgusted sound. “Never mind. Forget it.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder.
“Hey,” I protested. “You have to at least give me a chance to—”
The door to the nurse’s office edged open and Joonie poked her head in, looking around. It didn’t take long. The office consisted of a small desk, two chairs, and a cot. The other door leading out of the room led to a microscopic bathroom. “You alone?” she whispered.
Alona rolled her eyes.
“Yeah,” I said.
Joonie frowned at me and slipped all the way into the room. “Then who were you talking to?” She slung her book bag down on the floor in front of the chair next to mine, right on Alona’s feet.
Alona yelped. “Watch it, freak.”
“Nobody. I wasn’t talking to anyone. It’s
“Fine. Fine,” Alona grumbled. “She’s a good friend. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Hello? Killian?” Joonie waved her hand in front of my face. “I’m over here.” She moved over to sit in Alona’s chair and Alona scrambled out of the way to avoid being sat on. “Are you okay?” Joonie’s gaze felt too intense, and I had to look away.
“I’m fine.”
“I just saw you walk into first-tier territory to take a freaking pretend phone call. Yesterday you had a seizure in the hallway—”
I waved her words away. “I’m fine, okay?” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Alona frowning at something on the floor.
“No, not okay.” Joonie fidgeted with the silver rings in her ear. “You’re acting completely bizarre even for you, and I can’t worry this much about you and Lily, okay? There’s not enough of me.” She gave me a shaky smile. “So, just tell me what’s going on.”
Alona knelt on the floor near Joonie’s feet, her head cocked to one side. “Check this out,” she whispered, completely unnecessarily. Then, using the effect of my presence around her, she pulled back the top of Joonie’s tattered and broken-zippered book bag. The corner of a flat wooden board, decorated with numbers and letters, stuck out. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it until …
I jumped up out of my seat. “Jesus, Joonie, is that a Ouija board?” Yeah, it was just a creepy but harmless kid’s game … unless you happen to be playing with one around someone like me.
Joonie stopped, her mouth hanging open midword to stare at me and then guiltily at the floor. Her face flushed red and then paled. “I have to go.” She stood up and yanked her bag from the floor before bolting from the
