13 to Life (19 page)

“What’s your name?” the voice on the phone asked.

“Jessica Gillmansen. Two cars—two drivers . . . oh, God—it’s bad. Please hurry . . . please, please . . . hurry . . .”

My hands were on Mom’s door. Her face was bloody, her nose broken from impact with the steering wheel, but her eyes were bright. “Baby, I’m okay,” she whispered.

I tugged on the door. It was stuck. I yanked up on the handle, growling when my nails folded back.

“I’m fine, Jess,” she insisted. “The other driver—”

“Is—” I was barely stopped from saying “a psycho bitch” by the look in Mom’s eyes.

“Is
hurt,
Jess. Check on her.”

I tried the door again, throwing my whole weight against it
and cursing my inability to open it. I ran to the other side. The passenger’s door was folded almost in half from the impact.

“Stop that,” Mom demanded. “They’ll need the Jaws of Life to get me out, baby. Go. Check on
her.
” She fixed her eyes on me, willing me into obedience. “You’ve gotta do what you can do, Jess. Go.
Now.
She’s somebody’s baby.” The ferocity in her eyes—the sheer strength shining out—made me obey.

I raced to Sarah’s door. She was unconscious.
Stupid, selfish bitch.
Barely bright enough to wear a seat belt . . .

Mom was yelling out her window, “Pull her out, Jess. Get her out of there.”

“Mom—” Even then I was argumentative.

“
Now,
young lady!”

“Shit!” I popped open Sarah’s door and undid the seat belt. She fell limply into my arms. Thank God she was a frikkin’ featherweight. . . . I lifted, carrying her awkwardly toward the sidewalk. A crowd was gathering, pouring out of the local movie rental place. “Help me!” I shouted.

I distinctly heard someone warn, “You get sued savin’ lives.” Everyone looked away, their feet rooted to the sidewalk.

Where the hell was the emergency crew? I turned to the wreck, a strange new smell stinging my eyes and nose. Not rubber burning, not—
oh, shit . . .

The sedan caught fire with a
pop
and a
bang.

“Mom!”
I shrieked, heading toward the flames. But someone knocked me to the ground—kept me from getting there. I fought against them, blindly—fiercely, kicking and punching, scratching and biting. Even though I knew it was too late. My heart had burst, broken, knowing I’d saved the wrong person. The most vicious girl at school lived, and I let my mother burn alive. . . .

Pinned, I screamed uselessly. The fire trucks arrived, lights
flashing, sirens blaring. And still I screamed. The ambulance pulled up. Medics poured out, announcing what I knew long before the sedan was snuffed. “Dead.”

The living weight on top of me shifted, pulling me into a seated position. “Stay with me,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around me to keep me from rushing forward—from trying to find something still burning to set myself ablaze and join my mother in eternity. “Stay,” he urged. I began to cry, my voice long gone. I ducked my head against his chest, snuffling and sobbing as he stroked my hair and said soothing words.

I raised my streaming eyes to glimpse my savior and Derek looked down at me, doing his best to smile reassuringly—as if it would all be all right—but even he came up short. I cried even harder then.

It had been nearly a week since the dance, and I was struggling. Pietr’s almost constant presence didn’t help. Every morning his brother, Alexi, dropped him off to do chores. Pietr always looked good at school, but he looked even more amazing with the tousled appearance of someone fresh from bed.

Our goals never included mucking the stalls in the morning, we just aimed at feeding and watering the horses, turning them out if the weather was good and trying to avoid kissing each other. Some goals were more achievable than others.

Pietr tried breaking up with Sarah three times that week. She made it impossible. Each time he tried she acted so sweet and looked so sad. . . . He needed to be vicious to break her heart. I even called off one of his attempts, seeing Sarah so close to falling apart. As little as I knew about Pietr, I knew he wasn’t naturally cruel. And I certainly didn’t want to be the one who made him something he shouldn’t be.

So each time I saw them together my heart broke a little bit further apart. He kept his distance from her as much as he could.
But there was a distance festering between Pietr and me, too. The only place it seemed we could be ourselves was at the farm. When Pietr showed up Saturday morning I finally felt it had been worth fighting through the week to reach the weekend.

“Hey, Dad!” I yelled up the staircase. “Weird Wanda’s here!”

Pietr looked at me, rising to escort me from the breakfast nook to the door.

We’d finished chores early and he’d looked hungry. Well, not
just
hungry—famished. So I fried up some bacon with eggs fresh from our Barred Rock hens. The eggs were so rubbery they bounced off the spatula and onto his plate, but Pietr didn’t seem to notice.

I’d offered him a selection of chocolates from the continually restocked tin on our table and although he admitted to liking chocolate, he said it did not return his feelings and he could no longer dally with unrequited love. Such an odd boy.

Spending so much time with Pietr meant that he was always close. I had begun noticing subtle differences between the way he acted at school and the way he was with me.

At school, he always had that chain he’d worn since his second day Junction High. But he never wore it when it was just the two of us. I asked him about it. “It’s a magic chain. A buffer to keep girls at bay—it puts a damper on my obvious charms.” He’d smiled. What a smart aleck.

“So why don’t you wear it around me?” I’d asked.

He shrugged. “You seem nearly immune to my charms, but I’ll admit to wanting to use any shot I have with you.”

I’d rolled my eyes and pointed out it was a good thing I was wearing my muck boots. Because the manure was sure piling up fast—and it had little to do with the horses. Then I’d added, “Well, my pietersite worry stone is a buffer against you, too.” I held it up with a grin.

“Do you always carry that?” he asked, no longer as flippant.

“Almost always,” I assured him, holding my chin high.

“Huh.” He rubbed his jaw, staring at the stone. “And you still kiss me.”

“It’s a
worry
stone, Pietr,” I reiterated. “And kissing you only worries me more,” I sniped before dodging a handful of hay.

Pietr also didn’t seem quite so obsessed with the time when around me. When I mentioned it in a phone call to Amy one night, she quipped that he wasn’t worried about the time because he was
making time
with me.

Being alone with Pietr so frequently meant I had to be on my guard even more so I wasn’t hauled into a corner of the barn and kissed until I reminded him we had a
working
relationship.

He’d assured me once he absolutely agreed. He
was
working on our relationship. As often as he could. And then he kissed me again to prove it.

“Weird Wanda is Dad’s wannabe girlfriend,” I said with a roll of my eyes. There were some things I still didn’t want to discuss with Pietr. Wanda’s ongoing attempt to snag my dad was one of them.

Hunter and Maggie leaped up from where they lounged under the table, waiting for food to drop, and decided it was time to follow Pietr. It was weird. Pietr followed me; my dogs followed him.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” I opened the door, and there she was: Wanda McGregor. She’d arrived in town about a week before Pietr’s family did. She volunteered at the school, she worked at the local library—to me, she seemed always underfoot. To Dad, she was interested and available.

“Hi, Jessie,” she said with a smile.

“Jessica,” I corrected. I glared at her, thinking she looked well rested for once. The lines around her eyes were less obvious.
Perhaps they’d been pulled tight by that ridiculous blond ponytail she always wore.

Wanda measured me with her gaze, probably figuring I was the only thing standing in the way of her happiness with my father. If that was true, she needed to watch out for Annabelle Lee before she got blindsided.

Pietr nudged me forward, grabbing his jacket. Wanda stepped back in surprise. For the briefest moment I thought I saw fear in her eyes, but she straightened and schooled her features into a look of mild curiosity instead.

“Who’s your little friend?” she asked.

Pietr bristled and moved to my side. He stared at Wanda with a ferocity I’d only seen him give Derek.

The rumble of a growl built in Hunter’s throat.

“I swear,” I said, turning to Hunter and tapping his head, “You’ll be carted off to obedience school for real if you keep this up.” I looked from Pietr to Wanda and back, considering a reply. “He’s—”

“Nearly six feet tall,” he said. Very evenly.

Hunter fell silent. So did Wanda. But she watched every move Pietr made like he should be on display at some zoo.

Then she did that thing she
always
did. She reached up and plucked some speck off Pietr’s shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Wanda does that,” I mentioned levelly. “Touches what she shouldn’t.”

She returned my belligerent gaze, adding a shrug. “If you want to walk around with hay and stuff on you . . .”

Pietr faced me with a nearly inscrutable expression. “That science assignment,” he said.

“Yeah. About dogs.” I scratched Hunter’s head.

“Actually all canines.”

Did I see amusement in Wanda’s eyes when Pietr corrected me?

“Anyhow—” I said, looking back at Pietr.

“Study date at my place tomorrow.” He sighed.

“Wait . . . am I invited?”

“Not yet. And not by me. But call Sarah as soon as you can and wiggle your way into coming,” he suggested. “You’re smart. I’m sure you can make her want you there with a few choice words.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t . . .”

“I want you there.” He kissed my forehead.

“Fine.”

Down the drive Alexi’s car honked for him. He headed out at a jog, waving to me until Wanda stepped into the doorway, blocking my view.

“Guys can be such dogs,” she said. “I mean, seriously.” She rolled her bright blue eyes. “He’s got some poor girl coming over on a study date at his house and he wants you to manipulate her so you can come over, too?” She shook her head.

I tried to ignore her.

“What’s he trying to do—build a harem?” She stalked to the foot of the steps, ponytail swishing with every stride.

“So what, Wanda? Are you trying to tell me I can do
so much better
than him?” I asked, glaring.

She looked me up and down. “No. I’m not saying
that.
”

Ouch!
No, I definitely did
not
like her.

She continued. “I’m just saying you’d better prepare yourself, because guys can be complete
dogs.
”

Dad bounded down the stairs, two at a time, placing a peck on both Wanda’s cheeks. “Mornin’, Sunshine,” he greeted her while tossing a look of warning my way. “So what are our plans this morning?”

She opened her jacket and pulled out a gun. “Need to sight this baby in.”

Dad whistled. “That’s a sweet piece, Wanda. Target practice sounds like a good idea to me.”

“Yeah,” Wanda agreed, looking my way for just a moment. “I have the feeling I’m going to be doing some serious shooting soon.” She smiled in that way she so often did—the smile never daring to touch her icy eyes.

“Serious shooting?” I grunted. “What? Library having bigger problems with overdue books than we’d ever expect?”

Dad chortled but narrowed his eyes at me as he guided Weird Wanda out the door. As soon as they were out of sight, I was on the phone with Sarah and wondering, in the back of my mind, if Wanda could possibly be right about guys being dogs. I determined I’d find out on my own.

The next day Amy, Sarah, and I were packed into the Luxom family car with Sarah’s parents and headed down a quiet street at the outskirts of Junction, on our way to where Pietr lived.

We crossed the Manido River where it began to turn back on itself and I realized Pietr’s area of town was essentially on a small peninsula of land. If the supernatural things I read about in novels were real, a flowing river would make Pietr’s neighborhood one of the safest around. I sighed, realizing I already felt safe around Pietr. Frustrated but safe.

I had followed his suggestion and called Sarah, playing up how freaked out
I
would be if I were visiting the guy I liked
and his family
at his home with
no backup
. Five minutes into the conversation Sarah told me to hold on so she could text Amy. If she was going to Pietr’s place, she’d insisted, she wasn’t going without
plenty
of help.

I hadn’t lied—I
was
freaked out by the idea of being in Pietr’s house and meeting Pietr’s family and
I
had Amy as a second set of ears and eyes. Mr. Luxom pulled the car up in front of a yellow-ocher and green-umber Victorian house, complete with a wraparound porch and a dramatic . . .

“Look at that
turret,
” Sarah whispered, awed.

Yep. A dramatic turret. I was amused. For Sarah, the girl who lived in the eight-bedroom, six-bathroom house on the top of Junction’s highest hill, to be stunned into staring silence was a tremendous thing. The house
was
beautiful.

“Isn’t that the Queen Anne we looked at when we were first engaged?” Mrs. Luxom asked her husband.

“Hmm. Kristen, that was so long ago I barely recall,” Mr. Luxom replied, utterly uninterested.

I was surprised that as long as I’d lived in Junction I’d never noticed the house before. I
tried
to be observant.

“Everybody out,” Mr. Luxom announced. “Remember, sugarplum, you can just call us when you all are done studying.”

“No problem, Dad,” Sarah whispered without giving him a glance.

We hopped out of the car.

“Pietr!” Sarah exclaimed, dashing up the porch’s steps to fling herself into his arms.