Coldhearted (9781311888433) (10 page)

“
I’m fine,” she
lied.

“
Edie—”

He was cut off when the bell rang. The school
day was over but not the whole day. Edie worried what other
unexplained events and violent disturbances she’d encounter once
she got home.

She stood up to leave, and said to Russell,
“I’d understand if you don’t want to come over tonight.”

He stood up too and was forced to whisper,
“Why do you say that?” as practically the whole school surrounded
them, rushing out to leave.

Edie shrugged. “Because...bad things happen
around me.”

He reached out in an effort to comfort Edie,
but then remembered his place, and let his hand fall by his side.
“I’m coming. You can’t push me away. Whatever’s happening, Edie,
I’ll do everything I can to help you. Okay?”

“
Okay,” she
agreed.

****

Edie walked with her head down toward her
car, and then stumbled when she collided into someone. Strong arms
wrapped around her, keeping her from falling. She looked up to find
Mason, wearing a frown.

“
What’s wrong,
Edie?”

Edie’s shoulders slumped and Mason let her
go. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard yet.”

“
Heard what?”

She retrieved his tattered scarf and told him
what’d happened.

Mason scratched at the beard forming along
his jaw. “So…the scarf just…wrapped itself around Rochelle’s neck
and tried to strangle her?” he said in a tone of disbelief.

She ignored his closed-mindedness and spoke
the truth—or the truth as she believed it. “Well, it succeeded
somewhat. I mean, she’s all right, but Mason…there’s bruising on
her neck. It looks like a handprint.” She shook her head. “A scarf
didn’t strangle her. A person did.” She let out a humorless
chuckle. “Now that sounds crazy, I know,” she conceded somewhat,
“but I didn’t do it. Even though Rochelle tried to strangle herself
inside the principal’s office, she didn’t do it the first
time.”

“
Maybe she did.”

“
Huh?”

“
Try to remember, Edie. Did
the scarf magically wrap around her neck?” He gave her a look, and
then shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. “No, it didn’t.
Rochelle’s an actress. She likes to make scenes, cause trouble. I
have no doubt she made it look like the scarf was strangling her,
when all the while, she was doing it. That’s how she got those
bruises. It was her hand.”

Mason was making sense, considering what
Rochelle had tried to pull inside the principal’s office. Yet…Edie
wasn’t totally convinced.

“
But Mason, Ravenna and I
both struggled to remove the scarf from her.” Edie held up the
ruins of the garment. “Look.”

He took it from her hand, appraising it.

“
Sorry, by the way,” she
said. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He gave Edie a hard stare. “It’s not your
fault. It’s Rochelle’s.” He cursed. “Why is she so crazy?” He
chuckled without humor as she’d done earlier. “No, I was the crazy
one for dating her for so long.” He bunched up the scarf even more
and threw it over Edie’s head, where it landed directly into the
trash can, a sizable distance away.

“
Good shot,” she
praised.

He shrugged. “I play basketball.”

“
For the school?”

“
Used to. I quit because of
Rochelle. She’s a cheerleader. I couldn’t stand looking at her and
she threw off my game.”

“
I can’t imagine her
cheering for anything,” Edie said dryly. “Except for
herself.”

“
She does it to be near the
guys,” he said with a shake of his head. “She has a thing for
jocks. You remember Quinn from our English class?” After Edie had
nodded, he continued, “Quinn McDermott is who she cheated on me
with. After he was done with her, he dumped her. She was devastated
for about two seconds until she latched onto another
guy.”

“
Who’s she seeing
now?”

He shrugged, and replied, “No one, as far as
I know. The guys here want nothing to do with her. Not worth it,
you know?”

Edie nodded. “But she’s still hung up on you.
She wanted my scarf because it was yours.”

He shook his head again. “She doesn’t want
me. Not in a relationship, anyway. She just can’t stand to see me
with another girl.” Briefly his eyes went wide. “I mean, not that
I’m with you, like that…it’s just…she’s got it inside her head that
she owns me, and whenever she decides she’s bored, she’ll just snap
her fingers, and I’ll come crawling back.” He sighed. “I can’t wait
until graduation. Then, I’ll never have to see her again.”

“
What if she
stays?”

“
I hope not. She always
talks about moving to New York. That’s still too close. You know
that Mars trip people are signing up for?”

Edie nodded.

“
I wish they could go now.
I’d personally escort Rochelle inside the spaceship and wave, as
she blasted off into space.” He looked up at the sky and waved for
effect, grinning.

Edie giggled. “I’ll join you.”

He relaxed his grin into a small smile.
“So…are you going straight home? Because I was thinking we could do
something.”

Uh-oh. Russell.

Edie tried not to panic. “Um…rain check?” she
said, keeping her voice deceptively smooth. “It’s just that it’s
been such an overwhelming day and I’m still settling in. I’m a bit
tired.”

It wasn’t a total lie. She was tired.

“
No problem.” Mason reached
out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Edie’s ear. “I love
your hair.” His fingers trailed along her cheek, and then he leaned
in, kissing her where he’d touched her. Her face flushed. “I’ll see
you tomorrow in English.”

“
Unless I get lost again and
you have to rescue me.”

“
It would be my pleasure,
Miss St. John, but you may have to rescue me again like you did
this morning.”

Edie smiled. “It would be my pleasure, Mr.
Fenwick.”

He chuckled. “I love your accent. My little
southern belle,” he cooed affectionately.

To Edie’s surprise, he didn’t try to take it
back; his confidence with her was growing more and more with each
passing second. Edie blushed and bit her lip, not knowing what to
say. Instead she gave him a hug and tilted her head up, staring
into his eyes. It felt wonderful until Mason grimaced in disgust
and pushed her away.

“
What’d I do?” she asked,
worried that he’d lost all affection for her.

Mason shook his head. “I’m sorry, Edie. I
thought for a moment you were…Rochelle.”

Edie screwed up her face in disgust.
“What?!”

“
I’m sorry but I don’t know
what happened. One second, I was looking at you, Edie, and
then…your face changed…and you were Rochelle. I freaked and pushed
you away. I’m sorry.” He rubbed at his closed eyes, then opened
them, and said, “Maybe I’m just tired or something.”

“
It’s okay,” she said. “This
day has just been crazy, that’s all. I’m sure tomorrow will be
better.”

She hoped.

Mason smiled. “Let’s try this again.” He
opened his arms and she embraced him. They stood in the parking
lot, holding onto each other, until Mason was the first to pull
away. “That’s better,” he said, smiling down at Edie.

“
You’re like an oven,” Edie
said, and then added with less enthusiasm, “and I’m like an
icebox.”

“
Then we complement each
other,” he said, looking on the bright side. “Together, we’re
neither too cold nor too hot. If you met a cold guy, you’d be
frozen solid. If I met a hot girl, I’d melt.”

Edie smiled. “That’s silly logic. But sweet.
Thank you.”

Mason smiled, exposing his dimples. “You
know, Edie, one day, I’m actually going to do something worthy of
your thanks.”

Chapter 9

When Edie entered her house, she heard a
growl, followed by a hissing.

She went into the kitchen
and discovered that the monster she’d been hearing was the coffee
machine. Uncle Landon was brewing another pot. Coffee, mixed with
the smell of cigarette smoke, drifted from his study down the hall.
The door was closed, but she could still hear the constant
click-clack
of the
keyboard under his fingers, along with the occasional curses,
grunts, and exclamations of joy.

She waited in the kitchen to see if he’d make
an appearance, but he didn’t. Edie wasn’t expecting a fascinating
conversation, or even a “Hey, how was your day?” She just wanted to
let him know that Russell was coming over. Edie’s uncle was a
private person.

She valued her privacy too, but she felt that
she didn’t have it anymore. Someone was watching her, listening in
on her, and generally screwing up her life. And it rattled her
nerves.

She yelped when she felt something vibrating
inside her pocket, and then she realized it was her cell phone and
mentally cursed herself for acting like an idiot.

“
Hello?” she
answered.

“
Hey, it’s Russell. I’m at
the gates. Can you let me in?”

She looked at the clock on the wall. It was
only four.

“
You’re early,” she
said.

“
Is that a
problem?”

“
No, uh, I’ll let you
in.”

She ended the call and went to the panel next
to the front door, pushing a button. From the window, she could see
the gates opening. Russell drove through and once he was safely
inside, she closed the gates. If anyone wanted to sneak past,
they’d have to climb the fifteen foot gate with pointed spades at
the top. To her knowledge, no one had ever tried.

She opened the door and greeted Russell with
a smile. He got out of his car—a later model, canary-colored
Camaro—and smiled back.

He looked in awe at the house. “Wow,” he
said. “You live in a mansion.” He pointed to the left. “And you
have a hedge maze. That’s so cool.” He pointed to the right. “Is
that a chapel?”

She was standing at the threshold, shivering.
“Yep.”

She let him inspect the mansion and the
grounds a little longer, before motioning him forward in a silent
plea for him to hurry, fearing that she’d freeze to death. He
understood and started walking toward the front door. After she’d
stepped aside, he advanced and remained standing in the foyer,
scanning beyond.

“
I was expecting something
more…dark.”

Edie closed the front door and locked it.
“Dark?” she repeated.

Russell nodded, looking around. “I thought
there’d be skulls and lit black candles or something.”

Edie was confused. “It’s not Halloween
yet.”

“
Oh, not that…” He seemed
embarrassed. “It’s just that your uncle’s a horror writer and this
place is so...”

“
Cheerful?” she
supplied.

Russell nodded again.

Edie smiled. “I’m sure I can find a skull
around here somewhere if you feel cheated by the ambiance.”

Russell chuckled. “No, that’s okay. I guess I
shouldn’t have made assumptions.” He looked around again, as if he
were trying to find someone. “Is your uncle home?” he asked,
clarifying his scrutiny.

Edie pointed at the darkened part of the
house. “He’s in his study, working on his novel. It’s best not to
disturb him,” she cautioned.

“
Have you told him I was
coming over?”

Edie shook her head.

Russell furrowed his brow. “Well, I don’t
want him to get the wrong impression when he sees me.” He blushed.
“You know…another man in his house…with his niece.”

Edie threw a dismissive hand at him. “It’s
okay. I mean, it’s not like we’re going into my bedroom or
anything.”

Russell blinked. “Oh, yeah, right.” He
gestured at the living room. “Is there okay?”

“
Sure.” Edie led Russell
into the room.

He took off his coat and laid it across the
back of the sofa. “Sure is hot in here.”

“
Sorry,” she apologized. “I
can’t take the cold.”

She was still wearing the multi-layered
clothes that she’d worn at school, sans the outer garments.
Still…she was cold. This unseen cold presence never left her
side.

Russell sniffed. “Coffee?”

Edie nodded. “My uncle was brewing a pot, but
I’m sure we can have some. What do you take in yours?”

“
Just sugar,” he
replied.

“
Be right back.”

After she’d prepared his cup, as well as one
for her, she grabbed her notebook, and brought it to him in the
living room. He’d chosen a spot on the sofa, and she sat a few feet
over, not wanting to get too close.

“
Mmm, thanks,” Russell said,
after he’d taken a sip, and then set the cup down on the saucer
that she’d brought with it. “So...” He tapped her notebook, lying
closed on the coffee table. “What’s this?” he asked.

Before answering, she drank half her cup of
scalding hot courage, and then set it down on the saucer. “It’s my
notebook from your class.”

“
Oh, yeah, I remember. Still
got those lecture notes I gave you?”

She pulled out the stack of sheets and put
them aside, and then she opened up to the page in question.
Nervous, yet eager to see his reaction, she slid the notebook
toward him. He picked it up and narrowed his eyes at the text. She
waited, wringing her hands in her lap.

Finally, he set the notebook down and looked
at her. “You wrote this?”

Edie nodded, stilling her hands. “But I don’t
remember doing it,” she defended. “I was paying attention to you,
writing down the lecture notes—or thought I was doing that—anyway,
after I was done, I studied what I’d written and saw that,” she
explained, waving a hand at the repetitive phrase in cursive
script: You’re going crazy. “It’s just like with Mrs. Featherstone.
She had no memory of writing ‘fat girl’ either. Yet…we wrote what
we wrote. It was our handwriting. What happened with Mrs.
Featherstone was explained away as a drug withdrawal. She wasn’t
taking her antidepressants, but what about me, Russell? What’s my
excuse?”