Instinct (11 page)

“She called
the night she died. She was hysterical, said she had to tell me about Phillip.
They found her body the next morning.”

For a moment I
am shocked into silence, thinking how of all the experiences I had expected to
have at high school, knowing a potential murderer hadn’t even been on the list.

“Well, what
was it? Didn’t she tell you?”

Nicole shakes
her head, regret clear on her pinched features. “It was a message on my
voicemail. I saw that she was calling, but I was so pissed at her for shutting
me out that I ignored her call. She was dead by morning, Derry. He must have
found out and killed her. And I could have stopped it, if I had just answered
the damn phone.”

Nicole’s tenuous
hold on her emotions shatters completely and she sags, shoulders trembling as
deep, wrenching sobs rack her body. I jump off my chair and put my arms around
her, murmuring soothing nonsense, and she slumps into me, her whole being
shaking with misery. It is several minutes before she winds down, and by the
time she pulls away to wipe her face, I am worried she might act on that
unwitting confession from earlier. The guilt she has been carrying around is
too heavy a burden for anyone to bear alone.

“Nicole, it’s
not your fault. You didn’t know.” I hesitate, taking in her bowed shoulders and
the defeated expression on her tear-stained face. “You wouldn’t try to follow
her, would you? Hurt yourself?”

She glances up
at me sharply, eyes wide with shock. “What? You mean…would I kill myself?” I
nod awkwardly, uncomfortable asking such a personal question, but worry
outweighs my sense of propriety.

“Never,” she
whispers furiously, her voice resonant with the truth. My skin doesn’t have the
slightest tremor, and I believe her. “I’ve been really upset, and I’ll admit, I
was pretty down when I came to school today because of that stupid Facebook
page, but I wouldn’t do that. It would destroy my parents.”

I nod sympathetically,
relief easing like a warm blanket around my shoulders. There is not a trace of
doubt in her, and I know she is not in danger of following her friend to the
river.

“Besides. I’m
going to nail Phillip if it’s the last thing I do. I know he did this to her,
and I’m going to prove it. That’s why everybody hates me, you know. After
Miranda died I freaked out and accused Phillip in front of everybody at lunch.
They had to drag me away from him kicking and screaming, and I missed a week of
school while I ‘calmed down.’ When I came back, all these rumors had started
about Miranda and me, and it just snowballed from there. No one talks to me
now.” Her voice is tinged with despair and rejection and once again I feel
anger boiling in me on her behalf.

“They’ll let
it go eventually, Nicole. Especially when you start carrying on with your
life.” She just nods absently. I can tell she doesn’t believe me, and given my
lack of experience with people my own age, I may be wrong.

“I can’t
believe I just told you all that,” she says wonderingly, looking at me with a
quizzical expression. “I mean, you’re really nice, and I’m glad we’re going to
be friends, but I still can’t believe I laid all that on you. I’m sorry.” She
withdraws from me slightly, and I can see the fear in her eyes that she has
gone too far. I ignore the twinge of uneasiness that slices through me as I
realize what she has just said. Cole’s words slither through my mind, trailing
uncertainty and guilt. Before I let myself consider the possibility that my
ability has something to do with her candidness, I hasten to reassure her.

“Don’t worry
about it. I’m glad you told me. It seems like you needed to talk about it
anyway.” She still seems uncertain, and I rack my brain for something to say.
“You’re not the only one, you know, who tells me stuff. I had a drink with Cole
yesterday, and he told me more than he meant to. I guess I just have one of
those faces.” I cringe at the untruth, but I can see that my confession
immediately makes her feel better.

“Cole Durant?”
she asks, eyes brightening slightly.

“I guess. He
never told me his last name. Tall, dark-haired?”

Nicole rolls
her eyes. “Ridiculously hot? Yeah, that’s Cole. He’s a nice guy. How did you
meet him? He was expelled last semester.”

“Oh, uh, he works
at the café across from my mom’s store. We just sort of ran into each other,” I
answer awkwardly, feeling oddly resentful that Nicole knew him before me.
Chiding myself for being neurotic, I smile at her. “He mentioned that you stuck
up for him.”

A blush
softens Nicole’s expression and she avoids my eyes. “Yeah, well. He was one of
the only people who didn’t give me a hard time about the postings. He actually
stood up for me too, to my asshat cousin David.”

“Oh, yeah, I
met him. He seemed…”

“Like an evil,
soulless frat monkey? Yeah, he is. I try to avoid admitting the family
connection whenever possible.” She laughs and some of the tension that had
lined her face evaporates. I can see that she is feeling better, having shared
her concerns with me. “Thanks, Derry. I still can’t believe I told you all
that, but I’m glad someone else knows.”

“No problem.
Anytime.” We look at each other in contented silence for a moment, and hope
blossoms in my chest as I realize I really am making a friend, the first I’ve ever
had. For a moment, it is hard to breathe.

We talk until
the tone sounds, signaling the end of the period, and as we gather up our bags
and sneak through the stark landscape of the library, happiness is burning in
my throat like I’ve just downed a shot of my mom’s not so cleverly hidden
whiskey. I giggle helplessly when Nicole plasters herself against the wall and
pretends to peer around the corner for imaginary assailants. Her laugh comes
easily now, and satisfaction shoots through me, knowing that I have helped this
girl, have brought the smile back to her face. Her features are no longer
pinched, but relaxed and open, giving her a wholesome, sweet look. It’s hard to
reconcile this Nicole with the girl who was initially so rude to me, but
there’s no doubt that our meeting has benefited both of us.

We spend lunch
together, not even venturing into the cafeteria. The thought of sitting with
Phillip now is too discomfiting to contemplate. Nicole tells me more about
Miranda, growing up together, and even as I laugh with her, I am struck with
envy. I never got to have that; someone who finishes your sentences and has
your back; someone to gossip with about boys, and raid each other’s closets.
Just having someone with whom to share all the mundane and extraordinary
details of your life.

I have a
feeling given time, Nicole and I might have that.

It is with an
extra bounce in my step that I enter the computer lab fourth period, relieved
to see that Shockey is too busy talking to another student to pay any attention
to me. Remembering what he inadvertently said yesterday, I am in no hurry to
attract his notice. Shane is once again already in the room, laughing at
something Megan has just said, and Cathy is sitting at her computer, a hangdog
look on her long face.  After hesitating for a moment, I take the seat next to
her with a friendly smile. She returns it weakly.

“Jake turned
me down,” she says, voice falsely cheerful. I feel a pang of sympathy for her.
Her infatuation with Jake has been blatantly obvious since the moment I saw
her, so I can imagine how painful a rejection from him would be.

“Um, I
wondered if you would take a look at my story?  Let me know if it fits with the
Agitator’s
vibe?” I ask, trying to give her some kind of ego boost to
counter the despondency written all over her.

Her smile
gains some strength and she looks at me with more focus. “Oh, sure! No problem!
Though Jake usually does this kind of thing,” she wavers uncertainly.

Grimacing, I
lean closer and lower my voice. “I don’t want to bother him. He’s still a
little sore over Shockey giving me the community beat. It would feel like
rubbing his face in it if I asked him, you know?”

She nods her
understanding and a wistful expression clouds her eyes. “Jake took it pretty
hard. That’s been his beat forever. But he’ll get over it.  Jake is the
sweetest guy…” she trails off, eyes watering. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“Are you okay?”
I ask, knowing exactly what’s bothering her.

“Oh it’s
nothing,” she whispers, voice thick with unshed tears. She glances up at me and
sighs, a wry smile twisting her mouth. “It’s stupid. I should have known it was
too soon, that he couldn’t…”

I peer over at
Shane and Megan, relieved to see that they are still deep in conversation. “I
didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s
fine. I asked Jake out and he said no. We’ve been spending so much time
together since Miranda…died, and I thought we had bonded or something. He was
really nice about it…he just said he didn’t think of me that way.” A single tear
escapes and glides unheeded down her cheek. Although I think she’s probably
better off not being in a relationship with someone as conflicted and aggressive
as Jake, she has obviously seen a different side of him.

“That sucks. But
you know, it’s obvious that he cares about you; even I can tell that and I’ve
only been around a few days,” I assure her, uncertain of how to comfort her.
This is outside my experience. I’ve never even had a crush on a guy, much less
asked one out.

“Really?”
Cathy’s expression is hopeful and she gives me a hesitant smile.

“Yeah,” I say,
beginning to wonder about the wisdom of encouraging her.  “Look, I don’t have
much experience with guys…well, any experience…so I don’t know how accurate my
observations are. But it does seem like he cares about you, and you two have a
special relationship.”

Cathy’s eyes
mist over as her cheeks flush. “Yeah, we do. I guess I need to give him more
time. It’s only been a few months after all.”

“Right.” I
frown, still puzzled over Jake’s role in Miranda’s death. “So he dated Miranda?
But I thought she was with Phillip when she died,” I say, hoping that Cathy can
give me some insight on the strange dynamics between the three.

She glances
around and drops her voice to a hush. “She was dating Phillip, but Jake was
still all about her. He’s been so torn up about it.”

Cathy draws in
a sharp breath, as though shocked at herself and pulls away, returning to her
computer, cheeks flaming. Glancing over my shoulder I see a shadow stalk ahead
of Jake through the door. His cloudy-blue eyes are luminous as he surveys the
room, pausing momentarily on Cathy and then settling on me. Almost instantly
their color seems to deepen, a cold sky above gathering clouds, and I am struck
by dual urges to curl up into a ball and hide even as I begin to lean forward,
closer to him.  Catching myself, I break contact and swing back around to boot
up the computer, trying to ignore the way my pulse is racing and the heat
creeping down my neck. I can still feel his eyes on me, even as the quiet tap
of his steps leads to the opposite side of the room.

“So you wanted
me to look at your story?” Cathy asks quietly, her soft voice breaking whatever
strange spell I was under. I can actually feel when Jake’s gaze shifts, as
though someone has removed a needle from under my skin I hadn’t known was
there. 

“Yeah,
thanks.” I log on and pull up my file, opening the partially written story I
had worked on yesterday. “It’s not finished, but if you could tell me if I’ve
got the tone right…”

Cathy scoots
her chair over and I roll mine back, giving her room. Carefully avoiding Jake’s
corner of the room, I glance around, meeting up with Megan’s frosty glare. She
is watching me with hostile attentiveness, as though waiting for me to mess up or
say something dumb so she can pounce. It is at moments like these I realize
precisely how much I don’t understand about social dynamics. Somehow I have
gotten on Megan’s bad side even though we’ve only had a few conversations, and
I don’t know how to fix it, or if I should even bother.

With a sigh, I
lean back and close my eyes, tuning out the chatter around me. After a moment,
I feel the heat of someone’s presence beside me. Even without looking I know it
is Jake. I can feel frustration rolling from him in waves, like the stuttering
engine of his truck.  Hoping he wants to talk to Cathy, I keep my eyes shut and
pretend I don’t know he’s there.

He clears his
throat and his voice sounds low and hesitant, suddenly too close. “I can’t stop
thinking about you.”

I jerk away,
my eyes flying open. Jake stands close enough to me that the bottom of his dark
green sweater brushes against my shoulder. He is watching me with a cautious expression,
as though waiting to be refused something.

“Sorry, what?
I must have dozed off,” I say, covering my reaction.

His eyes
flash, but his answer is innocent enough. “I asked if I could talk to you for a
minute.”

I glance over
at Cathy, whose back has stiffened, obviously listening in on our exchange. With
an internal groan I get up and Jake moves back, but still remains closer than
I’m comfortable with.

 “Uh, sure.
What’s this about?”

His eyes
narrow slightly in irritation, but I am in no hurry to go anywhere with him.

“Just come
with me,” he replies quietly, but I can hear the thread of purpose under his
seemingly pleasant tone. Realizing I can’t refuse without making a scene, I
follow him out of the room and into the hallway. He waves at Shockey from the
door as he closes it behind us. The silence of the usually exuberant hallway
has an ominous quality as I walk just behind Jake, wondering where he’s taking
me.

Despite my
unease, I cannot help but admire the view. Jake’s lean figure, accentuated by
the tight knit of his sweater and trim cut of his jeans, is disturbingly
distracting. Furious with myself for feeling even a reluctant attraction to
someone who is on my list of murder suspects, I force my eyes just above his
head. When we turn down yet another empty hallway, I come to a halt.