Long Black Veil (15 page)

Micah’s head came up. Devon saw his nostrils flare in anger, and watched as his eyes narrowed. He was pissed. But Devon still wasn’t expecting him to shove Brock out of his way. He stumbled backwards, clearly not expecting it either, but caught himself quickly.

“Thanks for the advice, bro.” Micah’s voice was mean and dangerous. He glared at Gil before taking off down the hall.

“Are you okay?” Devon walked up beside Brock, still in a kind of a shock over what had just gone down.

“Yeah. You guys?” He looked over at Gil.

“Fine,” he said. “But thanks for the assist.”

“You seemed to be doing just fine on your own.” Brock had a grudging respect in his voice.

“Nine years of jiu-jitsu. You pick some things up.”

Devon stared. This was the first time Gil had ever been modest about anything. She knew he’d been taking martial arts classes for years, at first at his parents’ behest, but now because he truly enjoyed it. It wasn’t something he bragged about, but Devon had thought he’d be a little showier than he was now. Maybe he was maturing.

“You good, Dev?”

She managed a shaky smile. “So far.”

Gil nodded at Brock, then gave Devon a significant look. He would want details later. “Then I’m going to take off. Talk to you later.” And the tone in his voice told her that, oh yes, he would be talking to her later indeed, and there was no way around it.

“Later.” Brock waited until he was out of sight before turning back to her. He shuffled from foot to foot, as though unsure what to do next.

Devon took a little pity on him. “I thought we were going to meet at the library.”

Brock shrugged, beginning to walk towards the main doors. “I had to get something from my locker. Figured I’d come by and see if you were around so we could walk together.”

Devon managed to keep her face still, even though she wanted to bust out the biggest, dorkiest grin in the history of EVER. He wanted to walk with her! She allowed her girly side a momentary internal SQUEEE! before dragging her brain back to reality. He hadn’t professed his undying love for her; he’d only said he was checking to see if they could walk to the library. As far as admissions of passion went, it left a lot to be desired.

She tried to keep her voice casual. “Cool.” They were silent as they passed through the doors and out onto the high school grounds. Devon took the lead, able to find the library with her eyes closed from here. When they reached the sidewalk, she asked, “So any idea what Micah’s problem is?”

“What do you mean?” Brock sounded surprised.

Devon bit back a sigh.
Hello, Oblivious, Party of One!
“For the past few years, Micah had no idea that I was occupying the same space as he was. And now he’s all—” Devon flapped her hands randomly, as if that explained everything. “—freakshow about me.”

Brock looked distracted. “To be honest, I don’t think it has anything to do with you.”

“Gee, thanks.” Devon made a sour face.
Way to butter me up there, Romeo
. Yeah, protestations of mad love were clearly not going to be forthcoming.

Brock shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” He stopped, and pulled her to a stop with him. She turned to face him. “I think he’s bothering you because he’s trying to get in good with Skylar.”

Devon stared at him, then reminded herself that mouth breathing was not a good look for her and snapped it shut. “Seriously? He’s decided to suddenly make my life hell because he wants a date?”

“Not that it will get him far with her,” he muttered darkly.

“You used to go out with her. Wait, you don’t still like her do you? Is that what it was about between you two?” Devon wanted to throw up.

“No, I don’t still like her!” His protest was louder than it really needed to be. He looked around and lowered his voice. “I just don’t like what she’s doing to him.”

“So that’s why you stopped him in the hall when he was about to bash Gil.” Devon thought she understood.

At least until Brock spoke again. “No. I didn’t like that he pushed you.” He looked down. “Or what he called you.”

“Oh.” It was more of a sigh than a word. She wanted to hold onto this moment forever, to keep it frozen in her head.

He raised his head, almost shy. “I mean, I don’t like to see a girl treated like that.”

Devon’s spell was broken. “Oh,” she said, trying not to sound too deflated. “Sure.” So much for a white knight on a silver steed coming to her rescue. She decided not to bother telling him about the parking lot.

She saw his look of frustration. “That didn’t come out right…” he began, but Devon didn’t want to wallow in the awkward any longer.

“Hey, no, it’s fine.” She began to walk again, her pace brisk. The sooner they got to the library and got his essay done, the sooner she could go home and crawl underneath her bed until her embarrassment faded or the world ended, whichever came first. Why could she just decide NOT to like him and be done with it?

She decided to change the subject. “Did you get a chance to ask your dad about the blood type thing?”

Brock looked just as grateful as she felt at the new topic of conversation. He nodded. “I did. He says that it isn’t possible for two people who have O and B blood types to have a kid with AB blood type.” He shrugged. “Not sure if that helps you with your research.”

Devon could feel her hands beginning to shake. She took a deep breath to try and stop the sudden churning of her insides. She wasn’t surprised exactly; she’d done the internet research that confirmed what Brock had said. But the implications of it—that her mother and maybe her Gammy had been lying to her all of these years about who her real father was—made her sick. She felt out of her depth, like she was close to drowning in strange waters.

“Are you okay?” Brock’s voice seemed to come from a long way away. She felt his hand under her elbow, and then he was guiding her to a nearby bench. “You just went white all of a sudden.”

Devon dropped into the seat, wincing as her tailbone hit the hard back of the bench. Brock leaned over her, his fingers finding the inside of her wrist and holding it. Devon felt a flush seep over her skin like ink in water. How could one person’s touch do this to her?

She pulled her wrist from his grip, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. There was concern there, and not a hint of mockery. Devon managed a weak smile. “I’m okay. My blood sugar just crashed.” She made up the lie on the spot. “Forgot to eat lunch.”

She watched as Brock sat down next to her and rummaged around in his backpack. He came up with a foil wrapped bar. “Here,” he said, unwrapping it for her. “Can’t have you passing out in the library on me.” He handed her the granola bar.

Devon had no appetite, but she managed to choke down a bite. “Because that would be embarrassing,” she snarked around a mouthful of chewy granola and chocolate chips. “As opposed to everything else that’s happened in the past two weeks.”

Brock grinned. “It would give the gossips around here something else to talk about.”

Devon exhaled loudly, knowing it made her sound like a recalcitrant horse. “That’s all I need. Something like that’s bound to get back to my grandmother. And then she’d probably never let me out of the house.” She polished off the rest of the bar and pitched the wrapper in the trash. “Come on, that essay isn’t going to write itself.” She offered Brock a hand up.

He surprised her by taking it. “True that.” He held onto her hand a moment longer than he needed to, before turning away to continue their walk to the library.

Devon followed, trying to squelch the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach.

*****

The essay prep session had gone quickly. Brock had surprised Devon by being remarkably good with words once he didn’t have his parents breathing down his neck. She came away from the encounter with the impression that Brock had to fit into a very particular mold for his parents and that they would prod and push him until he did. The essay they had worked on was one he wasn’t going to show his parents—and it would be the one he submitted to his top choice schools. His choices diverged wildly from theirs.

Devon liked this side of Brock. When he didn’t have to live up to the public persona of the Cutler family, he was actually really funny. And considerate. And had interests that extended beyond basketball and keggers. He read.

None of which was helping her get over the mammoth crush she had on him.

She knew she should have turned down his offer of a ride home, but she was having such a good time talking to him that she couldn’t bear to cut it short for the lonely walk to Gammy’s. She’d accepted, and now was safely ensconced in the passenger seat of his car, talking about books.

“To Kill a Mockingbird is the best southern novel, hands down,” she argued as they turned up the road that led up the mountain.

Brock shook his head. “Uh uh. No way. You’re leaving Faulkner out of the equation entirely.”

“Oh, come on,” Devon countered, slewing around in her seat so she could face his profile, “Mockingbird stands up even now. I mean, can’t you see something like that happening in this town? Okay, maybe not with the racism, but certainly there are other parallels.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, as if he knew what she was getting at. But all he said was, "I stand by Faulkner.” His eyes darted over to hers and he smiled. “I’m not discounting Harper Lee, but she only had one book.”

“We’re only talking about one book—not a whole life’s work!” Devon loved arguing, especially when there was no real right answer. It could go on for hours. “If we’re talking about the whole enchilada, then I have to go with Welty.” Devon could see they were coming up on the old church now and she felt the tightening in her chest as the need to look for the veiled woman became overwhelming. She forced herself to look at Brock’s hands on the steering wheel.

“That’s a little bet—What the fu—!” Brock jerked the wheel hard to the right, nearly spinning them around.

Devon’s seatbelt snapped tight as the car bucked and skidded. Brock’s eyes were wide as he tried to muscle the car back under control. She looked out and saw a woman in a dark dress moving across the road, toward the cemetery at the back of the church. She braced her hands on the dash as Brock pumped the brakes to get them to stop.

They slammed to a stop, just a hairsbreadth from the trunk of huge oak. Devon hadn’t realized she’d squeezed her eyes shut, but now she pried them open. Brock was breathing hard, his head back against the headrest.

His eyes popped open and he fumbled with the seat belt release. “Crazy woman was just standing in the middle of the road!” He opened the door and got out. “You okay?”

Devon managed to get out of the car, her knees shaking. She nodded. Brock took off, following the path of the woman in the veil. Devon started after him, still rattled by the near miss with the tree. She realized she had her bag clutched in her hands in a death grip and slung it over her shoulder as she tried to catch up with Brock.

He was way in front of her, his rage and fear from the near-accident giving him speed that would have made him the envy of his basketball team. Devon ordered her body to stop being so stupid and put on some speed herself, ignoring the tremors in her legs.

She caught up with him as he was rounding the side of the church. When Brock came to an abrupt stop, Devon crashed into his back. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Brock didn’t appear to be listening. “Where the hell did she go?” He turned around, sweeping the area with his eyes. “She was just here…” he trailed off, then headed toward the chapel’s doors.

Devon noticed that they were both closed now, even though she had left one hanging open the last time she’d been here. Something with a lot of cold feet ran down her spine, and the light of impending dusk didn’t seem bright enough to drive away whatever might be in that church.

“Brock, hang on—” she called out, but he had already flung open the doors.

The church was empty.

Brock stalked inside. Devon had no choice but to follow after him, even though her heart was racing. What did this mean, that he had seen the woman too? Her thoughts whirled around in her head and she couldn’t make sense of anything.

“She couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air,” Brock was saying as he stomped around the broken down pews.

“You see her too,” Devon whispered, but the words echoed hollowly.

Brock spun. “Of course I saw her! She was standing right in the middle of the road—we almost hit her!” It took him a second to calm down and process what she’d said. “What do you mean, I see her too?” His hazel eyes narrowed.

Devon couldn’t stay another minute. The fear she had when Gammy had first told her about the woman in the veil was back, this time to stay. It started in her feet and moved up, turning her bones to ice so that she was afraid if she tried to talk her teeth would chatter. Brock was seeing the woman too.

He had to be warned. But how could she tell him without sounding crazy? Whatever this woman was, she wasn’t just limited to Devon and her family. Now Brock had gotten pulled into it and all because he had the misfortune of giving her a ride home. It wasn’t fair.

Devon turned, flinging a careless goodbye over her shoulder. “I have to go.” She practically ran out of the church, intent on walking the rest of the way to Gammy’s.