The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted (35 page)

“Yeah, Kara Lane. She’s a freshman in college.”

“Yeah, well, she and Kelly…”

“Kelly? Kelly who?” Aimee interrupted looking at Chels with her eyebrows scrunched forward.

“Kelly, my cousin Kelly,” Chelsea answered shortly.

“Oh, yeah, that Kelly. Sorry.”

Chels rolled her eyes, then continued, “Anyway, Kelly and Kara share an apartment in LA. Kelly called me the other night and we talked for about an hour. Dylan came up in the conversation. She said that Kara told her the dude is like seriously in love with you. Totally. Freakin’ over the top. Like you are the only thing he breathes, eats, talks about, and lives for. Apparently, he even mentioned marriage…”

“What!?”
exclaimed Aimee.

“Yeah, well not now, but when y'all finish UC. He is so crazy in love that he and his dad had a major blowup over you.”

“Dylan’s
dad
?!” Aimee screeched. “Dylan never mentioned anything about a fight with his
dad.”

“Yeah, not surprised. Kara told Kelly he doesn’t get along with his old man. He is so totally into you that his dad is super worried it’ll screw up his football career. You know, like he won’t be able to concentrate on his precious athletics because you’re all he can think about.”

Aimee shook her head. Dylan hadn’t said a word to her about a fight between the two of them, but it didn’t surprise her. He didn’t talk much about his dad, and what little he said wasn’t usually flattering. She hadn’t met him yet, and probably wasn’t going to since the two were at odds over her relationship with Dylan.

After a slow sip of her shake, Aimee sighed, then said, “Well, at least his mom and Paul seem to like me. I guess I’ll just have to make sure I don’t interfere with Dylan and his scholarship. You know, that’s just total garbage thinking that he’ll screw up because he has a girlfriend. He might actually do better because he’s so incredibly happy.”

Chelsea nodded. “Yeah, really stupid, isn’t it? We’re talking football, not like it would be the end of the world if he couldn’t play.”

But it would be for Dylan. He loved playing football more than anything else, well almost anything, and Aimee certainly wasn’t going to stand in his way next year if she was such a distraction. They had a few more months left to enjoy, just the two of them, with nothing else to divide his attention. For now, that would have to do, then she would get out of his way, if he needed her to.

“Well, I’ll just have to make sure Dylan keeps his mind in the game next year,” Aimee said.

Suddenly the conversation turned another direction. Chelsea remembered something she had been dying to tell Aimee. “Hey, hey, hey, heeeey, omigod, I can’t believe I almost forgot to tell you the
newest gossip about the
Bitch Trio
…”

Aimee interrupted, “You mean Brandi and her gang of losers?”

“Yeah, one in the same. Well, you know Courtney went to the prom with Travis, and Travis and Logan Whitney are good friends. Well, Logan has started hanging with Brandi. You know she’s gotta be dating him just to piss off Dylan, like Dylan really cares, you know what I mean? And everyone knows what a slut she is so you know why Logan is dating her.” Chelsea giggled, then continued, “So anyway, Logan told Travis who told Courtney last night at the party that Brandi, Nicole, and Randi were picked up and questioned by the cops last week about a recent incident. It seems they had a big party at Randi’s uncle and aunt’s house a few weeks ago...” Chelsea abruptly stopped her story when she noticed the sweat beading up on Aimee's forehead. “Hey, are you all right?” she asked.

Aimee's thoughts quickly returned to that night.
She suddenly remembered the name on the mailbox…
the Sims, as in the same surname of Randi, Brandi’s new friend who just moved here from Grant’s Pass…
Her mind instantly pieced together clues to her attempted murder...
omigod, I re
member now. The day before my accident, I heard Randi mention something to Brandi about me. She said something unexpected might happen to me. Holy crap! Could Randi be my stalker? But who was the dri
...

“Hey, Aimee,” Chels asked again, “did you hear me? You don’t look so good. Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry. Yeah, I’m okay. I think this weekend has me mentally fried. I’m kinda tired.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,
pleease
stay,” Aimee immediately answered. “I’m sorry. I want to hear the rest of the
story. So what happened to Brandi?”

Chels continued with her tale, “So where was I? Oh yeah, well, things got crazy and Brandi got so totally wasted they thought she OD’ed, so Randi’s cousin just dumped her at the ER and took off. The hospital called the cops and Brandi’s parents had to get her released. Seems she is in some major shit. Anyway, Brandi didn’t make it to school on that Monday, but when she came back on Tuesday she had chopped off her hair. Logan wasn’t with her at the party, and she wouldn’t tell him much about
what
really
happened, but he told Travis that she told him Dylan hasn’t heard the last from her.”

“What does she mean by
that
?”

“I don’t know exactly, but Logan told Travis that you better watch your back, too. Brandi
reeeeally
has it out for you, and she figures if she screws with you she’ll get even with Dylan for
breaking up with her. She’s such a bitch I’m sure she could think of something really evil to do to get revenge.”

Aimee quivered. She knew just
how
evil Brandi had already been. She was sure Brandi could be
very creative thinking of another awful thing to do to her to get even, including attempting murder again. Aimee had proof now Brandi was connected to the stalker in the black Lexus, and she was probably the person who orchestrated the hit by the creep in the white truck. One of those two dudes at
the party
was
the driver of that truck. Aimee no longer needed a police investigation to tell her who was
out to get her, but obviously she couldn’t say anything. Maybe this new bit of gossip meant Detective Woolsey was getting closer to finding the person who ran her off the road.

Aimee asked, “So where was this wild party supposed to have happened?”

“I don’t know, but I think Travis said they dumped Brandi at the ER in Grant’s Pass. I mean, can you believe they actually left her at the ER and took off? What a bunch of losers, although since it’s Brandi I would have done the same thing.” Chelsea smirked, then she lightly swept some crumbs off the quilt onto the floor as she continued, “I’ll let you know more if Travis tells Courtney anything else.” Chelsea stretched out her legs, then swung them around to get up off the bed.

“Don’t go,” Aimee protested and grabbed Chelsea’s arm. “I’m really enjoying myself. I don’t get to hang with you much anymore.” The truth was Aimee felt a little nervous about being by herself.

Chelsea answered sarcastically, “Well, like that’s
my
fault? You and Smoochie Face are like so
in love that you’re hardly ever apart. I’m surprised I’ve been able to steal you away by myself for an hour without him barging in or calling.” She grinned, then gathered up her empty shake cup, walked around to the other side of the bed, and held her hand out to Aimee to pull her up off the bed.

“Yeah, I know. I’m guilty as charged. I’ve kinda abandoned my best friend lately, haven’t I?” replied Aimee hoping Chels would let her off the hook. “Chelsea, what am I gonna do without you here to keep me up on all of the news?” Chels gave her best friend a quick hug, then Aimee started to follow her out into the hallway.

“I don’t know, Aimee. Thank God for the Internet and our cell phones. New York is a long ways away. I won’t be able to come over and dress you for your dates with Mr. Hot Lips in another month.”

Aimee chuckled lightly, but the truth hadn’t sunk in yet. She knew she was going to miss Chels more than Chelsea missed her. She had always depended on Chels to guide her through her world of uncertainty, and help Aimee feel she could do anything she set her mind to do. Chels was Aimee’s own personal cheerleader.

But Chels was going off to school in New York in the fall. She was an east coast kind of girl. Aimee figured someday she would see Chelsea's name on a label in a designer dress or on some marquee on Broadway. She was that type of person. She sparkled and attracted people with her effervescence.
Geez, I’m gonna freakin’ miss her.
If it wasn’t for Dylan, Aimee imagined she would sink into such a
dismal black hole that she would have to pack her bags and head to New York to join Chels. But that was the hard part of growing up. There would be a lot of changes coming her way after graduation, and Aimee might as well get used to the idea of dealing with painful endings as well as sweet beginnings.

Aimee said, “Well, I guess I’m kinda hopeless, but you have to admit, I’m better than I used to be.” She smiled at Chels, then unlocked the front door to let her out. “Besides, it'll give me a good
reason to call you. Except for
that
period, you know, the one we don’t need to talk about, we’ve hardly
missed a day talking to each other. And Dylan and I’ll just have to come visit.”

“You better come see me. I’m gonna be in the Big Apple all by myself…and I
can’t
wait.
But I’m gonna miss you, too. You have to promise you’ll call daily, or at least every other day, and come see me before the end of the year. You’ve gotta be my pipeline to the Medford gossip. Kay?”

“Promise.”

“Swear?” Chels asked again as she held out her left hand, her little finger curved like a hook in front of Aimee's face and waited.

“Pinky swear,” replied Aimee as she wrapped her little finger around Chelsea's finger. Chelsea ran out to her car to keep from getting drenched. The starry sky had turned overcast and rain was now falling steadily. Over her shoulder she hollered good night, jumped into her BMW, then backed out into the dark, wet street. Aimee watched her drive away, then stepped back into the house, locked the door, but left on the porch light.

Leaning against the front door, Aimee peered into the dark den. The house that had always been
her safe haven, now seemed incredibly lonely and…
eerie
. It was unnerving to think she would be by
herself the entire night. She knew it was stupid, but she was going to leave on every light in the house, and lock herself in her room, too. Really silly for someone who had no real qualms with traveling back and forth through time to visit people, usually strangers, often in perilous situations, or worse, dead…but the day had left Aimee unbelievably rattled.

“Come on, Z Boy,” Aimee muttered to Zonker, who sat patiently waiting on her to move from where she had planted herself in the entry. He instantly ran to her bedroom leading the way, and leaped onto the bed. Aimee headed for the backdoor to check one more time that the lock was fastened tight. After checking both doors twice, every closet, under every bed, and all the window locks, she was convinced she was as secure as she could be for now, but she wished Dylan was here to keep her company. Oddly, Aimee hadn’t heard from him since his hasty departure a few hours earlier. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and punched Dylan's number. Her call instantly rolled over to voice mail.

She left a message. “Hey, babe, just checking on how it went with your mom and Paul. Call me as soon as you get this.” Then she reconnected the phone to the charger. Aimee stared at the bedside clock. Eight fifty-seven. She felt wired despite the exhaustion that ran rampant through her body. She sighed heavily and plopped down on the bed next to Zonker to scratch the top of his head while she waited for Dylan to return her call.

“Well, I guess I could finish my economics’ project,” she muttered under her breath. She cranked on the ancient CPU and waited for the desktop to arrive. Finally after a long minute, she clicked on and opened the file and brought up the document she needed. Aimee flew through her notes and whipped out the bibliography, saved, printed, and closed the file too tired to make one more review of the final product. It would have to do as it was. She put the printed pages into a glossy, red binder and stuffed it into her backpack, then looked at the clock. Nine fifty-two. Still no call back from Dylan.

After sliding out of her jeans and top, then throwing them into the empty hamper in the closet, she stopped one more time to look at Mom and Dad’s picture on the bookcase. Aimee shook her head
with doubt. Maybe she dreamt it all. Perhaps she really
was
crazy. It seemed so real, yet so surreal. She
sighed deeply, put the picture down and quickly headed for the bathroom to wash up. When Aimee returned, Zonker was in her spot so she scooted him over so she could slide in. He barely opened an eye. She set the alarm and checked her phone to make sure she hadn’t missed Dylan’s call. No messages came up. This was getting really strange. Dylan always called her when he got home after leaving her house. She figured he waited until he thought Chels had gone home, but that was over an hour ago. Aimee wasn’t going to be able to sleep until she heard his voice so she picked up her cell phone and hit his number again.

This time on the first ring he picked up the phone. His voice sounded unusually short and distracted. “What’s up?” asked Dylan.

Aimee replied, “Hey, babe, I was worried. I couldn’t go to sleep without hearing how you were. Why didn’t you call back?”

“Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

“Busy? Are you okay? I mean you sound like something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, I’ve been talking to the cops. I gave them a statement. They’ll probably talk to you tomorrow.”

“
Cops
?! So what did they say? Do they have any idea who might have done it?” Her voice
gave away her anxiety.