Drop Dead Gorgeous Page 4

  “Where do you live?” I called out.

  “In a house.”

  “Well . . . where are you headed?” I asked.

  “Somewhere.”

  She was teasing me. I loved it. I’d let her tease me all day, if she wanted.

  “Morgan, do you know Linden at all? I could show you around.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I’ll bet you could.”

  “No. Seriously.”

  She placed one hand on the passenger door and poked her head into the car. “Winks, you have a girlfriend, right?”

  “Not . . . really,” I said. My face suddenly felt hot. I hoped I wasn’t blushing.

  For some reason, that made her laugh. She laughed—and pulled open the car door. And then I could smell the flowery perfume that seemed to always accompany her as she dropped into the seat next to me. She pulled the car door shut and tried to smooth her hair down with both hands.

  Then she turned to me and placed a hand on mine. “Winks, are you a good driver?”

  “The best,” I said. What else could I say? My mouth suddenly felt dry. Was my heart beating a little faster than normal? Maybe.

  She was just so awesomely beautiful.

  “Where do you want to go?” I asked.

  An SUV rumbled past us, blowing its horn. I didn’t turn to see who it was.

  “Somewhere interesting,” she said. Her hand was still on mine.

  “Have you seen the lake?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I just moved here, Winks. I haven’t seen anything.” She motioned straight ahead with both hands. “Show me the lake.”

  I pulled away from the curb and lowered my foot on the gas. “The lake is called Parker Lake,” I told her. “Just about everything in Linden is called Parker. I think they were the first rich people who moved here back in the day.”

  Morgan settled back in the seat. “Fascinating.”

  I knew she was being sarcastic, but I didn’t care.

  I didn’t mention that Parker Lake is where couples from school go to park at night and hook up. And as I turned onto Lake Road, I suddenly remembered my afterschool job. I was supposed to be at the car wash by four.

  “There’s the lake!” Morgan exclaimed. She seemed excited to see it. “Look at how the sunlight makes it sparkle,” Morgan gushed. “Beautiful.”

  The road curved around. It looked like we were driving into the sun, which hung low over the water. I pulled the visor down. It was a little blinding.

  She squeezed my arm. “Pull over. I want to see it.”

  I slowed down, but I didn’t stop. “I . . . I don’t have much time,” I said.

  “Pull over,” she insisted.

  I swerved hard and pulled the car onto the grassy shore. We were the only car there.

  She leaned forward and gazed out through the windshield. The afternoon sunlight did make the lake sparkle. And beyond it, the woods appeared so bright and clear, you could see every tree.

  “This is nice, but I really have to get moving,” I said.

  And then her hands were around my neck and she was pulling me to her. Her mouth crushed against mine. I actually cried out. It was such a hard collision.

  She held my neck and moved her lips against mine. Kissed me. Kissed me. And I kissed her back. We held the kiss, one long kiss, until we were both breathless.

  Then she slid her mouth against the side of my face, licking like a dog. Slid her tongue over my skin until my whole body tingled with excitement, my skin alive, chills down the back of my neck.

  I could hardly breathe. But she lowered her lips to mine and we began another long kiss.

  Is she crazy? I wondered.

  I couldn’t really think. I couldn’t put words together.

  Is she crazy?

  Do I care?

  10

  Winks Continues

  I don’t even remember where I dropped her off. And, of course, I was late to the car wash.

  My mouth felt swollen and dry. I could still taste her lips on mine. And my brain kept skipping around, like it was playing hopscotch or something.

  I squinted hard and gritted my teeth, trying to steady myself, trying to get back to normal. But my racing heartbeat wouldn’t let me. And I kept picturing that beautiful girl—a girl I didn’t even know—and how hungry she was for me.

  Hungry. That’s definitely the word.

  And I had to smile when I thought about how easy it was to win the bet with Liam and Zane. Because Morgan was obviously nuts about me. Too late for them. They never stood a chance.

  I pulled behind the neon Klean Kar sign at the front. I don’t know why Dewey, the owner, decided to spell clean and car with Ks. I think about it every time I arrive. I guess it’s an attention getter.

  Dewey is an okay guy, except if you’re late. So I knew he’d be steamed at me and I’d hear about it. Several excuses flashed through my mind, but none of them sounded believable to me.

  My brain was still spinning. I felt another chill when I remembered Morgan’s hands on the back of my neck, pulling me toward her, holding me so tight I couldn’t move, holding me for that endless kiss.

  I’d seen a magician on TV hypnotize some people. And when he finally let them come out of it, they were all groggy and weird. And that’s just what I felt like. Weird. Off, somehow.

  I cut the engine and pocketed the keys and stepped unsteadily out of the car. A blue SUV had just come through the wash, but I didn’t see anyone there to hand-dry it.

  Where was Dewey?

  Then I saw a tall, strange-looking dude walking across the lot toward me. He had short white-blond hair spiked up in a strip in the middle of his head. And as he came close, I could see that his eyes were like silver and trained hard on me.

  He was ripped, big chest, big biceps. Dressed like a tough guy in a tight, black, sleeveless shirt, black jeans tucked into tall boots. The heels of the boots made loud bumps on the pavement as he made his way toward me with slow, steady strides.

  “Hey,” I said.

  I suddenly felt a little afraid. I guess it was the weird silver eyes. I mean, who has eyes with practically no color at all? A robot?

  I looked for Dewey. But there was no sign of him. The blue SUV pulled away, and the dude and I were alone now.

  “My name is Cal,” he said, and to my surprise, he had a normal, smooth voice. “We’ve never met. I’m Delia’s stepbrother.”

  Huh? Delia never mentioned a stepbrother.

  “Oh. Hi,” I said. “I’m Rich. Everyone calls me Winks.”

  He nodded. The sunlight gleamed off his spiky hair. “I know. I have something for you, Winks.”

  Before I could react, he shot his right hand forward—and landed his fist hard in the pit of my stomach.

  I made an ooof sound as the breath poured out of me. And then the pain shot up from my belly, up to my arms, my head. And I threw my arms around myself and doubled over, groaning, choking, gasping for breath.

  When I finally straightened up, he had the power hose in his hands.

  “Hey, wait—” My voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “Please—”

  The blast of water from the hose sent me stumbling backward. I tried to shield myself with both arms, but the spray from the hose was powerful enough to send me sprawling.

  “Stop! Please—” I pleaded.

  But he moved forward, moved with me, keeping the blast of water on my chest. Until I stumbled into the car wash.

  I toppled into one wall, and the brushes started up, battering me, shoving me hard from side to side. I was helpless. Stumbling. I raised my hands to shield my face. And then I was choking on soapsuds.

  “Please— Wait—”

  One of the brushes scraped my side. My clothes were drenched. The soap bubbled around me. I frantically struggled to wipe burning suds from my eyes.

  Oh, help.

  The power brushes whirred and tore at my shirt. I heard a rush of air. The cycle changed, and steaming hot water sprayed down from above. Th
e shock took my breath away. I began to choke and gag.

  “Can’t breathe. Hey—I can’t breathe.”

  I felt a hand grasp the soaked shoulder of my shirt. Cal dragged me out. Pushed me hard against the wall at the side of the building. I hunched against the concrete, brushing suds from my face, struggling to catch my breath.

  “That was for Delia,” Cal said, calm as a clam, as if we were just having a quiet conversation. “Like I said, she’s my stepsister, and you’d better start treating her right.”

  “But I—”

  Cal pushed me back against the wall with one fist. His silvery eyes glared into mine. “She’s been through a lot, man. You’ve got to be careful with her. I was there at school to pick her up. I saw you drive off with that redheaded girl.”

  “Whoa. Listen—” I didn’t know what I was going to say to the guy. I just knew I had to protest.

  Cal raised a finger and pointed it at me. “This was a warning.”

  I took a deep breath and finally found my voice. “Are you crazy?” I cried. “You attacked me? Now you’re threatening me? Are you totally crazy?”

  He didn’t answer. Just gave me one more push against the wall. “Stay away from that new girl,” he murmured through his teeth. Then he turned and stomped away.

  I stood there, soaked and shivering. My stomach ached from the punch he threw. My eyes burned from the soapsuds.

  I’ve got to break up with Delia, I decided. Her stepbrother is nuts. And dangerous. And out of control.

  I heard my name being shouted. I turned and saw Dewey calling to me. How long had he been shouting?

  I shook water off as I forced myself away from the wall and headed toward Dewey, who was outside the front office. My sneakers squished across the pavement. I brushed my wet hair back off my forehead.

  Dewey is a big, brawny guy who wears red-and-black flannel shirts and denim bib overalls that make him look like a lumberjack. He has a lumberjack beard, too, black and thick, and long enough to cover his face and neck.

  He did not look pleased. I could see his angry scowl even through his beard. “Winks—why are you soaking wet?”

  “Did you see that guy?” I pointed toward the street.

  “No. I was in back.”

  “That guy just came up and beat the crap out of me.”

  Dewey eyed me skeptically. “How come?”

  “Beats me, Dewey. Seriously.”

  “Well, I have to shut down,” he said, rubbing his beard. “You wrecked the whole mechanism.”

  “Huh?” I gasped. “It wasn’t my fault. I—”

  “You smashed everything up, Winks. I’ve got to shut down till I can get it fixed.”

  “But, Dewey—” I pleaded. “The guy threw me in there. You can’t blame me.”

  “Who else am I going to blame?” Dewey didn’t raise his voice, but he couldn’t hide his anger. “Listen, Winks. You came late to work and then you wrecked the whole car wash. What would you suggest I do?”

  “Give me another chance?”

  “I don’t think so. I think I have to fire you.”

  I couldn’t think of a reply. Finally, I just nodded.

  “I’ll give you a check for last week,” Dewey said. He turned and started into the office. “Don’t come in the office. You’ll get everything wet.”

  So I waited outside for him, hugging myself to stop the shivers and thinking, The next time I see Cal, I’m going to tear him apart.

  11

  Amber Narrates

  “So you’ll never guess Liam’s new project,” I said.

  Julie turned to me. “New project? Since when does Liam have a project? His only projects are playing Ultimate Frisbee with Winks and seeing how many girls he can impress.”

  I mopped sweat off my forehead with the sleeve of my T-shirt and slowed my pace on the stationery bike. We were in Julie’s basement, where her parents have their own gym setup. Julie was beside me on the treadmill, walking pretty slow because she wasn’t in the mood.

  Which was weird for Julie, because she’s always in the mood to do everything. Julie is the most energetic, gung ho person I know. And I wasn’t used to seeing her be so low energy.

  But I had a pretty good idea why she was down. She’d told me she saw Zane hanging out with Morgan Marks in Franklin Park behind the high school, and I guess they looked pretty friendly.

  If Zane and Morgan become a thing, it serves Julie right. Of course, I would never say that to her. But she is totally bold in everything else. Why can’t she just walk up to Zane and say, “Hey, I have a thing for you.”

  Why is she so paralyzed when it comes to him?

  It’s easy for me to ask questions like that, I guess. But you think you know someone really well. I mean, Julie and I have been best friends since forever. But there are still mysteries about her I just can’t crack.

  “Liam is building a drone,” I said.

  Julie laughed and almost stumbled off the treadmill.

  I pushed my glasses up on my nose. “No. Really,” I said. “You know his uncle who is an engineer at Boeing? He sent Liam a kit. And Liam is building a drone in his garage.”

  “What for?” Julie said. “Does it have a camera? Does he want to spy on the girls’ field hockey team?”

  We both laughed. That seemed like the only logical reason Liam would build a drone.

  I stopped pedaling. My thigh muscles were throbbing. I mopped my forehead again and climbed off the bike. My hair was sweaty, and it gets totally curled up when it’s wet. “Hot in your basement,” I said. “I feel virtuous enough.”

  “Yeah. Let’s go upstairs and get something to drink.”

  A few minutes later, we were sprawled in her den, sitting cross-legged across from one another on the dark shag rug, sipping from cans of Diet Coke, with a bowl of nacho chips between us, a reward for our strenuous workout.

  I decided to tell Julie my idea about Morgan. “I want to interview her for the Panther Roar Blog,” I said. I’m one of the main writers for the school blog.

  Julie swallowed some chips and squinted at me. “Interview Morgan? Why? For beauty tips? Think she can tell everyone how to look as gorgeous as she does?”

  I laughed. “I don’t think so.” I paused. “Although come to think of it, some tips from her might be interesting.” I sighed. “You know, my mom says I can’t do anything about my nose until I’m eighteen. How unfair is that? Why do I have to walk around with this bird beak till I’m eighteen? It . . . it’s ruining my life, and she doesn’t care.”

  Julie set down her Diet Coke can and took my hand. “Amber, I’ve told you a hundred times, your nose isn’t ugly. It’s actually quite beautiful. Seriously.”

  I jerked my hand away. “Shut up. You’re a liar, Julie. You’ve always been a liar.”

  “And you’re crazy to be so obsessed with your nose.”

  “You’d be obsessed, too, if your nose entered the room five seconds before you did!”

  We both laughed, and it cut the tension. Julie and I are so close, we have honest moments like that all the time. And no hurt feelings. Although I knew she was lying about my nose.

  “Hey, we were talking about Morgan,” I said. “Writing her up for the blog. She’s new in school, right? And I just thought . . . well . . . the rest of us have lived here forever. Maybe it would be interesting to get her impressions on how it feels to be a new girl at Linden.”

  Julie rolled her eyes. “A new girl who looks like a movie star and has three guys panting after her like starving dogs.”

  I took a handful of chips. “You think it’s a bad idea?”

  Julie pushed a strand of blond hair off her face. “No. I didn’t say that. Morgan might not want to do it, you know. She seems kind of private.”

  “Well, it doesn’t hurt to try—”

  “We don’t know a thing about her,” Julie said. “Mom doesn’t even have her old school records at her office. It’s like she popped in here from another planet.”

&nbs
p; “Well, you know I like sci-fi,” I said. “I’m going to give it a try.”

  When I caught up with Morgan in the hall after school the next day, she said no.

  “Why should anyone care about me?” she said.

  “You’re the only new student in our class this semester,” I told her. “People have noticed you, right? So they’ll want to read what you have to say.”

  “But I don’t have anything to say.” Her voice became shrill, kind of whiny.

  “Why don’t we just try it?” I said. “It’ll only take a few minutes. I promise.” Then I added, “I’d like to get to know you better. You don’t really know anyone here, do you?”

  Her expression softened. Her eyes studied me as if seeing me for the first time. “Okay,” she said. “For only a few minutes?”

  “Awesome!” I felt as if I’d won a big victory.

  “When do you want to do it?” Morgan asked. “Now?”

  That’s how we ended up in the art room on the second floor. Empty. Smelling of paint and turpentine. Sitting across from each other at the end of a long worktable.

  Morgan slipped off her silky green jacket and hung it on the seatback next to her. I pulled out my phone and set it to record our conversation.

  She fumbled in her bag, pulled out a silver lipstick case, and applied a bright purple color to her lips. “Can’t do an interview without lipstick, right?”

  “That reminds me,” I said, positioning the phone between us on the table, “I’ll need to snap a photo when we’re done talking.”

  She shook her hair off her shoulders. “No problem.”

  “Before we start, I just wanted to ask you . . . Have you ever done any modeling? You’re so beautiful, I’d think—”

  Her eyes went wide. “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

  Her reaction stunned me. I just sat there staring at her. “Well . . . yes,” I said finally.

  “I’ve never done any modeling or anything,” she said, turning her gaze to the tall windows across from us. “Never really thought about it.”

  I studied her face. Was she lying? She had to know she was gorgeous. Even if she didn’t see it in the mirror, she’d know it from the ridiculous reactions of the guys around her.