Valkyrie Symptoms (2 page)

“What?” Jack says, lifting both eyebrows. “It's not like she's ugly or something.”

I don't like how he's looking at me. Like something's funny.

“Look, I don't care what you call it,” he says. “This is my condition. Then you can crash our Thanksgiving dinner for all I care.”

“I'll think about it,” I say, glancing back toward Graham. He points at his watch. “As long as you promise not to be sketchy and make me regret it.”

“I don't think you're in a position to negotiate.”

Maybe he's not such an idiot after all.

Fortunately, neither am I. There's a way to get back the upper hand with Jack and the recruiter situation. And I'll find it.

I
t's only ten p. m. and I'm already restless. After the epic game I played today, I should be all about this party. We're at some girl's house—not sure whose. It's a decent party, but Graham's birthday tomorrow will be better.

There's a crowd in the living room. Most people are outside on the deck, including Graham.

No sign of Ellie.

Why'd she say she'd come if she isn't going to? She could at least text—let me know she's not dead in a ditch somewhere.

I sound like Graham.

Still, I need to figure out what to do about Jack's favor. And for that, I'll need a little intel from Ells.

“You in, Tuck?” I don't recognize the guy next to me, but apparently I should. I nod.

I'm up fifty bucks. But all I can think about is how to handle Jack. And why Ellie blew me off.

I toss two chips into the middle since it's my turn.

I glance at my watch.

Seven minutes have passed.

It's 10:07 p.m.

Ellie came to our game this afternoon. She doesn't do that often. Even though we won, thanks to me, she told me it was a Pyrrhic victory since now everyone will expect me to play like that
without
naptime.

I laugh out loud just thinking about it.

“Nice poker face,” the guy next to me mutters.

“I was thinking about something else,” I say. He looks skeptical. “A girl,” I add.

“I fold.” He lays his cards facedown on the table.

I rock back in my chair, watching the party pick up.

A blond ponytail bobs through the crowd in the other room. I wait for her to turn, but the girl keeps her back to me.

Still, I know it's Ellie.

She won't stay long. She never does.

“I'm out.” I toss my cards into the middle. I don't even bother to cash out my chips.

I elbow my way through the crowd. “I was beginning to think you were a no-show.”

Ellie pivots to face me fast, like she's on wheels.

“That makes me nervous,” she says. “There's no reason for you to keep tabs on me that doesn't end badly for one of us. Most likely
me
.”

“That's not fair,” I said. “Maybe I just want to talk to you.”

“So you want me to entertain you?” she says with a sigh. “Sorry, but I left my tap shoes at home. Besides, I'm not staying long.”

She starts to walk away.

“You're leaving? Can I go with you?” That will give me plenty of time to smooth out my approach.

She stares at me like I just suggested we elope.

“Are you in some sort of trouble here?” she asks. “What did you do?” There is a note of genuine concern in her voice that makes me grin.

“Let's go outside.” I grab her hand and steer her toward the sliding glass door to the backyard. A girl from another school who's been on me earlier glares at Ellie as we pass.

Ellie's palm presses against mine. There's no awkward fumbling, the way you do when you're not really sure whose thumb goes where. Her hand fits perfectly against mine.

It's actually kinda nice.

Still, I let it drop the second we get outside.

And then I wonder if it's weird I grabbed it in the first place.

I tell myself it's a practical necessity when cutting through crowds. That's all.

“I need a favor,” I say.

“Why am I not surprised?” Ellie's eyes are wide. They're so light, they almost glow in the moonlight. “At least you're admitting it. Normally you try to play it off like it's a boon getting to serve you.”

“Serve me?” I reply. “That has a nice ring to it, Ells. Tell you what, you have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to put me in your debt.”

“Only we're talking the lifetime of a mayfly.”

“What's that, a week or something?”

“Twenty-four hours,” she replies. “And if you recall, I already saved your butt once today. You'll have to hit me with this one tomorrow.” Her smile is smug and just the right amount of sultry.

God, when did Ellie go from cute to hot? I mean, I've sensed it coming for a while, but all at once, here she is. Trouble on two legs. Two very nice legs.

And now I need to go home and wash my brain out with soap.

“Is that all?” she asks. “You're giving up that easily?” She sounds disappointed. But my train of thought has crashed and burned somewhere around her knee.

“No,” I say. “This is real-life important.” Suddenly I have her undivided attention. “Where is Emma tonight?”

She shakes her head.

“Do you know—I mean, is she interested in anyone?”

Ellie's eyes widen in comprehension. “That's important?” There's a snap to her tone that surprises me.

“Very.”

She frowns.

“Why do you care?” She's really angry now. She presses the thumb of one hand into the palm of the other like she does when she's trying not to snap at Graham.

Then it hits me. She's jealous. And I'm totally going to hell because I want her to be. I want Ellie to want me.

And I want to punch myself in the face when I realize how cruel that is. Because nothing will ever come of it—even if her jealousy means something. Nothing. Even if Graham weren't psychotically overprotective, the whole universe knows I don't want a girlfriend. And Ellie's not the type to settle for anything less.

“Going comatose won't get you out of it,” Ellie says. “Emma is my friend, and I'm not letting you jerk her around.”

“If I tell you something, you promise to keep it between us?”

She nods.

“Jack has a big crush on her, and I'm bridging the gap.”

“Why?”

“What can I say? I'm a romantic at heart, Ells,”

“You're selfish at heart, Tuck,” she says without missing a beat. And wow, it actually hurts. Does she really think that, or is she just playing a little rough? “You don't like Jack,” she adds, almost as an afterthought. Her wheels are already spinning full speed.

“Jack's not that bad,” I say. “I was thinking we go out and invite Emma and Jack to join us.”

“Like a double date?” She laughs at the idea.

“What's wrong with that?” I ask. I hope it's dark enough that she can't see my ears turn red. What is
wrong
with me tonight?

“Better question: What's
right
about it?” she replies.

“We'd just be there to, you know, facilitate,” I say.

“What are you up to?” She puts one hand on my arm. Only it's not an intimate gesture. She's just trying to make me look at her. All the nerve endings on my skin start firing like crazy.

“Making two people happy?” I venture.

“No. You either owe Jack or want him to do something,” she says. “You'd trade my friend like a baseball card for it. But you know what? I'm not going to let you
or
Jack get away with this.”

When she puts it like that, I feel like crap. “Do they even make baseball cards anymore?” It's the first lame thing out of my mouth.

She waves one hand at me as she walks away. “When you're ready to actually talk, call me.”

This isn't going how I'd planned. Then again, things never do with Ells. Most girls would get all caught up in the excitement of a secret crush. Not Ells. She has to examine everything from every single angle. Something I'm suddenly wishing I'd stopped to do myself.

I lean on the deck railing and look out into the night. Maybe I should just tell Ellie the whole story.

By the time I decide to come clean and step back through the sliding glass door, she's on the far side of the room, already making her way toward the door. Ellie's the master of dropping by a party without lingering.

But she stops along the wall. She's talking to someone. I crane my neck but still can't see who it is. Then whatever she's saying gets animated. Really animated. She waves her hand. Then she staggers back a step.

Like someone shoved her.

Suddenly I'm the one shoving, making my way through the party. I've picked only a handful of fights in my life, but we are about to meet lucky number six.

Ellie shouts something. You can hear her over the music. It's so out of character, my whole body tenses up. Whatever's happening is bad. Heads are starting to turn.

Then I see Jack, backed up against the wall. Hands up in surrender.

Ellie takes one step back. Plants her feet.

Then her hand flies. She lands a fist square on the nose. Graham must have taught her that, because it's a flawless punch.

Screw his uncle. I grab Jack by the front of his shirt.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing.” Both his hands are still up, palms facing me. His shoulders are up to his earlobes. “We were talking, and she flipped out.”

“Why don't I believe you?” I ask, pushing him so the back of his head knocks into the wall. It's a pretty cool move. “Oh, I remember.” I shake him, just hard enough to get his attention. “It's because Ellie wouldn't hurt a fly. Even when the fly deserves it.”

“Dude, she attacked me,” Jack says.

I turn to hear Ellie's side of it. Only she's just staring at us both, wide-eyed. I've never seen her so scared.

“Let go.” Jack knocks my hand away. I let him. “And you can forget about my uncle.”

Everyone is watching. A couple of guys are laughing. Ellie turns and practically sprints to the front door. She fumbles with the handle but finally manages to swing it open. I start to take off after her.

“What's the hell is going on?” It's Graham. I really want to handle this one myself. He totally overreacts when Ellie is involved. Plus he'll give me hell for sleeping through that meeting. “What about his uncle?” His forehead creases. For a smart guy, sometimes he looks downright dense.

“It's nothing.” I say.

“Your sister came after me,” Jack says. “Halloway got her riled up or something.”

“My sister?” Graham repeats. “My sister, Ellie?”

“No, the sister you keep locked in the attic,” I say.

Graham shoots me a look. He's annoyed. “Tuck's kidding.”

Like people wouldn't know that. Still, everyone laughs.

“We let her out ages ago,” he adds.

He's good with a crowd. The tension in the room evaporates. People start going back to whatever they were doing.

“Look, Graham, I'll talk to Ellie.”

“No, I should go. Make sure she's okay.” But I can tell he doesn't want to leave. If I give him an out, it'll blunt his irritation when I tell him the full story later. Plus this is all my fault, and I really want to talk to Ells.

Two birds, one stone, and all that.

“It's almost the end of your senior year. Go have fun. I've got it.”

He looks at me for a long moment. But then someone calls his name. Distracting him.

“You sure?” he asks.

I nod.

“Thanks,” he says, and claps me on the back. “And don't tease her about this. She's been acting a little funny all week. Like her temper's on a hair trigger.”

And here I'd thought it was just me. It bothers me more than a little that Graham has noticed it too.

E
LLIE IS OUTSIDE
sitting on the curb, elbows propped on her knees, her chin resting on both palms.

“Need a ride home?”

“Yes.”

But she keeps sitting there.

“Let's go.”

“You're taking me?”

“It's a pretty standard way of offering,” I say. “I wasn't asking for informational purposes. Fascinating as the answer was.”

She looks up at me. She's been crying. You'd only notice the puffiness around her eyes if you knew her well.