You Are So Undead to Me (10 page)
“Yeah, I guess I did,” I said, feeling a little sad. I had missed a lot. Maybe it would have been better if I’d never lost my powers, if I’d just kept being a Settler. Then Ethan and I would have stayed friends and maybe even . . . eventually . . .
No way. Ethan never was and never will be interested in you. You’re like the annoying little sister he never had, and that’s it.
Right. I had to stay focused on practical goals, like learning enough Settler stuff to keep from dying, making sure my school was safe from black magic, and convincing Josh to
finally
asked me to the dance. Ethan was just my tutor and maybe my friend when he was in a good mood, nothing more.
finally
asked me to the dance. Ethan was just my tutor and maybe my friend when he was in a good mood, nothing more.
That shouldn’t have made me even sadder, but it did.
CHAPTER 6
The next day passed in a haze, probably because I’d been up until midnight and Mom refused to let me have coffee because she was afraid it would stunt my growth. I was obviously already done growing, but that line of reasoning only led to arguments about decreasing bone density, so I’d learned not to try to get my caffeine fix at home.
Sometimes Jess hooked me up with a latte from the 7-Eleven, but she was absent at a dentist’s appointment all morning. I didn’t see her until lunch, where the most caffeine we could get our hands on was a chocolate brownie. All the soda machines had been removed from the cafeteria last year to help combat childhood obesity or something lame like that. Hello, we were
teens
, not children, and Diet Coke had never made anyone obese.
teens
, not children, and Diet Coke had never made anyone obese.
By the time we got to dance practice, I was wiped, but there was no way I could miss. It was our second-to-last chance to work on our optional routine before tryouts started next week.
Of course, I would have been able to concentrate a heck of a lot better if it had been just me and Jess as planned, not me and Jess and my new tutor—who insisted on picking me up after school and driving us both to the studio so we wouldn’t waste a second getting to the graveyard afterward.
“Megan, are you ready?” Jess asked, and I could tell from the slight concern in her voice that it wasn’t the first time she’d asked. Focus! I had to focus. Settler crap had already ruined my second first date with Josh and put my homecoming date situation in peril. I couldn’t let it compromise my chances of making the pom squad too.
“Yep, totally.” I nodded to Kayla, who started the music.
“Five, six, seven, eight.” Jess counted down the beat under her breath and we both launched into the hip-hop sequence at the start of the next eight count.
Four knees bent deep in unison; then we pushed into a roll across the ground that ended with a jump back to our feet, a scissor kick, a quick ball change, and some very sexy hip swivels. We were coated in fresh sweat and breathing hard by the time we tagged on the new sixteen count we’d just learned from Kayla.
“Awesome, girls!” She actually applauded when we finished, a rare event from our jazz/hip-hop guru.
Kayla had been second runner-up for Miss Missouri three years ago, and most said this achievement had been based on her mad dance skills alone. But mad skills or no, she certainly wouldn’t have had a chance at a title this year. Not that she wasn’t a cute college chick, but Kayla had become a bit too hard-core for the pageant circuit. With her jet-black hair and tendency to wear skull and crossbones- inspired clothing, she was committed to fashion choices that were not pageant-friendly.
“Let’s take it back to the beginning and learn the twenty-four-count entry sequence. I think you two are ready to slip a triple in there before the pas de bourrée.” Kayla took the center of the floor, and Jess and I fell in behind.
We set a crazy pace from then on, both of us determined to lock down this new routine before we started dance squad clinic next week. On Monday we’d be inundated with new moves and knew we wouldn’t want to be worrying about the optional routine. Of course, we really didn’t
have
to do a fourth dance, but we figured any chance to show off our strong points was a good call.
have
to do a fourth dance, but we figured any chance to show off our strong points was a good call.
I couldn’t wait for our extra class on Friday. If the rest of the week went anything like the past two days, I would be needing the stress relief by then, and dancing always made me forget everything that was bugging me. Well . . . almost everything . . .
Ethan sat out in the waiting room, and there was no way I could completely lose track of the fact that he was watching me. No matter how I’d tried, I couldn’t stop replaying that moment in the graveyard, when he’d been holding me and I was so certain we were going to kiss.
Of course, kissing Ethan should have been the
last
thing on my mind. I had a mere week and a half to convince Josh to ask me to homecoming. Maybe less if he was really sick. He hadn’t been in chemistry, and no one knew where he was.
last
thing on my mind. I had a mere week and a half to convince Josh to ask me to homecoming. Maybe less if he was really sick. He hadn’t been in chemistry, and no one knew where he was.
“Good work, girls. I think you’re ready. If you don’t make the squad, your competition must be ready to dance backup for Rihanna.” Kayla shut off the stereo and started packing up her dance bag.
“Thanks, Kayla,” Jess said, pulling off her sweatshirt.
I stuffed my dance shoes in my bag as Jess turned to help Kayla gather her CDs. “Are you going to be here next Monday after ballet class, Kay? We’ll know the first routine for tryouts by then, and I’d love to—”
“You might know more than the first routine,” said a voice from behind us. Jess and I turned to see London standing at the studio entrance. She hadn’t been at school today either, but I guess she was feeling up to dance class. “We’re going to separate everyone into groups by ability. The advanced group might get in a routine and a half.”
Advanced group! She’d implied that we would be in the advanced group, and she’d actually
smiled
afterward. Obviously she didn’t hate me for skipping out on them last night. “Hey, Megan, you feeling better?”
smiled
afterward. Obviously she didn’t hate me for skipping out on them last night. “Hey, Megan, you feeling better?”
I shrugged, trying to act as if it were normal for one of the coolest girls in school to be inquiring after my health, even though out of the corner of my eye I saw Jess’s jaw drop. “Yeah, thanks. I felt better this morning. I think it must have been something I ate.”
“Well, it’s probably better you left. The boys were acting so retarded, daring each other to jump off the giant hay bales at the center of the maze. You heard Josh broke his leg, right?”
No! Not a broken leg! That would mean—
“He’s out of football for the rest of the season,” she said, as if that weren’t a big deal. He was our quarterback, for God’s sake! He was a vital part of our team. A broken leg was a catastrophe—one that could also mean he wouldn’t want to attend the homecoming dance. What fun was a dance with a broken leg?
“I was at the emergency room with him and Andy until one in the morning. I’m so beat,” London said, stretching her arms above her head until her tiny midriff showed.
Not that I would have noticed said midriff if Ethan hadn’t taken that moment to enter the studio.
“Megan, let’s go. I don’t have all night,” Ethan said, glaring pointedly at his watch.
“Hey, Eat!” London squealed, enveloping Ethan in a hug. Hello, didn’t she remember she had a boyfriend? And what was with the “Eat” crap? What kind of nickname was that? “What are you doing here? Come to see Monica?”
“Not that I remember. Did we have a date, killer?” Monica suddenly appeared behind Ethan, hugging him from the other side. Oh my God, the boy was now the center of a hot senior girl sandwich. How dare they rub their half-naked bodies all over my Ethan?
Your
Ethan? Girl, you’ve got it bad.
Ethan? Girl, you’ve got it bad.
“Nope,” Ethan said, seemingly unaffected by all the unnecessary fondling. “You stood me up for ice cream last time. I had to eat both cones myself.”
“Oh, poor baby. That must have been so bad for your girlish figure.” Monica slapped Ethan on the arm before stripping off her sweater, obviously looking for an excuse to show off her own tiny midriff in her cropped tank top.
This time I didn’t notice whether Ethan’s attention was lured to Monica’s rock-hard abs, however, because my own gaze was pulled straight to the giant bandage on her arm. What the hell was that about? Not only was it hard to believe Monica would be generous enough to share her life essence with those in need, but her bandage was nearly three times the size of the tiny one Jess had gotten after she gave blood. Why would Monica need something that big to cover a tiny needle hole?
“Um, stare much, Megan? Don’t you have somewhere to be?” She crossed her arms, wincing as her hand brushed against the bandage.
Looked like whatever was under there hurt way more than a tiny needle hole as well, like it ached the way a zombie bite (or two) would ache. The RCs last night definitely would have had to take a chomp of their Creator before they went back to their graves, and Monica had most certainly been near the scene of the crime.
“What happened to your arm? That looks pretty bad,” I asked before I could think better of questioning the mistress of evil.
Her eyes got bigger, but she only paused a second before speaking. “I had an allergic reaction to that orange stuff they put on my arm at the blood drive. Just shows what you get for trying to help those in need.”
“You only did it because Andy bet you five dollars that you wouldn’t,” London said, obviously amused by Monica’s plight.
“Whatever,” Monica said, giving me the signature what-kind-of-scum-are-you Monica glare. Like I was the one who had offended her instead of London. “This is the senior girls’ class, Megan. So why don’t you make like a milk-carton kid and get missing.”
“Yeah, come on, Meg.” Ethan bounded across the room and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me out of the room with Jess following close behind. “See you girls later.”
I was so freaked out by the touchy-feely thing Ethan was pulling, gluing me to his side, that all thoughts of zombie bites fled my mind and I almost missed Monica and London looking at me like I was some total skank. Then I was so freaked out trying to figure out why they thought I was a skank that I didn’t realize Ethan was pulling me toward his lips until said lips were pressed against my cheek.
For a split second, the entire world disappeared. Nothing existed except Ethan’s strong arm around my waist and the feel of his lips pressing softly against my skin, only inches from my mouth. If I were to turn the slightest bit to the left, our lips would be touching—we’d really be kissing, just like we should have been last—
“You looked great in there, babe. I better step up my game before the homecoming dance,” Ethan said, pulling me even closer before heading to the door.
Babe? Homecoming dance? I didn’t have time to pick my jaw up off the floor before he was shooing me out to his car, Jess hot on our heels.
“What the—”
“You need a ride somewhere, Jess?” Ethan interrupted before turning back to my poor, stunned best friend.
“Um, no, just let me grab my sweater,” she said, sticking her head in the backseat.
“Are you sure, Jess?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m meeting Dad and Clara and James for pizza down the street.” She slammed the door and started backing away. “But I’ll talk to you guys later.”
As Ethan turned back to me, Jess made a classic “ohmygod what haven’t you been telling me” face and mouthed that I should call her and spill all as soon as possible. I smiled, trying to act like I knew what I was going to say to her.
“What the hell was that about?” I snapped at Ethan as soon as Jess turned.
“Your leotard crawl up your butt or something, Schmeg?” Ethan asked as he opened the door for me.
“I’m not wearing a leotard, doofus,” I said, sinking into the passenger’s seat, sensing he wouldn’t give me a straight answer until we were alone.
“Doofus? Are we in third grade?” he asked once he was in the driver’s seat.
“Fine, do you prefer assface?” I asked, turning to glare at him. “What was with the kissy-kissy?”
“I figured I would need a cover for hanging around you so much. Pretending to be your new boyfriend and date to homecoming solved that problem.” He shrugged as if this were no big deal while I did my best to control my fury and embarrassment.
Fury because he’d decided this without even asking me. Embarrassment because I’d nearly taken the fake kiss and turned it into a real kiss, right there in front of everyone.
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