40

ALORA

JULY 4, 2013

“I’m not so sure about this,” Aunt Grace says as she takes the small container of fried Oreos from the snack vendor.

“Trust me, they’re good,” I say in between bites. This is the second time I’ve eaten them today. I think of how Sela would scold me if she were here. That’s another good thing about not hanging out with her anymore. I can eat whatever I want without listening to her anti–junk food rants. I take another huge bite, relishing the explosion of powdered sugar, chocolate, and fried dough. Heaven in grease form.

“Lordy, this should be a sin,” Aunt Grace says after she swallows. “I hate to think about how much weight I’ve probably put on today.”

“Oh hush. It’s your birthday. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She gives me the side-eye, grinning.

A warm feeling spreads inside me. Despite not wanting to come here today, I’ve had a good time. I haven’t seen Trevor, which is a huge plus. Then I helped Aunt Grace sell her barbecue and we made about two hundred dollars profit. That was definitely a win. But I’m getting tired. Aunt Grace wants to stay for the fireworks show. I’m ready to go home.

I guess in the back of my mind, I was hoping Dad would show up again for Aunt Grace’s birthday. It’s stupid of me to think that, but whatever. I can always dream.

We weave through the crowd and head toward the front steps of the courthouse, where the judges are supposed to announce the winners of the cooking contests. Several kids from school pass us, shooting nasty looks at me. Aunt Grace doesn’t notice. She’s spotted Mrs. Randolph cleaning up her booth.

“Hey,” Mrs. Randolph says. “I’ve been meaning to speak to y’all, but you know how it gets. Busy, busy, busy.”

More people gather around us while Aunt Grace and Mrs. Randolph chat. I try to listen to them, but they’re gossiping about something I don’t give a crap about. Plus, I really need to go to the restroom, courtesy of the Dr Peppers I drank this afternoon.

“I’m going over to Java Jive.”

Aunt Grace raises a brow at me. “Why?”

“Do I need to spell it out for you?”

Mrs. Randolph chuckles as the lightbulb goes off in Aunt Grace’s head. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, but don’t be too long, okay?”

“I might hang out over there for a while. There are too many people over here.” No joke. I’m starting to feel claustrophobic even though we’re outside.

“Fine. I’ll meet you there in a half hour.”

I hurry down the street to Java Jive. Of course, it’s packed with people I don’t want to be around. Sela. The Brainless Twins. Kate. Levi. Trevor. For a second I consider going to one of those disgusting porta-potties around the courthouse. Then I think, hell no. I’m not running from them. Not anymore. I square my shoulders and march to the restroom. It feels like their eyes sear into me as I pass.

When I’m done, I stop at the door, trying to get my nerve up to go back out there. I can do it. Just put one foot in front of the other and leave. Simple as that.

But when I near the table where all the jerks are sitting, Trevor says, “Well hey, Alora. You don’t have time to speak?”

On cue, Trevor’s minions laugh. That figures. I glare at them, noticing how Sela is the only one who’s quiet. She’s really interested in something on her phone.

I don’t need this. I keep walking, but then he jumps up and follows me.

Kill me now.

“What do you want?” I ask in a low voice.

“I thought we could bury the hatchet, so to speak.” He gives me the smile that he reserves for trying to charm girls.

“Save it,” I snarl. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about what you did to me.”

The pretty smile fades and is replaced by an ugly expression, very similar to how he looked when he went psycho on me. “And don’t you think I’ve forgotten about what you did to me, little girl. Your lies are gonna cost me a scholarship.”

“Oh please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “As if you have to depend on one of those.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ll ever get one,” he says with a malicious smirk.

I don’t miss a beat. “Just like you’ll never get me.” I push past him, deciding I don’t need to listen to his special brand of idiocy any more.

Before I can get to the glass door, Trevor calls out, “We’ll see about that.”

Chills crawl over my body, but I don’t look back. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing that he got to me.

I barely get across the parking lot when I spot Mr. Palmer standing on the other side of the street, aiming his camera at a group of girls I recognize from school. They’re all dressed in really short shorts and too-tight shirts. The kind Aunt Grace would never let me wear in public.

I watch as Mr. Palmer snaps several pictures of them. Okay, so I know he’s supposed to take pictures of everyone, but that seems a little creepy. Still, it’s none of my business. His employer probably wants him to take a variety of shots.

So many people are still out. The arts and crafts vendors are packing up their stuff, and a lot of people are heading toward their cars, most of them probably going to the rec department for the fireworks show. I just want to find Aunt Grace and see if she’ll take me home. I’ve had enough socializing for the day.

I start to cross the street, but someone standing maybe ten feet away catches my attention.

She looks like me.

For a moment, I wonder if I’m hallucinating again, like I did at The Gingerbread House.

The girl hurries away. I will my legs to follow. I have to catch up to her, see if she’ll talk to me. Or if she’s even real.

I almost lose her in the crowd, but then I catch sight of her turning into an alley. I shouldn’t follow her there, especially since it’s getting darker, but I keep going. I can’t let her get away.

I pass the rear side of a restaurant and stop when I get to the dumpster. The girl is gone. That’s impossible. My head swivels back and forth and I check around the dumpster. She’s not there. She couldn’t have gone in any of the rear doors to any of the stores on this block. They’d be locked.

I start to turn back, but a sharp pain pierces my neck.

Then there’s nothing.