Chapter Forty-one

I FELT LIKE I had just jumped from a moving car that was ready to explode. Back inside my own head the dance hadn’t skipped a beat—only seconds had passed.

Then I felt a force push my chest, and I stumbled back. It was Trent. His eyes glared, ready to take me down. I’d forgotten I had challenged the school bully to a fight.

“You have no idea what you just started, man,” he said, his cronies laughing from the sidelines and blocking a teacher’s view.

It didn’t take long for a small crowd to circle us, just waiting and watching for me to get my butt kicked. With everyone being so packed in like that, Trent would probably get at least a few punches off before a supervising faculty member would see what was going on. I prayed it would be sooner.

There was nothing I could do. I was dead. I had to fight him. I raised my fists, ready for the beat-down of my life. That was when Trent blinked his eyes once, twice, and then dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

I stayed in defense mode as the people around us took a collective breath. All eyes were on me, and for a second I felt like I’d just told the entire school my mind-reading secret.

The mood changed instantly, and whoops and howls erupted from those watching. Trent’s two henchmen knelt by their leader, lightly slapping the sides of his face.

I had the feeling that what had just happened to Trent was what had happened to Laura in speech class. I wasn’t about to tell anybody that, and I also wasn’t going to celebrate the moment. I had to find Kate. A few teachers appeared, and the crowd dispersed rather quickly.

The club music faded out and a spotlight punched through the gym like a lighthouse from the far corner. Up on the stage, Mr. Muller stood in a jacket and tie, holding a microphone.

“Is this on?” His voice boomed out of the speakers, and a garble of squealing feedback whistled.

“And now the event you’ve all been waiting for! The crowning of the River West Fall Ball’s Best Guy and Gal!” A few girls screamed in excitement, and a couple of guys booed the announcement. I wasn’t interested in what the principal had to say; my goal was to find Kate.

Muller went on, describing the characteristics of each role and how they were selected. I started looking for Kate’s stunning dress that I’d been ogling all night. Everyone’s faces were starting to blur together, and then I felt it on my upper lip and knew instantly what it was.

Using the end of my tie, I wiped the blood away from my nose and kept looking for Kate in the crowd. I would almost rather have been searching for a newspaper clipping in a haunted motel room … almost.

Somebody put a hand on my shoulder and I whirled around, expecting Trent ready for round two.

“Hey, whoa, it’s just me. Nice moves back there.” It was Kate. “What’d you do, rewire something upstairs?”

I was done goofing around with all this and got to the point.

“What do you know about Trent?”

Kate gave me an insane look. “He’s a crazy psycho who torments just about everybody at school.”

I shook my head. “No, no, I mean—what does Muddy Huddy know about Trent?”

Kate knew where I was going with it. She focused on the floor. I’d never seen her hold back before. “Nolan …”

I could hear Mr. Muller’s voice again, droning on and introducing the candidates for the coveted prize.

“Be a gentleman and don’t go running around up here.” She placed a palm on her head.

I hadn’t thought of it, but it might have been easier to get to the truth.

“I won’t. Just tell me.”

The three candidates for each spot were gathering onstage. Laura was one for the girls’ side, and you guessed it, Dean was up on the guys’ end.

Kate took a breath, but before she could answer, a tall, skinny guy with a camera around his neck slid into our conversation. He talked slowly, as if he’d been off killing a few brain cells in the guys’ locker room.

“Hey, Kate, you want me to get pictures of everybody or just the winners?”

She fumbled her words at first then said, “No … Yes! Bronson, just get pictures of everybody, everything … whatever.”

Using her hands, she waved him away as if he were a six-foot gnat.

Muller’s voice boomed again. “And this year’s title goes to …”

He paused for dramatic effect, and I saw Bronson take wide steps toward the stage to get a better shot for the newspaper.

“… Laura Hartman and Dean Mitchell!”

The crowd went crazy nuts, and music instantly blared again over the speakers. Kate and I both flinched. We kept our eyes on the stage as Laura donned her red sash and was handed a bouquet of flowers.

A matching sash was draped over Dean’s chest and he was given a heartfelt handshake by Mr. Muller. Laura smiled, but she didn’t look happy that she’d just won one of the most coveted titles in school. Dean, on the other hand, was accepting everything with a grin and humility.

Then his expression changed. He dug his hand into his front pocket and produced Kate’s cell phone. He looked at it and then put it to his ear. Plugging his other ear with his finger, Dean walked offstage and down into the crowd.

I looked over at Kate.

“Who is it?” I shouted to her.

Kate shook her head. Now Dean was searching the crowd. His expression told me something wasn’t right.

“Come on.” I took Kate’s hand as we cut a path toward him.

“Dean!” I shouted, but the music drowned out my feeble attempt.

Kate and I squeezed through dancing couples and I stepped on somebody’s foot. We made it to the other side of the dance floor where Dean had been, but I’d lost him in the crowd. Now we were both lost. Why did this place have to be so dark?

Then I heard my name. I turned in what I thought was the direction of the voice, but I couldn’t tell with all the music.

“Did you hear that?” I yelled to Kate.

“What?” she strained back.

I shook my head, trying to look over people’s heads on the dance floor.

The music began to fade, and I heard my name again.

It was Dean moving toward us. He was out of breath when he finally made it over. Resting a hand on my shoulder, he tried to regain his composure and talk at the same time. The music had risen again, and the track playing was some techno beat that jumbled all Dean’s words.

“Yo tad ehcaped.”

“What?” I screamed back at him.

Dean swallowed and took the back of my neck with his hand to draw me in close. This time it wasn’t the heavy bass that shook my bones; it was Dean’s unsettling words.

“Your dad escaped.”