The Curse of the Soulless Page 6

  Am I going crazy again?

  My mind races as I sink down onto my bed and wait for my mom to return. When she does, she appears concerned.

  “Willa, honey, Gaige’s in his bed,” she says. “The poor guy… I think I woke him up.”

  “But I…” I look from the window to her. “But he…” But he what, Willa? Moved through the window without breaking it? Yeah, that won’t sound insane.

  "Maybe you had a realistic dream," my mom suggests, sitting down on the bed beside me.

  By realistic dream, she means hallucination.

  Even she thinks I’m going crazy.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I mumble, unsure what to believe.

  She brushes my hair out of my eyes like she did when I was a little girl. “If things are getting bad again, we could always set up an appointment for you to talk to someone. With what happened with Brecken… It might be a good idea.”

  “I’m fine.” But I’m uncertain if I am anymore.

  My mom sighs in disappointment. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.” She pulls me in for a hug. “It’s okay to ask for help sometimes. No one will think any less of you.”

  Yes, they will, I think to myself. I’ve been through this before. I know how people look at you when they think you’re crazy.

  “Okay,” I lie, hating myself for lying to her. But the alternative isn’t an option at the moment.

  She gives me another hug before leaving my room. I twist in my bed and stare at the window, wondering if what I saw could possibly be real. But if it was, then who—no what—is Gaige?

  Chapter 8

  Willa

  I spend the entire Sunday locked in my room, trying to figure out what the hell I really saw Saturday night, but by the time Monday morning rolls around, I feel as puzzled as ever.

  I trudge my tired butt into the kitchen to get breakfast, in a funk and dreading the school day.

  “I need to babysit Rose for Judy this morning,” my mom announces the second I step foot over the threshold.

  The air smells of fresh bacon and pancakes—my favorite breakfast foods—and my sullen mood diminishes a bit as I wander to the table to eat. “Why does she need you to come babysit? I thought she had a sitter?”

  "She got called into work early, and the sitter can't come over until nine." She stirs the eggs around in the pan while casting a glance over her shoulder. She has bags under her eyes, and her skin is pale, probably over the extra stress I've been causing her over the last few days. "I hate to do this to you because I know how much you hate riding the bus, but I won't have time to drive you to school."

  Ugh. Having to ride the bus is bad enough. But having to ride the bus while you’re a senior is even worse. I’m not about to gripe, though, when she already looks like the walking dead.

  “That’s fine.” I try not to grimace as I bite into a slice of bacon.

  “I’m really sorry, sweetie.” She turns off the burner, wipes her hands on a towel, and faces me. “If there were any other way…” Her eyes travel to the doorway as Gaige enters.

  This is the first time I've seen him since my alleged hallucination and other than appearing a little tired, he looks the same as he always does—calm, cool, and like a normal girl's dream guy dressed in his fitted grey T-shirt and jeans with damp locks of hair falling across his forehead.

  “Good morning,” my mom singsongs. “Hope you slept okay. I know Willa’s kept her music up pretty loud for half the night.”

  “I slept really good actually.” He slips his finger under the handle of the backpack slung over his shoulder, his blue eyes flicking to me. Just blue. A normal blue. No darkness or black to them. “The music didn’t bother me at all. In fact, it kind of helped me fall asleep.” He offers me a lopsided smile and a wink.

  I stare at him expressionlessly, unsure of the meaning behind his smile. Is he being genuine or fucking with my broken head?

  “I hope you’re hungry,” my mom tells him, setting a pan of eggs down on the table. “I made bacon, pancakes, and eggs.”

  He eyeballs the food but hesitates. “I was just going to grab something on my way to school.” Drool is practically dripping from his chin, though. “I usually just stop at the gas station and grab some power bars or something.”

  “Oh, that’s nonsense.” My mom shoos him toward the table. “While you live with me, you’re going to eat a decent breakfast. It’s part of the Marlow’s rules.”

  “That and leave your sanity at the front door,” I say, and my mom blasts me with a warning look.

  “Sorry,” I mutter an apology, feeling as though I can’t keep my head on straight.

  Not with him being so close and the memory of my hallucination haunting my mind. How he slipped through the window and kissed me. How he shapeshifted into a skeleton. Why would I hallucinate that? What kind of coping mechanism is that? And what am I trying to cope with?

  “Why do you have your grumpy face on?” My mom assesses me closely. “Is this about riding the bus? Because I’m really sorry about that, hon. But Judy needs our help.”

  See, that’s the thing about my mom. Someone always needs our help and sometimes she puts her needs—even mine—aside to do that. While having to ride the bus might not seem so horrible, try having to spend Christmas alone because the next-door neighbor needed a ride to the airport, and their car wouldn’t start. Sure, it was nice that she took him, but he could’ve called a taxi. And with my dad being gone… It was hard spending half the day by myself, wishing he were alive. When Brecken was alive, he’d come over and hang out with me whenever I got lonely. But now I don’t even have that.

  All I have is a room decorated with fake happiness, a map that might lead to nowhere, a weird quote of the day card, and my potentially cracking mind.

  “This isn’t about the bus,” I tell my mom as Gaige takes a seat at the table. “And I don’t have on my grumpy face. I’m just tired and subdued.”

  Gaige’s head tilts to the side, his forehead creasing. “Subdued?”

  I shrug. “It’s just a word.”

  “A weird choice of word, though,” he says, observing me curiously while nibbling on his lip.

  My heart thrashes in my chest as I think of the kiss and then hurriedly look away. “Well, I am weird.” And crazy.

  “If this isn’t about the bus, then why are you frowning?” my mom asks me, pulling out a chair to take a seat.

  “Because I have a math test this morning.” I lie, reaching for the syrup. “And I’m worried I’ll fail.”

  “But you’re so great at math.” She piles pancakes onto her plate. “Are you sure this isn’t about riding the bus? Because I can find you a ride if you need me to.” Her gaze skates to Gaige and her eyes light up. “Wait. I have a fantastic idea.”

  Oh, God, no. Please, don’t…

  “Gaige, would it be okay if Willa rode to school with you?” she asks, grabbing the butter.

  Oh God, she did it.

  Riding to school with Gaige… Yeah, I can already hear the rumors. That I really want Gaige’s dick and jumped into his car to act on my urges. And if that doesn’t happen, things still won’t be any better. I can barely look him in the eye now without my heart nearly exploding in my chest. What would happen if I was sitting in a car alone with him? What if I do something that comes off as crazy and he tells the entire school?

  I sigh. God, I hope things will change when I graduate in a couple of weeks and no longer have to be around guys like Gaige. Maybe the decrease in stress will help clear the insanity from my mind, since from what I’ve heard, college is going to be better than high school. At least that’s what Brecken tried to convince me.

  “Things are going to be so much better in college,” he’d say. “We’ll be able to do what we want. Act the way we want. And no one will judge us. In fact, I heard being a weirdo in college is actually a cool thing.”

  I wasn’t so convinced it would be that easy. “You really think things will be different?”


  He nodded. “I know it will. And you know I’m part psychic, which means I’m always partly right.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle.

  Times like those don’t make sense to me anymore. Brecken was planning his future. He’d been accepted to an art program at the university. He even got a scholarship. We were going to share an apartment even though the school is only about twenty minutes away from our homes. But we wanted our freedom. And we had a plan to get it.

  So why did he suddenly decide that he didn't want any of those things anymore?

  “Willa?” My mom waves her hand in front of me.

  I blink several times, leaning back. “Huh?”

  A frown etches into her face. “I was just suggesting that Gaige could give you a ride to school, but then you just zoned out.” She gives me the same look she uses whenever she’s concerned I might be drifting off to Willa’s Crazyland.

  “I’m fine.” I cast a glance at Gaige, uneasy about him witnessing my spazzing out. He looks about as unnerved as I feel, but probably because my mom is trying to force him to drive me to school. “Gaige usually drives his friends to school.” I stab my fork into my stack of pancakes, catching Gaige’s gaze. “So he won’t have room in his truck for me.”

  Gaige stirs his eggs around on the plate, dazing off into space.

  “Oh. Okay.” My mom butters her pancakes with a pucker at her brow. “Are you sure there isn’t any room at all, Gaige? Maybe Willa could sit in the middle of the seat, as long as there’s a seatbelt of course.”

  Gaige meets my gaze, and I mentally chant, just play along. You know you want to.

  He scratches his brow with the back of his hand, his gaze sweeping the room as if searching for an escape.

  I just gave you one, so take it.

  His gaze falls to his plate, and he picks through his eggs with his fork. “I’m actually not picking up my friends today, so Willa can ride with me if she needs to.”

  My fingers fold around the fork. Out of all the times he decides to be a good guy, he picks now.

  “Great. Now that that’s settled.” My mom smiles as she scoops eggs onto her plate. “I have a feeling today is going to be a great day for everyone.”

  What I wouldn’t give to have her optimism, but I’m not naïve enough to believe my day is going to be all rainbows and unicorns and pots of gold at the end of the rainbow. No, more like scary kissing skeletons and crazy lands full of ash.

  I stay quiet for the rest of breakfast, trying to conjure up a way out of riding to school with Gaige. He hardly utters a word either, and I wonder if he’s doing the same thing. The only option I come up with, though, is to wolf down my breakfast and hightail my ass to the bus stop. But I swear my mom reads my mind because she keeps insisting I eat more while forcing Gaige and me to engage in small chitchat with her about ideas for the upcoming fundraiser she holds every year to raise money for the shelter.

  By the time Gaige and I leave the house, we’re veering toward being late and I’m damn near having a mental breakdown about what awaits for me if I ride to school with him. If someone sees us. Or if I hallucinate. Or worse, what if what I saw the other night was real. What if Gaige is…

  Is what, Willa? Are you really thinking that Gaige might be some sort of thing that can move through glass? Is there even such a thing?

  Time to run, Willa. Run, run, as fast as you can. From Gaige. From yourself.

  “I’m just going to walk,” I announce the second we reach the bottom of the front porch.

  Gaige frowns. “The school’s like ten miles away.”

  “So, I guess I better get a move on then.” I hitch my tattered backpack over my shoulder and hurry across the grass for the sidewalk.

  Ten steps later, the engine of Gaige's truck grumbles to life, and he backs out of the driveway.

  I focus on the sidewalk ahead of me. When I reach the corner of the street, I glance left then right before hopping off the curb to cross the street, but jump back as Gaige's truck rolls up, blocking my path.

  He rolls down the window. “You can’t walk to school.”

  “I’ve done it before. A couple of times actually. While it was raining.” Which is the truth.

  Brecken and I walked to school a handful of times before we got our driver's licenses. The clouds would sometimes be drizzling, and puddles covered the ground. Brecken always insisted we had to splash in every puddle. By the time we arrived at school, my jeans were soaking wet, but I was smiling and happy and content.

  Those were such great days.

  I pat the side of Gaige’s truck. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell my mom you drove me. She’ll never know.”

  He shakes his head. “I told your mom I'd drive you to school, so I'm driving you to school.” He shoves the shifter into park but leaves the engine idling. “So please get in the truck.”

  “She’ll never know if you don’t drive me,” I tell him. “She may be a little crazy, but I promise she’s not a mind reader, no matter what she says.”

  “I’ll know if I don’t drive you and I don’t want to lie to her.”

  “Why not?”

  He lifts a shoulder and shrugs. “Because your mom’s a really nice person and she’s really helping me out.”

  I tug my plaid over-shirt more tightly around me as a cool morning breeze kicks up and goose bumps sprout across my legs. "Dude, you and I both know what's going to happen if you pull up to school with me. Your friends are going to freak out, and you're going to throw me under a bus. Plus, everyone already thinks I'm obsessed with you. This will only add fuel to the douchebag fire."

  He fiddles with the keychain dangling from the ignition as he stares out the windshield. “But what if I’ve decided to change and try to become a nice guy?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Nice try, but now I definitely know you’re up to something.”

  I turn to leave, but he reaches out the open window and catches me by the arm. I begin to tremble. Noticeably tremble and he more than notices.

  “See, you’re already freezing,” he says, carrying my gaze with his black eyes.

  I feel that magnetic pull surfacing again, this time more potent, and find myself nodding even though I know I should walk. I should keep my distance from him as much as possible.

  Should’ve…

  Could’ve…

  Would’ve…

  “Fine,” I mumble, unsure if my words belong to me anymore.

  He smiles, and the sight makes me feel strangely warm and cold inside, a confusing combination. Feeling dazedly lost, I float around to the front of the truck and climb into the passenger seat. Once I buckle my seatbelt, Gaige steers down the road toward the school.

  “So, you like classic rock?” he asks as he cranks the heater up

  “Yeah…” I look at him, my brows dipping. “How did you know that?”

  He thrums his fingers on top of the wheel as if tapping to the rhythm of a song only he can hear. “I could hear the music you were listening to through the wall. All of the songs were really old-school.”

  I discreetly wipe my sweaty palms onto the sides of my jeans. “Older music is way better in my opinion.”

  He throws me a charming smile I’ve seen him use on many girls. “I completely agree with you.”

  “You listen to classic rock?” I question with doubt.

  He gives me questioning sidelong glance. “Yeah. Why’s that so surprising?”

  I pick at my chipped violet nail polish. “I don’t know… You just seem more like a Top 40 kind of guy. You know, all the cliché tunes the cool kids are listening to.”

  “Are you trying to say you think I’m cliché?” He seems more amused than offended.

  I shrug and start to turn toward the window, mostly to attempt to cut the magnetic current flowing from his eyes. At least I think that’s where it’s coming from.

  “Do you go to that vintage music store downtown to get records?” he asks. “Or do you order them online?”

 
“Both.” Under no control of my own, I turn back toward him. “Why?”

  He raises his shoulder, shrugging. “I’m just trying to make conversation. And I thought a lot of the songs you listened to yesterday were cool and I wanted to tell you.”

  “Did you?” I mutter, scratching my head.

  I'm so lost. On the one hand, I want to keep talking to him, which makes no sense. On the other hand, I want to stop the conversation, yet words keep tumbling out of my mouth, almost under no control of my own. Which again, makes no sense!

  He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I think since we’re going to be living together we should probably try to get along, especially for your mom’s sake.”

  "We didn't get off on the wrong foot. We've been on the wrong foot since middle school, and we'll never be on the right one again. And you know that as well as I do," I pluck at a string hanging off the hem of my shorts, hating what I'm about to say and again I don't know why! It's just the truth! "I think we should probably just try to ignore each other." Then my gaze wanders to his again, and my mind silently purrs, Is that what you really want?

  “But do you really think we can ignore each other, though?” he asks, biting down on his lip.

  I find myself biting down on my own lip, hard, as I get the craziest urge to lean over the seat and kiss him.

  “I mean, your mom seems pretty set on pushing us together,” he continues, his gaze flitting to my mouth. Then he nibbles on his lip harder, his eyes darkening even more.

  It makes me want to nibble on my own lip. And bite on his.

  What the hell is wrong with me!

  “Don’t worry about her. I’ll talk to her about it.” I unzip my bag to get out a stick of gum to distract my mouth from doing anything insane, and my hands shake as I fumble with the zipper. “She has this idea in her head that everyone needs to be friends, but I’ll just explain to her that we don’t get along very well and that’s probably better if I don’t drive to school with you anymore.”

  Another bite of his lip and I almost lean over the console to kiss him.