Fairy, Texas Read online

  “Be careful,” Carlson said. “See you tomorrow.”

  Kayla watched us leave the room with narrowed eyes. I didn’t hear what she said to the tiny brunette standing next to her, but I had some guesses.

  Yep. Better and better.

  * * * *

  “Let’s stop by Sonic and get a Coke,” Mason said as soon as we were in his dark blue pickup truck.

  “Didn’t Mr. Carlson say that was against the rules?”

  Mason laughed. “He doesn’t really care, just as long as we sell enough ads to pay for the yearbook.” He pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the tiny downtown.

  I studied his profile out of the corner of my eye. I could see why Ally thought he was cute. He had dark blond hair, blue eyes, and a blinding smile.

  “So you’re on the football team?” I asked, mostly to break the silence that was building.

  “All-State in our division last year,” he said proudly. I swear his chest actually puffed out a little bit.

  “And you’re on the yearbook staff?”

  “Yep.”

  “And that’s not . . .” I paused for a moment, “…strange?”

  He frowned. “No. Why would it be?”

  “Well, it’s just that in my old school, back in Atlanta, football players usually didn’t do very many other sorts of things—I mean, other than sports. Certainly not things like yearbook. They were too. . . .” My voice petered out.

  “Too cool?” Mason asked, grinning that huge smile of his.

  “Something like that.”

  He shook his head. “Some of the guys on the team ragged me about it a little at first. But I do what I want to. And I wanted to do yearbook.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Oh. Well. That.” His cheeks turned a little pink. “At first it was because of . . . well, because of a girl.”

  I smiled at his embarrassment. “Oh yeah? Which one?”

  He turned into the Sonic and pulled into a parking space next to an order station.

  “Kayla,” he said shortly, without looking at me.

  I closed my eyes. Yep. That was it. I was doomed to a life of misery in my own house.

  “What happened with that?” I asked without opening my eyes, hoping he couldn’t hear the dread in my voice.

  “Didn’t work out.” His voice was curt. “What do you want to order?”

  I opened my eyes and turned to face him. “Cherry limeade. And if we’re going to spend the next six weeks selling ads together, you’re going to have to give me more than that. I have to live with Kayla. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly her favorite person in the universe.”

  Mason leaned out the window to place our order through the intercom, then turned to face me. “What’s there to tell?” he said, shrugging. “We went out a couple of times. It didn’t work out. End of story.”

  I stared at him, silently willing him to tell me more. His face flushed more deeply, but he didn’t say anything else. Finally the waitress showed up with our drinks and broke the stalemate.

  I insisted on paying for my own drink. No way was I going to do anything that even hinted to Mason that this might be date-ish.

  We spent the next hour going around to local businesses and asking them to support the high school yearbook by buying an ad. I was surprised at how easy it was—I’d been dreading the thought of trying to actually sell something.

  “It’s a small town.” Mason shrugged when I mentioned it. “These people buy an ad every year. No big.”

  There was one odd moment, though. Despite our exchange earlier, we hadn’t gone to any auto body shops or hair salons. Instead, we’d gone up and down the main street and stopped in at several different kinds of businesses: a real-estate agent’s office, a pharmacy, a couple of restaurants. After the second restaurant, Mason started the truck and said, “I need to make one more stop before we’re done today.”

  I probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except that his tone changed when he said it—he somehow sounded more tense, like maybe he didn’t really want to make this stop. And besides, he’d been deciding where we were going all along. Like I’d said, it was his town; I didn’t know where anything was.

  “No problem,” I said.

  We left the downtown area and drove for about ten minutes down a two-lane highway. I watched the scenery flow by—scrubby brush and barbed-wire fences running along small rises and dips in the land. When Mom had told me we were moving to Texas, she had assured me that we would be only a few hours southwest of Dallas. But it could have been a million miles, for all the difference it made here. This was a Texas no-man’s land: too far east for desert, too far west for pine trees, too far north for real hills, too far south for plains. And far too far away from any real city, in my opinion.

  We pulled into a driveway covered with off-white gravel. A fine white dust blew up behind the truck as we bumped over a group of metal bars set into the ground—a cattleguard. I knew what it was because there was one leading into John’s ranch, and he’d explained it to me. Apparently it kept cows from getting out into the road, even though it was surrounded by a gate that could be closed. A sign across the top of this gate-and-cattleguard said “Rockin’ J Ranch.” A man in his thirties or so, wearing heavy work gloves, tugged at a fence post. He looked up and waved, and Mason stopped long enough to roll down his window.

  “Rama habra,” the man said. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like. I assumed it must be Spanish or something. Mason repeated the words to him with a nod and we continued up the driveway. After a few minutes, we pulled up to an old, sprawling white house.

  Mason parked the truck and sat still for a moment.

  “You want to come in?” he finally asked, almost reluctantly.

  “Sure!” Like I was going to say no when it was so clear he was uncomfortable. If he didn’t want me to see, then he shouldn’t have brought me along.

  Mason walked into the dim, cool interior of the house without knocking.

  “Oma Raina?” he called.

  “In here, boy.” The voice that replied was cracked and dry. I followed Mason into some sort of living room, where an ancient woman sat in a Lazy Boy recliner. I had half-expected to find her in a rocking chair, knitting. Instead, she held a television remote in her hand.

  Mason leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Hi, Oma Raina,” he said.

  The old woman looked as dry and brittle as her voice sounded. “Sit down, sit down.” She peered up at me. “Who’s your friend?”

  “We don’t have time to visit right now,” Mason said. “Dad just wanted me to stop by and give you this.” He pulled a packet out of the back pocket of his jeans. It looked like a brown paper lunch bag, folded flat.

  The old woman cackled. “Oh, good,” she said. “I’ve been needing that.”

  “Okay, then. I’ve got to go,” Mason said. “I need to take Laney here back home. I just wanted to get that to you while we were out.”

  “Laney,” the old woman said in a musing tone. “Laney, Laney.…Ah!” She looked up at me. “Your mother married John Hamilton.”

  Good Lord. Was there anyone in this town who didn’t know that?

  “Come down closer, girl, and let me take a look at you.”

  I knelt down by her chair and she took my hand, peering into my face.

  “Oh, yes,” she cackled. “You’ll do. You’ll do.”

  And for the second time that day, I nearly gagged. She had the same hot corpse breath as Bartlef. What was it with the old people in this town? Was it something in the water? I pulled my hand out of her grasp and stood up quickly.

  “Um. It’s nice to meet you,” I finally managed.

  She just cackled again.

  “Bye, Oma Raina,” Mason said, and leaned in to give her another kiss. I shuddered. How could he stand to be that close to someone that stinky?

  I was reminded of the discussion at lunch today—about the rumors surrounding Bartlef and the students
. Suddenly it seemed a lot more likely to me that Mason might hang around with Bartlef. The thought made me shiver again.

  Mason was silent when we got back into the truck. I wanted to ask what had been in the packet he’d given the old woman, but he didn’t start talking, and his expression didn’t particularly invite questions.

  When we pulled up in front of my—John’s, Kayla’s, now Mom’s and my—house, Mason turned to face me. “I actually had a good time today,” he said. “I’m glad Carlson assigned us to work together.” He smiled that blinding white smile at me.

  I jumped out of the truck before he could say anything else. I did not need another guy with The Look following me around. As flattering as it might be, I knew that the guys of Fairy High were only responding to me that way because I was the new girl in a town that didn’t get much in the way of new.

  “Okay!” I said brightly, in a voice that sounded eerily like my mother’s when she was trying too hard. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” I shut the door and waved.

  Mason grinned again and waved, and then gunned the engine a bit as he backed his truck out of John Hamilton’s driveway.

  Chapter

  Three

  Of course Kayla was waiting to pounce on me as soon as I got inside.

  “What took you so long to get home?” she demanded. “School was over almost two hours ago.”

  I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. “We were selling ads for the yearbook, just like you were supposed to be doing.”

  “Doing what?” Mom asked as she came into the kitchen carrying a cardboard box.

  “Selling ads for the yearbook. It’s our first assignment for Journalism class.”

  “Oh, good,” Mom said absently. “I’m glad you’re getting involved already.” She opened the box and began sliding glasses into a cabinet.

  “That’s not where the glasses go,” Kayla said peevishly.

  Mom paused long enough to glance over at her new stepdaughter, then said calmly, “Actually, I’ve rearranged the kitchen just a bit so everything will fit. I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon.”

  Kayla sniffed and stomped out of the kitchen.

  Mom sighed. “I hate it that this is so hard on her,” she said.

  I didn’t say anything. I just took one of the glasses from her and poured juice into it.

  “And I know it’s hard on you, too, honey,” she said, sliding an arm around my waist.

  I sighed and leaned my head on her shoulder. “I’ll be okay,” I said.

  “I know you will. You’re strong and smart. You’ll be just fine.” She went back to unpacking dishes. “I just hope Kayla will be okay, too.”

  I held back the snort that threatened to erupt, busying myself with taking a long drink.

  Mom reached up into the cabinet to put away a glass as she said, “The school called me about you finding that poor boy.” She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. I think she was trying to be casual, but it didn’t really work out. “The counselor talked to you, right? How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” I said. I didn’t say “the counselor has big, creepy bat wings and death-breath.” ’Cause that’s not the sort of thing you can just come out and say to a mother. Besides, it would completely ruin her illusion that I was smart and strong. And sane. Mustn’t allow my mother to think I’m crazy. “I’ve got geometry homework,” I said instead.

  “Okay,” Mom replied. “Help me make dinner tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  She called after me as I walked away, “You’ll talk to me later if you need to, right?”

  I mumbled an answer that might have been “Yeah.”

  When I got back to my room, I surveyed all the boxes that I still had to unpack. Then I thought about Cody, lying on the path.

  Suddenly geometry didn’t seem quite so bad.

  It probably wouldn’t have been bad, either, if I could have kept my attention on it. Instead, I kept thinking about dead teenagers, shadow-wings, about what Andrew and his friends had said about Mason and Bartlef, about old ladies with foul breath who said I would “do.” Do for what?

  I finally gave up and flopped down on my bed. I tugged my laptop out from its case and turned it on. As soon as I logged in, a message popped up. It was from Leah.

  “Ur phn brkn?”

  I laughed out loud. I could see her frantically texting me all day, getting more and more anxious when I didn’t respond.

  “No srvc,” I replied. “New 1 nxt wk.”

  “Fairy ok?”

  That brought me back to exactly the thoughts I’d been trying to avoid. I thought for a long minute, then typed, “? dunno yet.” For some reason, I didn’t want to tell her about the dead guy.

  Then I changed the subject by asking her about her latest crush. She’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask him out—they were supposed to go to a movie on Friday. We IM’d for about an hour before Mom called me to help her with dinner. By then I was feeling better, more like myself.

  “Geometry homework done?” Mom asked as we set the table together.

  I pulled a face. “No. I’ve been talking to Leah.”

  Mom smiled. “Okay. Right after dinner, then?”

  “Okay.”

  Kayla stayed in her room until her father got home. He came in the door and inhaled loudly. “Oh, that smells good,” he said with a big smile. He wrapped his arms around Mom and kissed the top of her head. I might not like it that Mom had married him, but at least he was nice to her.

  “Don’t get too used to it,” Mom said with a smile. “I won’t be around to cook all that much.”

  John laughed. “No problem. Kayla and I are used to fending for ourselves. We’ve hardly used the dining room table since . . .” His voice trailed off. Since his wife died, I silently finished his sentence. First wife, that is.

  “No,” said Kayla as she walked into the kitchen. “We always eat in front of the television.”

  “But now that Angie’s here, we can start a new tradition, Kayla.” He glanced over at me as if suddenly realizing that maybe he’d left me out. “And I’m sure Laney’s a good cook, too, so maybe we can all keep it up even while Angie’s on the road.”

  “I hope so,” Kayla said. “It’ll be nice to have someone else around to do the chores.” The smile she flashed in my direction was vicious.

  “Oh, Cinderelly, Cinderelly,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Laney,” Mom said sharply.

  I looked up. “So,” I said, “Who’s ready for tacos?”

  * * * *

  The next morning I staggered into math class semi-awake. I’d been up late finishing my homework, but I’d gotten it done. My general sleepiness had helped me ignore Kayla’s morning sarcasm. And by English class I was feeling almost human again. Ally waved at me when I walked in the room and pointed to an empty seat next to her.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “I heard you and Mason Collier spent all afternoon together yesterday.”

  I shook my head. This place was even worse than my old high school for rumors—at least the relationship rumors. No one seemed to be talking about the dead kid. “Mr. Carlson teamed us up to sell yearbook ads. That’s all.” I pulled my book out of my backpack and opened it.

  Ally raised one well-groomed eyebrow. “Really? That’s not what I heard.”

  I looked up from the page I’d been skimming, alarmed. “What? What did you hear?”

  “Well, Susan Smith told Andrea Frank that Mason told her boyfriend Todd that he thought you were really cool.”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. “That hardly counts,” I said.

  “So what do you think of him?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “He’s fine. He’s nice. What do you want me to say?”

  She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Come on, Laney. You’ve got to admit he’s cute.”

  “Okay,” I shrugged. “He’s cute. So are other guys. So what?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Be that w
ay. See if I care.” Then she grinned at me.

  I grinned back. “Okay, okay,” I said. “He’s really cute. But he used to date Kayla. And that’s the last thing I need.”

  Ally’s grin faded. “Oh, God. Yeah. I keep forgetting you have to live with her.”

  “Live with who?”

  I looked up to see who had spoken and I swear, my heart skipped a beat. I mean, I’ve read about that happening, but I’d never felt it. Not until then.

  Whoever this guy was, he hadn’t been in class yesterday.

  “Oh,” said Ally flatly. “Hello, Josh.”

  “Hi, Ally,” Josh said, taking the seat in front of her. “Live with who?” he asked again.

  “Kayla Hamilton,” I answered automatically. “She’s . . . well, she’s my new stepsister.”

  “And that makes you Laney Harris, right?” He smiled. Unlike Mason Collier, Josh had a slow smile—it wasn’t blinding, but it still managed to eclipse everything else around it. And his eyes were a strange, indefinable color, almost silver, but maybe blue or green.

  I realized I was staring and felt my face grow hot. Josh just kept smiling at me

  “Well, then,” I heard Ally murmur just as the teacher began taking roll. “Interesting.”

  I have to admit, I didn’t pay much attention to the rest of class. I was too busy trying not to stare at Josh. I did find out that his last name was Bevington when Ms. Norman called roll.

  When the bell rang, Ally and I gathered up our books and headed out into the hall.

  “Hey, Laney!” I heard. “Wait up.”

  I turned around, and Josh trotted up to me.

  Ally raised one eyebrow again. I really wished I could do that. “I’ll see you at lunch, Laney?” Her voice was cool.

  “Sure,” I said, confused.

  “Good,” she said, and walked off.

  Josh swung into step with me. “Where you headed next?”

  “P.E.” I made a face.

  “Oh. Gross. You couldn’t get out of it?”

  “Nope. Required, unless you’re in a sport. And I am so not sports material.”

  “May I walk you there?”

  “Okay.” Wow. What an odd, old-fashioned request. Almost . . . well, almost courtly.