It’s the First Day of School … Forever! 1 страница

Thank you for buying this

St. Martin’s Press ebook.

To receive special offers, bonus content,

and info on new releases and other great reads,

Or visit us online at

us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup

For email updates on the author, click here.

The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

For Blade

Many Happy Returns

PART ONE

Here I am, my dear diary, about to confide in you again. About to spill my guts, as I always do, only to you. This is the only place I can open my heart and talk about what I really feel. How many ballpoint pens have helped me share my story with you? How many late nights have I nodded off, my head drooping over your opened pages, my hand still clenching the pen, as if I could write my thoughts in my sleep?

Of course, my parents don’t understand why I spend so much time bent over my desk, scratching away line after line, baring my soul when I could be doing a million things for fun. But you do, my friend. Sigh—

Okay. Shall we start today with some details? Since this is a new diary, I’m going to begin at the beginning. I’m Caitlyn Donnelly. I’m seventeen, a senior at Shadyside High. I’m not terrible looking. I’d say I’m a seven.

I have nice wavy blondish hair that falls nicely down my shoulders. I’m average height and weight. I have an okay smile although my two front teeth stick out a little. My friend Julie says my eyes are my best feature because they’re so round and dark and serious.

I’ve lived in the same house on Bank Street, two blocks from the Shadyside Mall, my whole life. It’s just my parents and me. Jennifer, my older sister, moved to LA to be a screenwriter.

Jen is the talented one in the family, but so far, she spends most of her time waiting tables at a taco joint in Westwood. I think I spend more time writing than she does, but I know she’ll get a break one of these days. She’s very sophisticated and clever, and everything comes so easy to her.

Jen and I were never that close, I guess because she’s almost six years older than me. But she was someone I could talk to when I had things on my mind. Like, always. And I miss her a lot.

We FaceTime every few weeks, but it isn’t the same. It’s always kind of awkward, I think because Jen feels she’s been out in LA for nearly a year and hasn’t come close to getting anyone interested in her writing. And she’s the kind of person who hates to fail.

I don’t care if anyone ever sees my writing, Diary. Truth is, I don’t want anyone to ever see it. I think I’d totally freak if someone read my true thoughts and learned what a weirdo I am. That’s why I keep the book locked and wear the key on a chain around my neck.

Private. Keep Out. This Means You.

Actually, I don’t think I’m a weirdo. I just don’t fit in with my family. They’re all so driven and ambitious and serious about life, and I mainly want to have fun. Sigh again.

Life is so short. I’ve learned that the hard way. You know all about it, Diary. You’re the only one.

No one else knows the true story. No one would believe it.

Since Blade died, my life is only sadness. And fear.

I don’t think I’ll ever get back to the cheerful, funny, fun-loving person I was. My parents and my friends are desperate to pull me from my black mood.

But how can they? It will never happen.

Blade and I were perfect together. Perfect … from that first night we met.

That night … It wasn’t a perfect night, Diary. I ran into Deena Fear that night.

I’d lived in Shadyside my whole life and never spoken to anyone from the Fear family. And now my hand is suddenly sweaty and it’s hard to grip the pen, remembering … thinking about Deena Fear and all the darkness she brought with her.

And poor Blade. My beautiful Blade. Did I have any way of knowing he would be with me for such a short time? Any way of knowing he would die such a horrifying death?

I have to stop. My tears are smearing the page. And I’m gripping the pen so—tightly now. I want to use it to stab … stab … stab.…

It seems like a long time ago, but it was only a few weeks, Diary. Julie and Miranda and I were squeezed into a booth at the back of Lefty’s. That’s the cheeseburger place across from the high school. The food at Lefty’s isn’t bad, but we mainly go to see who else is there. It’s a hangout. That’s what they’d call it in all those cornball teen movies.

It was a little after nine on a Friday night. Just about every booth was filled with kids from our high school. A few grumpy-looking adults were huddled by the front counter waiting for a table. They probably didn’t appreciate the loud voices and constant laughter.

I think adults generally hate teenagers. Because they’re jealous. They’d rather be teenagers than what they are.

A loud crash made us all jump. A waitress had dropped a tray of glasses. The restaurant went silent for a few seconds. Then everyone burst into applause.

I turned back to Julie and Miranda. “What was I talking about?”

“You were talking about yourself, of course,” Miranda said. She’s the sly one with the dry sense of humor.

“Well, it is my favorite subject,” I replied.

“You were telling us about the little boy who dropped his popcorn,” Julie said.

“Oh. Right. Well, I’m not allowed to replace it. Ricky, the manager, says no free popcorn for anyone. But I waited till Ricky stepped away from the popcorn counter, and I gave the kid another bag.”

“Big whoop,” Miranda said. “That’s your best story for tonight?”

I grabbed her wrist. “You didn’t let me finish,” I said. “Then the kid dropped the second bag, too.”

Julie laughed. “That’s so sad.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Caitlyn, you have an exciting life. My heart is totally pounding. Tell that story again.”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “So, working the popcorn counter at the Cineplex isn’t a thrill a minute. What did you do today that was so exciting?”

Miranda sighed. “Believe it or not, this cheeseburger is the highlight of my day.” She raised it to her mouth and took a small bite. The tomato slid from the bun and plopped onto her plate.

“You have to learn how to work a cheeseburger,” Julie said. It wasn’t that funny, but all three of us laughed.

Julie and I have been friends since ninth grade, although we’re both very different. She’s always sarcastic and rolling her eyes and making funny remarks. I’d say her sense of humor is kind of nasty, actually.

I’m not a rah-rah cheerleader, but I try to see the bright side of things. I get into things. I’m enthusiastic. I can’t help it. I don’t hold myself back. I even try to enjoy things other people might find boring, like my after-school shifts at the popcorn counter.

I’m impulsive. And emotional. I cry at movies and TV shows all the time. It doesn’t embarrass me.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Miranda cry. Or get very excited about anything, either. She’s always standing off to the side, making jokes. She’s not shy. She’s just all locked-up inside herself, I think.

Miranda could be really attractive if she lost a little weight and did something with her stringy brown hair. Also, her glasses have to go. The red plastic frames make them look like swim goggles.

Julie and I keep telling her she’ll look so much better with contacts. But she says she doesn’t want to stick sharp little things in her eyes. Stubborn.

I’m not judging her in any way, Diary. I’m just trying to describe her. She’s a good friend. She’ll never see what I write here. No one will. But I want to be as accurate and honest as I can.

Julie doesn’t eat meat, so she had a grilled cheese sandwich, and we shared a plate of fries. She and I look like we could be sisters. Her hair is pretty much the same blonde as mine, and we both have serious, dark eyes. She likes to wear bright red lipstick, which makes her face more dramatic than mine.

We’re the same age, but I think she looks older. Maybe because she’s about two inches taller than I am. And, I admit it, she dresses better. Her aunt is always sending her these awesome designer tops and skirts from New York.

Julie is very practical and even-tempered. Her last name is Nello, and I call her Mellow Nello. She’s always warning me not to jump into things and to be careful about different guys and to take it easy and not be so emotional.

I always accuse her of being too timid and not taking chances, of always being predictable. Of course, she thinks being predictable is a good quality. We may look alike, but our personalities are way different.

Miranda leaned close and gave my hair a long sniff.

I squinted at her. “Are you getting weird?”

“No. Your hair smells like popcorn,” she said. “It’s a great smell. Someone should make a popcorn perfume.”

“A million-dollar idea,” Julie said. “I’d buy it. And how about bacon perfume? We could make a fortune.”

“I thought you were a vegetarian,” I said.

She frowned at me. “I don’t eat bacon. That doesn’t mean I can’t wear it.”

I sighed. “When I get home, I shampoo my hair twice. But I can’t get rid of the popcorn smell.”

Julie shook more salt onto the plate of fries. “Do you ever eat any of the popcorn while you’re waiting for the next customer?”

I grinned. “Ricky would like to keep count of each kernel, but he can’t. I help myself to a handful or two when he isn’t looking.”

Miranda rolled her eyes again. “Are we going to talk about popcorn all night? Doesn’t anyone have any good gossip?”

I gave her a gentle push. “Get up. I have to go to the bathroom.”

She edged out of the booth and climbed to her feet. I slid out behind her. “Don’t say anything interesting till I get back.”

“Not a problem,” Miranda said.

Lefty’s has a single bathroom across from the kitchen door. I had to wait in line behind two other girls I knew from school. They were talking about a metal band concert they’d seen at the Arena in Martinsville. They thought it was awesome. They sat in the third row, and the ushers passed out ear plugs to keep everyone from going deaf.

Then the girls started talking about what the warm spring weather was doing to their hair. “Extra conditioner,” was one solution. “I use half a bottle of the stuff every morning.” Interesting idea.

When I came out of the bathroom, I walked right into a girl with long straight black hair, dark eyes, and black lipstick against pale skin. She was carrying a white take-out bag of cheeseburgers.

The bag slipped from her hand when I bumped her. We both bent over to pick it up, and we cracked heads.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, in a tiny voice. “Sorry.” Even though it was my fault.

I handed her the bag.

I knew who she was.

Deena Fear.

I didn’t know that my life was about to change forever.

Deena Fear wore huge round black-framed eyeglasses. Her dark eyes appeared to bulge behind them, making her look like an owl. She wore a long-sleeved black crew-neck sweater, despite the warm night, over a short straight black skirt and black tights. I noticed her earrings—small silver skulls. She had a silver skull in her nose, too.

“I’m sorry,” I said awkwardly. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. I—”

“That’s okay, Caitlyn.” I felt a quick jolt of surprise. I didn’t think Deena knew my name. Her eyes went down to my wrist. “I like your bracelet.” She gazed at the silver bracelet my parents had brought me from their vacation in the Bahamas.

To my surprise, she reached out and wrapped her hand around my wrist and the bracelet. Her hand was warm and dry. Her fingernails were divided down the middle, each one half-black, half-white. She held my wrist for a long moment. “Does it have powers?”

She spoke in such a soft voice, I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly. “Powers? The bracelet?”

She nodded. Her straight black hair fell over her forehead. She let go of my wrist to brush it back.

“I … don’t think so,” I said. I laughed. Was she making a joke?

She shifted the cheeseburger bag to her other hand. “I’ve seen you at the mall, Caitlyn,” she said.

I nodded. “Yeah. I work at the Cineplex some afternoons.” I turned and glimpsed Julie and Miranda watching from the back of the restaurant. “I’d better get back to my friends. See you around, Deena.”

Her owl eyes locked on mine. I wanted to turn away, but they seemed to hold me there. “Sometimes I see things,” she said. “Sometimes I know things about people.”

I didn’t know how to reply to that. A waitress carrying a tray of cheeseburgers over her head wanted to squeeze past us. I used it as an excuse to get away. I gave Deena a little wave and walked away. For some reason, my wrist felt all tingly where she had handled my bracelet.

Miranda climbed up so I could slide into the booth. I sat down in time to see Deena Fear walk out of the restaurant, her long hair sweeping behind her back.

“Since when do you know her?” Julie asked.

“I don’t,” I said. “I almost knocked her over. So we started talking.”

“She takes Goth to a new level,” Miranda said.

“She gives me the deep creeps,” Julie said.

“She isn’t so bad,” I said.

Miranda shook her head. “Just because she’s in the Fear family, does she have to wear all black clothes and have black lips and black nails and creep around like some kind of witch? Why doesn’t she rebel? Wear hot colors? Be a cheerleader? Run for Prom Queen?”

Julie laughed.

“She seems really shy,” I said. “She’s so awkward. Think she has any friends? Ever see her hanging out with anyone at school?”

“I don’t remember even seeing her in school,” Julie said.

“She doesn’t try to have friends,” Miranda insisted. “We were at the same birthday party once. I tried talking to her. But she’s obsessed with ghosts and the paranormal and the walking dead. She kept talking about these movies I never heard of. At least, I think they were movies.”

“Maybe she doesn’t have a choice,” I said, not exactly sure why I was defending Deena Fear. I guess I always like to side with the underdog. Or maybe I just like to argue with Miranda. “Coming from that family—”

“She’s like a total Fear Family cliché,” Julie chimed in.

My bracelet still tingled, as if it had been electrified somehow. I ate a few fries. They were cold now. I turned to Miranda. “Are you having a graduation party?”

She didn’t hear me. She was staring at a table near the front of the restaurant.

“Miranda has to have the party,” Julie said. “I can’t have it. My house is too small.”

“We could have it in your backyard,” I said. “My parents aren’t even going to be in town. They’ll be in South Africa for two weeks on a business trip. Do you believe they’re missing graduation?”

“Then we should have the party at your house,” Julie said. “No parents. A total blowout.”

Miranda still had her gaze on the table at the front. She bumped my shoulder. “Who’s that guy gawking at you over there? Do you know him?”

I followed her gaze. A blue-uniformed waitress began to clear a table, blocking my view. “What guy?”

“See him?” Miranda turned my head. “The guy in the red hoodie? He’s been staring at you like he’s hypnotized.”

“Hypnotized by your beauty,” Julie said. I couldn’t tell if she was making a joke.

I finally spotted the guy, by himself at a small, square table, sitting sideways in his chair, ignoring his food. And yes, his eyes were on me. He was kind of cute looking. A dark shirt under the open, red hoodie. A wave of black hair falling over his forehead. “I don’t recognize him,” I said.

“He thinks he knows you,” Miranda said.

I squinted harder. “No. I’ve never seen him. I don’t think he goes to Shadyside.”

“He hasn’t blinked,” Julie said. “Maybe he wants to have a staring contest with you.”

“I’ll find out,” I said. “I’m not shy.” I gave Miranda’s chubby arm a shove. She obediently climbed to her feet so I could slide out.

Julie raised her hand to her mouth. She does that a lot. She’s so easily shocked. “Are you really going over to him?”

“What’s the big deal?” I muttered. I squeezed past two girls who were just sitting down at the table across from us, and I strolled over to Mr. Red Hoodie.

He had amazing gray-green eyes, and they grew wider as I stepped up to him. I placed my hands on my waist. “Hey,” I said. “How’s it going?”

He shrugged. “Not bad.” He had a nice smile and a tiny crease of a dimple in one cheek.

“Were you looking at me?” I demanded.

He snickered. “Do you always think people are looking at you?”

“Answer the question,” I said. “Were you?”

He shrugged again. “Maybe.” I liked the way those incredible gray-green eyes crinkled up when he smiled.

I smiled back. “Why were you looking at me?”

“Because you have a piece of lettuce stuck on your chin.” He reached up, tugged it off, and showed it to me.

Well, yes, Diary, I was expecting something a little more romantic. Of course, I was embarrassed. But I didn’t want to turn and hurry away. Something about him—not just his cuteness—drew me to him.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s your name?”

“Blade.”

“No. Really,” I said.

“Really. It’s Blade. My parents wanted me to be sharp.”

I laughed. “Bet you said that line before.”

“It’s the truth,” he said.

“My name is—” I started. But he raised a hand to cut me off.

“Let me guess,” he said. “I’m good at guessing names. I have a talent.”

I slid past him, pulled out a chair, and sat down across from him. I glimpsed Julie and Miranda in our booth in the back. They were both watching the scene intently. “Shoot,” I said.

His eyes burned into mine. He studied me. “Your name is Tabitha,” he said.

I nearly choked. “Tabitha?”

He nodded. “What do your friends call you? Tabby?”

I nodded. “Yes. They call me Tabby. How did you guess my name like that? That’s amazing. Did somebody tell it to you?”

His cheeks turned pink. “No way. I told you. I have a talent for guessing names.”

I leaned across the table and flashed him a teasing look. “And what else do you have a talent for, Blade?”

He shrugged. “What’s your real name?”

“It’s Caitlyn.”

“I thought so. That was my second guess.”

A few minutes later, after some definite first-class flirting, I said goodbye to my two friends and walked out of the restaurant with him. Where were we going? I had no idea. I only knew that after just a few minutes, I felt totally comfortable with him. More than comfortable. I was definitely attracted to him, and I wanted to spend time with him.

Is this what love at first sight is all about?

Hard to believe, but the question actually flashed through my mind as we stepped out into a warm April night, a soft, cool breeze brushing my hot cheeks, the fragrant aroma of Lefty’s cheeseburgers in the air, a bright half-moon overhead in a purple sky.

I know, I know. It sounds like some kind of bad Lifetime movie. But sometimes life has to imitate that strange unreal happiness you usually see only on TV.

And this was definitely one of those times.

Blade put his hand on my back as we walked. It seemed totally natural. As if we’d been walking together for years. I found myself wondering if he felt the same way.

We strolled along Division Street, past the high school, the yellow moonlight reflected in its dark windows, and along the houses that stood across from Shadyside Park.

What did we talk about? I hardly remember, Diary. We talked about school. Blade’s family moved to Shadyside last fall, and he goes to The Academy. That’s the private high school across town. He talked about his old house in Shaker Heights and how he hated to leave his friends back there.

He said he plays keyboard and guitar, and he is in a jazz quartet at school. He’s pretty sure he can get into Oberlin. But he was sick for a semester, so he can’t graduate with the rest of his class in June.

I told him I was accepted at Middlebury College in Vermont, which is where my sister Jen went. But my parents hadn’t been able to work out a student loan for me yet. I said I’d tried for a Creative Writing Scholarship, but the competition was too stiff. I didn’t get it.

He turned those awesome gray-green eyes on me. “You like to write?”

I was about to answer when something across the street caught my attention. I heard blaring dance music and saw the bright lights in a large house across the street. Through the front window, I could see a crowd of dancing people. The crowd spilled out onto the broad front porch. Voices and laughter.

And I had one of my ideas. I grabbed Blade’s arm. “Hey, Blade,” I said. “Let’s do something crazy.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “How crazy?”

“Let’s crash the party,” I said. “You know. Hang out. Dance for a bit. Get something to drink.” I motioned to the front window. “Look. It’s so crowded. No one will notice two more people.”

I held my breath, waiting for his answer. This was definitely a test. Would Blade pass it?

A grin spread over his face. “Love it,” he said. He grabbed my hand and started to pull me across the street. “Let’s do this thing. Party time.”

That’s when I knew Blade and I belonged together.

We raced up the front lawn. Two beds of tulips stood on either side of the front porch. A soft wind made the tulips bob and sway as if greeting us. We made our way past the people on the porch, nodding and saying hi, acting as if we belonged.

They seemed to be college age, maybe in their early twenties. They were casually dressed, not quite as casually as Blade and me. But we didn’t really stand out. They were drinking wine from paper cups, talking in small groups, glancing at their phones as they talked.

We slipped through the screen door and stepped into the living room. It was hot in there, so many bodies jammed in. Electronic dance music was cranked up to full volume. The room buzzed and vibrated to the beat.

The lights were turned low. It took a while for my eyes to adjust. Blade held my hand and we crossed the room to the drinks table. Three or four couples were dancing. But the room was too crowded, and they kept bumping people clustered on the sides.

Blade and I grabbed bottles of beer. I don’t really like beer. I guess I was trying to impress Blade. On the next table, I saw big bowls of tortilla chips and salsa and a tray of pigs in blankets.

I turned and gazed around the room, squinting into the shadowy orange light. I didn’t recognize anyone. They were all definitely older than Blade and me.

I pressed my face close to Blade’s ear. “I wonder whose party this is.”

He gazed around. “Beats me.”

We clicked beer bottles. “This is very cool,” I said.

“Best party ever!” Blade joked.

A young woman with very short blonde hair, shaved on one side, and pale blue eyes, dressed in faded jeans and layers of blue and green T-shirts, bumped me, nearly spilling her wine. “Oh. Sorry,” she said. “No room to move.”

“No problem,” I said. “Awesome party.”

She nodded. “I’ve never seen you here before. How do you know Hannah and Marty?”

“Just from around the neighborhood,” I said.

She moved on. Blade and I enjoyed a good laugh.

And that’s when I saw her. Deena Fear. My breath caught in my throat. She was so unexpected, so out-of-place.

Deena sat at the bottom of the stairway that led upstairs. Dressed in black as always, she had her pale hands clasped tightly in the lap of her skirt. Her black hair fell loosely around her face.

I peered at her through the railings in the banister. Did she see me?

Yes. Her eyes flashed behind her owlish glasses. She jumped to her feet.

I nudged Blade with my elbow. “That girl who’s coming over—”

Blade squinted through the crowd as Deena approached. “Do you know her? Is she a friend of yours?”

“No,” I said. “I mean—”

Deena stepped through a dancing couple to get to us. Her face was even paler than usual, and her lips were covered in a neon purple lipstick. She stepped up to me, a few inches too close. I mean, she didn’t give me any space at all.

“Hi, Caitlyn.”

I nodded. “Hey, Deena.”

She swept her long hair behind her shoulders with one hand. “Caitlyn, do you know Blade?”

“Well…” I hesitated. How did she know Blade’s name? He didn’t go to our school.

I glanced at Blade. He was studying her intently, like she was another species or something.

“How’s it going, Blade?” Deena asked.

“Not bad,” he said. He squinted at her. “Do I know you?”

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she startled me by grabbing my wrist, wrapping her fingers around my silver bracelet, just as she had at Lefty’s. I felt a shock of warmth travel up my arm.

“Great party, huh?” Her eyes peered into mine, as if searching for something. I tried to free my arm, but she held on.

She squeezed my wrist, so hard the silver bracelet cut into my skin. Then she brought her face close to mine. I felt her hot breath on my cheek.

“I saw him first,” she whispered.

I blinked, my mind suddenly whirring. I knew I hadn’t heard correctly. The music … the voices … It all seemed to grow louder, as if I was swimming in sound. Drowning …

I didn’t say anything. I guess I was too stunned to react. And, I just wanted to free my arm from her grip, to get away from her.

“We should get going,” Blade said, his eyes on the front door.

I tried to turn, but Deena held on. She raised my hand close to her face, puckered her bright purple lips, and blew on the silver bracelet. Blew a puff of hot breath onto the bracelet and my wrist.

Her breath felt damp, almost sticky, on my wrist. I gasped and tugged my arm free. The bracelet tingled, then grew burning hot. “Hey, Deena—” I called out.

But she had already spun away from us. She bumped a few startled people out of her way and disappeared out the door, her long tangles of black hair swaying behind her.

I held my wrist, waiting for it the bracelet to cool.

Blade’s face was twisted in confusion. “What was that about?”

“Dunno,” I murmured. “Seriously. I don’t have a clue.”

“She is weird with a capital weird,” he said.

“Her name is Deena Fear,” I told him, stepping out of the way of a young man carrying a large pizza box to the food table. “She is a Fear. Do you know about the Fear family?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“I’ll tell you about them sometime. They’re famous here in Shadyside.” I stepped back to avoid another pizza box coming through. “Do you want to leave?”

He grinned at me. “So soon? I think our hosts would be hurt if we left this early.” He put a hand on my shoulder and guided me toward the food table. “I’m hungry. I didn’t get to finish my cheeseburger, thanks to you.”

Blade folded a slice of pizza in his hand and started to eat it hungrily. We talked to a couple across the food table. The woman was studying to be a vet. The guy said he was working on a blog and a YouTube channel. They asked us if we knew a place to go sky-diving in Shadyside.

That’s kind of a laugh, if you know Shadyside.

I caught a tall red-haired woman watching Blade and me from the kitchen door. She had a puzzled expression on her face, like she was trying to place us. I wondered if she was Hannah, one of the hosts.

The front door swung open and several more couples arrived. The red-haired woman hurried to greet them. There was a lot of hugging and cheek kissing.

Suddenly, I had another idea.

Did I want to show Blade how crazy and bold I could be? Did I want to see if he was as impulsive and crazy as me?

Maybe.

He was pulling a string of pizza cheese off his fingers. I tugged him close. “Blade, I have another idea. How about this? It could be a riot,” I said. “How about we stand in the middle of the living room and start kissing? You know, like we’re really into it. We’re all over each other. Kissing like we should get a room somewhere.”