Cursed

Chapter 2

I was obsessed with Hot Dude for the rest of the day, which was pathetic. My brain must have felt sorry for me, so it’d created the only type of guy I could touch—a fantasy one. When Sally had knocked my English book off my desk, I’d barely raised a brow. When I was confronted by Dustin and his cronies after lunch, I was too caught up in trying to remember all the elements of Hot Dude’s face to pay them much attention.

Adam reappeared at my locker at the end of the day, minus his glasses. “What happened to your glasses?” I shoved everything except my trig book back into the locker. It never failed—I always had trig homework.

“What do you think? Dustin the douchenozzle took them in gym class.” He switched his bag to his other shoulder.

For a brief second, I entertained the idea of ripping off my gloves, rushing down the hall, and jumping on Dustin’s back like a psychotic monkey. I knocked my locker door shut, sighing. “How many has this been?”

“Fourth pair since school started. Mom’s going to kill me.”

We started toward the back doors. “It’s not your fault.”

“Try telling her that. She acts like every pair of glasses is a child lost.” He held open the door, letting me slide past him. “Alert the police! Another one gone missing!” he cried, clutching his chest. “Someone put my glasses on the back of a milk carton, STAT.”

An image of Mr. Potato Head’s glasses and nose popped in my head, causing me to giggle.

Adam beamed. “So, we still on for tonight?”

“Only if you don’t think your mom is going to freak out that badly.” I stopped beside Adam’s beat-up Ford Taurus. He had a prime parking spot, right in the first row. Since I was always late, I was way back in the section of the parking lot reserved for potheads and students one step from dropping out. I glanced at him, frowning. “You sure you can drive without your glasses?”

He pretended to be offended. “I’m not blind. It’s just signs, cars, and people I can’t see.”

“Nice.”

“Anyway,” He opened his back door and threw his book bag on the backseat. “Mom will be cool by the time I sneak out of the house. You sure you don’t want help at the grocery store?”

“Nah, I’m good.” I started off before he could insist, which is what he did every time he knew I had to do the family errand thing. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”

He gave me a quick, two-finger salute before climbing behind the wheel. I winced and hurried out of his way, muttering a prayer under my breath.

My legs burned by the time I tossed my bag in the back and peeled out of the parking lot. Thankfully, Olivia’s school let out an hour after mine, which gave me some free time. Before the accident, I would’ve headed off to the mall or movies. Now I went the one free place no other kids my age would go—the Allentown Public Library.

Three minutes later, I pulled in front of the squat, two-story building and grabbed my bag. Cool, stale air greeted me as I pushed open the glass doors. Mrs. Compton was where she always was, standing behind the circulation desk. A friendly smile pulled her lips up as she saw me. Shoving a pen into her gray bun, she leaned a plump hip against the counter.

“How was school, Ember?”

“Blech.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “One day, when you’re my age, you’ll look back at high school and wish you were back there. Trust me.”

Not likely, but I smiled as I headed to my spot by the window. Curling up on the overstuffed chair that had seen better days, I pulled out the worn copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray. I hoped to get a chapter or two done for my essay before I’d have to leave to pick up Olivia.

I thumbed the book open, preparing myself for the bizarreness that was Oscar Wilde. Only ten or fifteen minutes had passed before a shadow blocked the sunlight streaming through the window behind me. I lifted my head and my heart stuttered.

I was hallucinating again, because Hot Dude was standing in front of me.

The sun cast a halo around him, making him appear surreal. His arresting mouth formed a crooked grin and one lock of brown hair, tinted red by the light, fell over his forehead. I blinked, but he didn’t vanish.

“Hi,” he said in a deep, soft voice that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

I looked around, checking to see if anyone else had noticed him, but there was no one near us. My gaze returned to him. Up close, he was actually sort of breathtaking, with his tousled hair and olive skin.

His sooty eyelashes had to be the envy of every girl he crossed paths with.

He ran a hand through his hair and rocked back on his heels. The awkward silence stretched out, and I suddenly became painfully aware of how different I was from two years ago. I’d always had something witty and flirty to say. Now I just stared up at him like an idiot. A fierce blush stole over my cheeks, spreading down my neck.

“Uh… I’ve seen you around here a couple of times,” he tried again, staring at the book I held. “‘ I had come face to face with some one whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself.’” I stared. “What?”

His lopsided grin spread into a full one, and it felt like someone had socked me in the chest. “It’s a quote from Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray. It’s one of my favorite books.”

Hot and smart. And apparently he was a real-life boy. I was still staring. Snapping out of it, I shut my book and shoved my hands under my crossed arms, hoping to hide the gloves—as pointless as that was.

“I’ve never seen you here before. I would’ve noticed you.”

His gaze landed on my face, eyes dark and warm. “You would? That’s flattering.”

I kind of wanted to hide under the table—or at the very least, hide my flaming cheeks. Embarrassment and confusion triggered my flight response. I shoved my book in my bag and moved to stand.

“I was just teasing.” He held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He nodded at the chair across from me. “Do you mind?”

I gripped the strap on my messenger bag as I stared up at him, caught between wanting to bolt and to stay here with him. Boys, except for Adam, rarely spoke to me. Well, unless it was to hurl an insult in my face. “I… I have to leave soon.”

He smiled fully then, momentarily stunning me into further stupor. He slid into the chair and leaned on the little table separating us. “You come here often, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” I dropped my hands to my lap, hoping he hadn’t noticed the gloves. “I… I saw you at school today.”

His dark brows rose as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “You did?”

“Yes. You were standing next to our trophy case.” Accusation unintentionally colored my words; my social skills were sorely lacking. I tried to make up for it. “Are you transferring to the school?”

“I was checking it out.”

My lips pursed. That hadn’t been an answer. “You’re new to this town.”

“Must be a small town for you to notice me.” He tipped his head to the side, his gaze so intense that I knew he was studying me. “I’m from a small town, too. By the way, I never introduced myself. Hayden Cromwell.”

“Hayden Cromwell?” His name rolled off my tongue smoothly. I realized he was waiting for me to tell him my name, and I started to, but my cell took that moment to bounce around the table as the alarm went off in vibrate mode. Jumping to my feet, I snatched the phone. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

He stood fluidly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Walk you out?”

The girl inside me screamed and did a happy dance, but I quickly smacked her upside the head. I started backing off. “No. Uh, no thank you. There’s no reason. My car is just right outside.”

Disappointment flashed across his face, but he covered it with a quick smile. Shoving my hands under my arms, I turned away before he could say anything else. I felt a little sad about not being able to stay and chat longer, but what was the point?

“It was nice talking to you, Ember.”

My legs stopped moving as a shiver tiptoed down my spine. I slowly turned around. “I never told you my na—” He was gone.

I scanned the narrow stacks and aisles for him. The guy was well over six feet tall; there was no way he could just disappear like that. I felt pretty confident I hadn’t made “Hayden Cromwell” up. And I’d never once mentioned my name. That was twice he’d disappeared as if he’d been sucked into a vacuum.

More than a little creeped out by that, I hurried out of the library without saying goodbye to Mrs.

Compton. Thick, gray clouds had rolled in, warning of an early fall thunderstorm. I hurried to the side of my car, daring a look over my shoulder.

My gaze went right to the window where I’d been. A dark shadow stood there, tall and lean. I took a step back, bumping into the car door as my heart sped up. He stood there, watching me.

Hayden Cromwell.

I shuddered as I whirled around and climbed into the Jeep. Another shiver danced over my skin. I knew without looking that he was still standing there. Lurking—that’s what my mom would’ve said, if she still talked to me. The dude was lurking. All the tiny hairs on my body rose in response.

Hot or not, I was officially skeeved out.

Even if I could still touch a guy and actually get knocked up, I wouldn’t have kids in a million years – dealing with Olivia had taught me that. My little sis was in one of her moods—a dark, demented mood.

Nothing I’d done from the moment I’d picked her up from school was enough.

Olivia wanted a toy she’d lost five months ago.

Then she wanted McDonald’s.

Then she wanted to go to the zoo, for crying out loud.

And she sure as hell didn’t want to go to the grocery store. All her crying and throwing herself on the porch—in front of the neighbors—was over the damn grocery store. Her sudden animosity toward shopping was very odd. Olivia loved to go and throw crap we couldn’t afford into the cart when I wasn’t looking. It was like a pastime of hers.

She stared up at me, her lip trembling. “I don’t want to go!”

Very gently, I grabbed hold of her arm and lifted her to her feet while our nosy neighbor, Cat-Lady Jones, watched through parted blinds. As soon as I let go, Olivia collapsed on her knees again. I should’ve gone straight from her school to the store, but I’d left the stash of money in my desk drawer in my bedroom.

“Olivia!” I hissed. “Get up. You’re embarrassing me.”

Fat tears rolled down her round cheeks. “We don’t have to go!”

I popped my hands on my hips. “Then how are we going to eat, Olivia? Who’s going to buy the groceries? Mom?”

She stared up at me, her brows lowered and lip jutting out. “I don’t want to go.”

“Oh, come on!” I reached for her again, but she took one look at my gloved hand and stuck her tongue out. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. “Seriously, I’m going to leave you outside if you don’t knock it off.”

Olivia latched onto my leg at that point, howling.

“Fine,” I muttered, limping forward as my evil sister held on. I dug out the keys and managed to get the door open. It was like pulling a forty-pound sack of potatoes. “Olivia, come on. I’d really like to have Adam come over tonight. That’s not going to happen if you keep acting like this.”

She continued to sob like I’d pulled off all the heads to her Barbie dolls—which I had done once, when she’d ripped apart my sketchpad because Squeaky needed new bedding.

But damn, the kid was strong. She held on all the way to the kitchen, letting go and plopping down on the warped tile only after I pulled a juice box out of the fridge.

“You want this?” I shook it in the air, just out of her reach.

Her eyes narrowed as she swiped at it.

“Okay. You can have this and a package of cookies of your choice if you stop crying.”

Olivia whined, wiggling her fingers. “Can’t we go tomorrow?”

“No.” I peeled off the straw and unwrapped the plastic. Slowly, I stabbed the straw into the top and took a sip while she whined some more. “Mmm, this is really good.”

“All right!” she shouted.

Triumphant, I handed over the juice box. “What’s your deal, anyway?” I asked as I went over to one of the cupboards.

“I just don’t wanna go. I have a bad feeling, Emmie.”

I rolled my eyes as I yanked open the cabinet. The handle popped off in my hand. Fabulous. I scanned the sparse shelf, dropping the handle on the scuffed counter. “We need to get food, like now.” I reached inside, frowning. “All we have is generic mac and cheese and canned green beans.”

“I like beans.”

“We can’t just have green beans for dinner, Olivia.” I moved onto the fridge. The leftover vegetable soup was gone, meaning Mom had decided to feed herself at some point today. That was a step back into the land of the living, right?

While Olivia sulked at the kitchen table, I scribbled down a quick and dirty grocery list. I’d kill for some Doritos, but the budget only allowed for that or milk.

Olivia liked milk.

I made her some mac and cheese, which she took into the living room so she could watch cartoons.

Probably wasn’t the best pre-dinner snack. The sound of children laughing and singing lulled me to a blissfully blank state of mind while I washed the dishes from last night. Hopefully Olivia would be in better spirits before we made the trip to the store. I wasn’t in the mood to pull a screaming child through the produce section.

Sighing, I dried my hands and went upstairs to get the cash, trying not to let the everyday worries creep up on me. I didn’t want to think—not about Dad or the life I’d lost since the accident, or how Olivia had been able to bring me back, or why I couldn’t touch anything. I didn’t want to give too much thought to being the sole caregiver for a little girl who surely deserved better than me. She deserved a mother—a real one. But all she had was a sister who couldn’t touch her and a lifeless shell of a mother hiding in her bedroom.

Sometimes I wanted to do what Mom was doing—say “screw it” and just waste away. Who’d blame me? But then, who’d take care of Olivia? Out of nowhere, I thought of Hayden Cromwell. Hours after the weird library incident, I was pretty sure I’d imagined him standing by the window.

No one that good-looking had a reason to be that creepy.

A quick check of Mom’s room induced the same urge I felt every time I looked in on her—the rampant need to throw something at her sleeping head. She sprawled across the bed, a broken, beautiful doll with deep red curls and porcelain skin. Mom was utterly useless. Was it even humanly possible to sleep as much as she did? Maybe she just pretended to sleep so much. I really didn’t know. Each day that’d passed after the accident, my mom had simply faded further away. Just like the memory of my dad’s face.

I approached her bed, folding my arms around me. “Mom?”

Silence.

“Mom, if… if you’re listening, Olivia really needs you.”

Nothing.

A burning kicked up in the back of my throat, and my chest felt like it was weighed down with cement.

“She deserves better than this. She needs you to be her mom.”

Still nothing.

I whipped around and left her bedroom. The heaviness in my chest lingered as I pulled out the cash, separating just enough to cover the bare essentials.

We were running out of money. Dad’s life insurance would be gone within the next year. What would I do then? College was out of the question. Hell, finishing my senior year might be out the window if I needed to get a job sooner than I’d planned.

Downstairs, Olivia waited for me; her face stained with the remnants of her earlier tears. I looked away, feeling like an epic failure. “You ready?”

Tipping her chin down, she shrugged her tiny shoulders. She didn’t talk to me the whole way out to the Jeep. While she buckled herself in the backseat, I eyed the needle on the gas gauge and mentally counted the leftover funds.

“Emmie?”

I glanced over my shoulder at her. “What?”

Her eyes were wide, a vibrant jade color. There was something in them that gave me pause. Unease unfolded in the pit of my stomach, making my hands tremble.

“I have a really bad feeling,” Olivia said, picking at a patch of glitter on her dress. “Like the one I had before… before Daddy died. Do you remember? I have that feeling again.”

Of course I remembered that feeling.

But Olivia had been three at the time of the accident, and I’d barely paid attention to any of the babble that’d come out of her mouth.

I still remembered, though.

She’d leaned across the backseat and grasped my arm. “Something bad is going to happen,” she’d whispered.

And I’d frowned at her and ripped my arm away, annoyed because our parents had been arguing again —arguing about her. Shaking myself out of those memories, I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache starting in.

“Emmie?” Olivia gripped the back of my seat.

I forced a smile for her. “Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise you.”

She looked doubtful, and it was like a punch in the gut.

“We’ll be in and out, and then Adam will come over later. You like Adam, right?”

She let go of the seat, falling back. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Good,” I whispered.

Since Olivia had successfully freaked me out, the trip to the store took longer than before. I was extra-

wary of stoplights and other drivers. I breathed a sigh of relief when we pulled into the back of the packed parking lot.

Rain clouds had darkened the sky, causing several of the street lamps to flicker on. Fat drops splattered the dense woods surrounding the parking lot. I glanced at the clock on my cell, surprised to find it nearly seven o’clock.

Olivia hopped out the back, trailing behind me. “Can I push the cart?”

I welcomed the change in the mood. “Promise me you won’t run over any old people this time and it’s a deal.”

Olivia giggled as she wiggled between me and the shopping cart. There was no deal. She was death on wheels behind a shopping cart, but it helped me keep an eye on her and it would prevent another epic breakdown.

Old people, watch out.

Her head barely reached the bar as she inched the cart through the automatic doors. The place was packed for a Thursday, full of women in heels and men frowning at shopping lists.

Olivia rammed the display of bananas and then the back of my legs when I stopped to grab a bag of apples. “Beep! Beep! Beep!” She shrieked as she backed the cart up.

Limping over to the bread, I grabbed a loaf. My cell vibrated in my back pocket. Sticking the bread under my arm, I slid the beat-up thing out and flipped it open. It was a text from Adam. Any news?

Still at store. Will text u when done, I sent back.

Not even five seconds later I received, U SUCK. OK. Text me.

I grinned and headed back to the cart. I didn’t know what I’d do without Adam. It was hard to even think about it. I dropped the bread in the cart. “Olivia, what’s all over your face?”

She turned away quickly. “Nothing.”

“Whatever. There’s white powder all over your lips and—oh, my God!” I glanced around quickly, thankful no one was around us. “Did you eat the doughnuts again? They’re not free, Olivia!”

“No!”

“You’re such a little liar.” I knelt down in front of her, wiping off her lips with the sleeve of my cardigan, trying not to laugh. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“They shouldn’t put them out if they’re not free.”

My mouth dropped open, and then I cracked up. “You are so rotten.”

Giggling, she squirmed out of my grasp. There were no more eating food incidents, thank God. I got everything on the list, and Olivia had chosen a bag of Oreos as her cookies of choice. That made me pretty damn happy as I could already taste them. A whole row already had my name on it.

I groaned as I spied the lines at the register. “It’s going to be—Olivia!” Too late. She lost control of the cart, smashing it into the back of a brawny-looking man. I grabbed the cart, blushing furiously as I yanked it back. “I’m so sorry! My sister didn’t… crap.”

Dustin Smith stared back at me, rubbing the back of his leg with one hand and holding a case of soda in the other. His brown eyes bounced from my sister to my face. “You should get better control of the brat.”

Anger rushed to the surface. It was one thing talking smack about me, but my little sister? I stepped in front of Olivia, blocking her. “Don’t talk about my sister like that.”

He smirked. “I can talk however I want to.”

I itched to take off my gloves. “Not about her.”

“This is rich.” Dustin laughed. “What are you going to do about it? Throw your food stamps in my face?”

I wished we qualified for food stamps, but I still flushed. “You’re a jerk.”

“And you’re a frigid freak,” he spat.

So many witty comebacks floated to the surface. None of them would be appropriate for five-year-old ears. I turned to grab Olivia and just walk around Dustin, but she dodged my gloved hand. She walked right up to Dustin, her little hands balled into fists.

She kicked him in the shin.

So shocked by the pint-sized terror, Dustin dropped the case of soda. Brown liquid exploded off the tile, fizzing and streaming in dirty-looking rivulets. The right side of his pants was drenched with sticky liquid. We hadn’t drawn any attention up to that point, but several customers turned and stared at the mess.

Part of me knew I should yell at Olivia for kicking Dustin, but the other part, the really immature one, was secretly gleeful for the red stain rapidly spreading across his face.

“Smooth,” I said. “Got beat up by a little girl? Wonder what your friends would think about that?”

Before Dustin could respond, I ushered Olivia and the cart to the register furthest away from the mess.

I bit my lip to keep from smiling as I knelt next to her. “Olivia…”

Her cheeks were ruddy, eyes bright. “He was mean to you.”

“I know, but you can’t kick people who you think are mean.” Even if they did totally deserve that and more, I silently added.

“Why not?”

I inched the cart up. “Because kicking people is mean, Olivia. And you don’t want to be a mean person like him, right?” She folded her arms, pouting. “No.”

“So, no more kicking?” I stood, pulling items out of the grocery cart. “Yeah. Okay.” She wiggled between the cart and a display of candy bars. “Can I have my cookies now?”

I shook my head, smiling. “In the car.”

Olivia smiled and giggled at the middle-aged woman ringing up our groceries, behaving like a precocious child instead of the ninja-child who’d kicked Dustin. That was my sister. She went from one extreme to the next within seconds.

I took over cart duty and pushed our groceries out to the back of the parking lot. It had poured while we were in the store, and Olivia insisted on jumping through every one of the huge puddles on the way to the car. I had her sit inside—with the package of Oreos—while I put the groceries in the back. She gabbed on about what she’d learned at school, something to do with words rhyming. It was dark and desolate in our corner of the lot by the time I shut the hatch and wheeled the shopping cart back to a nearby return.

I checked my cell, groaning when I saw the time. Olivia would need to go straight to bed when we got home, and I doubted Adam would still want to come over this late, especially when I had math homework.

As I shoved my phone back into my pocket, a tall, thick shadow stepped out from behind a large truck parked beside my Jeep.

I halted, my heart leaping into my throat.

Dustin stood between me and my car, the leg of his pants still soaked. For a second, I didn’t know what to do, but I decided to walk around him and ignore him.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he called out, his voice hard.

I kept walking, my stomach filling with knots. Just a few more steps—that’s all.

“Hey! I’m talking to you, freak!”

I whipped around. “My name is not ‘freak.’ It’s Ember. You know that.”

Dustin laughed. “You’re whatever I call you. Freak? Bitch? Whore? Whatever.”

“I’m frigid and a whore?” I rolled my eyes, turning away. “So very clever, Dustin.”

A second later, Dustin grabbed my arm and spun me around. “I must’ve been on something when I thought you were worth my time, you know that?”

I yanked my arm free. “Is that supposed to insult me? Seriously?” “You think you got one over on me in the store? You’re going to be sorry. I’m going to make every day hell for you.” He laughed. “You can trust that.”

“Whatever.” I let my gaze drop. “Did you pee yourself?”

His arm struck out so fast I hadn’t even seen him move. My back slammed into the passenger door of the truck. Shock knocked the air out of my lungs.

“Emmie?” I heard Olivia’s soft cry from inside the Jeep.

Dustin got right in my face, a vein throbbing at his temple. “You’re nothing more than a scarred-up freak. Yeah, Sally told me how you’re all cut up.” He sneered. “You’re disgusting.”

It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Tears burned my eyes as I pushed off the truck and started around him again. I would not let him see me cry. Absolutely—

He grabbed my arm again as he dug into his pocket. “How scarred up are you? Sally said your whole stomach was covered.” Pulling out his cell phone, he laughed. “How about we do a little show and I tell the school? Better yet, how about I take some pictures?”

Over the blood rushing in my ears, I could hear Olivia crying out for me. “Don’t!” I wrenched back, but his grip tightened.

It was too late. Dustin grabbed the hem of my shirt, shoving his hand under it. Part of me wondered, in that brief second before his flesh touched mine, when Dustin had become such a bastard. He hadn’t always been this bad.

But then his hand was against my stomach, against my scars. The first time another human being had touched me in two years, and I wanted to puke.

His eyes popped open. The phone fell from his limp fingers, cracking when it hit the pavement.

Everything slowed down. A shiver slithered down my spine and coiled in my stomach. The sick sense of dread seeped into my veins like venom, familiar yet unwelcome. It reared, poised to strike, and then its sharp fangs bit deep. It was the same sensation I’d had right before I’d died.

Time seemed to stop.

Dustin’s eyes flared as the first wave of pain crashed into him. He went down on one knee, veins bulging in his forehead as his mouth worked in a silent scream. His hand was still against my stomach, as if he couldn’t let go.

I grabbed for his arm, but he started jerking like he was having a seizure. His normally tan skin turned sallow, and his hands spasmed.

When his eyes rolled back into their sockets, he fell backward like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

I stood over him, breathing heavily. “Dustin?”

He didn’t move.

I wrapped my arms around my waist, but that did nothing to stop the violent trembling. I knelt down, staring at his chest. One second passed. Five seconds, and then twenty, and his chest still hadn’t moved.

My stomach rolled, almost forcing me to my knees. I backed up quickly, shaking my head.

He was dead—Dustin was dead.

And I had killed him.