Torched Page 15

“Yeah, but if it hurts--”

  “It’s fine. I’m icing it, see?” Paxton adjusted the pack, then hopped up and limped to the refrigerator again. “I thought you were here to yell at me for something else.”

  Dumping his girlfriend. All of a sudden my confidence slipped away like a lost balloon, sailing off into the sky. I was overstepping here. Damming up my outrage on Hayley’s behalf, I looked away.

  “I guess it isn’t any of my business.”

  “No, it’s not.” Paxton rummaged through the fridge, taking out bread and deli turkey. “You hungry?”

  I was hungry, as always after cheer practice, but what filled my stomach was the sense of injustice. It overflowed again, breaking down my effort to be polite. “But ... why? Hayley is the sweetest person in school. Probably the sweetest person in the world.” How could Paxton dump her for no reason? And how could Ryan lie to me? Guys sucked. What went on in their heads to make them do these things?

  Paxton slathered two slices of bread with mustard.

  “I know.”

  The rant pressing against my lips disintegrated.

  “You know?”

  Paxton shrugged. “Hayley’s great. But I could tell she liked me more than I liked her, and I didn’t want to lead her on.”

  “Oh.” That ... wasn’t so bad. I mean, it sucked for Hayley, but it wasn’t the worst reason to break up with someone. I shoved my hands in my sweatshirt pockets and rallied my feminine solidarity. “You’re still an ass for making her cry.”

  Paxton slapped turkey on his mustarded bread.

  “Are we done hashing this to death?”

  “To death? This is nothing.” Paxton glanced over warily as he draped a slice of cheese on his sandwich. I cracked a small smile. “I guess guys don’t talk about this stuff?”

  “Nope.”

  That made anger rush through me like a flash flood, and after a moment I pinpointed why. “Which means you have no idea why Ryan lied to both of us about cheating on me, and also means you don’t give a damn about finding out. Great.”

  Paxton looked confused. I pivoted and stalked toward the front door.

  “Are we still on for Wednesday?” Paxton shouted after me. I didn’t answer.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next day at lunch, I found Beverly in the library again. Reading. So much for “I eat at lots of tables.” I sat down across from her and smiled.

  “Another day, another mystery,” I said. “What’s this one called?”

  “The mystery of the pain-in-the-ass cheerleader,” she said, but put the book down. “What do you want now?”

  Well, that wasn’t as friendly a greeting as I’d hoped for. I forged on anyway.

  “I was wondering if you might--”

  “Save your breath, Rose. The answer’s no.”

  “But--”

  “No. And if you don’t go away, I’ll light myself on fire and tell everyone you did it.”

  I blinked, taken aback. She was joking, obviously, but there was a hard glint in her eye. I remembered Paxton advising me to put her on the Suspect List, and wondered how to ask my questions delicately.

  I cleared my throat.

  “So ... where were you that Friday night, Beverly?” Yeah, that was delicate. Delicate like a hippopotamus. I winced, expecting her to be offended, but Beverly smiled.

  “What, you think I might have done it?”

  “No. Just curious.”

  “Sure.” She took a bite of her apple and chewed it without hurry. I waited. She swallowed, opened her mouth as if to say something ... and took another bite. I lost my patience.

  “So where were you?”

  Beverly chewed even slower, then swallowed.

  “None of your business.” She smiled, and my eyes narrowed. Beverly was smart, and as Paxton pointed out, she’d disliked me since middle school. What if he was right, and Beverly just gave me the suspect list to throw me off the scent?

  “You don’t like me much, do you?” I said. She shrugged. “Why?” I asked, even though I knew. If she got it out in the open, then I could defend myself. It wasn’t my fault Alina decided not to be friends with Beverly anymore.

  But when Beverly leaned across the table, she didn’t bring up middle school.

  “You’ve been playing pranks for years, and don’t give a damn if they misfire and hurt someone else. Now someone’s framing you for a prank you didn’t do, and you’re getting nailed to the wall for it. You know what they call that?”

  My face felt hot. “A crime?”

  “Poetic justice.” She packed up her things, then paused. “Are you leaving, or shall I?”

  Stunned, I watched her go.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next day after practice, I baked a fresh batch of cranberry-oatmeal cookies, planning to give them to Juliette before Paxton and I headed to the school library for our Science Club Spy Mission.

  I’d paid a freshman to join and ask questions, and promised her double her fee if she got Marie and Kayla to confess where they were the night of the arson. Of course, in order to make sure my freshman spy didn’t make things up, I needed to hear what was said.

  But before that, I had an apology to make.

  When I walked over to the Callaways’ house, Juliette and Paxton were tossing a football in the front yard.

  “Come on, you’ve got to make it spiral,” Paxton called. Juliette threw the ball, but it wobbled and fell short. Paxton jogged forward to scoop it up.

  “Clearly I’m not cut out for football,” Juliette said, making a face.

  “You’re my sister. It has to be in your DNA somewhere.” He demonstrated for her. Juliette caught the ball and started to try again, then spotted me and lowered her arm.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Paxton turned and saw me. “Hey, time to go?”

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to Juliette first,” I said. Paxton raised a brow, but shrugged.

  “I’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

  Juliette and I went inside. “Where are you guys going?” she asked.

  “School project,” I said. I gave her the basket. “These are for you.” Juliette looked down at the cookies and frowned. She seemed ready to shove them back at me. “Look,” I said, “I remember what you told me a while ago, that cookies can’t fix everything. But I wanted to say that I’m really sorry about that Friday when I made you late. It was an accident--well, that you were late, anyway--but that doesn’t really excuse it.” When I’d practiced the apology earlier, it hadn’t sounded lame, but now ... “Anyway, I’m sorry.”

  Juliette didn’t look impressed.

  “You just want me to help you, right?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not asking for anything. I just wanted to apologize, for real instead of just ...” I gestured at the cookies.

  If anything, Juliette’s expression turned more doubtful.

  “Do you feel better now?” she said. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

  “Just ...” This was impossible. “Enjoy the cookies, okay? And I’m sorry.” I turned and headed out the front door.

  Paxton was waiting by his black Beemer.

  “You sure you trust me enough to ride in my car?” he asked with a grin. I gave him a half-hearted smile, not up to our usual banter.

  On the drive to the library, my thoughts circled around Juliette’s anger, and the things Beverly said yesterday. She’d claimed I didn’t care when my pranks went awry, and Juliette seemed to agree. But of course I cared--I’d never wanted my pranks to affect anyone. Except Paxton, of course. And seriously, no one got hurt or anything. Well, Daniel Prince blamed me for his girlfriend dumping him, but really? Not my fault.

  Was it?

  “Do you think
it’s my fault that Daniel’s girlfriend dumped him?” I said aloud.

  Paxton glanced over. “That’s a random topic.”

  “Do you? Because of my prank?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Paxton said. “It’s not your fault Daniel Prince has the scream of a five-year-old girl.”

  “Yeah, but if I hadn’t put the mouse in that desk ...”

  “Which wasn’t meant for him.”

  “But it got him anyway. I never apologized. Do you think ...” I swallowed. “Do you think this arson thing is my fault, because of a prank I pulled that pissed someone off?”

  Paxton was quiet as he pulled into the library parking lot.

  “If that’s true,” he said, “then it’s partly my fault, for provoking you. In fact, if you look at it a certain way, all this is completely my fault, since I started our war in the first place.”

  Something in his voice told me this wasn’t the first time Paxton had looked at the situation that way.

  “Is that why you’re helping me?”

  “Maybe.” He parked at the edge of the back library lot and cut the engine. I took a deep breath.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Only if you use your mime voice.” Paxton grinned, and my lip twitched up.

  “Why did you? Start the war, I mean.”

  Paxton’s smile slipped. “You don’t remember?” I shook my head, and Paxton turned to stare at the bushes in front of the car. Then he shrugged and opened his door. “You know, neither do I.” He hopped out.

  He was lying; I could tell Paxton remembered exactly why he’d thrown that cranberry punch, but he’d decided not to say. Deny everything. Some habits die hard. But when I swung out of the car, I didn’t call him on it. Instead, I went back to another idea that had been bugging me.

  “So if it’s kind of my fault, maybe I shouldn’t be trying to clear my name.”

  Paxton’s brow rose. “What?”

  “I mean, if I do deserve this, if this is my karmic retribution or whatever, then maybe I should just take my lumps and move on. Right? Maybe I should just--”

  “Bull,” Paxton interrupted. “Don’t wimp out on me, Sassy McCheerleader.”

  I frowned. “You mean Selfish McShallowton?”

  Even in the near-dusk I could see Paxton’s neck redden. He ducked to grab our gear from the backseat, then shut the car door and locked it. The Beemer beeped. I headed toward the library, and Paxton fell in beside me.

  Then he stopped. I paused too, looking back questioningly. Paxton rubbed his jaw, then met my gaze. “I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean it.”

  I blinked. That was the first time Paxton had apologized to me since ... well, ever. Before I could mumble a response, Paxton pushed us toward the library again.

  “You ready for this?” He handed me the digital recorder.

  I held it up and punched record.

  “Lock and load.”

  Chapter 15

  The school library was housed in its own building, older than the rest of the school and smelling of dust mites. Paz, the freshman who’d signed up to spy for me, said the Science Club met at the blue-topped group table in the nonfiction stacks. Paxton and I found the right table--we were fifteen minutes early--and sized up the area.

  “We need a bug or something, to put underneath.” I knocked on the plastic tabletop.

  “Okay, private eye,” Paxton said from the far wall. “Or we could hide here.”

  I padded over. A nook formed by a structural column, the outside wall and a bookcase full of texts was pretty much hidden from the table’s view. From a window, I could just see Paxton’s car at the edge of the lot.

  Paxton sat down at the far end of the nook. “See?”

  “Stay there.” I dashed back to the table. “Can you hear me?” I asked, my voice a couple shades quieter than normal.

  “Yup,” Paxton said. I cocked my head and sat at each of the table’s chairs, but couldn’t spot him through the rows of books.

  “I think that will work.” Just then voices sounded at the entrance of the nonfiction section, so I ran to the hidden nook and crouched next to Paxton. He scrunched over to make room for me, and we sat side by side, our backs to the structural column. I pulled my digital recorder out. Paxton peered through the textbooks, blonde hair falling down over his temples. I suppressed a grin; I felt almost like we were planning a prank together instead of spying on my potential framers.

  Over the next twenty minutes the dozen members of the Science Club arrived, welcomed Paz, and started their meeting. First they went over some homework, then an upcoming chemistry quiz. Nothing remotely close to arson or me was discussed, and my rush of adrenaline faded. I tilted my head back against the column and sighed.

  Paxton leaned over. “This is boring,” he said in my ear. “Where’s all the debate about whether a pack of velociraptors could take down a T-Rex?”

  “The answer is no, so why would they even need to debate?” I whispered back. “What they should be discussing is how to plant fingerprints on a photograph.”

  Paxton shifted closer. His lips nearly brushed my neck. “But what if the T-Rex was wounded?”

  “This is fun,” Paz said out at the table, and I resisted the urge to let Paxton distract me. “You know, I almost didn’t come tonight. Rose Whitfield told me Science Club was dumb.”

  There we go. I sat up straighter.

  “Rose effing Whitfield is a whore,” Marie Harte said. I recognized her voice from somewhere--cheerleading, maybe. Had she been on JV?

  “Oh?” Paz said.

  “She’s so mean to Paxton.” That was Kayla. I glanced at Paxton, a little surprised. Paxton was just as mean to me. And since when was it these girls’ business? Kayla’s voice took on an edge of excitement. “You know, he said hi to me last week.”

  “Shut up!” one of the other girls squealed. I glanced at Paxton again, annoyance turning to amusement. Paxton’s eyes were wide. I nudged him, and he shrugged as if to say I don’t know what they’re talking about.

  “And he just broke up with his girlfriend.”

  “I know, I heard yesterday!”

  “Who cares?” asked a male voice, sounding annoyed. “Do we have to talk about Paxton Callaway at every meeting?”

  “Seriously,” another guy muttered. The girls ignored them.

  “I’m going to ask him to come to my party next week,” Marie said.

  I smirked at Paxton. “You have fans,” I whispered gleefully.

  “Shut up.” His neck turned red, the color spreading to his cheeks and temples.

  “Go talk to them. They’d flip!”

  “Shhh.”

  “Rose is such a bitch,” Marie said to Paz. “You don’t even know.”

  “Know what?”

  “She cut me from the varsity cheer squad, even though I was awesome on JV. She knew I was better than her.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I fumed in Paxton’s ear. I remembered Marie now. “I cut her because her kicks were about as graceful as a lemur’s.”

  Paxton raised a brow. “Do you even know what a lemur is?”

  I poked his shoulder. “You don’t know what it is either.”

  “So what about you?” Paz said, presumably to Kayla. “Did she cut you too?”

  “No. She’s just horrible. I’m friends with Paxton’s sister; one time at a party at their house Juliette and I walked in and a bunch of water balloons exploded on us!”

  “Those were meant for you,” I told Paxton.

  “Even worse, we were both wearing white. People still tease us at spring break and tell us we’d win wet T-shirt contests. But hey, at least I got to see Paxton in swim trunks!” The other girls gave muffled library-squeals. The guys muttered
amongst themselves about a video game.

  I elbowed Paxton and smirked again. He elbowed back, pressing me against the wall. Suddenly I realized we were touching from shoulder to knee, and that he smelled like soap and cedar and guy. Something fluttered in my stomach. Paxton and I hadn’t been friends in so long that I’d given up on ever hanging out again, but now we were, and despite the unpleasantness of listening to people dislike me, I was sort of having fun.

  “I was just thinking about that weekend, when Rose set the fire,” Paz said, catching my attention again.

  “Psycho bitch,” Marie muttered. My hand clenched in my lap, but then Paxton raised his brows at me, clearly trying not to laugh, and my mood dip vanished.

  “Yeah,” Paz said. “It’s so weird to think that while I was baby-sitting my little brother, she was setting fire to a boat. What were you guys up to that night?”

  Paz was slick. Slicker than my graceful-like-a-hippo questioning, anyway. I held my breath and leaned forward.

  “We all had a sleepover that night, at my house,” Marie said. “Except for Kayla.”

  “Oh?” Paz sounded merely curious. I felt like I was hanging above the ground like a marionette on a string, held so taut I could barely breathe. Paz asked the question I desperately needed the answer to. “How come you weren’t there, Kayla?”

  “My parents took me to Seattle, to visit relatives. I took pictures of the Space Needle.”

  “Neat,” Paz said. “So the rest of you were doing a sleepover?”

  “Well, us girls, anyway. In the morning the guys met up with us and we all went to the rainforest dome at the CAS.”

  I slumped back against the column. So it wasn’t Kayla or Marie. Okay. I didn’t know how to feel about this anymore. Glad that two people I barely knew didn’t hate me enough to frame me for a felony, I guess. But as my adrenaline slipped away, I wondered if I’d ever figure out who’d set me up.

  “CAS?” Paz asked.

  “California Academy of Sciences. Visiting counts as extra credit in Mr. Tate’s classes.”

  “I went too, even though I have Mrs. Harmony,” one girl said. “It was fun! You should come next time, Paz.”