Silver Stilettos

6 | armor and answers

I glanced at the girl sitting behind her, Dominika Mikhailov. She spoke with the faint thickness that usually accompanied Slavic languages as she talked to Fenris North, the only boy in their group to show me any kindness that first day. His dark head and her light one bent together. He'd turned around in his seat and was ignoring the incomplete homework on his desk.

Lenox Hill had her phone out and was tapping the screen at a furious rate, which was kind of hilarious because she was the only person in our computer skills class who couldn't type at least fifty words per minute. Her pressed-on fingernails made rhythmic tap tap tapping sounds.

Baron Fernley, a peroxide-blond who always squished his gum under the desk, was also on his phone, the calculator app open. It always took him five minutes longer to solve simple problems because he would first stare at the problem, sigh about it, and then finally pick up his pencil and attempt to figure it out.

The other students chatted or worked quietly in the fringes of the class, but they were on the periphery of my interest. It was here, in the nucleus, that all the cool kids sat. I realized my mistake then. When I'd sat here on the first day, when there was no shortage of other seats in the room, they had thought I was cool. It had only taken them a couple of minutes to realize I was not.

I had Dom in my sights again. She was Russian. They were involved in the mafia, weren't they? I glanced around the room. I didn't think there were any Italians there. I'd looked up some of the foreign words Reed had used. Familje was Albanian for family. Not just any family, but the family. Mafia.

If his fear was warranted, wouldn't I be dead by now? Throat slit while I slept? Brakes cut? I nibbled my lower lip. When I'd walked him to the door after he'd thanked my mother for having him stay for dinner, he'd told me to delete my blog. I hadn't done it. Not when there could be a much juicier story to write about. Delusional hottie tries to pull a fast one on cop's daughter would be a perfect headline, I thought wryly.

"Hey." The blunt, rubber end of a pencil poked my arm.

I turned, frowning at Reed. "What?" I rubbed my arm even though it hadn't hurt.

"What are you thinking?"

My lips parted but no words came out.

"Can you hang out after school?"

Stupidly, I formed the words, "With you?"

While I'd been tossing and turning in bed last night, the thought had wiggled into my mind like a snake that maybe Reed was toying with me. Maybe he just wanted to see how far he could take things, how much of his bullshit I would be willing to believe. The shell he'd shown me could have been any old shell. There was nothing linking it to the same shot that had been fired at me, if indeed one had been shot at all.

Reed nodded. "Yeah."

"Um, I don't know..."

"There's a party at my house," he said. "You should come." He swallowed. "Please."

My shoulders tightened. It didn't sound like anyone was listening to us, but I wasn't willing to rule out the possibility of being the butt of the popular kids' joke.

"Is it your parents?" he whispered, leaning toward me.

It would be easy to blame it on them, I realized. Say my mom wasn't impressed with him last night and that my dad had forbidden me from getting involved with boys while I was still in high school. But other than her double-take at his introduction as my boyfriend, Mom had been pretty cool with Reed. She'd even said he was welcome any time. I winced, suppressing the memory.

I wondered if she'd said anything to Dad about Reed. He still hadn't come home by the time I went to bed.

"No. It's me. I don't feel like drinking and acting stupid at a party with people who don't like me."

Reed buried his hand in his hair, ruffling the center parting. "Who doesn't like you?" he countered. "Nobody here knows you. Come. Have a laugh, have a drink." He dropped his voice an octave. "And don't forget, we have to sell this."

By this he meant me and him being a couple.

"Won't Dom mind?" I asked.

"Dom?" His forehead furrowed. "Why should she?"

"Aren't you dating?"

"No." He stared at me, unblinking. "We're just friends."

I thought of the way she'd pushed her way past me, sent my books to the ground, and the callous way she hadn't even noticed. "Hmm."

"Hmm you'll come, or hmm you're still thinking about it?" he pressed.

"I'll come," I said, deciding spur of the moment. "But I want answers, first."

Reed finally blinked. "All right."

I gave him a terse smile. Game on.

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Would YOU go to Reed's party?