Incarnadine

Chapter 5

“What?” Mr. Cadwell said without looking up from his newspaper.

“Oliver, don’t you miss those times when we were young?”

Mr. Cadwell only grunted. “Jamie,” he said without even looking at us. “Remember the rules. Don’t let Elena wander alone. Curfew at twelve.”

“Got it,” Jamie said cheerfully, putting on her heels.

“Who will be driving you?”

“Nick.”

Mr. Cadwell looked up from his newspaper then. “I don’t like that kid, Jamie.”

“He’s—”

A car honked in front of Ollie’s.

“—here. Bye, Dad! Bye, Mom!”

I barely said my own goodbyes before Jamie hauled to the front door, grumbling about how mature Nick was and how parents never knew a thing about love.

Nick and a lanky guy got out of his car.

“Jamie,” Nick said, ignoring me completely. He kissed her, and I looked away from the intimacy. Several moments later, Nick addressed me, which was a very, very rare case. “Elena, Aaron. Aaron, Elena.”

The lanky guy Aaron was really pale. I didn’t know if it was the trick of light or he was simply nervous. Sometimes guys acted like that around me.

“Hi,” he said feebly.

I smiled, trying to be polite. “Hello.”

Jamie rolled her eyes beside us. “You’re so hopeless. Like effing seven-graders.”

We arrived at Lucy’s ten minutes late, which was kind of deliberate. As we got in to the party, I tried not to show my discomfort in the dress I was wearing. It hit just a bit below my knees in a flare, and it had a slit mid-thigh on the right side. The neckline was very high, but the whole thing was purple and strapless. Not to mention the low back.

Jamie had said it would make me look classy, not slutty. I tried my best to believe her.

When we got inside, it was like usual: Jamie went off with Nick to make out, my current date sat beside me trying to strike up a conversation while convincing me to drink some beer at the same time, and I just sat there, trying to figure out how to get away from him.

Finally he seemed to have given up. He went, saying that he had to use restroom or something.

I just sat there. Trying to pass the next four hours.

I saw some of the popular girls high-fiving as they went for another shot of booze. They were playing Spin the Bottle. A drunken version. I was pretty sure Mr. Cadwell wouldn’t have let us come if he knew—but hey, when else should we have fun if not when we’re young? Sad thing was, I didn’t even like beer. The first time Jamie had tried to get me to drink it, I’d puked all over Vero’s carpet.

I glance surreptitiously at where Sylvie and her friends were hanging out. Sylvie herself was nowhere in sight, but I saw that Amy was kissing Trent, almost all the way to the second base while Vero was making out with his jock buddy.

I rolled my eyes.

I’m not saying that I was a saint—I wasn’t the good-girl everyone exaggerated me to be. I’d been wasted before, played Spin the Bottle while I was at it. Once, I had to endure kissing a guy from my Chemistry class. Let’s just say that I never wanted to go anywhere near garlic anymore. I’d ever made out in a wild prom after-party before, too.

Let’s just say that I was too naïve at the time and Trent Wellington was a pig.

But then, with all those things I’d done, I was still the good Church-going girl, compared to Jamie. All because her parents didn’t approve of his boyfriend.

“Elena.”

I looked up in surprise at Armand Sanders. He made himself comfortable beside me. I eyed him warily. A mass of Ed-Sheeran-like red hair, a pair of vivid green eyes, athletic build and a crooked nose. The girls in our school thought he was a new kind of Zac Efron. A non-stereotypical hot guy. I had to admit that he had a bad boy vibe going on that was kind of attractive, but I kind of held a grudge on him about the valedictorian thing last year. He had never done anything wrong to me directly, but I just didn’t like him.

We rarely talked, if ever. It was strange, his confronting me. A few guys at our school post-Trent-Wellington-mistake had tried to hit on me, but I didn’t think Armand was here for that. It was no one’s secret he was kind of a player, but Sylvie still liked him.

He threw me a wide smile I cautiously return. Cadwells taught me manners.

“You look good,” he said.

I frowned, trying not to see how much of my legs had been exposed. “Thanks, I guess.”

“I saw you come with a date just now. Where’s he?”

“Restroom.”

He nodded, then pointed at my arm. “Heard about that. That okay now?”

I looked at my stitched arm and shrugged. “Sure.”

“My dad is trying to catch the bad guy, you know.”

“I know.”

Armand sucked in his breath sharply. “Do you ever answer someone in more than three words?”

“Sometimes.”

He was silent for awhile, sipping his drink quietly. And then he said, “You have to be careful.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you saying?”

“You have to be careful,” he repeated. “It’s not so safe right now in this town. The guy who did that—” He pointed at my arm. “—is still out there, and he’s not the only one who is capable of hurting people.”

“Of course.”

Armand’s lips tugged up in a half-smile. “I’m just saying. You know. Job description as a cop’s son.”

“Yeah.”

“Look, I heard that my cousin has quite a crush on you.”

It’s like I had been asleep the whole time and I had just been startled awake. “Duane?”

He laughed. “Oh, you should look at your face.”

I glared at him.

“No, seriously, though. You made quite an impression on him, apparently. He’s just, you know, shy. Needs a push. Can’t even make an eye contact with you without blushing.”

Now this guy was just bluffing. Duane didn’t blush, like, ever. Somehow, I just knew that.

“Well,” I said, taking on a lofty tone. “I don’t really like him. He’s rude.”

“Rude? What are you? Elizabeth and Darcy? C’mon. It’s twenty-first century.” Armand got up and patted me on the shoulder. “Go live a little.”

As he walked away, I hoped he could feel the lasers shooting out of my eyes. I really, really didn’t like Armand Sanders.

Jerk.

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