"We're going to be late," Cooper insisted, embarrassed—but pleased.
His embarrassment faded as Venus leaned forward, half-sitting on his lap in the driver's seat of his car. He brushed aside her blonde sheet of hair, his eyes quickly darting to the windshield. The highschool parking lot still had a few stragglers. Not exactly an audience, but still...
"Who cares?" she mumbled, pressing a kiss to his neck.
Certainly not me.
His thoughts were a jumble of hormonal confusion. He tried to reorient himself. School. Cooper. Must go. "Um...Venus..."
"Hmm?" Another kiss—this one just under his jaw. "What is it?" she asked, her voice low and sultry. His stomach did a strange little flip at the sound.
"Nothing." He shook his head, which brought their lips together. Hers were insistent. Demanding. Cooper felt himself relax into her touch, her fingers brushing the side of his face—
A loud knock on the passenger window forced them apart.
Vincent grinned through the glass and lifted a hand in greeting. "You crazy kids."
"Vincent," Venus demurred, smoothing her already quite-smooth hair. A pink flush had crept across her face.
Cooper flipped Vincent off as he crawled out of the car, backpack in hand. He then proceeded to shove his oversized friend aside so that he could open the door for Venus. She beamed at him.
"I hate you," he mouthed to Vincent, who cackled with glee.
The Greenwitch Grizzlies quarterback wore his usual summer attire: gym shorts, a tank top, and his letterman jacket. The jacket was laughable, considering the heat. And still, Vincent managed to pull it off. He slung his arm across Cooper's shoulders; Venus, who hung onto Cooper's other arm, frowned at the intrusion.
"Where's Calla?" Cooper asked pointedly.
Venus made a noise in the back of her throat that they both ignored.
"Bonding," Vincent said simply, nodding to the entrance of the school. And there she was—his psychopathic next door neighbor. A predator disguised in jeans, a white tee, and a bright smile.
Stephanie stood at her elbow, her dark, curly hair barely brushing Calla's chin as the two wrapped their arms around each other. As head of the yearbook committee for three years running—and soon-to-be reelected class president—Stephanie was a force to be reckoned with. Especially when she got wind of a juicy story.
Thank God I'm on her good side.
A pair of long arms wrapped around both girls, momentarily lifting them from the ground. Stephanie let out a squeal of delight. Mike grinned and set them back down, his booming laugh echoing across the parking lot.
His far more reserved twin was nowhere to be found.
"Wonder where Blake's gone off to," Vincent mused, echoing Cooper's thoughts.
"Sulking, probably," Venus supplied, indifferent.
Cooper shot Vincent a look—the look. The one he'd perfected over the summer. The look that said, I am no longer single. A moment, please?
Vincent shrugged and lumbered away, fighting back a smile.
Once he was out of earshot, Venus entwined her arms around Cooper's waist and whispered in his ear, "Wanna pick up where we left off after school?"
Her body was warm and soft against his. He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "Um. Yes. Definitely yes."
She laughed, low and sweet. He couldn't help but smile—a ridiculous smile that Vincent would probably grill him for later. But that was just the effect she had on him.
Cooper still wasn't sure how they'd gotten here. How, after years of skating around each other, he found himself with his arms around one of the most popular girls at Greenwitch High. He knew it had something to do with his newfound notoriety—well, not so newfound anymore.
It was as if he'd been invisible his entire life, and only after surviving a brush with death had the veil been lifted, revealing Cooper Daniels to the rest of the world...and to Venus Upton
She planted a kiss on his cheek before twirling away. "See you after school," she called.
Cooper stared after her, dazed, as she joined two other girls near the entrance: Hayley Singleton and The Other One whose name he could never be bothered to remember. All three girls gave him a wave over their shoulders, grinned, and then flounced inside, looking far too pleased with themselves.
Grumbling, Cooper caught up to Vincent—who also looked far too pleased with himself, one arm curled around Calla's waist—and gave a dramatic sigh. "Girls."
Calla tsked.
"You are not a girl," Cooper interjected quickly, jabbing her shoulder with his index finger.
"Oh?" she asked, baiting him as they filed inside. He sighed as the air conditioning hit his face. Inside, a horde of bodies milled around, delaying the inevitable moment when they would have to make their way to first period.
Calla's eyes danced with mischief as she tossed him a look—daring him to say what, exactly, she was.
A wolf, he wanted to say. A wolf in sheep's clothing.
Before he had the chance to speak his mind, Vincent pulled out his schedule from the pocket of his letterman jacket and sighed. "I'm off to calculus."
"At least it's a half-day," Cooper reassured him. "And tomorrow is—"
"Hibachi," they said in unison.
"Something to live for," Vincent said with relish. He leaned down, planted a kiss firmly on Calla's cheek—she wrinkled her nose playfully—and headed down the hall, off to face his mathematical doom.
"You two are so dramatic," Calla said with a sigh, eyeing her schedule. "You have psychology third period, right?"
Had she memorized his schedule? "Abnormal psychology," he corrected, flustered.
"And a free period during fourth," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Excellent. So do I. See you then."
And that was that. She turned to go.
"We're not going to talk about...college?" he asked her, his voice low.
She hesitated. "We spoke in the car."
And they had. But not at length. Calla had mumbled something about prints and denial, but had otherwise been tight-lipped about her encounter with Astrid. Something had been eating at her. He'd known it. Just as he'd known that she wouldn't be letting this Astrid Baker murdered my best friend thing go.
Everyone has their breaking point.
"We need to speak more," he pushed. Don't shut me out. Not after everything.
She glanced at him. Speculative. "Okay," she relented. And then her brows furrowed. She dug in her back pocket and produced a wrinkled polaroid picture. "Here. Take this."
Cooper glanced at the photograph. Rachel. "What is this?" he asked softly.
"A picture," Calla drawled.
He sighed. "Calla—"
"I found it in my nightstand. Hold onto it for me, will you?"
He stared at her. He couldn't fathom why he would need to hold onto a picture of Rachel Smith, but...he shrugged. "Alright." And then he hesitated. "We'll talk later?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Cooper. We'll talk. But you're not going to like what I have to say."
I'll let you do what you need to do, he'd promised her. A promise he knew he would regret.
He stuffed the polaroid in his back pocket, conscious of her eyes following his every move. There was something oddly protective in that look she wore, as if she'd just handed him something precious.
But he knew better than that. Calla was not the sentimental type.
"Wolf in sheep's clothing," he muttered.
She turned and melted into the crowd, but not before giving him a withering smile. The sort of smile that made him feel very sorry for Astrid Baker, indeed.
# # #
Cooper's first class of the day? Difficult, with a Heaping Side of Not Fun.
"Advanced cell biology," Mike Richardson mumbled behind him, reading the course syllabus. "This shit is going to suck."
Cooper knew most of the faces in this class—seniors, like him. Stephanie Brighton sat at the front of the classroom, her eyes half-lidded with sleep. A red-faced sophomore kept stealing glances at her, his nose buried in his textbook to hide the fact that he was sorely out of place among the upperclassmen.
"Hey, Daniels," Mike whispered, eyeing Mr. Baker. Cooper's favorite teacher sat perched on the edge of his desk at the front of the classroom, his eyes on his phone.
"Huh?" Cooper turned in his seat, curious. "Oh, hey." He caught sight of Mike's schedule on the edge of the desk. "You're taking yearbook fifth period?"
Mike grinned. "Yeah. Easy elective. But listen...are you and Steph close?"
"Close?" Cooper shrugged. "We're friendly, I guess."
"Good." Mike leaned forward. "Because I have a plan."
The next ten minutes were...entertaining, to say the least. Mike seemed hellbent on seducing the school gossip—an elaborate plan which would involve white roses and a box of doves. Cooper couldn't help but laugh at the doves. "How are you gonna get your hands on those?" he managed to choke out. "And what are you going to do with them?"
"I'm going to release them, all dramatic-like." Mike made a fluttering motion with his hands, which got them both going again.
"Dude." Cooper clapped him on the shoulder when the bell rang. "Stick with the white roses. Or help her make one of those signs. You know, the ones the cheerleaders put together for the football games? They usually have to stay late, so maybe you can ask her out or something."
"Genius!" Mike exclaimed, grabbing his bag in a rush. "Coop, man—you're the best."
"No doves!" Cooper called out with a grin, watching the other boy dart out of the room.
Shaking his head, he collected his backpack and hurried off to abnormal psychology, chuckling every now and then as he imagined Mike Richardson striding into a pet store and requesting a cage of doves.
I don't know how I ever suspected him of murder, he thought, rolling his eyes.
Mr. Prichard beamed at each student—all nine of them—as they slowly filed into his classroom. Cooper immediately took a seat toward the back of the room.
"As you can tell," Mr. Prichard began, smiling at the small gathering of students, "this is a rather small group."
Cooper glanced around. This is it? The others seemed to feel the same.
He withheld a sigh. He would have no friends here. No familiar faces, no friendly chatter. He'd half-hoped Calla would sign up for the class, but she'd dropped the subject their junior year. If I want to study sociopathic anomalies, she'd told him, I'll go look in the mirror.
She had a point.
"Spots in this class are limited." Mr. Prichard started handing out sheets of paper. Another syllabus review. "In part, because the subject matter is difficult. But also because there's a potential for college credit. Should your final grade be up to snuff, that is."
The mood in the room shifted. "Nice," someone to his right commented aloud.
Mr. Prichard smiled at that. "I selected each of you because of individual interest in the subject," his eyes flickered from face to face, "and ability." His gaze settled on Cooper. "Congratulations. You're a perceptive group."
Oh, buddy. You have no idea.
"Now—oh, Tom. Good to see you." Cooper stiffened as Tom Sahein strode through the door, looking harried. His white-blonde curls flopped in his eyes, and his glasses balanced precariously on the tip of his nose. And...yes, there it was. That camera of his, looped securely around his neck.
"The syllabus." Mr. Prichard offered a sheet of paper to Tom, who took it with a grateful nod.
The relatively empty classroom left an ample selection of desks. Tom's eyes drifted across the room—and landed on Cooper. He made his way to the single desk at Cooper's back.
He's just looking for a familiar face, Cooper assured himself.
Mr. Prichard proceeded to walk through the syllabus, touching on a final paper that would be worth forty percent of their overall grade. With that cheerful news, he ended the lecture, leaving the students to chatter amongst themselves, restless. Cooper thought he heard a girl a couple seats over already debating which topic she would cover for the final paper.
"How was your summer?"
Cooper started. Flustered, he turned to find Tom Sahein staring at him, a politely interested look on his freckled face. His fingers curled involuntarily around his camera.
"Oh. Good," Cooper said, nodding for effect. "Really good. You?"
"Had a few shoots. Senior pictures, mostly." A tap on the camera.
"Nice." A weighty pause. Despite being on the yearbook committee together, he and Tom had never really gotten on. Probably because I suspected him of foul play with those murders, he thought mildly. "That's good for some cash."
"It is." Another uncomfortable pause. Tom shifted in his seat, and then blurted, "And Calla?"
"Calla?" Cooper blinked, bewildered. "What about her?"
"How is she?"
Where the hell is he going with this? Cooper shifted. "She's...fine. I guess."
"She seems fine," Tom agreed. "Considering."
Cooper forced himself to remain relaxed. "Considering?"
Tom shrugged—a jerky movement of his shoulders. Not at all natural. "Everything that happened. She's taken it really well." His eyes darted up to Cooper's face, peering out at him from beneath his mop of hair. "You both have."
RED ALERT.
Cooper tensed, but gave what he hoped passed for a weary sigh. He was certainly a better liar than he had been a year and a half ago. "She hides it well. I know she misses Rachel." A pointed pause. "We all do."
Pink flooded Tom's cheeks. Was that embarrassment? "Well...yeah. Of course—"
The bell rang. Cooper grabbed his bag and shot Tom a strained smile. Okay...maybe his skills at deception could use a little work. "See you around."
Cooper kept his composure as he walked out of the classroom and down the hall, heading in the general direction of his next class. He wanted to bolt. He wanted to scream.
Instead, he plastered a smile on his face and tried desperately not to let his paranoia get the best of him. And still, he couldn't help the sense of dread that threatened to pull him under. He kept replaying the same unpleasant thought in his head, over and over and over.
Tom Sahein knows.