It was Monica.
Monica Morrell looked polished and perfect, from her shining straight hair to her flawless makeup to the cute, trendy sheer top over baby doll T she was wearing. No backpack for Monica. She had a designer bag, and she looked Claire up and down, glossed lips twisting in disdain. Of course, she wasnt alone. Monica never went anywhere without an entourage, and today it was her usual wing girls, Jennifer and Gina, as well as a hovering flock of hard-bodied boys, most of them athletes of some kind or other.
Everybody was taller than Claire.
Watch it, freak! Monica said, and glared at her. And then started to smile. It didnt lessen the menace in her pretty eyes. Oh, its you. You ought to watch where youre going. She half turned to her little gaggle of followers. Poor Claire. Shes got a syndrome or something. Falls down stairs, hits her head, nearly burns down her house She focused back on Claire as Jennifer and Gina giggled. Isnt that right? Didnt your house burn?
Little bit, Claire said. She was shaking, deep down, but she knew that if she backed down, she risked a lot worse. But I heard its not the first time thats happened when you stop by for a visit.
Monicas clique made a low ooooooooooh sound, a no-she-didnt murmur evenly split between appreciation and anticipation. Monicas eyes turned cold. -Er.
Dont even go there, freak. Not my fault you live with a bunch of losers and jerks. Probably that Goth whore lighting candles all over the place. Shes a walking fire hazard, not to mention a fashion disaster.
Claire bit the inside of her lip and swallowed her reply, which would have had to do with who the real whore was in the conversation. She just raised her own eyebrowswell aware they werent plucked, or perfect, or anythingand smiled like she knew something Monica didnt.
Shes not the only one. Isnt that top from Wal-Mart? The Trailer Park collection? She turned around to go as Monicas friends hed again, this time with an edge of laughter.
Monica grabbed her by the backpack, yanking her off-balance. Tell Shane I said hi, she said, her breath hot against Claires ear. Tell him I dont care whos put out the truce flagIm going to get him, and you, and hes going to be sorry he ever screwed with me.
Claire pulled herself free from Monicas highly polished manicured grip and said, He wouldnt screw you if you were the last girl on earth and it was survival of the species.
She thought that Monica was going to scratch her eyes out with those perfectly manicured talons, and backed off fast. Monica, strangely, let her go. She was even smiling, a little, but it was a weird kind of smile, and it made Claires stomach lurch when she looked back.
Bye now, Monica said. Freak.
Chem class was already under way when Claire breathlessly slid into an empty seat and unpacked her notebook and text. She kept an eye out for Monica, Gina, Jennifer, or any random chemicals being flung her wayit had happened beforebut she didnt run into Monica there, or on her way to her next class, or the next. By midafternoon she was aching from the tension, but her heart rate was pretty normal, and shed gotten back into the groove of listening for comprehension. Not that she wasnt way ahead in the classesshe had a habit of reading the whole book at the beginning of the semesterbut it was always nice when professors dropped some tidbit that wasnt in the book or the published notes. Even the classes she didnt much like seemed relatively interesting. History had a quiz, which she finished in five minutes and handed in, then escaped with a silent thumbs-up from the professor.
It was late afternoon when she exited into the quadrangle outside of the science building; the crowds of students had thinned, since a lot of people tried to finish classes early and get on with the all-important party schedule. TexasPrairieUniversity wasnt exactly Harvard on the Plains; most of the students were here to plow through two years of required courses, then transfer out to a legitimate university. So it was Party till you puke, mostly.
It was funny as she looked around now, knowing what she knew about Morganville. Shed never realized what an insulated little world college was; shed be willing to bet that ninety percent of the kids attending had no idea what the real score was in town, or ever would. TPU was like a wildlife park, and the students were the wildlife.
And sometimes, the herd got culled.
Claire shivered, looked around for any signs of lurking Monicas, and took off for home. It wasnt a long walk, but it took her over the nicely tended (though sun-seared) grounds and out into Morganville propers business districtwhich really wasnt. It was a sideshow for the students, all coffee shops (she wondered what poor fool Oliver had gotten to fill Eves empty barista apron) and bookstores and trendy clothing emporiums. Buildings sported school colorsgreen and whiteand usually had STUDENT DISCOUNT signs fading in the windows.
There was a weedy-looking guy in black standing at the corner, watching her with burning dark eyes. He looked familiar, but she couldnt think whysomebody from class, maybe? Scary, anyway. She wondered why he was staring at her. There were other girls on the street. Prettier ones.
Claire walked faster. When she looked back, he wasnt there anymore. Was that better, or way creepier?
Walking even faster seemed like a great idea suddenly.
As Claire passed Common Grounds, the coffee shop, she glanced inside and saw someone she thought she recognizedbut what the hell would Shanes dad be doing here? In the middle of the day? He didnt exactly blend in with the college crowd, and every cop in town was shaking the trees for him, right?
But there he was. Granted, shed gotten only a quick look, but how many Frank Collins look-alikes could there be in Morganville?
I should get the hell out of here, she thought, but then she wondered. If she could find out what he was doing, maybe that would help Michael and Shane with planning what to do next. Besides, it was the middle of the day, broad daylight, and it wasnt like Mr. Collins didnt know where to find her if he wantedhe knew where she lived, after all.
So Claire opened the door and slipped inside, hiding behind a couple of big jocks with bulky laptop-laden backpacks who were having some earnest conversation about whether baseball stats were legitimate during the steroid years, or had to be thrown out. Yes, that was Shanes dad, and he was sitting in the corner of the coffee bar, sipping from a cup. Plain as day.
What the hell?
She caught her breath as Oliver slipped into the seat opposite him. Oliver was a lanky guy, tall and a bit stooped, with long curling hair that was sprinkled and shot through with gray. Not very threatening, Oliver, until you saw the fangs and the real personality lurking underneath what he put on for the public. Oliver was terrifying, and she had no desire at all to get into any position where shed have to deal with him again.