Heroes 'Til Curfew Page 8

  “Not your business, Joss,” he told me. He had the knife display open and was fussing, realigning each blade precisely, and not looking at me. “Get back to work.”

  “Is he doing some kind of work for you? Is that what the money was for?”

  “Jocelyn Marshall, what part of my order did you fail to understand?”

  The part where there’s money missing from the bank deposit, and then some strange guy leaves here with a wad of cash and plans to come back for more. Some guy who knows my name, even though I’ve got no idea who he is. ’Cause it’s not like you’re the kind of guy who whips baby pictures of his wallet. What kind of work could he be doing for the store? And why pay him in cash?

  No good reason I could think of.

  And then I knew. That guy was blackmailing Dad because he knew about my Talent. Was Marco in on this? He had to be, didn’t he? Because how else could anyone find out? I felt gut-punched. I was thinking back to the things Dad had said to me in the car last night. How long had this been going on?

  “Joss?”

  “Yeah. I mean, no. Nothing. I’ll get back to it.”

  I started for the back room, my head crowded with thoughts. When I came up with the plan about making a video of Marco using his Talent, I was pretty desperate. Marco knew my little sister was a Talent and was demanding more money from me than I could ever get for him. He was threatening Kat, Dylan was involved… And when I thought of it, it was like Eureka! This will fix everything. Marco won’t be able to do anything to any of us, or else.

  But I was so wrong. So stupidly wrong. And this is what Dad was trying to get me to understand last night: Mutually Assured Destruction relies on the idea that you’re willing to let yourself be destroyed, as long as you take the other guy along with you. But even if I was, it wasn’t just me, it was Jill and Kat, and now I knew that Dylan was a Talent too. Even if I were willing to risk myself, I couldn’t endanger the people I cared about. Marco knew that. He knew he had the upper hand because I wouldn’t risk the others, while he only cared about himself.

  I looked out through the window of the stockroom door. The one bright spot was that my dad was handling it. Ever since he came home from the hospital, my mom and I had walked on eggshells. I’d done everything I could to be like he wanted me to be, if that would make having a freak daughter less stressful. All this time I had thought of him as right on the edge of another break, afraid that he might not come back this time.

  But he wasn’t. Things kept happening, and he kept just handling them. Sure, as I watched, he continued to realign the same blades over and over again, all the while muttering something to himself that I couldn’t hear, but he was coping.

  Maybe I had misjudged my dad just like I was misjudging everything else in my stupid life.

  Chapter 6

  Joss

  I was sitting up in bed, trying to concentrate on some reading when my phone vibrated under my pillow with an incoming text.

  Dylan.

  R u mad @ me?

  Mad? No. Confused, frustrated, and…that other stuff. But I wasn’t about to send that text.

  Another text came in. I didnt no what it was about

  How could you not—? Oh, he’s talking about that ambush at the Pit. I guess I’d kind of included Dylan in my hissy fit.

  That’s ok, I sent back. I wanted to say something else, but I wasn’t sure how to say it without making it really obviously lame. It’s okay, I’m mad at all my other friends, but I’m not mad at you. Special treatment for crushes and boys whose kisses make my knees give out.

  Don’t think about that right now.

  He sent: Sorry bout earlier 2 never shldve done that

  And there it is. The brush off. I never should have asked him if he liked me. Idiot. I rushed to type a message back. It’s ok. It was stupid. Let’s forget it.

  As soon as I hit send, I had another incoming: cuz i cant stop thinking bout kissing u now

  The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and my head was mostly full of something like: OMG!OMG!OMG! which made it really hard to think of an appropriate response.

  The phone buzzed in my hand again, making me jump. The text read: Alright ill go home n try 2 4get it if thats what u want

  I choked on a sudden lack of air in the room. Where r u?

  There was a tap at the window, and Dylan sort of faded into view, squatting on the porch roof.

  I swear, this boy was going to drive me crazy. I hurried over to the window and carefully reset the contacts for the security so the alarm wouldn’t go off. I kinda had this crazy thought about just throwing myself at him, but chickened out and backed away as he climbed through the window.

  We stood there for a moment, in awkward silence. Then he said, “So, about that thing at the Pit…”

  “I don’t want to talk about those guys right now.”

  “I really didn’t—Oh. Okay.”

  “I want to talk about earlier. At lunch.” This was it. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe this was all just a joke to him, but it wasn’t to me. I was tired of being teased, and tired of being too girly and shy and insecure to just deal with…whatever this was.

  “Okay, yeah.” He shifted on his feet and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t handle that well. You surprised me, and… I was an idiot.”

  Avoid, avoid, avoid. “Which part was idiotic, the grabbing me and kissing me part, or the running off after part, or the avoiding me for the rest of the day part?” I had to purposely turn my voice to a stage whisper rant to avoid having the whole house know what was going on.

  “All of it. Especially the part where I lied. That was a stupid joke. I don’t know why I said that.”

  “What was a lie?” Yeah, okay, so maybe I had an idea, but what if I was wrong? And look, he owed me some words here.

  “Jo-ossss…come on.” I could see color coming into his cheeks.

  What was I doing? I still wasn’t used to the whole talking thing, and when I did talk to people, I was usually really direct so I could be done with it. I didn’t know how to do this boy/girl dance around the subject thing we were doing. And just like at lunch, I’d let my low tolerance for chaos and uncertainty get the better of me and was asking questions I should be keeping to myself. What if I pushed too hard and pushed him away? What if he didn’t want to give me words, definite answers, because we were friends and he didn’t want to hurt me?

  “Just…” I held up a hand, stopping him if he was going to say anything. I couldn’t even look up at him anymore. “Forget I said anything, okay? Just, whatever. It’s fine,” I said, turning away.

  He took my hand and spun me back so I collided with his chest. His heart was pounding hard and fast beneath my ear.

  “It’s not fine. I’m an idiot and I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to mess with you.”

  I shook my head against him. “No, it’s okay.” Why was my voice so small? It felt like everything I’d ever wanted was so close I could hardly stand it. Inside, everything was shaking, waiting.

  “You asked me if I ever thought of you as more than a friend,” he blurted out in a rush, “and I said ‘never.’ What I should have said was, ‘all the time,’ or ‘it seems like I hardly think of anything else anymore.’”

  I couldn’t find any breath to say anything. I just stood there, tense and awkward in his arms.

  “I should have said something before, it’s just…I’ve just been so scared I’m going to mess this up.”

  My hands were resting lightly on his waist. Tentatively, my heart pounding, I slid them around to press against his back.

  He hugged me tighter. “So…you gonna be my girlfriend now, or what?”

  I choked out an embarrassingly watery-sounding laugh, which I tried to smother in his shirt. “I think I could give that a shot.”

  He chuckled, and I could have stood there and listened to it roll through his chest forever. I felt his tension loosen a little, and, as he kissed the top of my head and brushed his cheek again
st my hair, I wondered why I couldn’t let go of mine. I had what I wanted, didn’t I? Did anything else in the world even matter anymore?

  He must have felt it too. “Joss?” He pulled back enough to tip my chin. “You’re sure we’re okay?”

  I just nodded. He just said ‘we.’ But I stayed still in his arms, afraid to relax, afraid to touch him.

  He smiled and kissed my nose. “These freckles make me crazy.”

  A quiet laugh escaped at the absolute absurdity of that, and then his lips were on mine.

  I didn’t know that kisses could be so different, but they were, every time he kissed me. First one tender, the second hard, and now this one, somewhere in between, and yet also completely outside those prior experiences.

  He was pulling me in, not just my body in his arms, but pulling me in with his kiss. Drawing away all that clutching tension and anxiety, until it was gone. For a moment I felt pliant, content. Everything about Dylan, the always unexpected softness of his mouth, the way his lips slid against mine, the hardness and warmth of the body pressed to mine—everything was so good, so right. It all seemed so simple and perfect that I could have stayed there like that for hours, just kissing him.

  Then it changed. He pulled more, drew up a new tension inside me and I was no longer pliant. I pressed against him, practically climbed him. I needed to be closer, to feel more, to give him more. I needed to breathe.

  His mouth left mine and found the side of my throat. I was gasping for breath, letting my head fall back against his hand. The hand at my lower back slid under my shirt, and my body shuddered at the feel of skin on skin, at the heat of his touch on my back. He said my name, low and thick against my neck, his hand moving higher to skim underneath the clasp of my bra.

  “Jill!” my dad’s voice boomed in the hallway. “It’s past lights out for you. I want to see that light—thank you. Joss, you got that homework all done?”

  Somehow I found enough voice to call out, “Yes, sir!” Dylan pulled back from my shoulder to thunk his forehead against mine. He’d whipped his hand out of my shirt fast enough, but we were still clutching each other. We were still together, rather than on opposite ends of the room.

  He reached around behind him, took my hands in his, and brought them around to kiss my knuckles. “I have got to go home.” He sort of groaned it, dropped my hands, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Then he turned to the window.

  I followed him, not too closely, back to feeling confused and kind of embarrassed. Had I responded too strongly? I had. I was sure I had. I was a fiend or something! I could feel my face getting hot, thinking about how I’d climbed all over him.

  Dylan didn’t pause, but threw his leg right over the sill. Then he sat there straddling it and looked back at me. “Hey, come here.”

  I took the hand he held out to me, and he pulled me into a hug.

  “Joss, I never—”

  Something started buzzing in my pocket. Dylan pulled back and raised his eyebrows at me.

  “Is that a phone in your pocket, or are you just happy to be with me?”

  “Oh, you’re hilarious.” I flipped it open. Dylan’s fingers stopped combing through my hair as soon as the conversation got going. I flipped it closed again. “There’s a fire downtown. In the mall.”

  “Is it—?”

  “No, it’s not our store.”

  “But you want to go.” It wasn’t a question. “Get your coat.”

  We went out the window together.

  * * *

  Dylan

  “It’s Mueller’s,” Joss told me as we made our way down the mall to where the crowd was gathered.

  “The butcher shop?” They also had a lot of, like, specialty grocery items, mostly German stuff. I’d stolen chocolate from there, back when I was into that kind of thing. Stealing, not chocolate…whatever. Once, on a dare, I’d gone in all invisible and rearranged the cold cut case while Mr. Mueller was in the back room.

  “Thank God it’s been closed for three months. I just hope it doesn’t spread.”

  “They closed?” I put an arm around Joss’s shoulders as we got closer. She’d told me once how she’d been trapped in a house fire as a child when a friend let her Talent with flame get away from her. I knew she was still freaked out by it.

  “Um, yeah,” she answered, in full-on duh mode. “Mr. Mueller retired and moved to Florida three months ago. Where have you been?”

  “I’ve been distracted by this hot chick in combat boots. Give a guy a break.”

  That shut her up.

  We both saw them at the same time and came to a dead stop. Tony was standing at the back of the crowd, watching the show. In his arms, leaning back against him, was Trina Halston. She’d been trapped in that same fire with Joss, but she didn’t seem real traumatized at the moment. She looked damned comfortable with the firebug who was probably responsible for this.

  Tony looked over at us, smiled, and gave us a nod. Trina looked too, but just turned away.

  “Come on,” I said, “let’s see if Heather’s around.”

  “Yes, please,” Joss answered, and let me lead her around the edge of the crowd, giving Tony and Trina plenty of space.

  How lame was it that I was kinda happy about this fire thing? Especially now that I knew the building was empty. Not that I get off watching stuff burn down, I was just glad to be able to spend some more time with Joss tonight. Especially out here with lots of people around, where I could just be with her and hopefully keep myself from mauling her on the first date.

  Okay, possibly taking your girlfriend to an arson does not count as a date. I got that, but my head was a little muddled post make-out. I mean, I finally told her, asked her, whatever. It was done, settled, big mental checkmark on the list, and now when people referred to Joss as my girlfriend I didn’t have to worry about whether or not I should correct them.

  My brain went to a happy place, and I completely lost the next few minutes. I bumped shoulders with someone, muttered an apology, and tried to shake myself back to the reality of spinning lights, yelling, the energy of the crowd, and the fire which was growing with its own energy.

  I had to shape up and cool it or I was going to blow this thing with Joss before it ever got started. I was already going too far, too fast with her. She’d never even had a boyfriend before.

  Oh geez. Cool. It.

  Heather came up to us with a ridiculous grin on her face.

  “You look like the cat who just swallowed the bird,” Joss told Heather, over the noise, “what’s—?” Then she turned to me. “You. Stop thinking.”

  Her cheeks were bright pink under the freckles. It was too adorable.

  “Advice for free,” Heather said, “if you tell her that, she will kill you where you stand.”

  “Oh my God, seriously, just…everybody stop.” Joss turned redder. “Can we focus please? Heather, what’s going on?”

  Heather filled us in on the details she had, confirming that Tony had started the fire. “It’s really weird. There’s something else in his thoughts. I think it’s part of a bigger plan or something. But whenever he thinks about it, it’s all choppy. Like static.”

  “Static,” Joss said, more than asked. “Have you ever experienced that before?”

  “You know how I said that I don’t hear everyone? Well, most of the people I don’t hear, it’s like that. What’s different about Tony is that it’s not all the time like those other people. It’s almost like…selective. Like he’s blocking certain thoughts from me.”

  “Secondary Talent?” Joss asked.

  “Those aren’t unheard of, right? But I don’t think that’s what this is, even though I don’t know what it is, you know?”

  “How’s the fire going?”

  “Not great, and they can’t figure it out. Which makes sense because it’s not a natural fire. Every time they think they’ve put out a hotspot, Tony starts a new one.”

  “Not like we can do anything about him, either. Not out in
the open like this.”

  I was relieved to hear Joss say that. After the book shop thing I was starting to get worried she was going to take on vigilante tendencies.

  “He’s thinking that it won’t be done until the fire department can get everything good and wet. So this thing’s going to continue until they can actually starting working their way into the building, or Tony gets tired and decides to go home.”

  “I hope it doesn’t spread before then,” Joss muttered. “So there’s nothing we can do?”

  “Well…”

  Joss’s eyes narrowed. “Why does it make my blood freeze in terror when you say ‘well’ like that?”

  “Actually, the rumor is that you’re a cold-blooded ice-bitch,” Heather snarked.

  “Hey, now,” I snapped.

  “Aw, your boyfriend’s protective. That’s so adorable!” she crooned, like I was the new puppy. I glared at her.

  “Can we please focus?” Joss growled.

  “Okay, look, there’s someone over here who wants to meet you.”

  “Again, the chill of doom creeps up my spine.”

  “You’ll live,” Heather told her as she led us to another area of the spectators.

  The small group of underclassmen saw us coming, and I saw the exact moment we got close enough for them to recognize us because one of the boys came to attention and stepped ahead of the others, staring straight at Joss. I didn’t like this kid.

  “This is Kenny,” Heather said of the kid who was staring at Joss, “Tim, Chelsea, Alice, Joel, and Raine. They’re sophomores.”

  The girls looked familiar. And no, not ’cause I was scopin’ out the jailbait, but because goth girls stand out a little, you know? Especially the one with the blue lipstick. Raine, I guess. The guys…not so much. I didn’t know them. I wondered how Heather did.

  “How do you know us?” Kenny asked Heather.

  “I know everything.”

  Oh, well, that explained that.

  Joss moved slightly to stand a little behind me. Shy or not, that really wasn’t like her. She was stiff, on alert.