Freaks of Greenfield High Read online

  Did it?

  Duh. Sure it did.

  Jay put her hands behind her back… to the fastening of her bra.

  “Stop right there!” He hunched his shoulders as his shout caromed around the bathroom, rebounding off the walls and ceiling until it seemed to be attacking him from all angles. And damned if the bad-guy part of him was secretly regretful she’d paused and was still clothed. Relatively speaking, of course.

  Hey, he was only human.

  He sucked in a deep, calming breath. Sort of. “What the effing hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I would like to wash this bra,” she said. “It smells of vomit, which I presume will be offensive to those I encounter throughout the day.”

  Lord, give me strength! Shawn would be having a field day with this girl right about now. But Tyler didn’t get the sense she was deliberately using her feminine wiles to try and whip him into a lust-fueled male frenzy. She sounded matter-of-fact, like the consequences of stripping off in front of a guy—in the guys’ bathroom—hadn’t even occurred to her.

  Hot and very, very, naïve. Not a good combo here at Greenfield High.

  He swallowed a few times before he could work up enough saliva moisten his dry mouth and speak actual words. “If you take off your bra, it, ah, won’t look too good if someone walks in on us. Hell, it already doesn’t look too good. Kids talk. Be all over the school in no time flat. You can wear my shirt. It’ll be more, er, comfortable than your wet stuff.”

  Her gaze drifted from his face to the worn, checked flannel shirt he’d discovered shoved in back of his dad’s closet and taken for himself. It was hardly the height of fashion. No surprise his dad had left it behind when he took off.

  She cocked her head to one side. “Why would you give me your shirt?”

  “You can’t wear a wet t-shirt. People will get the wrong idea.”

  Silence.

  She was staring at him, gauging his every reaction minutely. He didn’t mind. He felt warm all over, like his own personal sun had just risen overhead.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I would appreciate your shirt. I do not— I don’t wish to draw attention to myself.”

  “Yeah. Know the feeling.” Tyler shucked the shirt and handed it to Jay, feeling strangely bare despite the faded “Toxic Hazard” t-shirt he still wore. “You wash, uh, whatever you have to wash. And I’ll guard the door—make sure no one wanders in. But make it quick, okay? Our luck won’t hold forever.”

  He turned his back and wedged his hip against the door. He heard the faucets spewing water and the rip of paper towels being yanked from the dispenser. He closed his eyes against the temptation that was Jay, determined not to get all hot and bothered by images of her drool-worthy toned body. Or her pale, blemish-free skin, that didn’t have a single freckle or mole that he could see. His thoughts skittered about like crazy things and finally centered on her face. Specifically, her mouth… and what it would be like to kiss her. What would her lips feel like? Would they be cool and silky smooth, like her skin?

  Someone pushed on the door, yanking Tyler from his fantasies of locking lips and making out with Jay. He braced himself and leaned on it, blocking whoever it was from entering. “Get lost,” he growled, and was relieved to hear the guy swear and head for the second floor bathroom.

  “I’m done,” Jay said, her voice so close to his ear that she had to be standing right behind him.

  He turned. Thankfully, she was decent. So decent, in fact, she looked like a hick. Oh boy. No way could he leave her to the tender mercies of the Greenfield High fashion police. “Uh, can I make a suggestion?”

  “Of course.”

  “You need to undo a few of those top buttons.”

  “Why?”

  “So you don’t look so… so….” He chewed his lip, searching for the right words. Epic fail. “Buttoned up,” he finally said.

  She processed that, nodded, and undid the top two buttons.

  “One more,” he said.

  “Is that truly necessary?”

  “Yeah.” He waited for her to slip the button. “And maybe if you tie the shirttails at your waist.”

  “Show me.”

  He did, and hoped she didn’t notice his hands shaking whenever he brushed the bare skin of her stomach.

  “Better?”

  “Oh yeah.” It came out all hoarse and again he had to fight the flush that threatened to telegraph how much she affected him. He cleared his throat and stepped back. “Much better. As Caro would say, now you’re wearing the clothes, the clothes aren’t wearing you. You’re making a statement.”

  She balled up her wet clothes and sank to her haunches to shove them in a side pocket of her pack. “Caro is your sister, correct?”

  Tyler had caught a flash of white amongst the bundle. He tore his mind away from the realization she was now braless. “Uh, yeah. She and Shawn are kind of an item.”

  She stared up at him, her head cocked to one side in that cute-as way she had. “Why do you feel compelled to tell me this?”

  Why, indeed. Sheesh. He had to quit with this whole blushing thing. It was becoming a habit. “Because she’s my sister. And I don’t want her getting hurt if you make a play for Shawn and he dumps her.”

  Jay straightened in one smooth, graceful movement, and lounged back against the sink, arms crossed over her chest, feet at the ankles. In direct contrast to Shawn’s attempt this morning, Jay owned the pose.

  “Is that the only reason?” she asked.

  His breath hitched. Damn, she was hot.

  And so obviously still waiting for his response. “Okay, okay. You got me. Shawn’s a douche. And you deserve better.”

  “What makes you think I deserve better?”

  He gazed past her, focusing on the graffitied stall doors, carefully choosing his words. “Look. I used to be one of Shawn’s crew. And I was probably a supreme asshole, too. Just like him.” He shrugged. “Goes with the territory. I even had a cheerleader girlfriend. I was a walking cliché until I caught her— Well, anyway. Bad stuff went down and Shawn was in on it. You don’t want to get involved with him. In an ideal world, my sister wouldn’t be involved with him, either. And believe me, you don’t want to get caught in the crossfire if Caro finds out he’s been hitting on you.”

  “You’re concerned I might get hurt, too.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t know me. Why should my wellbeing concern you?”

  Gah! Did the girl not understand guy-talking-to-hot-chick subtext? She was gonna make him come right out and say it.

  But before he could make a complete dumbass of himself, Jay nodded slowly, like she’d finally understood what he was trying not to say.

  He sagged with relief, because once he admitted how he felt about her, there was no taking it back. And if he’d read her wrong, and she wasn’t into him, wasn’t doing anything more than being “nice” to a guy she felt sorry for, he’d be gutted.

  When she didn’t say anything more, he slanted her an assessing glance. But he couldn’t tell what she was thinking at all—not the merest hint.

  Weird.

  Tyler had become pretty good at reading people’s faces. It was a skill he’d perfected, a skill that helped him get by in this clichéd little corner of hell where the jocks and the cheer squad ruled. He knew how to get by without a bunch of peeps to watch his back. He knew when he could get away with mouthing off. Just like he knew when to shut up, suck it up and do a disappearing act. He had it down to a fine art.

  The silence stretched.

  Tyler’s hopes wound tight, strangling him. What was he thinking, falling for a girl he’d just met? Jeez. He was a dumbass. He’d played right into her hands. Any moment now, she’d slink back to Shawn and this whole pathetic little episode would be all over school.

  Except she stayed right where she was, her whole focus on him.

  There was a light in her eyes that made his gut clench—in a good way. When he inhaled, she was standin
g so very close that her scent curled through him. His eyelids drifted closed. And then, layered beneath her fresh, clean smell was something indefinable, something that made his heart clamor. The merest hint of strangeness.

  His eyelids popped open. His gaze locked on hers.

  Those remarkable eyes held his, unblinking. Unwavering.

  He saw it then, got the feeling she deliberately let him see it. Jay had secrets. Just like he did. And he didn’t move at all, not a muscle, as she rose up on tiptoe to press her lips against his.

  The kiss was excruciatingly gentle, a butterfly kiss, the merest brush of her lips against his before she backed off and considered him through narrowed eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

  “That must be painful.” She pressed the pad of her finger to her lips and then stroked it lightly across the spot on his chin.

  She was gone as quickly and noiselessly as she’d come, leaving Tyler’s face glowing from her attentions. And his heart aglow with something else—something he’d never felt for a girl before. Something more than just a little scary.

  Chapter Four

  Jay exited the classroom after last period and allowed herself to be swept up in the rush of kids heading for their lockers to ditch their books.

  Her most challenging lesson today had been learning how best to project mediocrity. Unfortunately, nothing in her construction or programming had prepared her for mediocrity, and she’d come perilously close to standing out from the crowd in second period Mathematics. After observing her classmates’ reactions when she’d voiced but a minute portion of her extensive knowledge, she deemed it prudent to pretend she’d merely made a few lucky guesses. The next time she’d been called upon by the teacher, she’d shrugged and appeared confused. The time after that, she asked the teacher to repeat the question, and then gave an incorrect answer.

  As the day had progressed, she was satisfied she’d gotten the hang of revealing enough knowledge to convince the teachers she was a good student, while convincing her classmates she was not especially gifted.

  An anomaly in the way the crowd was moving demanded her attention, and she spotted a couple of girls standing whispering, forcing students to fan out to avoid them.

  The first girl held herself stiffly, muscles tensed and jaw working. Flags of crimson painted her cheekbones. She had auburn hair cut into a sharp chin-length bob. She wore black leggings and a deep purple scoop-neck tunic, belted at the waist with a gold cord. Her lip tint matched the gold cord. So did her low-heeled sandals. Glued to her side was a girl whose t-shirt was very tight, and whose red shorts were shorter than any other shorts Jay had seen on female student. She dismissed them and opened her locker.

  Purple Tunic Girl marched up to her and said, “First and last warning, sweetie. Keep your paws off my boyfriend.”

  Jay swept her gaze over the girl, analyzing her bone structure, facial features, and mannerisms. “Hello, Caro,” she said, in a pleasant, conversational tone. “I wondered how long it would take you to introduce yourself.”

  Caro’s companion took that statement as a signal to take matters into her own hands. Jay noted the indicators and tensed her stomach muscles in preparation. When the blow came, it was hard enough that if Jay had been a fragile human female, it would have caused a substantial bruise.

  Amidst gasps of “Omigod, did you see that?” from kids who’d witnessed the gesture, Jay heard her attacker inhaling with a hiss that indicated pain. She didn’t bother to verify how badly the girl might have injured her hand. The girl’s pain was not her concern. She was only interested in gauging Caro’s reaction to her friend’s behavior.

  Caro’s jaw sagged. “Vanessa!”

  From the strangled tone of Caro’s voice and her horrified expression, Jay guessed Vanessa’s actions had been unexpected and had greatly shocked her. Apparently Tyler’s sister preferred to intimidate with words rather than actions. That was useful to know. She switched her full attention back to the girl who’d hit her.

  Vanessa flexed her fingers, and as she blinked back tears, Jay noted her pupils were abnormally dilated. Abuse of pharmaceuticals would certainly explain her misplaced aggression. “You should go now,” Jay said to her. “This is none of your concern.”

  The girl’s pink-slicked lips curled into a sneer. “Is that so?”

  Jay dulled the hue of her irises, leaching the color until the intense azure faded to a flat, cold, gun-metal grey. She’d done this before to good effect. She couldn’t permanently alter her eye-color, but she’d discovered that even a brief temporary alteration unnerved people. She took a step toward Vanessa. And another.

  The girl swallowed another whimper, of fear rather than pain this time, and backed off.

  “Hey!” Tyler’s sister grabbed Jay’s arm.

  She remembered just in time she was supposed to be a “normal” girl, and allowed herself to be dragged back to face Caro. Jay wasn’t programmed to remain passive when someone attacked her, but these sharp little impulses flicking beneath her skin, urging her to retaliate, weren’t usual. She ignored them. She wasn’t hurt and nor was she in danger. There was no reason to act on those impulses.

  Caro raked her gaze over Jay’s attire, lingering on the borrowed flannel shirt. A frown puckered her brows, and her eyes narrowed to slits.

  The odds that Caro recognized the shirt were high. It would be interesting to note how she reacted if she realized the shirt was her brother’s, and that he’d loaned it to the new girl who supposedly had designs on Caro’s boyfriend.

  Shawn, too, had surprised Jay with his observational skills. The very next time he’d seen her, he had immediately recognized the shirt and made the connection with Tyler. His lips had flattened into a tight white line and he’d made a derogatory comment about her borrowed attire. As the school day had progressed, Shawn insisted on sitting next to her wherever possible, and would slip disparaging remarks about Tyler into the conversation. Jay had finally realized the remarks were because Shawn was angry at Tyler.

  A knot formed in her stomach at the mere thought of Tyler being harassed by Shawn and his cohorts. Tyler had done nothing wrong. He didn’t deserve to be punished for being kind, and worrying about her wellbeing.

  “I’ll say this in plain English so even you can understand,” Caro said. “Stay away from Shawn, or I’m gonna make you very sorry.”

  Jay didn’t bother responding to Caro’s outlandish claim. But Shawn was another matter, an irritation she would happily be rid of. She’d very politely asked him to please stop bothering her, but apparently Shawn was not intelligent enough to understand her request. And Caro appeared to hold Shawn blameless for his actions, placing the fault squarely on Jay, whose only crime was being the unwilling object of his attention. It made no sense. She had not encouraged Shawn’s attentions. She’d actively discouraged him. Perhaps being completely honest with Caro would bring about the desired result.

  “You have nothing to worry about so far as Shawn is concerned,” she said. “I have no interest in him. In fact, after suffering his attentions at the office this morning, and during three classes today, I find myself in total agreement with your brother. Shawn is a douche. And you deserve better.”

  Caro blinked at her. Her lips twitched. “Speaking of my brother, I heard what happened in Bio. Thanks for looking out for him.”

  They were statements, not questions, so Jay remained silent.

  “He loaned you his shirt, didn’t he?” Caro probed.

  Jay didn’t see any reason to prevaricate. “Yes. I washed out my t-shirt and he was concerned about me wearing a wet top. It was very kind of him to loan me his shirt.”

  “Yep. Sounds like Tyler, all right—the whole give you the shirt off his back thing, I mean. Hey, it looks way better on you than it did on him, anyway.”

  Jay glanced down at her shirtfront. “Thank you. Tyler tied the shirt in this fashion. He seemed to think it looked more attractive this way.”

  Caro’s l
ip-twitching became more pronounced. If she wasn’t careful, it might morph into a smile.

  Behind Jay, Vanessa gave a strangled-sounding gargle, and took advantage of Jay’s apparent inattention to grab a handful of her hair.

  “Cat-fight!” someone yelled.

  The kids milling around in the corridor found a common purpose. They pushed and shoved, trying to get closer so they didn’t miss out on the promised entertainment.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Vanessa?” Caro squawked, and then turned to elbow someone who’d jostled her. “Hey! Back off, jerk-face!”