Spark

CHAPTER 34

Layne had never been a clock-watcher in class. Now it seemed every class took sixteen hours, the minutes ticking by until she could see Gabriel.

She still couldn’t sort her feelings about him. Anger, at what had happened? She had no idea whether that was his fault. Curiosity? Absolutely. Intrigue, for certain.

Fury. Fear.

Desire. Longing.

All of it.

This morning had been torture. She’d woken before sunrise, as usual. Her hands had gone immediately to her side, seeking the familiar foreign texture, sure she’d dreamed that part.

Nope. The scars were still gone.

How?

She couldn’t go to the farm—the surviving horses had already been trailered to another facility ten miles away for the time being. She couldn’t call Gabriel, not with her father still monitoring her cell phone every minute. He was already on edge enough from Simon’s black eye.

It had taken every ounce of Layne’s restraint to keep her mouth shut—instead of reminding her father that she’d suggested they go to the game. That if they’d been there, Simon could have just walked out with them, instead of relying on some other kid to drop him at home after god-knew-what happened. Simon wouldn’t have had a black eye—and he wouldn’t have had a reason to lock himself in his room without explaining it.

But now, finally, the bell was ringing, signaling the end of second period.

Layne bolted for math class.

And Gabriel’s seat, of course, was empty.

She stood there in the doorway, dismayed. Had he been hurt yesterday, and she just didn’t know about it?

Or maybe this was intentional. Maybe he’d ditched class.

Maybe he didn’t want to see her.

Her hands curled into fists. Disappointment felt just as crushing as the fury that had her pressing fingernails into her palms. As usual, she wanted to hit him and hug him at the same time.

If only he’d show up.

“Layne.”

She spun around, hands still clenched, ready to swing.

Gabriel caught her wrists, his fingers gentle through the sleeves of her turtleneck.

But then he just held her there. He didn’t push her away—or pull her closer. His voice was rough, low, just for her. “Don’t hit me.”

She stared up into his blue eyes, so close and full of emotion.

It took a minute to find her voice. Six billion questions had been rattling around her head all morning, and now all she could manage was, “Why?”

Gabriel winced, almost imperceptibly. “Well, at least wait until after school. Then you can beat the crap out of me if you want.” His hands slipped free, releasing her. “Fighting in class is an automatic one-day suspension.”

She swallowed. Now that he stood right in front of her, she was terrified to ask.

No, she was terrified of the answers.

Students were pushing through the doorway. Gabriel moved fractionally closer. “You all right?”

Layne kept flashing on that moment on the hill when the sunlight had danced along her skin, and Gabriel had kissed a path across her stomach, stealing her breath and her fears and making her feel perfect for the first time.

And then her sanctuary—their sanctuary—had gone up in smoke.

She pulled his lighter out of her pocket and held it out. “I think I need you to tell me.”

A panicked look crossed his face. He snatched it out of her hand and slid it into his pocket. And then he was even closer, leaning in to speak right to her ear. “Getting caught with one of those is an automatic suspension, too.”

His breath tickled her neck. She shivered.

Focus.

“Truth?” he whispered.

She nodded. “I want to know everything.”

The second bell rang, and Layne jerked back. Her heart was in her throat.

“Free period?” he said.

“Yeah,” she choked.

Then Ms. Anderson was coming through the door, urging them to their seats, calling the class to order.

Layne did the six questions of the warm-up automatically, grateful for the distraction, for the need to keep her eyes on her paper.

A folded piece of notebook paper landed in the crease of her textbook. Layne unfolded it under the edge of her desk.

Are you afraid of me?

The breath poured out of her lungs in a rush.

Then she put her pencil to the paper.

A little.

She watched his face as he unrolled her note. No regret, no disappointment. Just flat acceptance.

With a little spark of challenge.

Layne’s palms were sweating on the pencil. She scraped them across her knees.

All of a sudden, she couldn’t wait for that free period.

The intercom over the chalkboard crackled to life. “Ms. Anderson?”

“Yes?”

“Could you please send Gabriel Merrick to the guidance office?”

Just about everyone in the classroom turned to stare at him—including Layne.

“Are you in trouble?” she whispered.

He shrugged and shoved his math book into his backpack. “I have no idea.”

Then he swung out of his chair and moved down the aisle. He was gone before she noticed the new fold of paper tucked beneath the corner of her notebook.

Truth: don’t be.

Gabriel walked down the silent halls, his shoulders hunched, his backpack a dead weight.

The guidance office? If you were in trouble, they called you to the principal’s office. He knew that routine by heart.

The guidance office called if there was a college recruiter here for an interview—and that had happened exactly zero times in Gabriel’s high school career. The guidance office called if you were involved in an altercation with another student, and Vickers thought you could talk it out—but that wasn’t something they’d call you out of class for.

Then he remembered the first week of school, when Allison Montgomery had been called to the guidance office during chemistry. Her father had been killed in a car crash.

Nick. His heart stopped in his chest.

But then it kicked back into action. Nick was here, at school. If something serious had happened, Gabriel would have heard about it. Same with Chris.

Michael.

But if something had happened to his older brother, wouldn’t he be running into Chris and Nick in the halls, right this very second?

Then he remembered what had happened last night. Gabriel had no idea whether Ryan had made it to school today, but he remembered the way they’d found Simon in the girls’ locker room. The way the poor kid had had the crap kicked out of him.

Maybe this had nothing to do with Gabriel at all.

He pushed through the double doors into the main office. Completely empty. No secretary behind the desk, no students waiting on the bench outside the principal’s office.

Weird.

But he shoved through the swinging door into the guidance area. The school worked hard to make it look welcoming: a red and blue shag rug covered the tile, and four plush armchairs lined the back wall.

The five policemen standing there killed the welcoming vibe.

Gabriel stopped short. He actually felt the blood drain from his face. Didn’t they send cops to tell you something bad had happened to your family?

He couldn’t even remember the last words he’d said to his older brother.

And where were Chris and Nick?

Fear had his chest in a vise grip. He had no idea how his legs were holding him.

Ms. Vickers was standing in front of her closed office door. She looked as pale as he felt. “Gabriel?”

He’d never seen Vickers look rattled. His mouth was dry. “Yeah.”

One of the cops stepped forward. He was the oldest of the five, probably in his late forties with salt-and-pepper hair. “Gabriel Merrick?”

“Yeah. Yes.” His voice cracked. He could barely get the words out.

“Could you set the bag down, please?”

The backpack? It hit the floor with a thunk. “What happened?”

The officer took another step forward. “You’re under arrest.”