Rest in Pieces (Barbie: The Vampire Hunter Book 1) Page 6

  Watching me, Maverick reached behind him and unlocked the car. As he did so, he released a breath. “I think you’re mistaken,” he said. “Your bitch certainly isn’t inside. She’s right out there for everyone to see.” The door was open and my feet were on the cold hard pavement in less than a second. I slammed the door behind me and turned towards the school.

  I didn’t give a shit what he thought, I decided. He could think whatever the hell he wanted. I wasn’t here to play family. I wasn’t here to steal his parents’ affections or money—though considering how much money Beth had been able to spend on me the day before and not even bat an eyelash, it was obvious they were loaded … so, perhaps, he had some reason to be worried about them. They did seem the type of people to be willing to help out complete strangers. Hell, they took me in.

  I resettled my backpack on my shoulder and headed into the school via the side entrance. It didn’t matter if Maverick might have been an ass out of some unnecessary fear that I was using his family. He was still an ass and I wouldn’t be around for long.

  Seven

  Barbie

  Between my lack of coffee and my rough morning with Maverick’s sterling conversationalism, I decided that avoiding the general school populace—at least as much as I could for the day—was preferable as I holed myself up in the one place I knew well enough. The library.

  Even though it was impossibly early to be in the school building, the librarian didn’t bat an eyelash as I pushed through the doors. In fact, she didn’t even concern herself enough to lift her head from her computer as she typed rapidly across her keyboard, her attention glued to the screen.

  I ignored her presence as well as she ignored mine, snatching a book from one of the historical shelves and falling onto one of the lounge couches. I slid my backpack to the floor and cracked open the volume in my hands—an illustrated biography about Alexander the Great—as I tried to delve my mind into something other than my circumstances.

  I tried, and I failed. Miserably.

  Within minutes, I scoffed in disgust as I set the volume down on the end table. Wasted rubbish, I thought. My mom would have been appalled that the book had even been published much less that it was in a high school library. There were, to count, at least five inaccuracies within the first couple of chapters. No doubt there would have been more had I cared to continue reading.

  I closed my eyes against the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. Sleep was something I desperately needed, but even I knew well enough not to sleep out in the open. Not where I could be vulnerable. Sometimes, I missed the innocent days where I hadn’t truly believed my parents’ claims. I missed sleeping well at night. I missed closing my eyes and not seeing their faces staring back at me. As soon as that thought crept up, however, the image appeared.

  With a scowl, my eyes popped open to dispel it and I nearly leapt from the couch when twin orbs of moss green hovered above me. “Can I help you?” I snapped, jerking up from the couch and whirling around.

  How the hell had he snuck up on me? I thought, casting a glance to where the librarian had been minutes before. She was gone now, but I could still see her shadow move beyond the wall of windows just behind the counter where I suspected her office was.

  Torin Priest stood just on the other side of the couch, a small wry grin on his lips as his eyes traveled the length of me, coming back to my face as his mouth stretched even wider. My scowl deepened. “You looked tired,” he said, “but I didn’t think you’d appreciate being caught sleeping here by Mrs. Bates. She doesn’t take kindly to students who fall asleep on the library furniture. I was going to wake you up.” He rounded the side of the couch, coming closer.

  I shook my head, narrowing my glare on him. “Mrs. Who?”

  Torin tipped his head back, gesturing lazily to the where the librarian moved about behind the shades that separated her from us. “Mrs. Bates,” he repeated.

  The intensity of my focus lessened as my brows furrowed. “I wasn’t sleeping,” I clarified. He leaned back on his heels with his hands stuffed, nonchalantly, into his front jeans pockets. I eyed him speculatively. When he didn’t respond, I spoke again, unable to help myself from poking the proverbial bear. I didn’t care what that girl, Janessa, had said. “Do you usually make a habit of watching people so closely?” I asked, waving a hand to the couch between us where—just moments before—I had been sitting.

  He shrugs. “Not usually.”

  “Oh, so I’m special then?” I pursed my lips.

  He chuckled and the sound rooted me to the spot. It was low and masculine, sliding over my ears like audible chocolate. My scowl returned full force even as he said, “Everyone’s special in their own way. But no, it wasn’t particularly because you were”—he eyed me with interest—“special,” he finished.

  Bending down, I retrieved my backpack and slung it over my shoulders. “Right.” I took a step to the side, as far from him as I could get between the couch and the table. “Well, perhaps I should take my not-particularly-special ass elsewhere.” I scooted by, our chests nearly touching. That same shock of electricity I felt near him before hit me square in the gut, bouncing around like a ball of energy beneath my skin until I clasped a hand over my abdomen, hoping to quell it. The scent of cool spice radiated off his skin, making my knuckles tighten on my bag strap as I peeked up at him.

  My mouth went dry at the intensity of his gaze. Complete and utter focus. His eyes were sharper than any I’d ever seen. That look made me feel stripped bare—it made me want to strip him bare. I quickly hurried to get away. “Don’t leave on my account,” he called after me, making me pause. “Not-particularly-special girls are welcome in the library any time they want.”

  “Remember that time when I asked for your opinion?” I threw back. “Oh wait, I didn’t.” I turned to go.

  “Aren’t you a fun little ray of sarcasm and bitchiness,” he commented.

  It was the second time in less than an hour that someone had called me a bitch. Coming from Maverick McKnight, it had been annoying. Coming from Torin Priest, it made me feel almost amused. My lips curled back and I continued for the library doors. “Is there a reason for you to be such an ass?” I called over my shoulder.

  “Everyone has to excel at something, right?” he replied. I rolled my eyes as I shouldered my way out of the library and another one of those quiet laughs echoed at my back.

  To keep from looking like I was two seconds from murdering the next person to talk to me, I took my time before heading to class. I walked the halls, pulling out my schedule and glancing over the room numbers listed. I found where each of my classes were located and memorized their locations before the first bell rang. Knowing where everything was made me feel more confident in my ability to navigate the whole concept of school. But as I showed up to my homeroom at the first bell, despite the fact that the class was barely even half full, a new feeling of anxiety crept into my chest.

  St. Marion must not have gotten many new students because everywhere I went, it seemed as though people were staring. I adjusted my backpack on my shoulder and took a seat towards the back of the classroom, alongside the row of windows that overlooked the football field. Dropping my bag at my feet and kicking it beneath the desk, I folded my arms over my chest and turned my cheek, away from the lingering whispers hidden behind obvious hands. The early morning sun rose higher and higher into the sky, and I wished I could be done with school and get back to what I really needed to be focused on. Training and hunting.

  Unfortunately, my desire to have the day end only made it drag by. By fourth period, nothing had really changed. People still stared. No one had talked to me. And almost everyone I passed on my way to lunch watched me with curious eyes. There were more whispers, and still, no one said a damn word to my face. It was beginning to grate on my nerves. So much so that I worried the first person that decided to be brave enough to talk to me was going to get a mouthful of my fist.

  Though that didn’t happen exactly
the way I had expected, I didn’t have to wait much longer for someone to approach.

  I sat at an empty table with a tray of what the lunch lady had deemed pizza and fruit salad. It looked more like a triangle of cardboard with tomato sauce on it and a cup of peaches, but I doubted complaining would get me anything better. Though to be honest, for a private school, I was surprised. I took one bite of the almost pizza before giving up and pushing the tray away. No sooner had I done that and a shadow fell over me.

  I looked up into crystal blue eyes, surrounded by dark smoky lashes set in a sharp angular face that was startling in its difference, though not unattractive. The girl cocked her hip against the table and stared down at me, pursing her lips as if she were trying to solve a rather difficult puzzle in her head. I blinked blandly back at her and waited. I had almost gotten to the count of thirty by the time she finally spoke.

  “So, you’re the charity case Maverick’s family took in,” she said. I tilted my head to the side and continued waiting. The girl flipped a lock of dirty blonde hair over one shoulder and folded her arms across her chest, pushing her breasts up until they strained against the top button of her low cut shirt. “Nothing to say?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “You didn’t ask a question,” I pointed out.

  Her lips turned down as if that hadn’t been the answer she expected. “Well, I just came to warn you,” she huffed.

  I licked my lips, reaching for my bag and slinging it over my shoulder as I slowly rose from my seat. “Oh? About what?” I asked. In my periphery, I could see that we had caught the majority of the cafeteria’s attention. Including Maverick, himself, as he sat several tables away with what appeared to be a collection of bulky athletes. The football team, I presumed. I returned my attention to the girl before me.

  “Not to expect special treatment or anything, of course,” she said, casting me a smug look. “Trash like you is obviously low on the totem pole here. Haven’t you noticed how you haven’t made any friends yet? That no one has even bothered to talk to the new girl?”

  I had noticed. But at the same time, I also didn’t really give a shit. I shrugged again. “So? What’s your point?”

  The corners of her lips tightened. “Anytime we get someone new, they try to wheedle their way into the cliques and find their place in the school’s hierarchy,” she continued. “But that’s different with you. You’re not here because your parents moved into town and took a high-paying job. They’re not doctors or lawyers or government officials. You’re just a hanger-on, clutching at a family who’s been going to this school for generations. I wanted to make it clear that you shouldn’t try anything. Trash like you has no place here. We don’t care where you came from or why you’re here. St. Marion is for people serious about their futures. And just looking at you,”—she paused to glance over me—“it’s a little obvious you don’t have one. Not here, especially.”

  “Okay.” I cracked my neck and stepped around her.

  A gasp of outrage followed me. “That’s all you have to say to me?” she snapped.

  I stopped and looked back at her over my shoulder. “I don’t want a clique, and I don’t really care what you think of me,” I replied. “In fact, this whole conversation has been a waste of my time. Feel free to say whatever you want if it makes you feel better. Bye.”

  I started forward only to slow and turn back as she began to laugh. With a weary sigh, I pivoted and stared at her with my hands on my hips. The girl giggled uncontrollably, one hand pressing against her stomach as if she could hardly contain herself. While the other hand wiped at the tears leaking from her eyes. I noted how not a single streak of black remained on her cheek.

  It was obvious she had more to say and the entire room appeared to be centered on our exchange. Beyond her, though, something caught my attention—or rather, someone. Torin Priest stood with his back against the wall, other guys on either side of him, though none were as tall as he was. When he saw me looking, he smiled—his teeth white even in his pale face. My lips twisted as I jerked my gaze back to the bitch in front of me.

  “—scared? I bet you think because you landed in the same house as Maverick McKnight, you’re a princess in the making,” she finished saying.

  I shook my head. I had no clue what she’d started with, but I knew one thing for sure. There was no way a little girl like this could scare me. “Nope.” I popped the end of the word with casual indifference. “I didn’t know who Maverick was before I moved here and I didn’t care and guess what, I still don’t care.”

  “Oh really?” She smirked. “Pretty defensive for a girl who says she doesn’t care.”

  I shrugged. “Not really, bobblehead bitches like you just annoy me.”

  She stopped laughing. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Her growl reminded me of a chihuahua. I could suddenly picture her as one of those yippy little lap dogs. I fought against a grin as I pictured her shaking so bad she pissed herself.

  “You know,” I said, “bobbleheads are only good for one thing.”

  “Oh and what’s that?” she said, clearly daring me to continue.

  “Sucking dick,” I deadpanned.

  I could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.

  “You’re going to regret that,” she grated out through clenched teeth.

  “Hey,” I said, backing up another step with my hands raised, “you were the one that came to me. I don’t even know you.”

  “My name is Rachel Harris, you cunt, and I promise you’re gonna wish you’d never come to St. Marion.”

  “I said I didn’t know you,” I sighed. “Not that I wanted to know you. I don’t care what your name is, bobblehead, and I also don’t care about your threats. You picked the fight, not me. I don’t start fights, I just finish them.”

  With that, I pivoted once more and walked away, leaving the chick—Rachel—fuming as I strode right by Maverick’s table and out the doors just as the bell rang to signal the end of lunch.

  Today was turning out to be a great first day of public school.

  Eight

  Barbie

  “How was school?” Beth asked as we sat down for dinner.

  “Riveting,” I replied dryly. Maverick shot me a look of disdain that I promptly ignored. Beth either didn’t hear the sarcasm in my voice or she made the intelligent choice to ignore it because she nodded and dug into her pasta.

  “When’s your next game?” Jon asked, looking to Maverick.

  “It’s this Friday,” he answered. “There’s a party afterwards too, so I’ll probably be out or stay at one of the guys.’”

  Jon was a man of few words. He nodded and then followed Beth’s example, shoveling a forkful of pasta into his mouth. I ate slowly, watching the three of them with a heart full of lead. I could picture Brandon in Maverick’s spot. My mom in Beth’s and my dad in Jon’s. I felt like I’d somehow been cut from my old life and dropped into someone else’s. Lucky Barbie.

  I ate without really tasting anything. Jon was the first to finish and then Maverick. They both got up and returned their plates to the kitchen before heading off in their respective directions. Thankful to be alone with the woman I wanted to talk to, I set my fork down and turned in my seat.

  I cleared my throat. “Um … so, Beth?”

  “Yes?” She looked up from her plate and reached for a napkin to dab at the corner of her mouth where a drop of sauce had fallen.

  “I was wondering if it’d be okay if I went out this Friday too,” I said.

  “Did you want to go to the party with Maverick?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I lied, “but I probably won’t be hanging out with him. I met some people in school today and I just thought…” I let the insinuation trail off. It wasn’t a complete lie. I had met new people in school today.

  “That’s wonderful.” She beamed at me. “I’m glad to hear you’re settling in. Of course you can go. Oh, that reminds me—” Beth paused and set her utensils down, getting up fr
om the table and disappearing into the living room before she came back carrying her purse. “I went and picked this up at the store today.” She pulled out a cell phone complete with a pink and black case and set it down in front of me. “It’s on our family plan so you have unlimited calls and text messages. Just be careful using the data, we don’t usually run out, but between you and me,” she looked over her shoulder as she lowered her voice, “I know I use a lot of it. I don’t know if it’s a girl thing or just me.” She shrugged.

  I looked down at the phone, shocked. My finger crept onto the table and brushed against the edge of it. “I’ve never had a cellphone before,” I admitted.

  Her eyes widened. “Delvina and Peter never…”

  I shook my head. “No, they didn’t see the point since we were homeschooled.”

  “Oh.” Beth sucked in a breath and blew it out. “Well, this is just if you want it then,” she said. “I think it’ll be safer, though, for you to take it if you’ll be going out. I’ve already programmed Maverick and Jon’s numbers in there, as well as mine.”

  “Thanks, Beth.” I meant it. I picked up the phone and turned it over in my grasp. “I appreciate it.”

  Another mega-watt Beth smile flashed my way. “It’s nothing,” she replied, returning her attention to the last of her food.

  I bit the edge of my tongue. “There’s something else I wanted to ask too.” Chewing, Beth lifted her head once again. “I know you said you were thinking about getting me a car, but I don’t really need one of my own. I was just wondering, however, if you wouldn’t mind letting me borrow—”