“Are you going somewhere?” By the look on her face, I have a feeling I should have told her sooner.
“Out with the girls. We got invited to watch a movie at Winn’s house. A bunch of people will be there, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” Not that she won’t. Even though I begged her to stop, she’ll totally spy on me.
“It’s not a good idea, considering what happened this afternoon.”
I put on my best pout. “But you said it was nothing. I’m not using the bridge door, and he’s probably long gone in that fancy car of his. He definitely didn’t live anywhere around here—probably not anywhere in Iowa.”
One of her eyebrows arches. That was so not the right thing to say. “Strange that he would drive all the way here, then, just to ask for your mother. Who was murdered. By the darkest of magic. Without so much as a clue to who is responsible.”
She has a point, but this is Winn we’re talking about. I won’t back down so easily. “Nana, is he dangerous or not? Two and a half hours ago you said he was nothing to worry about, and now you won’t let me go out the Main Street door because of him? I have a feeling you’re not telling me something.”
Gwen’s horn sounds from outside.
Nana sighs. “If you see him again, you are to come straight home. By any means necessary.”
I give her a hug. “Thank you! Love you!”
I’m out the door before she can change her mind. Gwen honks her horn three more times, though she can see me walking down the path. The Main Street house is much like the one under the bridge, except without the ambiance. No stained glass. No cobwebs. Just a perfectly manicured lawn and a white picket fence that blends in flawlessly with the rest of our sleepy old town.
“Hurry up!” Gwen calls from the window of her giant, decrepit truck. She inherited it when her dad got a new one, mostly because he was tired of driving her from the farm to work at the town deli. Since Kat and I are woefully devoid of transportation, Gwen’s truck is the best we have.
“Where are we eating?” I squeeze in next to Kat, who rounds out our trio with her indifference and constant, endearing grouchiness. If it weren’t for her, I’m pretty sure Gwen and I would fight all the time. Kat makes sure we know when we’re being stupid.
“Marcello’s,” Gwen says. “According to Winn.”
I lean my head back, unable to restrain my smile. Winn Carter is by far the cutest guy in our grade. It’s practically mandatory for every girl in town to have at least a little crush on him. He is so gorgeous he had an older girlfriend, Chelsea Marlowe, who broke up with him when she went to college. This has been the first time anyone else has had a chance, and yet he hasn’t made a move on anyone all year. Until me. Of all people.
“You have no idea how happy I am right now.”
Gwen flips her blond hair. “You better be! It’s about time you two take it up a notch. We need some official coupling around here. Tonight is the night!”
We both squeal.
“Oh, for the love,” Kat says. But she’s smiling, so Gwen goes on.
“That is not even the best part, honey.” Gwen rummages around in her purse and soon produces a piece of familiar yellow paper—an order slip from the deli. “Here.”
I take it from her and read it. Then read it again. And again just to make sure. “This really is the best night of my life.”
Kat rolls her eyes. “What does it say?”
“‘For Jo,’ with his phone number and ‘Call me anytime.’” He’s tried to give it to me before, but Nana always gets in the way. I still haven’t forgiven her for the time she made me throw up when he asked for my number. I barely missed his shoes.
“Whoa.” Kat takes it from me, her mild interest saying everything. “This is big.”
“So big!” Gwen laughs.
“I know.” Suddenly I feel fluttery all over. I can’t help but fear what Nana might do if he tries to make a move. She could curse him blind if he puts his arm around me. What if she strikes me down for holding his hand?
“Are you gonna barf?” Kat asks.
I shake my head, searching for a plausible cover. “Okay, kind of freaking out now. What am I supposed to do? Do you think he’ll try something? I’m not exactly, uh, well versed in that stuff.”
Gwen shrugs. “Just do what you’ve been doing. It’s obviously working.”
“But I haven’t been doing anything!”
“Then don’t do anything, duh,” Kat says. “It’s called being yourself.”
I whimper. “Why does that seem so hard all of a sudden?”
“Stop it.” Gwen parks in front of Marcello’s, the only pizza place for thirty miles. “Josephine Hemlock, you are arguably the hottest girl in school now—”
“Believe me, we’re just as surprised as everyone else.” Kat pushes her long bangs to the side. “A year ago you were the ugly one of the group.”
“Shut up!” I laugh.
“Don’t interrupt my pep talk!” Gwen shoves Kat. “As I was saying, you will go in there and be your ridiculously charming, beautiful self. Winn will finally confess his undying love for you, and you will be official by the end of the night.”
I cover my face, trying to calm my nerves.
“And then me and Kat will get dates, too, because Winn’s friends will be around us so much that they’ll realize how amazing we are.”
“There’s the real motivation!” I say. “Gwendolyn, you’re evil.”
“I don’t want a boyfriend,” Kat says. “Guys are idiots.”
Gwen gets out of the truck, and we follow. “Whatever. Idiots or not, you know you want one. Someone nice and jaded who can share your negative view of the world.”
“That could be refreshing. I hate being the only practical one around here.” Kat opens the restaurant door, and it dings. The place is fairly busy, being Friday and all. There are only three restaurants in town—Marcello’s, the deli, and the Lucky Star diner. There’s also a bar, but it’s hard to sneak in when everyone knows you.
“Jo! Over here!” Winn calls.
My face flushes as I follow the voice. There he is, his perfect smile in place. Lots of things make Winn attractive—the hardworking farmer-boy build, the dusty blond hair that curls by his ears, the stormy blue eyes—but it’s his smile that gets me. His mouth. It sounds dirty, but he has an incredible mouth.
All I did the first month sitting next to him in art was try not to stare too much at his lips. But the way they pursed when he concentrated . . . I still get fluttery when I think about it. Then one day, we had to draw a display our teacher put up. It was a family of ceramic frogs.
Yes. Frogs. With red eyes.
“The one on the right looks like it wants to kill us all,” I said under my breath, but not quietly enough, because Winn heard and laughed.
“That smile definitely means he’s up to something,” he said. “Frogs don’t smile unless they have diabolical plans.”
I nodded. “World domination, probably.”
“For sure.”
“All hail our demon-eyed overlords.”
We both busted up, so much so that we almost got in trouble because we couldn’t stop laughing. Winn drew one of his frogs with an army helmet, and it was over. My little crush was a full-blown he-is-the-most-awesome-guy-ever-born obsession. And by some miracle we’ve been friends ever since, building into whatever we are now.
I manage to wave at him. Gwen has to nudge me to get my feet moving, and then we’re at their table. Winn stands. “Hey.”
“Hey, uh, glad your face is . . .” I stop. Of all the things I could have said, why am I starting with the pimple attack? Get it together, Jo.
He cringes. “Oh, yeah. Must have been some kind of allergic reaction, because it disappeared as soon as I got home. Weird, huh.”