“You sure?”
She gave her a smile. “I’ll text you later.”
Penny shrugged and walked away.
“That’s not Penny.” Selena spoke to the floor.
“How can you be so sure?” Kyle asked.
“In the years we’ve known Penny, when did she ever act less than peppy?”
Chapter Thirty
Selena
Sparks, Fireworks, and Emotional Collisions
On the bus, I sat in the furthest corner of the last row. A dull ache thumped behind my eyes. The breeze from the open window ruffled my wild hair and cooled my flushed cheeks. It didn’t bring the comfort I needed. I pressed my temple against the glass and half-listened to Dillan and Kyle discussing comic books, of all things.
What had happened today didn’t make any sense. I was with Penny at the Presidential Trail. We’d locked arms. We’d walked together. When she darted into the forest, I went after her, but the deeper I got the farther she pulled away from me until she completely disappeared. Then Dillan and I were attacked by needles. I told him Gramps taught me to suck out the poison from his wound, but actually, the voice in my head instructed me on what to do. I acted before thinking. Then Dillan used his sword to heal his wound. I was more confused now than ever. What was happening with my life?
Kyle was no help when I asked him about Penny during the program. He kept telling me to shut up because he didn’t want to miss anything from the documentary about the construction of Mt. Rushmore. Dillan had little to add. He and Kyle had gone on ahead when Penny suggested we’d take it slow. So really, I’d been the only one with her. My head reeled into a dead end.
I bit down hard and shut my eyes, listening to my breathing. Huffs. Puffs. And deep sighs. My foot tapped on the seat in front of me.
I didn’t want to think anymore.
…
At Newcastle High’s parking lot, our class listened to Mr. Sloan’s final announcements before filing out of the bus. Each step I took felt like a ton—a pound for every question swirling inside me. Once we were all on the pavement, Kyle started for his Prius.
“Hitch a ride home?” he asked me over his shoulder.
His offer stopped my mindless progress so abruptly that Dillan rammed into me. I stumbled a step and mumbled a vague apology to him, which he didn’t respond to.
“I’ll take her,” he said from behind me.
Kyle fished out his keys and unlocked his car. “With Mr. Sloan?”
I looked over my shoulder and caught Dillan’s grin. “I have my own ride.”
The casual exchange flew over my head. For the first time in my life, I was truly angry with Kyle. He was hiding things. Possibly things that could get me killed. What kind of a friend did that?
Not willing to take his crap anymore, I had two choices: walk to the diner and wait for Grams’s shift to end or catch a ride with Dillan. I was exhausted, so there was only one choice.
“You have a car?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Just got it back yesterday actually.”
My so-called best friend frowned before he said, “Fine, take her home. Call you later?”
I didn’t answer him. The sadness in his eyes mirrored my own. His lips disappeared into a thin line, like he kept what he wanted to say prisoner. After today, I didn’t have the strength to fix what was broken between us. I needed time. I turned away from him and let Dillan take my backpack. I followed him to the other end of the parking lot.
“What do you mean just got it back?” I asked, trying to keep up with Dillan’s ground-eating strides.
“I left it in Budapest when I was…sent here. It takes a while to bring a car overseas.”
I accepted his explanation with a slight shrug.
Taken unaware, my heart sputtered the second a dark gray Mustang with black racing stripes running from its hood to its rear came into view. Now I understood why he’d bring that car anywhere. Hell, I’d never let that car out of my sight if I owned it.
“That’s a…” My voice broke.
Dillan stopped by the driver’s side and took out his keys from his back pocket. “A ‘68 Shelby GT500,” he said casually. In short, a very, very nice, classic muscle car. If a vehicle could be a person, the GT would be Dillan all the way—all hard lines and handsome finish.
He opened the door and threw his bag and mine into the back seat. “It’s fine to come near the car, you know. It won’t bite.”
I shut my mouth and took tentative steps toward the car. I grew up with Gramps talking nonstop about this car. He’d dreamed about a ‘68 Shelby GT500 since before I was born. He said he just needed to get lucky at the junkyard and he’d devote everything to restore it. Gramps’s fantasy car—in all its gleaming glory—sat patiently in a high school parking lot. It looked so out of place among the trucks. But that was what Dillan was. He seemed out of place in this little town I called home.
He opened the door for me with an impassive expression. Oh, but he couldn’t fool me. I knew very well that he gloated inside. He had the right to. I’d be gloating aloud if I were him. I slid into the plush black leather seat and ran my hands over every surface I could touch after buckling my seatbelt. Awe, like a slow burning fuse, spread all over my body. My fingertips sizzled. It was one thing to hear Gramps talk and completely another to actually sit inside the fantasy.
“Should I give you two some time alone?”
“What?”
His smile gave me unexpected quivers. “Stop molesting my car.”
“I wasn’t—”
The engine roared to life with a twist of his wrist.
Pummeling my annoyance into submission, I focused on the sweet ride. “Is this a GT500KR?”
“Yup.” He nodded. “Under the hood is a 428 cubic-inch fully restored Cobra Jet V8.” He shifted to third gear when we reached the edge of town.
“That’s 335 horsepower,” I purred. In garage speak it meant the car was a beast on the road. I sighed. “The universe is so cruel.”
He took his eyes off the road for a second to look at me. “You know your cars.”
“I really don’t. This is the only one I know about because Gramps is a mechanic. He knows his cars. And we happen to be sitting in one he’s been dreaming about since forever.” I ran my hand over the dashboard. “How did you get a car like this?”
“Long story short, I had nothing else to do in Italy a couple of years ago—”
“What, no scary things to kill?”
“After seeing the sights, I found this baby in a scrapyard and started putting it together to pass the time.”
“Everything on the Internet about you, is it true?”
“Nothing like a fake life to hide the real one.” He snorted.
I shook my head in disbelief. “Yup, the universe is cruel.”
“Stop saying that.”
“What are you…sixteen?”
“Seventeen,” he corrected.
“Right.” I suppressed a grin. Knew he was older. “I’m turning seventeen in November. Only months apart and already you’ve experienced more than I have.”
“You make experience sound dirty.” He chuckled. “You’re not going to mention that Taylor Swift thing again are you?”
“There’s that.” I ticked off points on my fingers. “You belong to a famous family. You look the way you do. You can handle a sword like nobody’s business. You’re smart. And you own an awesome car.”
“If you continue, I’m going to think you like me.”
A roaring blush exploded on my face. “I’m not finished.”
“There’s more?”
“I’m just glad you’re a jerk and your arrogance is annoying.” I faced him and smiled, my teeth showing. “Those are your only redeeming qualities.”