Standing for Weirdo

Chapter 35

The next day, I could have sworn I had a couple of letters tattooed on the side of my face from sleeping on the keyboard. My neck hurt like crazy and my mood was cranky to match. When Stella asked me about the weird phone call I'd made, I dismissed the comment with little more than a growl. I didn't want to tell her the truth, but I couldn't put an excuse together either because sleep deprivation was killing me.

My only consolation, if it could be called so, was that Trevor was in the same shape—which probably fed the rumor mill about why we both were wearing identical zombie expressions, but I couldn't care less at this point. We made an effort to keep conversation normal during lunch, but scurried away as soon as Alex and Stella became engrossed in their own discussion about the merits of advanced trig.

I guided Trevor toward the lockers and looked guiltily at him.

"Let's skip," I said.

He arched an eyebrow. "Don't you have something important after lunch?"

"Not important enough." My tone made him frown, flippancy replaced with worry

"What have you found out?" He kept his voice low.

"I'll tell you on the way to the library."

After we picked up our stuff and cleared the school building with as much nonchalance as we could muster, we walked a little way in silence before I dropped the bomb on him.

"I found a ghost story."

He didn't laugh at me. "What did it say?"

"That's the frustrating part. There's a ghost story about a Beatrice Nightray in a manor in Derbyshire, wherever that might be, but not many details."

"Details you're hoping to find in the library." He didn't phrase it as a question, but I nodded anyway.

"The stories are old, so perhaps they forgot to add them to Internet."

"What are we going to do if we do find those details? Exorcise me?" Trevor tried to keep his voice light, but worry and a hint of fear slipped a slight tremor into his voice.

"That's for demons."

"No turning my head around in full circle, then."

"No." I sighed. I didn't say that it could be just as dangerous, from what it was doing to him. "We'll worry about it later," I said instead, giving him my bravest smile. "One step at a time."

We arrived at the library and Trevor stopped me before I could slip inside. He hugged me, his face buried against my shoulder, and I clung to him, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he whispered, his words tickling my ear. "Don't forget that."

He took a step back and I went right after him, refusing to let him go. "Trevor, you're scaring me. Is something wrong? Something else?" I amended quickly.

He just cupped my face, his fingers freezing in the cold, and kissed me. It tasted bittersweet, and a wave of fear made me clutch the back of his head, as if I could keep him anchored to me forever that way. He smiled against my lips and pulled back, just a hairsbreadth, just enough to whisper, "I love you." His words brushed over my skin, followed closely by his lips. And he did it again. "I love you." And again. "I love you."

I wanted to cry and to laugh and, more than anything else, to keep kissing him until the rest of the world faded away.

But it was us, this perfect moment that would fade away if we didn't find out the truth about Beatrice and the song. And it sounded like Trevor was saying good-bye.

But I would never give him up.

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