Dangerous Boy (5 page)

“Sounds good.” I turn to Bick. “Are you going?”

He glances up from his plate and shrugs. “Nah. I think I’ll pass.”

“How can you
not
go?” Allie asks. “You have to.”

“It’s cool,” he says, avoiding her eyes. “The girl I wanted to ask is already going with someone else.”

“Oh,” Allie says. “Sorry.”

Bick stands up with his empty tray. “Like I said. It’s cool. I gotta head out.” He takes a few steps toward the doors, and we all watch him go as he walks away.

“Do you think he’s still not over Madison?” Allie asks.

Logan twists around and stares at Allie, wide-eyed. “Madison?”

I nod. “Yeah, they dated last spring. That’s why we universally hate her. We can’t
not.
She kind of messed with his head.”

“She seemed like she was actually into him,” Adam says. “At least at first.”

“
Maybe
she was,” Allie says. “But in the end she still screwed him over, so it doesn’t really matter.”

I nod. “She dumped him at Tolo. It’s this casual dance, but you have to wear matching outfits. She made him wear these designer jeans and a button-down, stuff
she
likes, but anyone with two brain cells could tell it wasn’t Bick’s style.” I frown and look back at the doors, where Bick disappeared. “So you can imagine how awkward it must have been for Bick when he and Madison are dressed like twins, and then everyone sees her grinding all over Trevor Reynolds.”

“Ouch.” Logan glances over his shoulder, at where Madison sits with her group of plastic friends. “I can’t picture them together.”

I nod. “Yeah, we’ve all been wondering if it was some kind of game to her. You know, like a bet. Date the redneck for a couple months, dress him up, and dump him. If her plan was to devastate him, it worked.”

“Anyway,” Allie says, brightening again. “Back to the costumes for the masquerade. They’ve gotta be killer.”

F
riday finally arrives, and with it, our group trip to the haunted maze. I’m considering calling Allie to say that I’ve come down with a sudden case of food poisoning when Logan swings into my driveway, the perennial mud puddles splashing under his Jeep’s big tires. I pull my jacket on and slip into a worn pair of cowboy boots. Allie loves pointing out that I own cowboy boots, yet I refuse to ride horses. But whatever, they’re cuter than rubber boots. With my skinny jeans, even Allie would approve. She did pick them out, after all.

I cross the back patio, not waiting for Logan to do his usual jump-out-and-open-my-door thing. Instead, I just climb in and lean over the gap between our seats, brushing my lips against his, embracing my newfound ability to kiss him without feeling totally freaked out and nervous.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Logan says, peering out the window at the overcast sky.

“Yep. Welcome to October in Enumclaw.”

He eyeballs the clouds, which have grown darker since I’ve been inside. “You think it’ll get worse?”

“Nah. We’ll be fine. Bad weather never lasts long. I’m sure we’ll get a dry patch while we’re in the cornfield.”

“Okay. As long as you don’t think it’s going to get too nasty. You ready?” he asks, sliding the key into the ignition.

“Yep.”

“So what’s this thing like, anyway?” Logan asks, shifting into reverse. I watch him as he does so, and my eyes catch on the end of the stick shift: it’s a soccer ball. I stare at it for a long moment, trying to remember if it’s always been a soccer ball, or if it was something else before. I honestly can’t remember Logan ever even telling me that he was interested in soccer….

“Haaaarrrrrppppeeerrrr?” he intones, interrupting my train of thought.

I blink. “What? Oh, uh, the haunted maze? It’s pretty freaky.”

“Really? It’s actually scary?”

The windows fog over as we pull out of the driveway, so I lean forward and crank the heater up. “Uh, yeah. There’s a reason I didn’t want to go.”

Logan shifts up. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Somehow the idea of doing the maze together makes it seem easier. “Thanks.”

“You never did tell me what number eight or nine is,” he says.

“I was hoping you’d forget!” I say, grinning.

Logan glances over at me, sliding his hand off the gearshift and onto my knee. He squeezes it as a soft smile plays on his lips.

“Well, number nine is horseback riding,” I say.

He raises a brow. “Doesn’t Allie live on a horse farm?”

“Racing stables. Yeah. They have like two dozen horses, but most of them are broodmares or stallions. Not exactly backyard ponies.”

“I see. And I’m guessing she tries to convince you to ride?”

I nod. “Yeah. It drives her crazy, but if you saw the horses at her house, you wouldn’t climb aboard either. Sometimes she exercises the horses in the winter, when Emerald Downs—that’s the closest racetrack—is closed. Allie has this big practice track at her house. It’s like a half-mile, or something. And she’s totally amazing. She just flies around the track. I could never do that.”

“You could if you wanted to,” Logan says. “Or you could take lessons on horses less likely to run away with you.” He pauses. “Not that I’d blame any horses that wanted to do that.”

I chuckle. “Are you really speaking about horses, Mr. Townsend?”

Logan’s lips curl into a devilish grin. “Eh, more like from personal experience…”

I shake my head, but I can’t keep the smile from my face. “I dunno. Like I said, the list isn’t a challenge. It’s just a list.”

I don’t mention that it’s all inspired by my mother. I can’t let go of if I don’t want to end up like her…

“Well, maybe
I
think it’s a challenge,” he says, his eyebrows dancing like he’s The Rock or something.

I burst out laughing. “And I guess you like challenges, huh?” I shove him playfully.

“You know, only if they involve a certain girlfriend of mine.”

Heat rushes through me. There’s that word again:
girlfriend
. The more I hear it, the more I like it.

The conversation falls away as we turn on the main drag, cut through town, and hit Highway 410. A few minutes later, we’re crossing the old steel bridge over the White River. I watch the river, swollen and frothy, raging below us, and my mind drifts back to the conversation we had about the Green River Killer at Frankie’s Pizza.

Hmm
…I wonder why he picked the Green River for all seventy or eighty bodies. The White River is just as inaccessible. It winds up into the Cascade Mountain range, same as the Green River.

I blink away the morbid thoughts, turning back to the highway. Logan shifts down, pulling into the packed entry to the farm-stand-slash-pumpkin-patch-slash-corn-maze just as the clouds give in, and a misty rain coats the windshield.

“You sure the weather’s going to be okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’ll drizzle for a bit, maybe, but we’ll be fine. Unless you think you’ll melt,” I tease.

He pokes me playfully, and I laugh as we unbuckle our seatbelts.

Cars fill the field, which has been mowed low so that it can
double as a parking lot, and we find an available space at the end. As we climb out of the car, the image of a different lot—sprinkled with dead, feathered bodies—swarms my vision.

I blink away the mental picture. I’m just psyching myself out, thinking of killers and dead birds, because I’m freaked out over the maze. “There’s Adam’s car,” I say, pointing to his battered Samurai.

We walk across the grass, meeting Adam in the middle of the squishy field. Allie appears from the passenger seat, frantically pulling the hood of her rain poncho over her freshly styled, bouncy blonde curls.

“Scared of a little humidity?” I joke. At least that’s one thing that doesn’t bother me.

“Uh, yeah.” She nods. “I know it’s ridiculous, but you know what happens—I turn into a total Chia Pet.”

I shake my head and give her a hug.

“Anyway, you look cute,” she says.

“Thanks!” I do a little twirl. “You were right. They don’t look like stretch pants.”

She laughs and bumps her hip into mine. “You really need to take my fashion advice more often.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Ahem…” Adam clears his throat. “Girls, I hate to interrupt your little fashion show, but the haunted maze awaits!”

I look around, counting up who’s already in attendance. “Wait, Bick isn’t coming?”

“Nah,” says Logan as he places his palm on the small of my back. “He had to work.”

I glance at him quizzically. “And he told you?”

Logan shrugs. “Guess he likes me.”

“Huh. Wonder why.” I move to elbow him, but he’s too fast. He grabs me in a big bear hug and starts tickling me.

“Enough! Enough! I surrender,” I call out through a fit of giggles.

“You better,” teases Logan.

“Uh, guys, there are other people here…” Allie chimes in.

I stand up straight, fixing the belt on my coat—it came undone during the tickle session—and immediately agree. “Okay, okay. Whatever you say.” Secretly, though, I’m just a little bit happy that Allie was the one who felt out of the loop for once…even if it meant that I had to make a fool of myself in public.

The four of us cross the muddy field, and Logan and Adam buy the tickets. We follow them, and a flow of people, to a corn maze behind the farm stand. Shrieks float out from the corn stalks as darkness falls.

Allie and Adam walk, hand-in-hand, into the maze, their hands swinging back and forth as if they don’t have a care in the world. Logan wraps his arm around me, protecting me like he promised.

In the distance, something motorized—like a weed whacker—hums, competing with the weird, ghostlike music trickling out from the maze.

“I hate you all,” I say. “You guys owe me a big—”

A dark figure jumps out of the corn stalks and I scream, nearly knocking down Logan in my haste to get away from
the guy. He chuckles and my face burns as I step back, dusting myself off even though we didn’t fall down.

Allie turns around, grinning at me.

Logan leans in to whisper in my ear, “You’re fine. It’s all fake.”

I nod, and we follow Allie and Adam into the maze as the masked guy slinks back into the shadows, waiting for his next victim.

I walk close to Logan, nearly stepping on his toes. I lean in, whispering into his ear, “I knew we shouldn’t have come. I’ve made it thirty seconds and I think I might pee my pants.”

“Wet blanket, wet blanket, wet blanket,” Allie singsongs, skipping ahead down the path, her hand in Adam’s. I ignore the way Logan’s looking at me.

I’ve never told Allie that it bothers me, how she views me like some sort of buzzkill, because I’d have to tell her
why
it bothers me. I’d have to admit that ever since my mom died, I view all this stuff—horseback riding, flying, public speaking—as unnecessary risks.

If my mom hadn’t been such a daredevil, she’d still be alive. And my dad wouldn’t look so sad all the time.

I glance up, watching as Allie merrily walks further into the maze. I don’t tell her because I’m worried if I do, she still won’t understand. She’s the girl who will try anything and I’m the girl forever tethered to her fears.

Up ahead a series of scarecrows perch on wooden posts. Allie pushes Adam to one side of the pathway so that they won’t run into them.

“Are those real people?” she whispers, not letting her eyes off them.

I share a look with Logan, and he nods toward Allie, encouraging me to step forward. I rake in a shaky breath and then let go of my death grip on his hand, stepping up beside Allie, squinting as I stare into the darkness where eyes should be. Is it a bulky mask or are there no eyes at all? “I can’t tell,” I say, studying them. They’re the right size, but they’re sitting so perfectly still, it’s impossible to discern if they’re stuffed or human. There’s straw sticking out from their sleeves and pants and even from under their matching hats.

We’re so busy staring at them that we don’t notice the crowd of ghouls slinking up behind us until six pairs of hands shoot out. They swipe around, and Allie leaps forward, letting go of Adam’s hand as she whirls around, so that she’s standing with her back to the scarecrows. Eyes wide, she stares into the cornstalks to where the ghouls fled. “That was so not cool,” she says, her voice wavering.

I stifle a laugh, sharing a smile with Logan. Allie so rarely gets scared in this place; it’s nice to see her looking a little freaked for one shining moment.

Allie is still shivering ever so slightly when something moves behind her, and I watch as a scarecrow lets go of the wooden cross, dropping silently down without her noticing.