“Hello, and good afternoon. I’m reporting live from Centennial’s prestigious journalism headquarters.” She accentuates the word prestigious, and people in the class laugh. I saw the room she’s in with my very own eyes. It was four walls and a busted-ass table.
She made a funny. Charlie Cooper actually made a funny.
“Dude!” Stoner Guy says.
I glance at him again, then sink down into my seat.
Charlie grins into the camera, and her voice pitches higher. “We’ve got lots going on this week, so grab your notebooks, poise your pens, and get ready to blow a solid ten minutes of class time.”
Someone whoops next to me, and I have to raise a fist to my mouth to cover the huge smile I’m wearing. Get it, girl!
For the next few minutes, Charlie lists off upcoming football games, student council meetings, and something about bus schedules—all with a dose of wit and charm.
I keep glancing around to see if everyone sees what I do. This isn’t the same girl I’ve known the last four days. She’s confident. She’s eloquent. She’s…not Charlie. I narrow my eyes and lean forward. I notice she’s staring slightly to her left.
Ah, cue cards. That explains it.
Charlie lays the last sheet of paper off to her right, signaling that she’s done with the broadcast. “I’ll close with the most exciting part of today’s broadcast, the Halloween dance!”
More whoops around the classroom.
“As you know, it’ll be held in the gymnasium. We’ll be selling tickets during lunch all week. So don’t forget to buy yours, or you’ll be left dateless like me.”
Charlie stops. Her smile falters, but she quickly recovers. “I would know…only ugly losers…” She stops reading the cue cards. Then she gazes right into the camera and freezes.
People in the classroom laugh nervously.
Taylor. She messed with the cue cards. I should have known. I should’ve known!
I bolt from my desk and run for the door.
Behind me, I hear the teacher yelling my name, but there’s no way I’m stopping this time. My sneakers thump against the floor as I run down the hallway, into the cafeteria, and down another, longer corridor. I’m heading to the journalism room, but I stop suddenly when I hear the sound of quick footsteps coming from the closest bathroom. Somehow I know it’s her.
The bathroom doesn’t have a door, just an entrance that turns sharply so you can’t see inside. I don’t even check to see if anyone’s watching. I just go halfway in, knock on the wall, and say, “Charlie? You in here?”
The footsteps stop briefly.
Yep. It’s gotta be her.
I go the rest of the way inside and find her pacing in front of the restroom stalls. Her back is to me as she says, “You can go, Dante. I’m fine.” But when she turns to pace in the opposite direction, I see the truth. Her face is pink and blotchy, and her eyes hold so much pain, it rips something apart inside of my chest.
My hands curl and uncurl, and my breathing comes harder and faster. Who do these people think they’re messing with? This girl has been assigned to me. Boss Man wants her soul, which means anyone messing with her is messing with me. And they’re about to find out exactly what that’s like.
I turn abruptly from Charlie and storm toward the hall.
“Dante,” she says. Her voice becomes urgent. “Dante, don’t.”
I head down the hallway, gaining speed, unstoppable.
As I round the corner, I see Taylor and one of her boy toys laughing. They’re having a grand ole time mocking my girl. The guy sees me, and his mouth turns up on one side. “Oh, here comes the boyfriend. Did you catch our show, boyfriend?”
I don’t stop. I keep moving. One second, Dickhead is standing upright, and the next my fist slams into his jaw. He hits the floor with a hard thud. I jump on his chest and throw my fist over and over into his face. I’m a big guy, there’s no denying that, but what’s more, I’m a motherfucking demon. And now the guy below me knows what it’s like to piss one off. When his eyes roll back in his head, I stand up and wipe blood from my knuckles.
Then I look at Taylor.
Fear sparks in her eyes. I approach her slowly. She backs up until her shoulder blades hit the lockers behind her. “Dante, I—”
I cover her mouth with my hand. “Shut up.”
I step so close, I can practically feel her heart beating. The hand not covering her mouth flicks, and her soul light flips on. Just as I expected, she’s coated in sin seals. What I don’t expect are the two sparkly pink seals. What the hell? Did Charlie do this?
Right now, I don’t care. All I care about is delivering what this girl deserves. Usually, the size seal I can assign is based on the sin. But this time—just this once—I’m going to take a little liberty.
I close my eyes and pull as much as I can out of my core, then I let go. A seal the size of Canada attaches to her soul light. And oh, sweet mercy, I can tell Taylor feels it. Actually feels that I just took something sacred from her.
My mouth curls into a smile.
“Pow, bitch.”
Chapter Eighteen
Calm After the Storm
When I turn around, Charlie is there. She stands in the middle of the hall, her arms rigid at her sides.
I close the distance between us and put my arms around her. I have no idea why I do this, but it seems right. She lays her head against my chest for a moment, and then I take her hand.
“Come on,” I say. “Let me take you home.”
I lift her chin, and when she gives a firm nod, I put my hand on the small of her back and lead her to the parking lot. She slides into the passenger seat, and I start the engine. I can’t stop thinking about the pink seals on Taylor’s soul, about how they got there and why Charlie gave them to her. It doesn’t add up. I know she doesn’t know about her ability, but maybe it’d be better if she did. It’s something I need to think about.
I glance at Charlie. Her face is drained of emotion. “Want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head and stares out the window. But after a few seconds, she turns and glances at me. “I’ll be fine, you know. I was fine.”
I throw her a give me a break look and turn back to the road.
“It wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” she continues.
“Did they mess with the cue cards?” I’m sure I’m right, but I want her to confirm what I already know.
Charlie sighs. “Yeah. They were pretty bad. I’m lucky my brain shut off when it did.” She laughs to herself, though I know she doesn’t think it’s funny. “It was a creative way to make an idiot out of me. I’ll give her that.”
“Taylor will get what’s coming to her.”
Charlie fidgets in her seat. She wraps her arms around herself, then glances at me. “What did you do to her?”
I know exactly what she’s talking about, but I opt for playing dumb. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, I saw the way she looked when you got close to her. Did you…do something?”
I roll my shoulders back. This is dangerous territory. The less Charlie knows, the better. Lies are slippery little beasts. “I just made sure she wouldn’t mess with you anymore.”
“How?” she presses.
“Why’d you want to do that broadcast, anyway?” I ask, dodging her question. “What is it with you and being on camera?”
Charlie chews her fingertips, and I pull her hand from her mouth. It’s beginning to be a game we play.
“I like reporters,” is all she says.
“Really? Why?”
She starts to put her fingers back in her mouth, then stops herself. “I don’t know.”
“Sure you do. So what is it? You got a thing for Anderson Cooper?”
She smiles. “No. It’s just…I don’t know. The night of the fire, everything was so chaotic. My neighbors were crying, and the firemen were asking me to describe the layout of the house, and everything was so loud. And amidst it all, I remembe
r this lady. Her hair was pulled up into one of those twists.” Charlie motions to her hair. “And she just…sat there and held me for what felt like forever.
“Finally, this guy with a camera comes over to her and asks if she’s ready. She asked if I would be okay alone for a bit, then nodded to the cameraman. But before she got up, she took off this yellow suit jacket and put it on me. Like, she put my arms through the sleeves and everything. Then the guy counts down, and this woman, she just…came alive. As I watched on, she stood there, calm as a bird, and told the world what happened. And I remember thinking…yeah, people should know. They should know about my parents. It’s important.” Charlie glances at me. “You know? It was important, right?”
I nod, and for once, I squeeze her hand without an agenda. “Yeah, it was.”
“So, anyhoo.” She shakes her head back and forth as if to erase the tragedy. “I decided when I got older, I wanted to be like that woman. Telling people when important things happen. Someone has to do that. Otherwise, people just get forgotten.”
When we pull up to Charlie’s house, I go to kill the engine, but she stops me. “Dante, I want to be alone for a while. Okay?”
I have six days left to seal the deal, and I can’t afford to give Charlie alone time. But I can’t bring myself to push her, either. So I just say, “Want me to swing by tonight? Do dinner or something?”
“I’m supposed to hang out with Annabelle tonight,” she answers.
She’d rather hang out with Annabelle than me? What the H?
“That’s cool,” I say. “Maybe we can grab an early breakfast tomorrow before school.”
“How about I call you?” she says.
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not packing.”
She scrunches her nose up. “You don’t have a cell phone?”
“Neither do you.”
“Yeah, but you’re, like, loaded or something.”
“I hate cell phones,” I say. “I feel like…if I want to talk to you, I’ll find you.”
“Well, if I want to have breakfast tomorrow, then I’ll be here. If not…” She shrugs, then laughs, and I’m happy to hear it’s authentic.
“I’ll be here at 7:30 tomorrow,” I say. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.” That did not come out right. But no worries. It sails straight over her head.
I’m thinking we’re good here. That Charlie is back in happy-go-lucky spirits. But as I watch her head up the walkway, I can see the way her shoulders sag. Annabelle’s not coming over tonight. Which means Charlie’s going to sit alone in that blasted pink room of hers and dwell.
I glance at my glove compartment where the soul contract rests, knowing this is a perfect time to go for the gold. She’s weak right now, susceptible. I should go inside and make her see that things could be different for her. Instead, I back out of the driveway and head toward Wink Hotel. Alone.
…
Lying in bed, I toss and turn. I realize I’ve done this a lot the last three nights, especially since I’m no further along on this assignment than I was four days ago. Unless you count that one measly seal Charlie received for minor theft.
I secretly hope Max will appear at this very moment and tell me what to do. Even though I trained him, right now I need a second opinion. How do you get a girl to sign a soul contract when she’s perfectly content with her life?
The muted television suspended in the corner casts a blue-green glow over the room. I glance at the clock—1:23 a.m. Somehow I find enjoyment in this, the fact that the numbers are consecutive. I drift off thinking about other times I like—3:33 because there are three threes and 11:11 because it’s the only time with four of the same number. As miniature clocks swirl behind my eyes, the one next to me keeps ticking, and eventually, sleep takes me.
…
“Dante,” I hear someone say. “Dante, wake up. My gosh, you sleep like a grizzly bear.”
Hands shake me, and I bolt upright. Charlie stands beside my bed, washed in the TV’s light. She’s working her bottom lip between her teeth, and her cheeks are bright red.
“Charlie Cooper,” I say, rubbing my face, “what are you doing in here? You scared the crap out of me.”
“Dante the Collector scared? Of me?” She’s teasing, but her face is crinkled with worry.
“How did you get in here?” I throw the covers back, cross the room, and dig through my overnight bag for jeans and a T-shirt. Even though I’m half asleep, I wonder if she’s checking me out in my boxer briefs. Then again, who wouldn’t check this out?
I make sure to give her a good view of my tats as I drag on my jeans: the dragon covering my back and the tree stemming from my elbow, growing up my bicep, and branching over my shoulder. The tree is barren and completely wicked. I know, because I specifically told the tat guy that I wanted it to look wicked.
“Mr. Stanley gave me a key at the front desk,” Charlie answers. “He’s friends with my grandma.”
“So he just gave you a key?” I pull a gray Armani T-shirt over my head. “I don’t think they’re even allowed to say what room I’m in.”
She rolls her eyes. “This is Peachville, Dante. Not Phoenix. Or wherever you lived.” Charlie sits down on my bed, sinking into a heap of tangled sheets. It’s strange seeing her there. In my bed. Where I just was.
I sit on the opposite bed, and my knee jerks up and down. “So what’s up?”
She runs her hands over her thighs and stares up at me. Her eyes are wide and alive, and I suddenly realize what she’s here for.
“I’m ready,” she says. “I want you to make me beautiful.”
Changes
“Beauty’s sister is vanity, and its daughter lust.”
—Unknown
Chapter Nineteen
The Dotted Line
For a moment, I just stare at her. I’m, like, speechless. Never did I think I’d hear those words, I’m ready. But Charlie had taken a beating the past couple of days, and what was it Max said last night?
People change when shit happens.
“Dante?” she asks. “Do you still have that contract thing?”
I nod.
“Can you explain how it works again? This time I’ll listen.”
My eyebrows rise, and I nod again.
“Is it here somewhere?” Now she’s the one staring at me. I can tell I’m freaking her out by not responding. I’ve got to snap the heck out of it before she backtracks.
“Yeah,” I say finally. “Yeah, it’s in the car. I’ll grab it.”
She lies back on the bed while I slide on my red Chucks. I try not to notice the way her thighs press against the mattress.
“Be right back,” I tell her, but she doesn’t say anything.
I jog out to the car. In my gut, I have this strange feeling. Like some completely wasted chick just told me to get condoms. And I agreed.
I pull the contract out of Elizabeth Taylor’s glove compartment, then head back inside. Because I forgot the key, I have to knock and wait outside my own room until Charlie opens the door. Her eyes fall on the contract as I move inside and sit down on the bed.
“So what’s the deal?” she asks. “I just sign…and you make me pretty?”
I unroll the contract and try not to seem clueless—even though that’s exactly what I am. I haven’t done this any more than she has.
The contract has a place for both our names and pretty much spells out that for each request she makes, she forfeits a piece of her soul. Okay, seems easy enough.
“It looks like you just sign, then ask for whatever you want.” I shrug. “And then I guess we give it to you.”
“As in, you’re not sure?” she says.
I raise my voice and straighten, hoping she’ll buy my forced confidence. “I’m sure. It’s very simple. We do it all the time.”
“Really?”
“Totally.”
She reaches for the contract, and I give it to her. Her eyes roll over the words. “It doesn’t say a whole lot, does it? You’d think f
or something like this, there’d be lots of legal stuff.”
“We like to make things easy.” I’m hoping my use of we makes it sound like I know what I’m doing.
“So all I do is sign, then make my requests? And when I’ve used up all my wishes or whatever, you’ll take my soul?”
“Exactly.” I taste acid in the back of my throat.
She lays the contract on the nightstand between us and pulls in a big breath. I really look at her in that moment: her frizzy blond hair, skinny, curveless body, and bad skin. These things make her appear average at best. But there are other things I hadn’t noticed before. Things I can’t stop studying now that she’s considering this. Things like her sweeping cheekbones, ones models would murder for. And her neck, long and graceful like she was meant to wear ballet slippers. And of course, her mouth. Which I’ve always thought was beautiful.
I mean, passable.
That was weird.
My shoulders tense when I think about this whole contract thing. Charlie’s the only girl I’ve ever met who loved her life. Like, really loved it. And now she’s going to change it. All because Boss Man wants her soul.
And because I want a promotion.
I want to ask her why she’s changed her mind. I’m sure she’s been picked on her whole life, so what’s different now? But I’m scared to press. Scared if we talk about it, she’ll change her mind. Scared she might say me.
She opens the nightstand drawer and pulls out a pen. I’m about to tell her where to sign, but she finds the line on her own and puts the pen to it. She hesitates and glances up at me. There’s something strange in the way she’s holding my eyes, like she just remembered why she’s doing this. I wonder if she can tell I’m holding my breath.
“Thank you for this, Dante,” she says. “I’m sorry I got mad before.”
Her kindness is suddenly too much. I reach to jerk the pen out of her hand, but before I can, she signs her name on the dotted line: Charlie Cooper.
She hands the contract and pen up to me, a grin sweeping from ear to ear. “Your turn.”
I take it from her, cross the room, and lay it down on the dresser. She can’t see the look on my face, the one I want to tear off with my fingernails. There’s no reason I should feel this…guilt. I’m a collector. This is what I do. I don’t know any other way.