The Collector

  “No, you’re right.” She swims her hand in front of her face. “It’s coooool.”

  I grab her hand and pull it to her side. “Let’s just go to class, all right?”

  …

  Three excruciating hours later, I’m walking Charlie to lunch. I used to think teachers were idiots, and two years later, I’m sure I’m right.

  Kids are pouring out of the four hallways that spill into the cafeteria. The overhead lighting is so bright, I have to shade my eyes. Something squeals loudly, and I ready myself to kill some sort of rodent. But it’s Charlie. Apparently, whoever’s walking toward us warrants this kind of hysterical reaction.

  “There’s my Char-Char!” a girl sings as she nears us. She’s every bit as tall as I am and twice as thick. Charlie hugs Amazon Girl and then turns to me. “Dante, this is Annabelle.”

  No. No way. That name is reserved for females with grace and elegance, not this girl. This girl is…beastly. “Annabelle,” I say. “It suits you.”

  Annabelle laughs deeply and tosses an arm around Charlie, who I can only imagine is being crushed by the weight. “Yeah? ’Cause I always thought Godzilla was more fitting.”

  I laugh so hard I snort. Charlie narrows her eyes at me like I did something awful, but I’ve decided I like this chick. She’s got spunk. And something tells me her soul has been sealed a few times.

  “Nice kicks, by the way,” Annabelle says. She stares down at my bright red Chuck Taylors, the ones I almost never take off.

  I spin them to the side so she can get a better look. They’re a flippin’ work of beauty. I nod in her direction. “Thanks.”

  “Did you just move here?” she asks. Annabelle’s chin-length black hair is like a helmet, and heavy bangs make a hard line across her forehead. Nothing moves as she speaks.

  “Yeah, his mom is friends with my grandma,” Charlie says before I can open my mouth. “He had breakfast with us this morning.”

  “That right?” Annabelle glares at me with accusation in her green eyes. She doesn’t think I’ll be sticking around and doesn’t want Charlie to get hurt. How endearing. “And now you’re going to sit with us at lunch?”

  “Yep,” I say. “Now what’s a guy gotta do to get grub around here?”

  A few minutes later, I’m sitting with Charlie and Annabelle and staring at cardboard food on a Styrofoam tray. I’d like a one-way ticket back to Grams’s kitchen, please. I’m about to suggest this when a guy moves toward Charlie and drops down beside her.

  “Hey,” he says in a small voice.

  “Blue!” Charlie squeezes his upper arm. I’m surprised by all these friends popping up. Charlie doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl who has any friends, much less more than one.

  The guy collapses against her. What is it with all these people using her as a crutch?

  “I’m going to flunk chem,” he says like a deflated balloon. The guy’s built like a pasty-skinned streetlamp. I want to pull him aside and tell him about tanning beds. Or sunless tanning lotion. Something.

  “No way,” Charlie says. “I’ll help you study.”

  Blue—er, whatever—looks right at Charlie with big blue eyes and grins like a moron. I’ve seen that look before. It happens right before sex and broken hearts.

  “Really? Yeah, that’d be great,” he says. “I don’t know why I’m doing so terrible. Guess I’m not smart enough. That, or my teacher hates my face.”

  Charlie rubs his back, and he hunches into her touch. The guy’s slow, drawn-out words and defeatist attitude reminds me of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. Man, my dad loved Winnie the Pooh. When I was twelve, I accidentally broke the handle off Dad’s Pooh coffee mug, and the next day he glued on two new ones. He called it his insurance policy. My dad was always doing funny crap like that.

  Blue rolls his head of blond curls around like he’s relaxing his neck, but really he just appears drunk. I bet when this guy gets wasted, he crawls into his bathtub and cries. Annabelle pulls a jumbo package of powdered sugar–covered doughnuts out of her bag and tosses them to Blue. They hit him in the chest.

  “Nice catch.” Annabelle snorts.

  Blue picks them up and eats them one after another, and somewhere between the sixth and seventh doughnut, he notices me. “Hey,” he says, as if I haven’t been sitting here the whole time.

  I nod. “’Sup.”

  Blue gazes at me and then Charlie like he can’t understand why the hell I’m sitting next to her. You and me both, brother. “Charlie, you, uh, going to introduce him?” he mumbles.

  “Mmm.” Charlie stops drinking her neon-orange soda. “Oh, yeah! God! Sorry! This is Dante. He just moved here.” She shoots me a big smile. I try to return it without seeming turned off. Without thinking, Braces. Heard of ’em?

  “He had breakfast with Charlie this morning,” Annabelle adds slowly when she catches Blue’s eye.

  Blue’s head whips toward Charlie. So he can move quickly. Even quicker is the hurt that floods his face.

  Relax, I want to say, that ain’t ever going to happen.

  Chapter Four

  Daydream Charlie

  I’m staring at what’s left of my food—which is most of it—when Charlie gets up from the table. She picks up her tray, and I think she’s about to put this garbage where it belongs. But she dumps the leftovers into napkins and stuffs them into her backpack. I can’t even stomach eating this junk, and she’s going to repurpose it as a midday snack.

  Annabelle stops discussing last night’s Knicks game with Blue and glances up at Charlie. “You going where I think you’re going?” Charlie bites her plump bottom lip. Annabelle nods. “That’s what I thought.”

  I bump Charlie’s hip with my shoulder, and she glances down at me, startled. “Where you going?” Charlie pulls in a breath but doesn’t say anything. “Come on. Spit it out.”

  Blue shoots me a look of warning, and I’m wondering what he and his hundred-pound-self are going to do about my attitude. This may be my assignment, but it doesn’t mean I have to be all excited about it. In fact, it’s probably better I’m not.

  “I was going to stop by the journalism room.” Charlie says it so quietly I cock my head to hear her. I hate mumblers. I’ve had enough with Blue and his ever-present mumbling already. We don’t need two spineless people at this table.

  “Speak up, Charlie,” I say. “If you have something to say, then say it out loud.” Blue huffs from between gritted teeth. I meet his eyes and raise my eyebrows. He holds my glare for a moment longer than I expected he would, then glances down. That’s what I thought.

  Charlie sticks her chin out and says louder, “I’m going to the journalism room to watch the broadcast.” She nods. “Yeah.”

  I smile at her and stand from the table. “Well, let’s get crackin’.”

  “You want to come?” she asks, her eyes round and vulnerable.

  “Sure, why not? What else do I have to do?” Besides seal your soul and drag you to hell.

  “Great!” Charlie gives her friends an OMG! He’s coming with me! look and glances back in my direction “It’s on the other side of the building near the gym. We can just…walk from here.”

  As opposed to taking a train?

  People watch as Charlie and I weave our way through the long, bench-like tables. Heads move together, and whispers are exchanged. A group of girls giggle, and one waves at me with gusto. I’ll be back for them later. I’ve got to collect Charlie’s soul, but that doesn’t mean I get a free ticket out of my normal duties. If I could finish this job and seal a ton of souls while I’m at it, that promotion will be mine fo’ shizzle.

  Right as we’re about to leave the cafeteria, I see a guy waving an orange envelope around like a winning lottery ticket. Three guys near him peer over his shoulder as he reads whatever’s inside. I glance around and notice more orange envelopes in giddy, greedy hands.

  I suddenly want one of those orange envelopes so bad it makes me sick.

  When I was alive, I was nev
er left out of anything. In fact, I would’ve been the one passing out those damn envelopes. It feels weird to be on the outside. I throw my shoulders back. But who cares, right? If I wanted to, I could own this school in a matter of days.

  The echo of squeaking tennis shoes and thumping basketballs lets me know we’re near the gym. I wonder if Annabelle and Blue ever break from talking basketball long enough to actually play. Hearing the repetitive sound of balls clanking off the rim makes me want to ditch Charlie and join the game. Unlike those jokers, I hit nothin’ but net.

  Charlie stops in front of what I guess is the journalism room. She stands outside the doorway, not going any farther in. Whatever she wants to do, she wants to do it from here. On the left side of the room, there’s a long gray table with three stools tucked beneath it. On the other is an enormous black camera and a stand holding cue cards.

  I notice a girl strut toward the center stool. She holds a stack of papers and silently mouths the words she’s reading. When she’s done, she drops them onto the table and glances around the room. My back stiffens when her gaze meets mine.

  The girl’s got enormous brown eyes, smooth brown skin, and long dark hair. She’s like a bucket of caramel, and I’d like to taste every part of her. And string me up and flog me if she isn’t built like a Playboy centerfold.

  “That’s Taylor,” Charlie says like I just ran over her dog. “She’s head of the journalism club. And pretty much everything else.” She watches my face closely and continues, “I could introduce you.”

  “Uh-huh,” is all I manage because I can’t stop watching Taylor nibble her lip and smile at me. Two guys wearing red football jerseys file past Charlie and me and sit on either side of Dream Girl. A second later, two more students walk into the room and set up near the camera. A guy as tall as a soda can climbs up onto a short platform and plays with the camera. He nods at a freckle-faced girl standing close by, who counts down from five, and the room falls silent.

  “Hi! I’m Taylor Fitch, and this is your Weekend Play Plan. With me, I’ve got Brad Setterfield and Clint Moers from our very own Centennial football team.” Taylor does an adorable woot-woot with her arm, and I fall in lust all over again.

  I glance at Charlie to make sure she’s still there and then look right back at Taylor.

  But then I stop.

  My eyes slowly return to Charlie. Her face is…alive. Eyes. Ears. Mouth. They’re completely open and alert. Even her head has a daydream-y tilt. Maybe she’s crushing on one of the jocks? But no, her eyes are glued to the same thing mine were—Taylor.

  “What are you staring at?” I whisper.

  Charlie’s eyes never leave their subject. “This,” she whispers back. “Her.”

  “You got a thing for chicks?” I ask.

  Charlie rolls her eyes and smiles. “No. It’s…the whole being in front of a camera and being so good at it. Sometimes they even do these things live, and she still does everything perfectly.”

  “She’s just reading the cue cards.” I point to the cue card stand as if it isn’t obvious.

  “You say it like it’s no big deal.” Charlie’s face drops, and I remind myself what I’m here for.

  I nudge her. “So why don’t you join the club? Maybe you can go on camera sometime.” Charlie shakes her head but doesn’t say anything. “Why not?”

  “It’s not that I have a problem talking to people.” Yeah, I gathered that much. “But I can’t go on camera in front of the whole school and be like her.” Charlie points to Taylor’s shiny hair and shinier smile. “She’s so…captivating.”

  “Please. She’s just flirting with the camera. You know how to flirt, don’t you?” Of course she doesn’t.

  “Well, yeah,” she says. “Everyone knows how to flirt.”

  I doubt she has any clue how to reel a guy in. Even if she did, she’d have no idea what to do with him. I suddenly have an image of Charlie trying to hold onto a fish as it flops around between her hands.

  The freckle-faced girl announces that they’re done filming, and the beauty behind the table gets up and saunters toward me. I have to stop myself from shoving Charlie out of the way.

  “Hey,” the girl purrs. “I’m Taylor.”

  I try to appear uninterested. “Dante.”

  “New here?” she asks.

  “Yep.” I say, barely looking at her. Uninterested. It always works.

  “Then you’ll want this.” She hands me a glorious orange envelope. Pow! “It’s an invite to my party Saturday night. Give you a chance to meet people.”

  “We’ll see,” I say. Taylor gives a smile that says she knows I’ll show. And she’s right. Because this party will serve two purposes: it’ll give me the chance to corrupt Charlie and ravage Taylor. Caramel Mama is already walking away when I speak up. “Hey, ‘Taylor,’ you said it was?” She nods. “Well, this is Charlie. She wants to be in your little club.” I flip my hand toward the journalism room behind us.

  Taylor glances at Charlie, then back at me. “I don’t think so.”

  Charlie hits my arm. “Dante, I don’t have to be in the club. They probably already have enough members. It’s fine.”

  “See,” Taylor says. “It’s fine.”

  My blood boils. If there’s one thing that pisses me off, it’s singling people out. Taylor starts to walk away, but I grab her wrist. “Except it’s not, actually. Charlie wants to be in the club, so let’s just get her in there, all right?” Taylor narrows her eyes. “Besides, if she’s here all the time, I’ll be here all the time.”

  She thinks about this for a second and decides she still has a shot at us hooking up. She’s probably thinking how great I’d look on her arm. It’d be the other way around, but whatever. “Fine.” Taylor studies Charlie’s face. “But you can’t be on camera. No way.”

  “That’s great! Thank you.” Charlie cheeks redden. Even though she thanked Taylor, it seems there’s some deeper emotion swirling beneath the surface of her eyes.

  Taylor touches a pink fingernail to my chest. “See you at my party.”

  I don’t like the way Taylor treats Charlie, like she’s a Porta Potty, but I need to hold onto my invite. “See ya.”

  As soon as Taylor is out of earshot, Charlie lights up. “Oh, my God. You’re amazing. That was so amazing! You basically just told Taylor to shove it.”

  Charlie’s eyes are so big and excited, I can’t help but laugh.

  “It’s no big deal,” I say. This could turn out to be really good. Charlie needs someone to take up for her at this school, and her friends certainly aren’t in a social position to do it. If she thinks I have her best interests at heart, she’ll trust me. And that trust will be the perfect stepping stone on the path to corruption. As if to prove this theory to myself, I tell Charlie, “Hey, let’s do something fun.”

  Charlie beams. “Yeah? Like what?”

  “Let’s get outta here.”

  She takes a small step back like I’m explosive. “We’ve got to go to class, though. The bell’s going to ring any second.”

  “Come on, Charlie. We’ll go somewhere fun. Haven’t you ever wanted to be a little rebellious?” I can tell the answer is no. I need to get her to bail on classes. I need this small victory over Ms. Pious, or else I might as well call this assignment hopeless now. “Look, this is my first week in Peachville, and my first day at Centennial. It’s kind of overwhelming. Is it so bad that I want to just spend some time alone with you?”

  In my entire life, I’ve never seen anyone smile the way Charlie is smiling at me right now. And for a second, I actually feel guilty. But then she opens her mouth and says, “Okay, let’s do it.”

  And just like that, the guilt is gone.

  Chapter Five

  Mall Hell

  “This? This is where you wanted to go?”

  Peachville’s only mall is crowded for the middle of the day. Don’t these people have jobs? Or lives? The mall has a tile floor that turns high heels into a headache, and the fountain c
enterpiece attracts only fake greenery and screaming children. “I told you I’d take you anywhere you wanted to go, and you choose here?”

  Charlie bites into a sugar cookie. She’s still nervous I borrowed her grandma’s car without asking, but she’s starting to relax. “I love the mall. Don’t you?”

  “Yeah. I mean, it has its uses.” A woman with a stroller races past me and nearly takes off my right arm. No “excuse me” equals one tiny seal for you. I take a moment to seal her up right, then turn my attention back on Charlie. “It’s Friday, though. Don’t you want to try and dig up a party for tonight instead of hanging out here?”

  She brushes crumbs over her blouse. “I don’t really like parties.”

  “Charlie, have you ever been to a party?”

  “Yeah. I mean, sort of.” That means no. “I go to birthday parties and stuff.”

  “I’m talking about a real party. Like the kind Taylor’s throwing. Do you ever go to parties like that?” Charlie shrugs and shakes her head like it isn’t a big deal. “Hey, why don’t we go to Taylor’s party together tomorrow night?”

  She stops walking and stares at me, her head bent to one side. “Why? Why do you want to take me? And why are you being so nice?”

  So she does understand this is abnormal, someone like me hanging out with someone like her. I calculate my answer. “A lot of people at my last school were really shallow. And I was part of that crowd.” Okay, so that much is true. “I decided this time would be different. I want to find friends who are…real.”

  Charlie’s face pinches into a smile, and I almost feel like cupping her chin. I take another gander at her mouth and decide if it wasn’t for those crooked teeth, she might actually have one solid asset.

  “So how ’bout that party?” I nudge her.

  And…the smile’s gone. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t really fit in with those people.”

  I decide to drop the subject for now, but one thing’s for sure—we’re going to that damn party. “Hey, can we swing by Bergdorf? If we’re going to be at the mall on a Friday, we might as well have some fun.”