Anna Dressed in Blood - Kendare Blake [77]
So why am I so creeped out by a dream? Because it felt real. And it’s been there for too long. I open my eyes and don’t see anything, but I know, I know, that if I reached down below my bed, some decaying arm would shoot out from underneath and drag me to hell.
I tried to blame Anna for these nightmares, and then I tried not to think of her at all. To forget how our last conversation ended. To forget that she charged me with the task of recovering my athame and, after I do, killing her with it. Air leaves my nostrils in a quick snort even as I think the words. Because how can I?
So I won’t. I won’t think of it, and I’ll make procrastination my new national pastime.
I’m nodding off in the midst of world history. Luckily, Mr. Banoff would never realize it in a million years, because I sit in the back and he’s up on the whiteboard spouting off about the Punic Wars. I’d probably be really into it, if only I could stay conscious long enough to tune in. But all I get is blah blah, nod-off, dead finger in my ear, snap awake. Then repeat. When the bell rings for the end of the period, I jerk and blink my eyes one last time, then heave out of my desk and head for Thomas’s locker.
I lean up against the door next to his while he stuffs his books in. He’s avoiding my eyes. Something’s bothering him. His clothes are also much less wrinkled than usual. And they look cleaner. And they match. He’s putting on the Ritz for Carmel.
“Is that gel in your hair?” I tease.
“How can you be so chipper?” he asks. “Haven’t you been watching the news?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, deciding to feign innocence. Or ignorance. Or both.
“The news,” he hisses. His voice goes lower. “The guy in the park. The dismemberment.” He glances around, but no one is paying any attention to him, as usual.
“You think it was Anna,” I say.
“Don’t you?” asks a voice in my ear.
I spin around. Carmel is right over my shoulder. She moves to stand beside Thomas, and I can tell by the way they face me that they’ve already discussed this at length. I feel attacked, and a little bit hurt. They’ve left me out of the loop. I feel like a petulant little kid, which in turn pisses me off.
Carmel goes on. “You can’t deny that it’s an extreme coincidence.”
“I don’t deny that. But it is a coincidence. She didn’t do it.”
“How do you know?” they ask together, and isn’t that cute.
“Hey, Carmel.”
The conversation stops abruptly as Katie approaches with a gaggle of girls. Some of them I don’t know, but two or three are in classes with me. One of them, a petite brunette with wavy hair and freckles, gives me a smile. They all ignore Thomas completely.
“Hey, Katie,” Carmel replies coolly. “What’s up?”
“Are you still going to help out with the Winter Formal? Or are Sarah, Nat, Casey, and I on our own?”
“What do you mean, ‘help out’? I’m the chair of that committee.” Carmel looks around at the rest of the girls, perplexed.
“Well,” Katie says with a direct glance at me. “That was before you got so busy.”
I think Thomas and I would like to get the hell out of here. This is more uncomfortable than talking about Anna. But Carmel is a force to be reckoned with.
“Aw, Katie, are you trying to stage a coup?”
Katie blinks. “What? What are you talking about? I was just asking.”
“Well relax, then. The formal’s not for three months. We’ll meet on Saturday.” She turns slightly away in an effectively dismissive gesture.
Katie’s wearing this embarrassed smile. She sputters a little bit and actually tells Carmel what a cute sweater she’s wearing before toddling off.
“And be sure to have two ideas for fundraisers each!” Carmel calls out. She