the movie, he would come after her. She could feel it in her bones … the same bones he had threatened to crush with the bike.
The prospect of Pruitt aiming that deadly machine at her was a lot scarier than being linked romantically with him.
She would go to the movie. But she wouldn’t look happy about it. Later, when the question of their “association” came up, people might remember that she had looked like she was miserable. Maybe that would help.
Remembering Pruitt’s newly arrogant walk, Echo thought, What choice do I have?
There didn’t seem to be one.
Chapter 7
T HERE WERE ONLY TWO people in the shiny red Miata parked at the edge of an overlook above campus. They were arguing. The driver, a heavyset, blond male in jeans and a Salem T-shirt, repeatedly shouted and waved his arms angrily toward the ant-like people playing tennis or tossing a Frisbee or jogging far below the outcropping on which the car rested.
“Look at them down there,” the boy, whose name was Polk Malone, accused vehemently. “They’re having fun! And we’re sitting up here twiddling our thumbs because you didn’t feel like doing anything. You never want to do anything fun!” The car windows were rolled down, and the sound of his shout carried into the late afternoon silence, startling the wildlife living in the woods on the hilltop.
The girl, Nancy Becker, small and also blonde, was in tears. But they were angry tears. “When we played tennis,” she shouted back, “you blamed me because we lost to Ian and Jess. When we played golf, you said I lost too many balls. At Johnny’s Place the other night, you flirted with Ruthanne all night. I never should have dumped Aaron for you! He’s a lot nicer than you are.”
“Aaron Pruitt is a geek! You should thank me for saving you from him. Every time I pass him on the Commons, he looks at me like he’d like to string me up. Like that makes me shake in my shoes.”
The bump, when it came, might have gone unnoticed in the heat of their argument if Polk hadn’t been far more concerned about his shiny red Miata than he was about making up with Nancy. There were plenty of other girls on campus, but what were his chances of getting another car from his dad if something happened to this one?
“Hey!” he shouted indignantly when the bump came. “What was that?”
Nancy swiped at her angry tears. “What? What was what?”
Polk’s eyes flew to the rearview mirror. “Someone hit us from behind.”
“I didn’t feel anything.”
Bump! It came again, a little harder, jostling the car slightly.
“Oh. I felt that one,” Nancy said, her head swiveling to glance backward. “There’s someone back there, Polk.”
Polk’s expression was grim. “It’s a motorcycle.”
Nancy drew in her breath sharply. “Polk! A motorcycle?” Her face visibly paled. “It’s not that crazy biker, is it?”
Polk didn’t ask who she meant. “Nah. That guy wears black leather, I heard. This jerk behind us just has a sweatshirt on. And a helmet. Can’t see his face, but it’s just some jerk, fooling around.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Polk was about to add, “Stay in the car. I’ll handle this,” when another, much more forceful push came from behind, and the Miata slid forward half an inch or so.
Nancy gasped and grabbed the dashboard. Her eyes darted fearfully to the vast, empty void lying straight ahead of them at the edge of the cliff. That void led to a sheer drop straight down … “Polk! The car moved! Do something!”
“He doesn’t even have his engine on,” Polk commented in wonder, his own eyes still fastened to the rearview mirror. “That’s why we didn’t hear him coming. What’s he up to? He can’t be serious about it or he’d have his engine on, wouldn’t he?”
“How should I know?” Nancy snapped, still clutching the dashboard. “I’ve never been on one of those things in my life. But it looks awfully big and heavy to me, and this car is
The prospect of Pruitt aiming that deadly machine at her was a lot scarier than being linked romantically with him.
She would go to the movie. But she wouldn’t look happy about it. Later, when the question of their “association” came up, people might remember that she had looked like she was miserable. Maybe that would help.
Remembering Pruitt’s newly arrogant walk, Echo thought, What choice do I have?
There didn’t seem to be one.
Chapter 7
T HERE WERE ONLY TWO people in the shiny red Miata parked at the edge of an overlook above campus. They were arguing. The driver, a heavyset, blond male in jeans and a Salem T-shirt, repeatedly shouted and waved his arms angrily toward the ant-like people playing tennis or tossing a Frisbee or jogging far below the outcropping on which the car rested.
“Look at them down there,” the boy, whose name was Polk Malone, accused vehemently. “They’re having fun! And we’re sitting up here twiddling our thumbs because you didn’t feel like doing anything. You never want to do anything fun!” The car windows were rolled down, and the sound of his shout carried into the late afternoon silence, startling the wildlife living in the woods on the hilltop.
The girl, Nancy Becker, small and also blonde, was in tears. But they were angry tears. “When we played tennis,” she shouted back, “you blamed me because we lost to Ian and Jess. When we played golf, you said I lost too many balls. At Johnny’s Place the other night, you flirted with Ruthanne all night. I never should have dumped Aaron for you! He’s a lot nicer than you are.”
“Aaron Pruitt is a geek! You should thank me for saving you from him. Every time I pass him on the Commons, he looks at me like he’d like to string me up. Like that makes me shake in my shoes.”
The bump, when it came, might have gone unnoticed in the heat of their argument if Polk hadn’t been far more concerned about his shiny red Miata than he was about making up with Nancy. There were plenty of other girls on campus, but what were his chances of getting another car from his dad if something happened to this one?
“Hey!” he shouted indignantly when the bump came. “What was that?”
Nancy swiped at her angry tears. “What? What was what?”
Polk’s eyes flew to the rearview mirror. “Someone hit us from behind.”
“I didn’t feel anything.”
Bump! It came again, a little harder, jostling the car slightly.
“Oh. I felt that one,” Nancy said, her head swiveling to glance backward. “There’s someone back there, Polk.”
Polk’s expression was grim. “It’s a motorcycle.”
Nancy drew in her breath sharply. “Polk! A motorcycle?” Her face visibly paled. “It’s not that crazy biker, is it?”
Polk didn’t ask who she meant. “Nah. That guy wears black leather, I heard. This jerk behind us just has a sweatshirt on. And a helmet. Can’t see his face, but it’s just some jerk, fooling around.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Polk was about to add, “Stay in the car. I’ll handle this,” when another, much more forceful push came from behind, and the Miata slid forward half an inch or so.
Nancy gasped and grabbed the dashboard. Her eyes darted fearfully to the vast, empty void lying straight ahead of them at the edge of the cliff. That void led to a sheer drop straight down … “Polk! The car moved! Do something!”
“He doesn’t even have his engine on,” Polk commented in wonder, his own eyes still fastened to the rearview mirror. “That’s why we didn’t hear him coming. What’s he up to? He can’t be serious about it or he’d have his engine on, wouldn’t he?”
“How should I know?” Nancy snapped, still clutching the dashboard. “I’ve never been on one of those things in my life. But it looks awfully big and heavy to me, and this car is
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