“I’ll take it from here, Mr. Dyer. Why don’t you just follow along silently?”

After Sam read the same line of dialog four times in a row, Mr. Pinkett took over reading the part of Professor Drake. As embarrassed as he was for flubbing the lines, he was grateful to Mr. Pinkett. Too many thoughts were whirling through Sam’s head for him to focus. Plus, the bright-eyed, square-jawed, broad-shouldered teacher was a much better analog for the dashing Professor Drake. The dreamy expressions of Sam’s female classmates were evidence enough of that. Unlike them, Sam wasn’t enraptured with the teacher’s performance, belted out with gusto in his sonorous baritone.

What the hell am I going to do?

The rest of English class passed in a fog. Every time he tried to sort through his feelings for Ash, the implications overwhelmed him.

They’d been friends since childhood, since before kindergarten. There was a time—when he was six—when he’d tell anyone who listened that he was going to marry Ashley Williams. But any notion of marriage, or any kind of romance, with Ash dried up a long time ago.

Or did they? He thought he’d moved on, but what if he was just fooling himself this whole time? And if he did like her, should he tell her? He almost laughed aloud at that. He’d had a crush on Veronica Chambers since the start of high school and barely mustered the courage to sit next to her in class.

“Earth to Sam.”

The words yanked him out of his personal vortex of worries. Veronica was twisted in her seat, looking like she was waiting for an answer.

“Sorry, what?”

She shared an amused expression with April Sullivan in the row beside her. “I asked if you were excited for the Spring Fling Dance.”

The freight train of Sam’s thoughts lurched off its tracks. “What? Oh, um, yeah. I guess.”

“Do you have a date yet?”

“Me?” He was laughing before he could stop himself. Veronica cocked her head, a small frown on her face. Sam quelled the incredulous laughter and straightened his face. “Nope, I don’t.”

She stared at him silently for a moment longer. “Yeah, me neither.” Her eyes bored into him, and the silence grew.

Do I have food on my face?

“I’m sure you won’t have a problem getting one.” With a small smile and nod, he turned his attention back to the play. The class wasn’t reading aloud anymore, so they must be reading on their own. His mind was anywhere but on the words in front of him. Veronica grunted and turned to face the front again.

The bell rang a few minutes later, and everyone jumped up to escape W.R. Mann’s gothic tale of romance and woe.

Sam’s lingering thoughts slowed him down, and he was one of the last to gather his stuff. Veronica threw him a sharp glance and stormed out of class. She was wearing heavy combat boots, so if she was going for a dramatic exit, she nailed it.

What the hell is that all about? Confused, he tracked her shadow against the window blinds as she descended the walkway. It wasn’t until the silhouette disappeared and he was left alone in the room that his mind ran through their conversation.

Holy shit, was she fishing for a date to the dance? If Ash were here, this was the time that she’d hit him, probably with an annoyed “Duh!” for good measure. With a sinking feeling, he remembered what Ash had told him. Veronica thought he was cute.

He looked down at the clothes Ash bought for him. A pair of dark jeans, tighter than he preferred but not so tight that it was obscene, and a light blue polo shirt. He wasn’t sure what he thought about the ensemble, but if the new outfit had anything to do with why Veronica chose that day to talk to him, then it could be Ash actually knew what she was doing.

Should I go after her? His knees almost buckled at the thought. On second thought, now probably isn’t the best time. He had just pissed her off. Best to let her cool down. The dance wasn’t until the Friday after Spring Break, so there was plenty of time.

Ash’s desk in third period remained empty. Where the hell was she? I hope everything’s okay. It wasn’t like her to miss class. She wasn’t a committed student by any means, but she didn’t normally ditch. Well, she wouldn’t ditch by herself, at least. And he, Randy, and Gwen were still at school.

So where the hell is she? He checked his phone again, but she still hadn’t responded to his texts.

In the passing period between fifth and sixth periods, Sam approached Gwen. Gwen was a snob and never passed up an opportunity to sneer at him, but if something was going on with Ash then Gwen would know.

“Have you seen Ash today?”

Gwen and Amber turned around, matching scowls on their faces. He could almost feel their gazes raking up and down his body. Their pupils were dilated like they spent last period smoking behind the school with the other burnouts.

Fighting the urge to hide behind his backpack, he repeated the question. The girls blinked like a beam of light had strafed across their eyes.

Gwen chewed ponderously, smacking her lips and blowing a large pink bubble with her gum. It popped and with a swipe of her tongue the gum disappeared back into her mouth.

“Yeah. Earlier. Why?”

“Do you know where she is now?”

The two girls shared a glance, having a silent conversation Sam couldn’t even guess at. The girls came to a silent arrangement, and two pairs of eyes pierced him.

Another bubble popped. “I like your new look.”

Sam squirmed, and all of a sudden, the shirt felt too tight. “Um…thanks, I guess. So…do you know where Ash is?”

Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer. “Sure. I can take you to her.”

“That’s okay, you can just tell me.”

She shrugged, and the hem of her already short shirt rose to expose a flat stomach. He didn’t realize he was staring until she turned away from him.

“Math is for suckers, anyways. C’mon.” Amber gestured for him to go ahead of her, and with a shrug, he reluctantly followed Gwen.

He scanned the crowd of milling students, looking for Ash’s familiar form, but his gaze kept straying back to Gwen’s swaying hips. She was a petite girl and didn’t have much going on in the trunk, but she worked what she had. With half his mind searching for Ash and the other half trying not to look at Gwen, he wasn’t paying attention to their path.

“Have you ever been in the old locker room?”

Sam’s feet tangled, and he stumbled. Regaining his balance, his eyes widened when he realized where they were heading. The old locker room loomed in the distance on the far side of the soccer field. Between them and the dilapidated brick building, dozens of lower-classmen mingled on blacktop basketball courts.

The ability to speak eluded him until he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Why? Is that where Ash is?” His stomach soured. Every guy in school fantasized about visiting the old locker room and getting an Elsbury High welcome, but the last thing he wanted was to see Ash in there with Randy.

A matching predatory grin stretched across Gwen and Amber’s lips. Gwen laughed like he’d told a joke. As Gwen resumed walking, Amber tugged on his arm. “Come on.” They walked arm-in-arm for a few strides, then she pushed him ahead of her.

Stolen story; please report.

With each step, the part-blue-mostly-rusted door of the locker came into view. That part of campus was neglected and almost looked like undeveloped forest. The building had practically been swallowed by the ancient red oaks surrounding it, their vestigial leaves still pale this time of year.

Why do I get the feeling I’m being led to the gallows?

His mind raced. He wanted to find Ash and learn what was going on with her; he couldn’t shake the instinct that something bad had happened. Then again, he may just be overreacting to her ditching him for Randy that morning. It wasn’t like he’d been in the best frame of mind since…since what happened the previous night, so chances were everything was fine.

As clueless as Sam was, even he wasn’t so blind not to realize that Gwen and Amber weren’t taking him to find his friend. Part of him was okay with that—more than okay, if he was being honest. Gwen and Amber were really hot. Amber may have been dumber than a sack of cats, but it wasn’t her ability to recite the Quadratic Equation that was making his new jeans tighten. His wide eyes moved from the quickly approaching locker room back to Gwen’s swaying hips. He gulped loud enough the girls probably heard it.

The drab brick building was only ten yards away when Sam snapped out of the stupor. Even if he wasn’t worried about Ash, he was pretty sure Veronica wanted him to ask her to the spring fling dance. If she found out he messed around with Gwen and Amber, his chances with her might be over before things even began.

It took a monumental effort to change his course like inertia—or a cocktail of thirsty teenage hormones—was pulling him along in Gwen’s wake. Almost like they didn’t want to, his eyes stayed glued to Gwen’s ass until the last nanosecond.

He forgot about Amber.

“Whoops,” she said in an unconvincing tone. She stumbled and fell against him, pressing her chest against his. Her hands slid down his torso like she was trying to catch herself. The tips of her fingers curled around the waistband of his jeans. She turned her icy blue eyes on him. “I’m so clumsy. Good thing you were here to catch me.” She ran her fingertips along the inside of his waistband, tickling the hairs on his abdomen, that predatory grin back on her face.

“Um, sorry,” he said, pushing her away gently. Her bottom lip pouted, and she clung to him until he pushed her far enough away she had to let go.

“What’s up?” Gwen called, leaning against the rusted door that led into the locker room.

“I just remembered I need to go to the quiz. I mean…retake a bathroom. No—um…” Sam juked around Amber. “Thanks for your help!”

***

Randy and Scott were at the flagpole, lounging on the concrete patio table like usual. Sam fidgeted, his eyes scanning the crowds, and he tried not to roll his eyes every time Scott’s gaze tracked every girl that passed. Randy, at least, was more subtle about it, checking them out from the corner of his eye.

After the embarrassing debacle with Gwen and Amber, Sam hadn’t had any luck finding Ash. It didn’t help that he had to spend most of sixth period in the bathroom waiting for his erection to subside.

Something barreled into him and nearly knocked him over. Arms wrapped around his chest. His knee-jerk reaction was to throw an elbow into the person’s head, thinking it was Randy or Scott, but a split second later, he smelled Ash’s shampoo and recognized her auburn hair. She was sobbing.

“Holy shit, what’s wrong?”

Randy noticed and strolled over. “What’s wrong, babe?”

She tried talking, but a sob cut the words off. Sam pulled her into a tight hug. Randy awkwardly put a hand on her shoulder and stared daggers at Sam. Sam ignored him. “Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you all day.”

Ash pulled out of the hug, sniffling. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks blotchy. She hated crying in public and covered her face. “It’s Ju-Ju-udy.”

“What happened?”

“I was in the nurse’s office, and Amanda Petrick came in sobbing her eyes out. Judy is in a coma!”

“Who’s Judy?”

Sam shot Randy a withering glare, but the dudebro was immune to scorn. Ash started to cry again, and Sam hugged her until the tears stopped. A moment later, she sniffed and threw herself into Randy’s arms. Somehow, he looked even more smug as he wrapped his arms around her.

A sour sick burbled in his stomach. “Tell me what happened.”

Ash unburied her face, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater. “She didn’t open the store this morning. The restaurant owner next door had a spare key, and when he went in, he found her in the back unconscious.”

Randy’s face scrunched up. “Wait, the lady who runs the thrift store? Why are you upset about that?”

Ash yanked away from him. Sam couldn’t see her face, but he could imagine her expression. “She’s Amanda’s grandma. And Judy’s a friend, you jerk!”

Randy shot Sam a look and led her away, saying something low that Sam couldn’t hear. Based on body language, their conversation wasn’t a pleasant one.

Sam and Scott stood in silence. It was probably the only time the two had ever been alone with each other. Luckily, there wasn’t enough time for things to get truly awkward. The hushed argument wound down. Randy reached for her hand, but Ash pulled away, her back ramrod straight as she approached Sam. “Will you give me a ride home?”

“Um, yeah. Of course.” In silence, they walked to the Tercel, Sam doing his best to ignore Randy’s glare. The two dudebros got into Randy’s Mustang and peeled out of the parking lot.

There was a lot Sam wanted to say…to ask. Where Ash had been all day. About Randy, the old locker room, and if she’d decided to lose her virginity. But he couldn’t bring himself to let the words out. In that moment, he realized he really didn’t want to know.

“What happened with Judy?”

Out the passenger side window, Ash watched the houses and empty lots roll by. “They say it was a gas leak.”

Sam parked in the Williams’ driveway and pulled Ash into a hug. She squeezed him, silent sobs wracking her.

“It’ll be okay. Judy will be fine. She’s a tough old gal. I can’t imagine something like a gas leak doing her in. She’s too ornery for that.”

Something like a phlegmy chuckle came from somewhere around his collarbone. She gave him one last squeeze and pulled away, wiping her eyes and nose with her sleeve. “‘Ornery,’ really? God, you sound like my dad.”

“No, I sound like his dad.” They laughed, and the gloom receded for the moment. “Come on, let’s get you some tea.”

Only family was able to visit Judy, so they spent the rest of the day together, watching movies and talking. Just like old times.

Old times, he thought. Two days ago—before my body decided I still had the hots for my best friend.

Ash held it together until she had to explain everything all over again when Mr. Williams got home. Tears streamed down her cheeks like she’d ripped open a fresh scab. Mr. Williams was one of the few people who understood Ash’s relationship with Judy. Tears gathered in the older man’s eyes. Sam wasn’t surprised. Mr. Williams looked like a beast of a man, but he was a marshmallow and never afraid to show it.

Sam called his mom to let her know he was staying the night. She was shaken up at what happened to Judy, having already heard from a mutual friend. Alice Dyer had known Judy longer than Sam and Ash had been alive. He asked if she wanted him to come home, but she said he should stay with Ash.

Once upon a time when Sam slept over, he and Ash would sleep in the same bed. She had a queen-sized mattress, so it was plenty big, but sometime around puberty, through unspoken agreement, they’d stopped doing that. He now slept on the floor or on the oversized beanbag chair. He could have stayed in the guest room, but that would defeat the point of a sleepover. It was hard to gossip from 40 feet away. That night he opted for the beanbag chair, dragging it over so he was beside Ash’s bed just in case she needed something during the night.

It was quiet in the dark room after they settled down. Finally, Sam asked the question that’d been burning in his head. “Are you and Randy going to be okay?” In the dark, he closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that they broke up during the argument earlier. The last thing Ash needed right now was to go through a breakup, but come on, the guy was a major douchelord. Ash groaned, and Sam perked up.

That’s a good sign, but then a moment later she dashed his hopes.

“Yeah, we’re fine. I called him when you were in the shower and apologized.”

“You apologized to him?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, go figure. Turns out I am capable of doing it.”

Randy is the one who should apologize for being such a jerk. He didn’t want to stir things up, so he stayed quiet. He fell silent, staring at the shadows the nightlight cast onto the ceiling. His eyes traced the shapes, finding images in the dark splotches the way a kid found animals in clouds. His eyes eventually landed on the bookshelf and the new painting. He remembered the inscription on the back. The blessing. Thoughts cavorted through his sleepy mind with abandon, making connections his fully awake consciousness would have ridiculed.

“Hey, maybe it was the blessing that caused Judy’s coma.” He chuckled at the ridiculous thought, then cut short his own mirth. He’d spoken without considering what Ash had gone through that day. As soon as he realized he’d made a joke about Judy’s condition, his stomach clenched. To his surprise, Ash neither exploded into tears nor expletives.

Maybe she’s already asleep.

Finally, Ash chuckled. “Yeah, that explains it.”

With a lurch, his heart started beating again. Relief flooded him like he’d taken his first breath after holding it. Carefully, he continued down the line of thought his tired imagination cooked up. “It did say something about laying in death, right? Almost made it sound like a curse. First Ms. Cornell, and now Judy.”

Ash yawned into the glooming darkness, and the bed springs squeaked beneath her. He could see her bright green eyes even in the dim nightlight. She spoke through a jaw-cracking yawn. “Yeah. Maybe tomorrow morning I’ll head over to Randy’s before he leaves town and bang him so the crazy artist lady’s blessing doesn’t turn into a curse and kill everyone.”

Sam’s veins flooded with ice, and it had nothing to do with the prospect of an evil curse ravaging the town. The whimsical musings of his sleepy brain were burned away like fog in the sunlight, and he came fully awake.

The weight and trials of the day took their toll on Ash, and she drifted asleep. She snored when on her back, and soon enough, a series of low grunts and whistles stuttered out of her nose.

Sam lay awake, staring at the shadows until sleep finally claimed him.