“You what?”
She held her phone away from her ear for a second before pressing it back into place. “I was subtle.”
“I bet.” His disbelieving laugh scraped against her last nerve. “So what do you think?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, trying to be completely honest. “I couldn’t get a good feel. My gut says no.”
“Your gut has been wrong before,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.
Even so, his words stung.
“I found out he’s a Christian.” When she’d mentioned her friend Emily attended Woodland Hills Community Church, she’d been surprised to learn Jake was also a member.
“I don’t care if he’s God Almighty.” Crow snorted. “You need to quit talkin’ religion and find out who can get you the meth. Cozy up to him. Whatever it takes. We’re running out of time.”
Angel hung up the phone and leaned her head against the worn velvet of the couch. Getting close to Jake would be easy. There was a bond, an inexplicable attraction between them that she’d never expected.
No, getting close would be the least of her current problems. And more than likely, just the beginning of a whole set of new ones.
Chapter Four
Angel’s glance slid from the blue solution to the clock on the wall. Science had never been one of her strengths.
“You’re new here, huh?”
Her attention jerked to Emily Weyer, her lab partner, taking in the girl’s tentative smile and anxious expression. Up to now they’d worked alone on the experiments, but today Mr. Monk—whom everyone not-so-affectionately called Mr. Monkey—had made them pair off. By default, she and this girl had ended up together.
“Yeah, how ’bout you?” Angel cast a wary eye at the beaker. She’d never realized until last week how fast a fire could start. Perhaps that’s why Mr. Monkey had insisted they take partners.
The girl nodded, and Angel quickly assessed her. Brown shoulder-length hair, blue eyes and regular features; she would blend into any crowd without a problem.
It was an advantage Angel wished she could claim. Unfortunately her own hair was too dark, her eyes too large and her mouth too full to go unnoticed. She grimaced.
Emily quickly took a step back. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk.”
If the girl didn’t look so intimidated, Angel would have had to laugh. Instead she smiled. “Of course we do. We’re women, aren’t we? Besides, it gets boring just watching this stuff.”
Angel gestured expansively to the Bunsen burner, her sleeve coming precariously close to the blue flame. She jerked her arm back just in time.
“Changing schools your senior year is kind of hard.” Emily glanced around the room. “Most kids already have their friends. They don’t seem interested in making any new ones.”
“Bummer.” Angel had the same experience. It had made her job doubly hard. She glanced at the beaker and wondered if Emily knew what they were supposed to do next.
“It doesn’t bother you.” Amazement and something akin to admiration rang in the girl’s hushed whisper. “Not at all.”
Angel hesitated. It hadn’t been that long ago that being on the outside had mattered a lot. And not only had she felt all alone at school, but she’d felt that way at home, too. Her aunt and uncle hadn’t wanted her. The foster parents hadn’t wanted her. She shoved the painful memories aside and reminded herself that that time in her life hadn’t been all bad.
“Not at all,” Angel echoed, and turned her gaze from the now-boiling liquid for a fraction of a second.
The beaker shattered and hot liquid flooded the counter. Emily screamed. Angel jumped back as shards of glass flew through the air. Mr. Monkey roared. Chaos erupted.
Fifteen minutes later they finally finished the cleanup. After a stern lecture from Mr. Monkey, who resembled an angry gorilla when he screamed something about the importance of listening to instructions, the two girls were finally released to the now-empty hall.
“He was really mad,” Emily said.
Angel shrugged. “I could have sworn he said it was supposed to boil.”
“Do you think he’ll have it out for us now?”
“Who knows?” Angel tossed her backpack strap over one shoulder. “Do monkeys hold grudges?”
Her words brought a smile to the girl’s face.
“You wouldn’t want to—” Emily swallowed hard “—have lunch with me? We could eat in the commons?”
Woodland Hills High School had been built in a square with an open inner courtyard. Although Angel hadn’t spent much time sitting under the big leafy trees, she knew it was considered the place to gather for students and staff.
Angel glanced at her watch. She’d hoped to make a few quick calls before her next class. “I don’t…”
The girl’s expression fell and the hope in her eyes died a quick death.
“On second thought, why not?”
They walked companionably down the quiet halls and out into the bright sunshine. A shaded area under a huge sycamore beckoned, and Angel claimed the spot against the tree. Emily sat across from her and pulled a brown sack from her backpack, splitting half of its contents with Angel.
The peanut butter sandwich was dry, the apple soft, and the brownie clung to Angel’s fingers like glue. Still, it was food—and she hadn’t eaten since the previous night.
“You’re a senior, right?” Angel licked her fingers and rested her back against the rough bark. She cast the girl an interested look, and that’s all it took.
Once Emily started talking, it was like the flood-waters had been released. She wouldn’t shut up. In a matter of minutes Angel discovered that for being new and living on the fringes, Emily had already gathered a wealth of information about her fellow classmates. Information Angel found extremely interesting.
“Hey, Em.” A tall slender boy with short brown hair tipped with gold slowed, then continued walking when he caught sight of Angel. Angel got the distinct feeling he would have stopped if Emily had been alone.
“Mike.” Emily smiled and dipped her head as if to hide the blush stealing its way up her cheeks.
“Who’s that?” Angel asked, the boy’s face naggingly familiar. “He’s way cute.”
“You don’t know Mike Blaine?” Shock blanketed the girl’s face. “Everybody knows Mike.”
“I don’t.” Angel licked the rest of the brownie’s caramel topping off her fingers, pleased she could sound so calm.
The instant Emily said his name, it came rushing back. Mike Blaine had been named by informants as a dealer.
“He’s the shortstop on the baseball team,” Emily said proudly.
Angel forced a smile, wondering if she should give more credence to the rumors about a connection between the baseball team and the drug ring. “Isn’t Jake Weston the coach?”
Emily shrugged. “I guess.”
Obviously the teacher hadn’t made quite the impression the hunky shortstop had. “Mike’s hot.”
“Yeah.” Emily smiled. “He’s pretty nice, too.”
“Do you guys have something going?”