Deceived by Julie Anne Lindsey Page A

breakfast together. She’d sliced berries and scrambled eggs. They’d sung duets and danced for me. They’d loved doing things together. I’d loved watching. After she died, he still made pancakes, but the singing ended. Her absence gonged in the silence.
    I considered telling him I had been afraid to walk home from the coffee shop. I considered playing the frightened-daughter role, maybe even mention the rumor going around. I’d already spent the better part of the day telling myself I was an adult, so I skipped confessing my fears. We said goodbye after a few more feeble exchanges.
    The caffeine rush ended, and I crashed. My eyes pulled shut almost before I could get my earbuds in. I set my playlist to start on my favorite song and dragged the light comforter over my body until I smelled the fabric softener. As I inhaled muted scents of powder and lavender, sleep rushed in to meet me.
    The dream began immediately. This time I was at my locker. I had a strange conversation with Brian. I asked him about his age when he was about to ask me something else. He wanted to talk to me, and I knew why. He wanted me to promise silence about our previous meeting. Sun glinted off his crisp white shirt. The smell of fresh-cut grass tickled my nose. I smiled.
    I wanted to reach for him, but the dream morphed in an eerie way until he was in an alley with me. He seemed at ease, though my heart raced as the scene changed. I knew to be afraid. He didn’t look concerned. He didn’t know we were in danger. I turned to run and ran right into him. He smiled and handed me coffee. I scanned his face for an explanation. How could he not understand that we needed to go? Something bad was near. A low noise sounded from behind me and chills rose up my spine. Frozen in place, I stifled a scream before hearing a familiar sound, the front door.
    Pixie tossed her keys onto the counter.
    My eyes pulled wide open. I’d slept for two hours.
    “Hey, how was The Pier?” I ran a hand through messy hair and leaned into her bedroom doorjamb.
    “Do you ever sleep?”
    I bit my lip. Sleep and I didn’t get along. “Do you?” I folded my arms over my chest.
    “Not enough. I’m going to look like the bride of Frankenstein in the morning.”
    “As if. So, did you find me a man?”
    “No one you’d look at.” She gave me a sharp look and stripped out of her clothes. I turned away. “Michael stopped by and asked where I’ve been, like I’ve been avoiding him or something.”
    Michael, her on-again, off-again boyfriend, gave me the creeps. He dressed like her and listened to the same music, but he gave me a serious poser vibe. Hopefully Pixie knew who he was under the garb, because I recognized an act when I saw one. They told people they had met at a rave, but really it was a book signing. I knew better. I was there, and we all had matching autographed copies to prove it.
    “I told him, ‘give me a break. It’s the first day of school.’ He was all ‘excuse me for caring.’ I said ‘yeah sure,’ and he was all ‘whatever.’ The whole Pier saw it. I have witnesses.”
    “Are you going to see him again?” I wanted her to be happy, for sure, but single Pixie meant more time for her to fill, and I didn’t want to become her pet project. She already looked at me like her personal social-science experiment.
    “Nah. We’re cool, but I hope he learned his lesson.”
    Sure. That lesson sounded clear as mud. Why wouldn’t he have learned?
    “Do you think Brian acted strange today?” Unfriendly, elusive, douchey.
    “I think he was nervous and probably embarrassed to see us at his new school. I mean, he doesn’t have a super-awesome roommate like you to make this place fabulous.”
    Who was his roommate? There weren’t many guys at Francine Frances. Was he in the senior dorm, too? Davis never paid any attention to him. My mind whirled.
    By the time Pixie went to bed, I was wide awake again. The fog of sleep gone. Thoughts of Brian plagued