Chapter Four Capital Punishment
four
Capital Punishment
I don’t sleep well the night before my first day at Crockett High.
Nerves this time. Not nightmares. I wake early again and go on the trail.
I tell myself I’m going to take more pictures, but that’s not the whole truth.
Part of me is hoping I see Everett again, but he doesn’t show up, and I wind up getting a lot of predawn photos of the Smoky Mountains instead.
When I return to the house, Jasmine is standing right outside our bathroom, a curling iron looped through her hair. “Where were you? Why aren’t you ready?”
“What do you mean? I’m—”
“We only have twenty minutes before the bus!”
I glance down at my ripped jeans, black tank top, and combat boots. “That’s fine. I’m—”
“You’re not going like that, are you?” she says, wrinkling her nose.
Well, I was planning on it. But now that I see Jasmine’s ensemble, I’m second-guessing myself. She’s wearing a short plaid skirt and a tiny red crop top. Her hair is in perfect waves down her back, makeup fully applied.
I want to blend in so I won’t become the shiny new toy everyone’s looking at, but I also don’t want to look like that. That’s not and never has been my style.
“I’m good.”
“But you’re not even wearing any makeup!” she accuses, peering too closely at my face.
“I have mascara on,” I point out. “And some lip gloss. I don’t usually wear more than that.”
She gives me a look that says Your funeral and trots out of the bedroom in her knee-high boots, hoisting a canvas messenger bag over her shoulder.
I grab my own bag, which Aunt Maggie stocked with tons of brand-spanking-new school supplies, so it’s heavy even before I get my books.
I follow Jasmine out to the kitchen, where Connor is standing in front of the open fridge, chugging OJ directly from the carton.
He’s wearing ratty gym shorts and a hoodie—funny how he can get away with looking like he rolled right out of bed.
“Ew, stop being so gross,” Jasmine moans, nudging him in the ribs so he lurches and almost spits the OJ out at her. “Quit drooling in the juice and come on. We’ll be late.”
He rolls his eyes. “Counting the days until I get my ride and we don’t have to bus it.”
“Like Mom and Dad will ever get you a ride.” Jasmine snorts. Then she calls, “Mom! We’re going!”
Maggie rushes into the kitchen in her bathrobe. “Don’t forget your lunches!”
Jasmine gives her a withering look. “Mother. We always buy.”
“Yes, but I thought I would make lunch, just for Ryan’s first day,” she explains, handing us each a paper bag from the fridge. Then she looks me up and down. “Oh, Ryan. Are you comfortable in that?”
That’s got to be a Southern way of saying You might want to rethink your wardrobe choice.
Luckily, when I nod and smooth my tank top over my hips, she lets it go. “Well, great.” She rubs my shoulder. “Have a fabulous day, darlin’. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
“Thanks.”
“And, Jasmine,” she calls as Connor opens the screen door to step out onto the porch. “Remember what I told you.”
Jasmine glances back and rolls her eyes, and I catch my aunt shooting a meaning-fraught look at her daughter.
I don’t need to be a psychic to know that whatever she told Jasmine has to do with me.
Probably something about how she needs to take me under her wing so the wolves at Crockett High don’t attack me.
At least I don’t have to worry about anyone at school recognizing me from childhood.
My father homeschooled me, so I never really had any friends in Starling. Lucky me.
We start down the driveway, Connor walking ahead of us in impossibly long strides so that I lose sight of him almost instantly among the pines. Jasmine doesn’t say much; I get the feeling she was excited to introduce me to everyone until she discovered I planned to dress like this.
About halfway down the drive, she says, “Don’t worry. Most people at Crockett are nice. At least to your face, they’ll be.”
That’s reassuring. “So it’s a bunch of two-faced backstabbers? Great.”
“Not everyone’s like that. I’m not. Nikki and Everett aren’t. They’re more—”
My shoulders tense. “Everett?” I interrupt.
“My best friend Nikki’s brother. The hot one I told you about. The quarterback?”
Of course he is. I should’ve put two and two together. He looks like the all-American popular jock. “Right. I met him already.”
She stops dead in her tracks. “You did?”
I know she’s probably thinking I’m insane, since the only place I’ve been since I got to Starling is their house. “Yeah, he was jogging on the trail.”
“Oh. Makes sense. He’s always working out,” she says, sounding a little deflated that she couldn’t be the one to make the introductions herself. “What did he say to you?”
“Nothing really. He welcomed me to town and said he’d see me around. That’s all.”
Her face crumples. “God! Nikki didn’t even tell me! She tells me everything!”
“Maybe Everett didn’t tell her. It wasn’t that big a deal.”
She snorts. “For him, maybe. But you have to admit…he’s hot. Isn’t he?”
I keep my voice as neutral as possible. Jasmine seems like the type who’ll pounce at any sign of a crush. Not that I have a crush. I don’t even know the guy.
“He’s all right.”
“All right?” When I don’t say anything in response, she adds, “It’s not up for debate, cousin.
He’s like one of those guys. You just know, when he gets out of school, he’s going to be famous.
Somehow. If he was on a reality show, he’d be the fan favorite.
No matter what he does, he’s going to break hearts everywhere. ”
“Dude, he’s not that good-looking.”
Jasmine opens her mouth to argue, but then we both spot a flash of school-bus yellow through the trees. “Shit!”
We have to run the rest of the way. When I climb onto the bus, there are a few students talking, but most are wearing earbuds or headphones and peering out the window, minding their own business.
Nobody even looks at me twice. It gives me comfort as I slide into the seat next to Jasmine. Maybe I can just blend.
But then, as I’m about to put my own earbuds in, I notice a guy with a patch on his denim jacket that has a black outline of my father’s mug shot. It says gabriel thorn fan club on it.
Jasmine catches me staring and whispers, “See what I have to deal with?”
“I don’t get it. Fan club?”
She grimaces. “Some people think it’s cool to worship serial killers. But most people think he should burn in hell.”
The guy looks over at us and grins. “Just because I’m a member of his fan club doesn’t mean I don’t want him to burn in hell. Along with the rest of his family.”
She scowls at him. “Fuck off, Trevor.”
He gets up and heads to the back of the bus. I stare straight ahead, my face growing hot.
Jasmine leans in, voice lowered again. “Everyone’s talking about the upcoming execution. You can’t get away from it.” Unhappiness clouds her face. “I just want it to be over with.”
Me too.
I swallow my nausea and turn to the window, wondering why I had to come back to Tennessee at the absolute worst possible time.
Crockett High isn’t that different from Liberty High.
Though the building is much newer and nicer than Liberty, it has the same cliques, the same drama, the same dull classes.
The only thing I’m not prepared for is how sprawled out all the classrooms are.
I’ve already missed homeroom because Principal Healey made me complete a bunch of administrative tasks in the office when I signed in, and now I’m so lost that I’m five minutes late to my AP Government and Politics class.
The first person I see when I finally step through the door is Everett. Lucky me.
I lurk in the doorway. Helplessly, I look at the teacher, who appears to be about a hundred years old and is writing something on the whiteboard, her frail hand moving painstakingly slowly.
I’m hoping she’ll notice me sometime this century and show me what seat I can take, but she’s intently focused on her task.
Everett winks at me and calls out from his desk. “Why, Miss Shipley, do you need an escort to your seat?”
The class breaks out into laughter.
“Because I volunteer as tribute,” he finishes with a playful grin, much to the dismay of the gorgeous girl with the highlighted dark hair next to him.
Her perfectly plucked eyebrows slant together in a V as she openly sizes me up.
The teacher finally catches sight of me. “Hello there! You’re our new student, aren’t you, dear?”
No, I’m standing here because I enjoy this kind of torture.
I nod. “Ryan.”
“Yes, yes. Maggie’s niece.”
Somehow I’m not surprised everyone in this town is on a first-name basis with everyone else.
“Welcome to Starling.” She puts her hands on my shoulders and says, “Everyone, this is Ryan Shipley.” Then she faces me toward the firing squad. “Dear, why don’t you tell us all something about yourself?”
Kill me now.
I grit my teeth and address the class. “Hey. I’m Ryan. I’m American, but for the past few years I’ve been attending boarding school in Switzerland.”
Everyone just stares back at me as if I’m speaking in another language. Only Everett looks interested. He’s chewing on his bottom lip and tapping his pen on the desk, eyes slightly narrowed, like he’s trying to figure me out.
From the corner of my eye, I notice the teacher motioning for me to continue. Oh my God. Kill me more.
“I like photography. And, um, dogs. I’m…a Gemini…” I trail off.
Everett looks like he’s fighting laughter now.
“Oh my, that’s wonderful. Switzerland!” the teacher says, and thank God, she doesn’t open it up to questions from the class. “I’m Mrs. Burle. You can take a seat in front of Sofia. Sofia, raise your hand, dear.”
The gorgeous girl lifts a single manicured finger without much enthusiasm. I walk over to the desk, and as I slide into the seat I catch a whiff of her strawberry perfume.
“Nice speech, Gemini,” Everett murmurs from the row behind me.
“Shut up, Everest,” I mumble in response.
His laughter tickles my back.