At first, I mistook her anger, thinking she was mad at the officers for not taking me seriously. She made herself pretty clear however the moment we found ourselves alone. The whole of Mystic Harbor would hear about 5-O paying us a visit by morning, and the town was fixed with eyes and ears. It was only a matter of time before everyone learned that I was Shutter Island-grade certifiable. Considering Dad had only been with Barker & MacLeane for less than two years, the last thing he needed was bad press to overshadow his work, especially with him in the midst of closing a merger. Then there was the matter concerning Mom’s upcoming run for Regency Board President of the Woodstone Country Club. Apparently, I was making a P.R. nightmare for the family.
***
After spending a sleepless night flopping about my bed like a fish, I assumed I’d be in full-on zombie mode by second period. Instead, I was wired. Coupled with my hypersensitivity and growing paranoia, I was kookier than Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory. Or maybe just Mel Gibson in general. And this peculiarity didn’t go unnoticed by my friends. I didn’t help my case at lunch when I practically devoured everything I could get my hands on.
“Seems someone’s been tokin’ some reefer,” laughed Mark disquietly. His usual amusement was absent as I torn into my second turkey sub.
“She’s not using pot,” defended Vanessa. Sadly, I couldn’t dismiss the apprehension in her voice. I was scaring them, or at least making them uncomfortable. And I couldn’t blame them. Between the bloodshot eyes from running on no sleep and my recent, ravenous case of the munchies, I’d think I was high too if I didn’t know any better.
Daniel gave me a small, sympathetic smile and managed to change the subject. I started to let my eyes wander aimlessly amongst the sea of fellow classmates when a particular individual grabbed my attention.
“Earth to Kat.” Mark waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me out of the trance I hadn’t realized I’d fallen into. “What’s up?”
Reese started moving across the cafeteria with an empty tray in his hand, and my eyes naturally tracked him. It didn’t exactly take detective work to figure out what—or rather who—I was gawking over as Carly stole a look over her shoulder.
Her jaw dropped so far, I’d swear it should have disconnected from her skull. “Blackburn?”
Everyone at the table seemed to freeze before slowly turning their attention to me.
“What about Blackburn?” Vanessa said his name like he was freaking Voldemort. “You’re not crushing on him, are you?”
“What? No…” I shook my head nervously, seeing an unnatural sense of relief shared across the table.
“Thank God,” sighed V.
“Why? What’s the big deal?” I asked reflexively.
Carly stiffened. “Your funeral,” she muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Dating someone like him is social suicide,” laughed Mark.
Someone like him? Sure, Reese wasn’t typical by Mystic Harbor’s standards…or society’s, but it didn’t seem that taboo.
“Seriously, your popularity rating would take a nosedive,” said Vanessa. “Not to mention, it would give your mom a heart attack.”
“Why?”
“Well, he’s a West Ender for starters,” she further clarified, and it took everything I had not to roll my eyes.
‘West Ender’ was the label given to those who lived in the less-than-reputable part of town by the riverfront. In Mystic Harbor, you bought your way into the in-crowd. Unless they were a star-studded athlete, every West Ender was pretty much resigned to social leprosy.
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re all acting like he’s Beetlejuice.”
Mark snickered. “Have you gotten a look at the guy? That’s really not that far off.”
Reese was sporting a Victorian-era militia tailcoat, accompanied by a black silk dress shirt, matching pinstripe slacks, and even pointy toed Steampunk boots. Yeah, even I had to admit, he had a point.
“Blackburn could walk onto the set of Sweeny Todd and not miss a beat. You don’t think that’s…odd?” said Mark.
The guy did stick out like a sore thumb amid all the preppy, future Ivy Leaguers and Abercrombie model wannabes. He was strangely refreshing; an attractive quality…if not for the fact he was also a stab-worthy jackass.
“And he’s always doing weird things during class,” said Vanessa.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know…like magic tricks and stuff. He’s usually fiddling with a deck of cards or making coins disappear from his desktop. It’s a bit out there. Plus, I’ve never seen him really talk to anybody around here.”