Insidious(28)

“And it really is a shame,” huffed Carly. “The man’s not half-bad looking. With a makeover and some green in his pocket, the boy could have some serious potential.”

“Yeah, because what girl can resist an anti-social David Copperfield?” mocked Daniel.

“We share French class with him,” said V.

“We do?” That was news to me, and Vanessa knew it.

She chuckled. “Yeah, but you’d never guess it since the guy’s always a no-show. I’m surprised he even bothers coming to school at all. His GPA’s probably in the toilet.”

“But how?” I posed. “That’s an AP class, and Physics is an honors course. You don’t just get into those by accident.”

Everyone just shrugged.

“Did they ever figure out what happened to Blackburn’s old man?” asked Mark.

Daniel shook his head, noting my confusion. “Blackburn’s dad disappeared right after Reese was born. The police looked into it, but there wasn’t a Christopher Blackburn even on record. There were rumors that he was maybe a part of WITSEC or something. Regardless, it was obvious that the name was just an alias to hide from his past. Everyone figured it must have caught up with him, ’cause the guy was like Keyser Söze. Gone without a trace.”

“Gives me the willies just thinking about him,” shuttered Vanessa.

“Which one? Reese or his old man?” Eric clucked.

“Like it makes a difference.” She laughed. “After the whole gas station incident, we thought for sure that’s why Kat ran out on P.E. yesterday.”

My brows furrowed. “What’d you mean?”

“You didn’t notice Blackburn in the gym?” asked Carly.

I shook my head.

“Yeah, he was standing in the doorway by the cafeteria, staring at you.”

“When was this?” I muttered, drawing a total blank.

“Right before Brenda got hurt. And he disappeared right after you left,” she said.

“I heard some of the girls in the locker room talking about it later. They were saying that he was somehow responsible for Brenda’s injury,” scoffed Carly. “People are so stupid. They were saying he used, like, black magic or something.” She snorted at her own remark.

“I know it’s just a bunch of garbage, but still…the guy’s a freak,” said Vanessa. “And weird, bad things always seem to happen when he’s around.”

“Better keep an eye out,” cautioned Daniel. “I think he has a thing for you.”

“Trust me, he doesn’t,” I immediately countered. “The guy can’t say so much as a sentence without insulting me in the process.”

“The fact that he even speaks to you at all is a marvel,” said Mark. “We’ve gone to school with him since we were in kindergarten, and the number of words I’ve heard him say before the night of the bonfire can be counted on one hand.”

I looked around the table, and everyone nodded in agreement.

Despite still being hungry, I got up and dumped my tray once the conversation somehow transitioned into plans for the upcoming weekend. Seeing no one at the table paying mind to me, I stole a glance around the cafeteria. Reese wasn’t there, and that verity was comforting. I wanted answers, yes. But I didn’t want to go seeking out trouble to get them. One thing I couldn’t ignore: Reese’s handy camera. Could he have possibly taken that picture of me after the accident? I spent the rest of lunch with my nose buried in my phone, seeing if there was a way to find out what camera model took the image that was sent to me. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any EXIF data from the image, which would have acted like a digital fingerprint. My detective skills could’ve used a little more work too, because despite all the times I’d seen Reese with his camera, I never bothered to make a note of what brand he owned, let alone what model it was.

By the time Study Hall rolled around, I was about to jump out of my skin. Hoping to distract myself, I headed to the library to work on my physics report. Plopping myself down at a vacant cubicle in the computer lab, I logged on, finding my fingers hovering over the keys as I stared at the Google search page on screen.

Focus: Energy transfer and conversion. That’s why you’re here.

I started to type, and before I knew it, the search engine results page gave me loads of websites on levitation.

Stop.

Just don’t go there.

I shoved that nosey little voice of reason aside and began scrolling.

I got hit with a bunch of useless results ranging from cheesy magician breakdowns all the way to some kind of music festival venue. The deeper I ventured into the findings, the weirder it got. By the time I reached studies on humanoid aliens and Wiccan spell casting, I knew I’d gone bonkers. This was stupider than trying to self-diagnose on WebMD. I doubted the art of Harry Kellar and his “Levitation of Princess Karnac” illusion held the answers to my rabbit-hole madness. I pushed the keyboard back, letting my forehead drop down on the desktop.