Morganville (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 8

Nobody killed me that afternoon. After the first couple of hours, I quit expecting it to happen, and focused on class. My back-to-back labs weren't too much of a disaster, and I actually knew the answers in history. I bet Monica wouldn't, I thought to myself, and looked guiltily around the classroom to see if Monica was there, or one of her crew. It wasn't a big class. I didn't see anybody who'd been in the basement.

I made it to the grocery store after class without getting killed, too. Nobody jumped me while I was picking out lettuce and tomatoes, or while I was in line for the checkout. I thought the guy at the meat counter had looked suspicious, though.

I walked back to the Glass House, watching for vampires in the fading afternoon and feeling pretty stupid for even thinking about it. I didn't see anybody except for other college students, strolling along with bulging backpacks. Most of them travelled in bunches. Once I got past the area that catered to students, the stores were closed, lights off, and what few people were walking were hurrying.

At the corner of the Glass House the gate was open, I closed it behind me, unlocked the door with my shiny new key that I had found on my dresser this morning, and slammed the door behind me.

There was a shadow standing at the end of the hallway. A tall, broad shadow in a grungy yellow T-shirt and low-slung faded jeans frayed on the knees and the bottom. A shadow in bare feet. Justin.

He just looked at me for a few seconds, then said, "Eve put your crap up in your room"

"Thanks" I said before trying to go into the kitchen, he stopped me by speaking again. As if he wanted to talk to me.

"What's that?" He asked gesturing to the bag in my hand.

"Stuff for dinner" I shrugged.

He cocked his head slightly, still staring at me. "For a smart girl you do some stupid things. You know that?" He tells me.

"I know" I walked toward him. He didn't move.

"Eve says you never saw Monica" Justin questions me in a way.

"That's what I said" I stuck to my story.

"You know what? I'm not buying it" Justin stepped closer to me.

"You know what?" I shot back. "I don't care. Excuse me" I ducked past him, into the kitchen, and set ten bags down on the counter. My hands were shaking. I balled them into fists and started to set things out on the counter. Ground beef. Lettuce. Tomatoes. Onions. Refried beans. Hot sauce, the kind I liked, anyway. Cheese. Sour cream. Taco shells.

"Let me guess" I heard Justin's voice again from the doorway, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "You're making Chinese"

I didn't answer. I was still too pissed and all of a sudden too scared. Scared of what I didn't know. Everything. Nothing. Myself.

"Anything I can do?" His voice sounded different. Quieter, gentler, almost kind.

"Chop onions" I said, although I knew that wasn't exactly what he meant. Still, he came over, picked up the onions, and grabbed a huge scary looking knife from a drawer. "You have to peel it first" I told him.

He shot me a dirty look, just like he would have to Eve, and got to work.

"Um, I should probably go call my Mom," I said. "Can I use the phone?"

"You pay for long distance" he said.

"Sure" I replied.

He shrugged, reached over, and grabbed the cordless phone, then pitched it underhanded to me. I nearly dropped it, but I was kind of proud I didn't. I got out a big iron skillet from under the cabinet and put it on the counter, heated up the burner, and found some oil. As it was warming, I read over the thin little recipe book I had brought at the store one more time, then dialled the phone.