The Wallflower Effect

Chapter 15: Team Dauntless.

"So, what happened?" Gage asked, after I walked out of Asheville High without Derek in tow. I didn't really have a good answer for him. He took put a hand on my shoulder supportively, and we began walking over to my dad's prized possession, the corvette.

"I'm not really sure." I answered, troubled by the fact that I was being serious. I felt conflicted. Guilty. Vengeful. Too many things to put into words.  My world was falling apart, and I wasn't sure why or how, much less how to deal with it. Was there a reason fate had decided to abuptly dump a load of crap all over my life, or was it just random?

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gage offered gently, bringing me in for a small side-hug, which I gratefully welcomed.

"Not just yet. Maybe later or something." I offered. He thought it over. "Whenever you're ready to talk, Zoe, I'm ready to listen." He said. I nodded. 

"Hey!" A female voice called out. I turned around realizing it sounded familiar. I turned around to see Jessica jogging over to Gage and I, Eathan right by her side. They were talking and interacting like they knew each other, so they must have been friends. For some reason, I let go of Gage's hand, feeling irrationally embarrassed when Eathan spotted it. We weren't kissing or anything. But for some reason, I didn't want Eathan to see it. That was something psychologists would have a field day over. I began walking over to the two, not even attempting a smile as I went straight in for a hug with Eathan. His arms wrapped around me comfortably, and I buried my face in his leather jacket.

"What happened?"  Jess asked Gage. I turned to look at them, hesitating. I hadn't exactly really told Gage and Eathan about the whole trying to find my murderous psycho thing.

"Giselle." I whispered. By the hitch in Jenny's breath, she heard me. Eathan let go of me, looking down at me with too many emotions to name. "But there's more to it. I have something I need to tell all three of you." I began, thinking of his threat to Morgan Steel, and my plans to be there when he tried.

I made eye contact with Eathan and Gage, respectively. I looked down guiltily. As two overprotective alpha males that also happened to be my long time best friend, and my boyfriend, they would not be happy about this. But I had to be honest with them, and I had to do this. Regardless of what they thought about it. At least I knew Jessica would get it. No matter how stupid or reckless it was, I was going to catch this guy, and I was going to make him pay somehow. I would not be a powerless damsel in distress.

"I'm craving tacos. Does anyone want tacos?"

*Approximately 15 minutes after Zoey's nervous taco craving has been satiated.*

Since, obviously, school had been cancelled due to the fact that a corpse in the hallway might distract from 'learning.' Apparently more people were nervous eaters at my school than I'd have guessed, judging by how full my favorite taco place was. After stuffing my face in front of my boyfriend, best friend, and psycho-hunter acquaintance type person? All of them- Jess, obviously exempt, anxiously awaited my explanation. I slowly watched them get more confused and slightly angered. Which only fueled my nervousness thus forcing me to stuff my face with more taco, rendering my unable to properly speak. Eventually, I stopped the vicious cycle by running out of tacos.

By the time this happened, Jessica was clenching her fists and pursing her lips to suppress her laughter at my hilariously grim predicament. Gage was staring at a picture of a mariachi band as if it held the answer to the crabby patty secret formula. Eathan had stated roughly five times to try and ask me questions, and I had responded by breaking off eye contact with him and taking my last bite of my precious taco.

"So, um, I'm done with my tacos now." Gage, being the only one with enough experience with me to know that it was Zoey-speak for 'Okay you can ask me questions now seeing as how I have run out of food and can't think of any more excuses,' finally tore his eyes away from the fascinating picture of latin men with remarkable mustaches and brass instruments to glare at me.