Deadly Little Games Read Free Page A

Ben’s love interest—me—as a way to make him jealous.
    “So, what now?” Kimmie asks.
    “Maybe you should give Adam a call,” Wes says. “That is, if you don’t wish him dead—in which case you should probably stay as far away from him as possible.” He snatches my plastic utensils away. “I hear prison’s a pain in the ass.”
    “No pun intended,” Kimmie jokes.
    “Well, naturally, I don’t wish anyone dead,” I say, as if the explanation were even necessary.
    “Does Adam wish you were dead?” Kimmie asks.
    “How would I know?”
    “Maybe someone wishes Adam were dead.” Wes scratches his chin in thought. “Or maybe you’re supposed to save Adam, the way Ben saved you last fall. I mean, you did say you sculpted his eyes while they were closed…meaning, he could have been dead.”
    “Don’t tell me this is going to be another semester of psycho notes, creepy photos, and cheap lingerie,” Kimmie says, referring to some of the mysterious gifts I received when I was being stalked.
    “Are you talking about Camelia’s past with Matt, or your own colorful dating history?” Wes asks her.
    “Jealous that I have a dating history?” She blows him a kiss.
    “Maybe we’re reading too much into things,” I say, interrupting their banter.
    “It’s possible,” Wes chirps. “Your verging-on-obsessive, shrineworthy stalkerazzi sculptures could very well be your subconscious’s way of making it clear that you and Adam have some unresolved issues to attend to. And the twisted death-wish phrase could totally be chalked up to too many scary movies.”
    “Or too many detentions with Mr. Muse.” Kimmie giggles. “My advice: give Adam a call. Be all casual, and ask him how he’s doing.”
    “And if he’s gotten any death threats lately,” Wes adds.
    I shake my head at the thought of contacting him again. It’s not like we ended things on totally terrible terms. It’s just that, despite how sorry he was afterward, despite the apologetic letters he sent asking for my forgiveness, what he did was downright cruel. “How am I supposed to explain to Ben that I’m calling his biggest enemy?…Someone I dated?”
    “Who says he has to know?” Wes shrugs.
    “He’ll touch her and know, Einstein.” Kimmie uses the knot of her beaded necklace to thwack him in the head.
    “Well, if that’s the case, I’m surprised you even lied to him in the first place,” Wes says. “I mean, didn’t you figure he’d know the truth anyway?”
    “What can I say? I’m an idiot.”
    “Idiot or not, what you were sensing must have been pretty intense,” Kimmie says. “I mean, to feel so guilty about it that you cut class, got a nurse’s note, and willingly crashed Muse’s phys ed block. So, you sculpted Adam’s facial features. It doesn’t exactly make you a two-timing tramp.”
    “And it doesn’t exactly explain why Ben freaked out in gym class,” Wes says. “Which brings us to the most obvious question: are you sure you aren’t holding anything back from us? Might you have sculpted something a bit more scandalous than what you’re actually admitting? A sexy little bowl or a naughty pot with a really curvaceous mouth?”
    “Are there any other interesting body-part sculptures you want to tell us about?” Kimmie asks, playing along.
    “No,” I say, grateful for their humor—and for the fact that, despite this funked-up situation, they can actually get me to laugh.
    “Is there any way to block what Ben is able to sense?” Wes asks. “Might a hint of garlic around your neck or chanting incantations under a waxing moon prove effective in warding off his abilities?”
    “I doubt it.” I smirk.
    Kimmie reaches across the table to touch my arm in consolation. “Well, then, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but as far as Ben’s concerned, it looks like honesty is your only option.”
    “A shame.” Wes sighs, shaking his head in sympathy. “If only there could be some other way.”

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