Marianne Elizabeth Hammer (top young adult novels TXT) 📖

idea. That idea comprised everything that Patrick had rejected. It would have to be the Tragedy or nothing.

Well?

She stared at the mirror, watching her lips move. “Mary?” she whispered. “What’s it going to be?”

She shrugged.

“You gonna run?” she asked. “Are you gonna run like the coward you are?”

That didn’t sound appealing.

“Okay,” she said. “So you’re going to walk out there at midnight. And Patrick’s going to tell you to go to hell, if he comes at all. You ready for that?”

She took a deep breath. She owed it to both of them to do it.

“But you will do it like a Goth princess, got it?” Marianne stood up straighter. “You’re going down, but you’re going to do it in a… a creepy, melodramatic, memorable sort of way, okay?”

She nodded at herself. “Yup,” she said, unzipping her purse. “It’s gonna be awesome.” Marianne dumped the contents of her bag onto the counter. Phone, cigarettes and lighter, liquid foundation, and black lipstick. Not a lot to work with, but hopefully enough.

She reapplied the white foundation with her fingers, covering up her blotchy cheeks and purple eye circles. She used the tip of a rolled-up paper towel to apply some black lipstick as eyeliner. Nice. Now she looked cat-like and sophisticated instead of haggard and sleep deprived. She dabbed some on her lids and blended it into eye shadow, adding that last touch of mystery and elegance. Not really. The whole job was pretty ghetto compared to Georgia’s work, but it was passable in the dark. A generous amount of black lipstick on the lips, a little rearranging of hairpins, and she was ready.

The alarm on her phone buzzed. Five minutes to ten.

31

The Disinterment of Marianne York

Marianne opened the door of the sports bar and stepped out. She let it shut behind her and then dug around in her purse for a cigarette. She lit it and then walked forward to find a bench where she could type out her ten o’clock text. She glanced to her left and froze. That group of guys walking toward her looked familiar…

It was Christian, Ivan, Hector, and Sammy. Oh frick. She spun around to escape, but froze again.

There were the Goths. Storming toward her, fangs bared, trench coats billowing in the wind.

Caught. Trapped. Nowhere to go. People started shouting her name from both sides. Marianne hung her head down and waited for the groups to converge around her. Ben reached her first.

“There you are,” he said. “We’ve been worried sick. Thought you went to jump off a bridge or something.”

“No, I’m fine…”

“Hey, Marianne!” came Ivan’s voice. “Looking good.”

She turned around and smiled. “Thanks.” She gestured toward her dress. “It’s new.”

Christian laughed. “Yeah, we heard.” He held up his phone. “We’ve been trying to track down Patrick all day, and Danielle finally told us what was going on.”

Ivan stepped up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.”

“I’ll say,” said Ben. “Have you read the texts?”

Sally snatched Marianne’s purse from her and dug around for her phone. “You guys have got to read these,” she said excitedly. “I’m Sally, by the way. Anyway, she’s amazing. So brave. Look.”

“Wait,” said Marianne, trying to grab it back from Christian. “I’ve got to send my ten o’clock text now.”

Sally waved her away. “You’ve got a few minutes.” She leaned in close to Christian, pointing out the best confessions. “This one. Read that. It’s my favorite.”

Ivan looked up from his place over Christian’s shoulder. “Ouch. I don’t think he’s going to like that one very much.”

Marianne nodded, smiling, and then bummed a stick of gum off Sammy. She started to make her way over to a bench to wait when she heard it…

“Hey… Hey,” said Hector. “Is that him?”

“What?” said Sally, jumping back from Christian and glancing around.

“That guy in the parking lot,” said Hector, pointing. “That’s Patrick!”

Marianne looked over and saw a tall guy in jeans and a black t-shirt walking toward them. It was dark, and he was about a hundred yards away, but there was no doubt. It was Patrick. “No,” she whispered, ducking behind Christian. “What’s he doing here? It’s only ten!”

“It’s fine,” said Sally, running over and grabbing Marianne by the shoulders. “You’re ready. And he came early; that’s a good sign.”

Ivan squinted toward him and then coughed. “It sure doesn’t look like a good sign.”

Marianne peeked around Christian and saw exactly what Ivan meant. Patrick was closer now, and he didn’t exactly look happy. He looked serious. In fact, he looked downright angry. Marianne ducked down behind Christian again.

A few moments passed, and then suddenly, everyone seemed to freeze. Ivan lifted his hand and waved. A few more seconds ticked by, giving Marianne time to slink back into the shadows. Most of the Goths moved back a bit, too, giving Marianne more cover. This could not be happening. She was not ready.

“Uh… hey, dude,” said Christian a moment later. “Where have you been? We’ve been calling all day.”

Marianne shifted a few inches to the right to get a good look at him, and she saw the worst thing imaginable. The Non-Expression. There was nothing to read, no emotion, no hint. That meant bad things. Very, very bad things.

Patrick shrugged at Christian, not really looking at him. “I don’t know. Here and there,” he said. He kept glancing around. Was that from stress? Was he looking for her? He looked at Christian directly for the first time. “Is something wrong? How’d you know I was here?”

“We talked to your sister,” said Christian. He coughed. “She told us what Marianne and the Goths were doing.”

Patrick looked understandably confused. “The Goths?” He glanced past Christian and seemed to notice the lurking black crowd for the first time. He swallowed, looking more confused than ever. “Oh…”

Sally jumped into action immediately and stepped forward. “Hi, Patrick,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Sally. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hello.” Patrick smiled at her and shook her hand, but it looked uncomfortable.