Jessie Humphries - Killing Ruby Rose

I hid in the shadows, scanning the dark parking lot to assess the threat level. So far Id identified three potential informants Id have to evade when making a break for it. I didnt need my 4.0 GPA to know that being seen leaving the city library at 9:00 on a Friday night wouldnt win me any points on the SPA (Social Point Average), on which I was definitely flunking. Avoiding detection was key.

Maintaining position under the librarys dark awning, I took a quick breath of briny ocean air to gain my bearings. The parking lots sickly yellow lights flickered behind the suffocating fog, making it hard to tell whether the rain was misting down from above or wafting in sideways from the shore. In any case, the blacktop lay slick, full of potholes, and speckled with math-club kids who would have just loved to report a sighting of Reclusive Ruby Rose.

With a practiced stealth, I dashed through the night. Even in my new Prada peep-toe pumpsaka my PenelopesI had speed. I moved light-footed through the blind spots, like I was navigating one of my dads SWAT obstacle courses, until I found cover in the drivers seat of Big Black, my overly tinted SUV and current best friend. I gripped the steering wheel. Ready to do this? I asked Black, ignoring my therapists voice in my head telling me to stop personifying the things in my life and start concentrating on the people. She didnt understand. Things couldnt break my heart.

Big Blacks tires spun out, fighting for traction against the wet asphalt. No more denominators, dusty textbooks, or depressing thoughts. Instead, my mind changed gears to the last subject of study for the night. A study Id so far kept strictly to myself. One that required night-vision binoculars, a police scanner, and my .38 Smith & Wesson handgunall carefully hidden beneath the false bottom of the drivers console.

Rebel energy flowed through my veins as I allowed myself to imagine tonight being the night I caught my markMr. Charlie LeMarqin the act. I had thirty minutes until he got off work and headed to his favorite dive. A creature of habit, he hadnt deviated from his Friday-night routine for five weeks. And neither had I, as Id waited for the evidence that would finally put the violent predator away for good.

I hit the Pacific Coast Highway with momentum, grateful for a break in the rain. With the windows cracked and the stereo up, the whipping wind and heavy beat refreshed my senses. Something about the brewing storm beyond the oceans black-and-blue horizon spoke to me. It was a foreboding that simultaneously quickened my heart rate and eased the ever-present heartache.

I enjoyed the momentuntil my phone vibrated against said heart like a minidefibrillator shocking me back to reality. The sad reality of a seminormal seventeen-year-old girl and not the sleek sleuth I pretended to be. (Only semi because totally normal girls dont wear four-inch Prada heels to the library, or stalk criminals, or wear four-inch Prada heels while stalking criminals.)

Pulling my cell out of my cleavage, I found the screen lit up with my best friends facemy real-life, living-and-breathing best friend, Alana. Though breathing as a determining factor in a best friend seemed slightly overrated.

I had a choice to make. The red Decline button versus the green Answer button. Red: Avoid the call now, and keep declining all night because Alana Kailua (aka the only un-laid-back Hawaiian in SoCal) would never stop. Green: Put up my dukes to defend myself and be forced into lies. So, basicallylose-lose.

Hello, caller, youre on the air, I spoke into my Denalis Bluetooth speaker system. I was nothing if not a law-abiding citizen whod taken The Pledge to Put It Down, the promise to put down handheld phones while driving. District Attorney Jane Rose (aka my absentee mother) had come up with that catchy slogan for her latest campaign.

Girl, where are you? Alana banshee-shrieked, forcing me to make an unsafe jerk of the wheel to turn down the volume.

Im driving home, I said, fully aware she wouldnt believe me. She knew I hated going home to an empty house.

Its nine p.m. On a Friday! she groaned. Our high schools fight song played so fervently in the background that victory could be the only cause. Other than the abuse of energy drinks. I know youre not going home, so just get your antisocial A-S-S over here right now. Theres gonna be a killer after-party, and youre coming!

Sparring match commenced. Lately, every conversation with Alana felt like a brawl at the dojo. Like, even though Id put away my black belt months ago, I couldnt stop fighting.

Im tired, Alana. Lateral defense move.

Checking my rearview mirror, I caught Huntington Beach High Schools stadium lights fading away. Year-ago me would have been there at the game with Alanagiggling, cavorting, and playing along. That girl (with the 4.0 SPA) had long since faded from view. Ill catch you tomorrow. Well go to the beach or something. Submissive bow out.

Ruby, I know you miss your dad, but your self-imposed solitary confinement isnt helping. He wouldnt want this. Provoking palm-heel strike to the heart.

Please dont pretend to know what hed want. Double-handed hooking block, protecting the weak spot.

Its been over six months since he died, Alana said with worn-out delicacy. Its time to snap out of zombie mode.

I didnt lose a puppy, Alana, I said. I lost the most important person in my life, I didnt say, as I tried to suppress the billowing emptiness I felt inside. I need more time.

Yeah, so you say. Elbow to the mouth.

I dont know what you want me to say. Bleeding.

Say youll take off your loner trench coat and come have some fun. It will be good for you.

Not tonight, OK? I begged, feeling the familiar anchor of guilt tugging at me, heavier every time I blew her off. I promise well go to the beach or the mall tomorrow. Whatever you want.

You know, Ruby, I should start calling you Rubiks Cube, because no matter how hard I try, I can never figure out what Im supposed to do with you, Alana said. And its such a shame, because despite the fact that youve gone from being the slightly intimidating Brainiac Barbie to the totally antisocial Hermit Barbiethere are still several dudes I know whod be willing to offer their shoulders to cry onor their laps to sit onor their lips to

Alana! I interrupted. Im sorry, but my life doesnt revolve around boys and parties like yours does, OK?

Her long pause meant Id pissed her off (more than I wanted to), and I drove past the street where Id wanted to turn. My blood boiled as I realized my stupid mistake. I rarely made mistakes. And I never lost sparring matches, physical or verbal. I had the karate and debate trophies to prove it.

Well, I promised I wouldnt say anything, but if I cant lure you out of your hole by myselfI have no choice. Alana mustve moved into the girls bathroom for privacy, because most of the background noise had vanished. Your boy has something planned tonight. Side stance, luring wave to come closer.

What are you talking about? Careful approach. I dont have a boy.

Liam Slater, Rubiks Cube. Dont play stupid with me. I know better. I gave him your number last week, and Im pretty sure hes going to text you tonight. And in case you feel like blowing him off, too, just knowhes going to ask you to Homecoming. Roundhouse kick to the temple.