Starr Gone Read online

  I shake him. Again, trying to be gentle. Again, trying to be cautious, but he needs to stay awake. From what little I know of first aid, he needs to stay with me. “Frank, stay with me. Stay with me until the ambulance gets here.”

  “I’m just so tired,” he whispers. His eyes flash open in alarm. “You can’t stay. Remember what Sami said? You and Christian can’t stay here. The police will take both of you in for questioning—Treadwell will find you. You have to get out of here. Now.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Stop... being... stubborn,” he moans.

  I open my mouth to argue but think better of it.

  Di presses down on the hoodie, effectively replacing my compression efforts. “He’s right. I don’t know what went down, but the Organization will catch wind of this. The three of you need to get out of here. Now.”

  I shake my head. “No, no, I want to stay.”

  Christian places his hands on my shoulders. “Starr, we have to go.”

  “But Frank.... There’s so much blood. What if he...?” I can’t bring myself to say the word.

  “I’m not going to die,” he whispers.

  I stare into those striking green eyes that bring girls to their knees. “You don’t know that. I need to be here.”

  “I need to tell you something,” he whispers. I lean over. He takes a deep, gathering, shuttering breath. “I love you.”

  “Oh Frank, I love you too,” I say.

  “No,” he says, shaking his head, “you don’t understand. I. Love. You. I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.” He draws in another shaky breath. “I know you don’t feel the same, but I thought you should know.”

  His body goes rigid.

  “Oh Frank!” I sob, wrapping my arms around him.

  “Starr, we have to go now,” Christian whispers in my ear. He pries my arms free. I’m too weak, too numb to fight him. My absolute best friend was shot by someone I considered my best girlfriend. He lifts me up. I’m a ragdoll. The strength to stand left me long ago. I crumble under my own weight. He swings me into his arms.

  “Is she okay?” Jude asks.

  “I think so. She’s just in shock,” he says. He carries me down the dark, narrow stairs. The industrial music vibrates off the walls. To these dancers, the gunshots were background noise. Nothing more. A gun didn’t pierce their abdomen. Blood doesn’t drain out of their bodies. They dance to the music without a care in the world, without the weight of their best friends’ betrayal, without an Organization after them, without their best friend bleeding out on the floor.

  Fresh air brings a wave of crushing enlightenment. Sirens wail in the distance.

  “Do you mind driving?” Christian asks Jude.

  “Not at all.”

  Christian places me in the backseat and slides in next to me. Once the door’s shut, he pulls me on top of him and rocks me gently back and forth. I cry and cry and cry, and then, when we get to headquarters, and I’m cocooned in his arms, a new wave of loss strikes and I cry all over again.

  When the last tear falls, either from exhaustion or, more likely, dehydration, his phone rings. Tears spring to my eyes. It’s too soon. Too soon to hear anything unless it’s bad.

  He answers it without glancing at the number. He listens to whoever is on the other end, his demeanor collapsing with every passing second. “I understand.”

  He slips his phone into his pocket. I’m going to be sick. I’m going to be sick. “Is he... is he...?”

  Chapter Three

  Di

  Ding-dong the bitch is dead. Which old bitch? The wicked bitch... and her flying monkey, slack jawed next to her. ’Tis a night to remember is what it is. ’Tis a night to remember. Well, except for Frank. I wish I could forget that nanosecond that he leaped in front of Starr as Sami pulled the trigger.

  Now, I blot Starr’s hoodie into his wound, staunching the blood, praying to any god who will listen to save this heroic man.

  The EMTs burst into the room behind Ben. They hurry over to the tangled bodies of Sami and Jody, but Ben stops them before they drop their bags. He points. He motions. They argue. Shake their heads. Pump their fists. He points again. At Frank. At me next to Frank. Covered in blood.

  Eyes wide, they rush over. I lift the hoodie away from the wound. Blood slowly seeps out, but it’s not the geyser of a few minutes ago when Starr was still here, when Frank professed his undying love for her. She would have stayed. She would never have left Frank’s side. If not for Christian physically removing her, she’d be here still. She would have risked it all—her life, her freedom for Frank, but she won’t be a martyr. Not with her team here.

  Sami and Jody will take the fall for their hand in this sordid mess. So will the Organization and General Treadwell if I have my way. The story I have begun to weave will lead the authorities exactly where I want them to go.

  I don’t know what happened to the girls, Officer. I came into the room, saw Frank, and dialed 911. The girls were already on the floor.

  Law enforcement doesn’t need to know about my Taser. The thrill of firing it into two bitches is one I will not give up without a fight and a full body cavity search.

  The EMTs roll Frank onto a stretcher. I follow behind, past the two prone bodies, past the two officers talking to Coda, and out into the ambulance. “I’m his sister,” I say to the seated EMT.

  She raises her eyebrow. She raises her hand to stop me as I climb in. “In the front. Ashley, passenger coming!”

  I climb back out. The metal stairs made for someone with far more reach than me. I drag my hand along the side of the ambulance as I go. The smooth, flat, unforgiving surface reassures me that Frank’s safe. That no one will get him in there. No one would dare try. I climb up on the running board and swing myself into the cab. The driver, not a woman as I assumed with a name like Ashley, fixes his large amber eyes on me. They seep with kindness, removing any stereotypes I may have garnered with name, gender, and common decency. “Buckle up,” he says. He flicks the siren on, then hits the gas. My body smacks against the back of the seat. “I warned you,” he chuckles.

  I shoot him a glare as I slip the buckle in.

  “Your little black lined evil eyes don’t faze me. I’ve been running ambulance for twenty years. You got nothing I haven’t seen before.” There’s no menace in his voice, only a lighthearted laugh that reminds me of Frank. I pinch my eyes tight. A fucking tear dares to slip out.

  “He’ll be all right,” he says. “We pulled the bullet from the floor. It appears to have grazed his side. Shouldn’t have hit any vital organs.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble staring out the window. I slip my hand across my face to wipe the renegade tear.

  Cars make way for the speeding, siren-wailing ambulance. Those who don’t, find themselves bumper to bumper with Ambulance 2234 and Ashley, who’s not afraid to lay on the horn and ride your ass until you move the hell out of the way.

  He pulls into the ER entrance. Several hospital workers rush to the rear of the ambulance when we stop. I jump out and follow the crowd into the hospital.

  “Miss,” someone says. “Miss!”

  I keep walking. Nothing will stop me from staying with Frank.

  “Miss,” a man says as he grips my arm. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Can’t it wait?” I snap before I notice the uniform and the badge and the holster with the gun. I have two options. One: I kick him in the crotch and run. Two: I cooperate, point him right at Sami and Jody, the Organization, General Treadwell, and the Jonathon Drive Church, then go to Frank.

  “No. It can’t wait. Come with me.”

  Zoey, wild, thrill seeking, adrenaline junky Zoey, would disable the officer’s ability to communicate, most likely through excessive use of pepper spray then she would disappear. Her actions, while entertaining, are not super helpful in helping Frank. I reclaim my inner Starr. I tilt my head. “Officer...,” I peek up at his badge, “Smith, could we walk and talk? I
don’t want to lose my friend.” No point lying anymore about our relationship. The cop will run our names and figure out we aren’t siblings. I paste a smile on my face. I realize with the red lipstick and pale skin I am more Joker than American Girl. “I’m Di Rourke, seventeen, from Webster, New York.”

  He pulls out his notebook and writes as he walks beside me. “New York? You’re a long way from home. What are you doing down here?”

  “Frank and I are visiting our friend, Coda Jenkins.”

  Up ahead, Frank’s gurney turns into a room. His entourage of nurses, doctors, and interns herd around him.

  “And what is Frank’s last name?”

  “Wagner. He’s seventeen and he’s also from Webster, New York.” My parents, if they are coherent enough to answer the phone, will cover for me. Frank’s stepfather travels for work—he’s never home. His mom, well his mom might cover for him, but it all depends on her parental interest at the time of the call. She switches from Super Mom to Mommy Dearest with an eye twitch.

  Full disclosure on my part will serve us well. “Frank got invited to the youth group dance when he was at the Jonathon Drive Church on Sunday.”

  “Youth. Group. Church. Dance?” He raises an eyebrow. “You expect me to buy that?”

  “Officer, you can check with Jonathon Drive Church—that wild club scene was a youth group dance. You have to believe me. I’m straight edge. No drugs, no alcohol.” I lift my hand to shield my fake blush. “No sex.”

  He clears his throat. “Continue....”

  Chapter Four

  Starr

  I didn’t know Frank loved me. I mean I knew he loved me, but I didn’t know he love loved me. Di always used to say I was oblivious to boys. We’d stay up late after school dances and she’d tell me all about the boys who tried to dance with me, but I was so caught up in the moment, in the swinging of my arms and legs, and the rhythm of the song, to realize some boy wanted to dance with me or liked me. Sami used to joke about it. Light-hearted harmless jokes. At least I always thought the jokes were harmless. Now I realize it was the first indication of the deep-seated hatred that sprouted in the dark recesses of her belly and blossomed into something horrible and terrifying. Horrible and terrifying enough to want to kill me.

  “How did I not know he loved me? We spent every day after school together, every weekend, every holiday.... He came over after his dates. He never even hinted that he felt more for me than the friendship we had.... And all the girls. All the girls he did things with. The girls he kissed. Hit on. Had sex with.” I turn to Christian. “I can’t tell you how many girls he had sex with. If he loved me so much, how could he do that to me? To us? And why didn’t he say anything? Why did he wait until now?”

  Christian tucks me under his chin. “Maybe he wanted to, but he didn’t know how. Maybe being with you was enough. I had no idea about Di. I really thought we were friends. Well, I guess in the beginning I knew. She always seemed nervous when we were together—I just thought she was high strung. Plus, she was always with Zoey. Zoey’s the one who first spoke to me at Beans. She’s the one who snuck into my room naked.”

  I pull away from him. “What?”

  The darkness hides his blush, but I know it’s there. It radiates off him. “My aunt was away, and I went to a bar to watch a band with a few other people. Di went. Zoey bailed. Later that night, I crawled into my bed, and well....” He clears his throat. “Zoey was passed out cold and naked.”

  “You... you saw her naked?”

  Zoey developed boobs in fifth grade. By sixth, she was dating high school guys. She went Goth in eighth grade and as far as I knew, she didn’t date high school boys again. Evidently, she just crawled into their beds naked.

  He laughs. “Don’t be jealous of Zoey. I called Di and waited for her to pick her up. You, of all people, should know I am a perfect gentleman.”

  “Much to my dismay sometimes,” I tease, nibbling his earlobe.

  He laughs into my hair. “I love you.”

  Those three words. The same three words Frank said to me. Oh, how I wanted to say them back to him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t lie, not even once, not even when I might not ever get to see him again. “I wish I told Frank I loved him.”

  Christian pulls away. “Do you? Do you love him?”

  “Of course, I do.” He shrinks away from me. His heat seeps from my body as he puts distance between us. I crawl over to him and slip my arms around him. “I love him like a brother, like a best friend. Not like how I feel about you. You’re everything to me. You’re all I think about.”

  He cradles my face with his hands. His eyes reflecting the moonlight coming into the room. “Are you sure Starr? Are you sure you don’t love him?”

  I push my lips into him. Action always speaks louder than words.

  Chapter Five

  Di

  Dazed and confused. That’s how I feel right now. Dazed and confused. The high of Tasing Sami and Jody wore off as Officer Smith ripped out my soul. Never in my life had I been so honest with a police officer. A part of me died in that Asheville hospital corridor. Died a painful, tortured death. I should have a funeral. Weep for the most rebellious, disobedient part of me.

  But I had to tell the truth. I had to. A seventeen-year-old five-foot-nothing Goth with one or two unruly conducts to her record makes for an open and shut case.

  Sami and Jody need to pay for what they did to Frank. They need to pay for what they did to Starr.

  And if my answers don’t check out, they will contact my parents and I will become an enemy of the state of North Carolina. Some assistant DA who’s dealt with hundreds of juvenile delinquents, all of whom have lied to her and have left her cynical and broken, would advise me to take the plea bargain and be done with it.

  A little over a week ago, I might have listened. Well, not so much listen, as sew my lips up and deny, deny, deny. Today, I need to be here for Frank. Today, I need to be here for Starr, for Christian, for Ben, for Coda. I have a new family that needs me. A new family that wants me around—it is a novelty I could get used to.

  The steady beep of one of Frank’s monitors makes me smile. The lucky son of a bitch managed to avoid any internal damage. Ashley was correct in his initial assessment. The bullet only grazed the side. Thank god because Starr would be dead if Frank hadn’t dove to save her.

  His hand rests on the side of the bed. I check the room to make sure no one’s watching before I reach for it. I remember the feel of the warm dry hand that was nothing like the cold, clammy ones of boys, sometimes men, who always wanted to feel me up or do a lot more with me whether I gave them permission or not.

  A burst of warmth rushes through me. This must be the endorphin high Starr’s always talking about.

  Frank’s skin is flawless. There’s not one blemish. Not one scar. Well, just a little puckered spot high on his right temple from when we played manhunt in the woods behind my house and a tree branch and his moving body collided.

  My eyes slide down to his full lips that have kissed so many girls. I’d never admit it to him, but while he might be heartthrob gorgeous, the way his mind works is downright sexy. Another burst of warmth rushes through me as I recall our conversation at the apartment twenty-four hours earlier.

  “I’m telling you he’s gay,” I said from my perch on the breakfast bar. Frank was plucking the sole of my boots.

  At that moment, Starr and Christian strolled in from their bedroom. Revolving planets that orbited into our solar system. I’ll admit the first few days their togetherness bothered me, and I know it bothered Frank, but by then, we were either used to them being together or resigned to the realization that they would never be with either one of us.

  “There’s no way. He goes out with girls all the time, and I’m familiar with what some of those girls do on first dates,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

  We all rolled our eyes. Even I on the fringe knew who Frank was dating.

  “Let’s make a bet,” he said. />
  “What proof do you need?”

  He untied my shoelaces while he thought. “I don’t know. He has to hold hands with a guy or something.”

  Normally if someone dared touch my Docs, I’d taser his ass. For some reason, when Frank did it, it didn’t bother me. I just started retying them. “Frank, I’m telling you he is. He just may not know it yet.”

  “Oh, now he doesn’t know it yet. That’s not proof. That’s just your guess.”

  “A guess based on fact,” I said.

  Starr picked up an apple. “Who’re you talking about anyway?”

  “Dave Rogers,” I said.

  Dave Rogers was the quarterback for our high school football team. Nearly every girl in the school had tried to go out with him. Nearly. Two exceptions were in this room.

  “Oh, he’s gay,” she said.

  “Definitely,” Christian added.

  Frank turned to him. “How do you know?”

  “He checked me out a few times. He never checked you out?” Christian asked with a wide-eyed, lifted eyebrow mock surprise.

  Frank scratched behind his ear. “No. I mean I don’t think so.”

  Christian looped his arm across Starr’s shoulders. “Must not be his type.”

  “Humph,” Frank said. “Gay? Really?”

  “Yup.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Wow. Guess you never know about some people. More girls for me in any case,” Frank joked, shrugging in shoulders in a sacrificial way

  I shoved him. The shoelaces I could let go. But this, this I could not. “Pig.”

  Jude scowled.

  “What’s wrong?” Starr asked.

  “How can you discuss a guy’s homosexuality so nonchalantly?”

  “Because it’s not a big deal,” I replied.

  “Yeah, who cares who a person likes?” Starr said.

  Frank clamped his hand over Jude’s shoulder. “Yeah man, like I said, more girls for me.”

  Jude shrugged him away, as if Frank was hitting on him. I picked at a cuticle on my pinkie but I really wanted him to notice the points of my nails because I entertained serious thoughts about swiping them across his face. “What’s your problem with it?”