Going Under Read Online Free PDF Page A

parent, but I didn’t care. I wanted to start over—look sweet
and innocent—and I thought that Dad accompanying me would give that
impression perfectly. God knows I needed a new identity.
    “Well, I don’t want to be in the way,” Dad
replied.
    “How would you be in the way?” I asked,
hopping up from the bed. “Come on. Afterwards you can take me
shopping for school supplies.” If he wanted to give me things, who
was I to refuse?
    “Okay,” Dad said, a note of excitement
underlining the word.
    ***
    You know when someone is staring at you. You
feel it. The hairs on your neck stand up if it’s an odd feeling, if
you’re not quite sure you like it. If the person makes you uneasy,
even if you haven’t spotted him yet. Or you might feel the wave of
heat crash onto you starting at your head and swooshing down your
body to your toes. If you like it. If it’s a good feeling, even if
you haven’t spotted him yet.
    I felt the hairs on my neck stand up because
I knew who it was. And I didn’t like it. Or him.
    I looked down at my outfit. I don’t know why
I cared, but I was starting over at a new school, and I wanted the
first impression to be the right one. Dark jean shorts with a
see-through billowy top. I wore a camisole underneath the top and
let it hang off of one shoulder. My feet sported jeweled sandals. I
wore just a bit of make-up. Mostly I focused on accentuating my
dark blue eyes. Gold tones to make them pop. Thick mascara on my
upper lashes. I kept my lower lashes naked. I liked the contrast. I
even curled my hair and left my locks loose, cascading down my back
in soft blond waves.
    This was so important—first impressions. I
was trying to start fresh. I was confident that most students at
Charity Run didn’t know who I was because my old high school wasn’t
a rival. They wouldn’t know my history with Beth, my history as a
terrible friend. I had a chance at a real transformation. I would
be a good girl my senior year. I would walk the halls every day and
feel Beth’s ghost—a constant reminder of my betrayal—and welcome
the pain. It would be punishment I deserved. And if I was lucky,
eventually I would be reformed.
    Dad struck up a conversation with the
teacher helping me, so I decided it was time to turn my face, to
let my surveyor see me fully. I jumped when I saw him. I thought he
would be somewhere across the gym, but he was standing right behind
me. The heat crashed over me then, but not the good heat. I was
nervous, and my skin burned with it.
    He smiled at me. I returned my own, shy and
uncertain.
    “You a senior?” he asked casually.
    He towered over me, brown hair buzzed,
chocolate eyes dark and foreboding. His arms were thick with years
of competitive swimming, and for a split second, I imagined Beth
trapped by them, unable to move, to escape as he took whatever he
wanted from her. A violation of the most personal nature. Too
devastating for Beth to overcome, so she took her life in her
bedroom closet instead.
    A righteous anger flared in me immediately,
and just like that, I discovered a purpose. My purpose. It
flooded me instantly, a great wave slamming into my mind and my
heart, carrying with it the courage and conviction of my newly
formed plan. I knew how to apologize. I knew how to make things
right with Beth. I was a warrior in that moment, and I was going
into battle on behalf of my friend. I’ll fucking bury this guy,
Beth. I’ll do it. Just watch me do it. And I transformed into
the predator . He just didn’t know it yet. He thought I was
the prey, and I’d let him.
    I swallowed. “Yeah,” I said, combing my
fingers through my hair. I wanted it to look like a sweet little
nervous habit. I cocked my head playfully as I looked up at
him.
    “That’s gotta be hard. Moving to a new
school your senior year,” he replied.
    “Not really,” I said. “My old school
sucked.”
    I watched as his eyes roved over my body. He
was covert about it, but I wasn’t blind. My skin