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Rebel Belle (Untitled Series #1) Page 13
Author: Rachel Hawkins

avoid looking at the pool.

“Who are you?” David asked me for the second time that day.

“International assassin? Ninja? Vampire slayer, maybe?” I lifted my head. “No, I’m a—”

There was a slight popping sound from the pool, and David

and I both turned our attention back to the water.

Which was now empty.

And with one loud crack, the hole in my fence was suddenly

gone. I didn’t even have to look behind me to know that the

screech of metal was David’s car repairing itself. In just a few

seconds, all evidence of the insane car chase, the crash, all of it,

was gone. Then the only sound in my backyard was the singing

of birds and the rustling of the leaves.

“That really happened,” David said softly. “All that shit, it . . .

disappeared, right? I didn’t hallucinate that?”

My adrenaline seemed to vanish as completely as the Cadillac, and it was all I could do not to collapse in a heap on the grass. It was one thing to see the after-effects of stuff disappearing. It was another to see an entire car—with people inside—poof out of

existence.

“Yeah,” I replied. “That happened.”

“Do you know why?”

When I turned to him, David was still staring at the pool, the

fingers of his right hand pressed against his temple again. “No. But . . . David, something seriously weird is going on.” The hand at his temple moved up to tug on his hair as David

made a sound that was part sob, part laugh. “You think? Jesus,

Harper. You . . . you flipped Ryan Bradshaw like a pancake. You

drove a car like Jason Bourne. And then this . . .” He waved his

hand at the water. “I don’t . . . I mean . . .” His words trailed off

and he sank down into a crouch, eyes still fixed on the pool. Walking over to him, I pulled at the shoulder of his jacket.

“Okay, I get that it’s weird, and while I totally respect the need

for a PTSD moment, we really need to talk.”

He eyes moved up to my face, still kind of unfocused. “About

what? Why bad guys are chasing you, and why freaking magic is

apparently real?”

“I actually think the bad guys might be chasing you, but yeah.” David staggered backwards, and sat down heavily on the

grass. As he did, he nearly overturned Mom’s statue of two little

girls reading on a bench, but I was able to grab it before it fell. His sleeves, too short as usual, fell back from his thin wrists

as he rested his elbows on his knees, hands tugging at his hair.

“Hold up, what? You think those guys were after me? Why?” “I don’t know. Do you know why?” I towered over David, my

shadow falling on his body.

Dazed, David shook his head. “I can’t—”

And then I saw it. Something flickered across his face and he

flinched.

“You do know,” I said, yanking him to his feet. “David, what

is it?”

He swallowed heavily. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

At that moment, I really hated that my superpowers prevented

me from shaking the crap out of him. I settled for balling my fist

up in the front of his shirt and pulling him down to meet my

eyes. “David, look around you. This? This is crazy-sauce. And if

you know anything that could help me figure out why I’m suddenly Wonder Woman, I need to know it right. Effing. Now.” I actually said the word that time, and David’s eyes went so

wide I wondered if that had shocked him more than the disappearing Cadillac.

But he never got a chance to answer me.

“Yoo hoo!” a voice called out from the other side of my fence,

and David and I both went still.

“Is that?” I hissed.

“My Aunt Saylor,” he gulped.

The back gate swung open, and suddenly Saylor Stark was

standing there, a pair of Chanel sunglasses pushed down her

nose as she took in the sight of me, shaking and sweaty, clutching

the front of her nephew’s T-shirt.

“Oh my,” she said, and two syllables had never contained so

much dismay. “What exactly is going on here?”

David and I practically leapt apart as Saylor moved into the

yard, her high heels sinking slightly. The late afternoon sunlight

flashed on her silver hair as well as the silver and turquoise jewelry around her neck. Other than a slight grass stain on the hem

of her beige trousers, she looked as immaculate as ever. “I was over at Anne Beckwith’s, and I thought I saw your car

tearing down the street, David James Stark,” she said, pushing

her sunglasses back into place with one finger. “But I told myself,

‘Of course not, Saylor. David would never drive so irresponsibly.

Besides, he’s meant to be in school right now.’”

She turned her head to me. “As are you, correct, Miss Price?” “Yes ma’am,” I said feebly. “I . . . I felt sick, and David offered

to drive me home.”

I couldn’t see her eyes behind her dark glasses, but I had a feeling they were very cold. “Really?” she said. “How odd. Because

right after I had the thought that David would never, ever drive

his car in such a manner, I noticed that he was not the one behind

the wheel.”

Oh, God. Of all the people to see me doing my Dale Earnhardt, Jr., impression, it had to be Saylor Stark.

“She asked to drive it,” David said, speaking up for the first

time. He still seemed a little out of it, and his voice wasn’t as

strong as normal, but he was still good at thinking on his feet.

“She’d never driven one like it before, so she, uh, wanted to.” As one, the three of us looked over at David’s pathetic Dodge.

Even without its fender and back door mangled, it didn’t exactly

scream, “DRIVE ME.”

Maybe David wasn’t that great at thinking on his feet. And why did he even own a car like that, anyway? Saylor surely could’ve afforded something nicer. It was probably a point of

pride with him, like his weird thrift shop wardrobe.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Saylor,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have

ditched school, but Harper, uh, was sick. And you’re always

going on about good citizenship.”

I tried not to let surprise show on my face. That was actually

a pretty good save. Certainly better than “chicks really want to

get behind the wheel of my Stratus.” And the fact that he’d been

able to do it after nearly getting killed and dealing with what appeared to be magic was impressive.

“Good citizenship doesn’t have to come at the cost of your

own morals, David,” Saylor snapped. “You know better than to

skip class, and I am very disappointed in you. And of course, we

haven’t even gotten into the completely reckless way you two

were driving. I think you and I will be having a long talk when I

get done with Cotillion practice this afternoon, young man.” Saylor’s gaze swung back to me. “Speaking of, Miss Price, if

you’re feeling so ill, maybe you’d better sit today’s rehearsal out.” “But we’re supposed to practice the prayer today,” I said,

blinking. “I’m leading the prayer.”

Her smile was brittle. “I’m sure Miss Franklin will do a fine

job filling in. And maybe by Wednesday’s practice, you’ll be feeling more yourself.”

Sick for real now, I could only nod. Behind my parents, Saylor

Stark was the last person in the world I wanted to disappoint.

And there was no mistaking that tone. Not only had she caught

me skipping class, I was skipping class with her nephew, whom I had clearly sucked into my downward spiral. If she knew that I’d

also made him an accessory to what might have been murder . . . And that’s when it hit me. David was Saylor’s nephew. He had

lived with her his whole life. If people wanted to kill him, surely

Saylor would know why. But how exactly did you go about asking something like that? Hi, Miss Saylor, are y’all by any chance in

the witness protection program? Or hiding from wizards? She wouldn’t

just take the prayer away from me after that. She’d kick me out

of the entire Cotillion. Maybe even out of the entire town. As she dusted imaginary dirt from her slacks, I watched Saylor, trying to see if there was any sign that she knew why David

and I had been speeding down the street. But between the huge

sunglasses and Saylor’s Perfect Southern Lady ability to repress

any and all emotions, I couldn’t tell.

David, shaking off his daze, moved toward his aunt. “Let

Harper do the stupid prayer,” he said, sounding a bit more like

himself. “This isn’t her fault.”

Saylor’s head shot up. “First of all, you will not call the Cotillion prayer ‘stupid.’ Secondly, you should be at school right now,

not drag racing down Ivy Lane. Thirdly, I have told you that you

need to be more careful. And going a hundred miles an hour in

a car that is on its last legs is hardly careful. What if you’d had

another one of your headaches?”

David scowled at her. “My headaches are no big deal,” he

said, but Saylor held up her hand.

“We are not having this argument in Miss Price’s backyard.

You’re coming with me.”

He flung one long arm out toward his Stratus. “My car—” “You can pick it up in the morning. Harper, I’m sure your

parents won’t mind if David leaves his vehicle here.” The way she said it left no doubt that refusing was not an option. “It’s fine,” I said. “And honestly, it’s still another few hours

until practice, and I’m sure if I took a quick nap and had a sandwich, I’d be fine, too.” I ended with a little laugh, as if by sheer

force of will, I could make her see the funny side to all of this. That smile again, the one that felt like a threat. “I’ll see you

on Wednesday, Harper,” she said, and I could practically hear a

gavel go down. I’d been found guilty of Unladylike Behavior,

Nephew Endangerment, and, if the look she shot my boots was

any indication, Improper Footwear.

And if she ever found out about Ryan . . . oh, God, Ryan. I had

to call him. I had to explain. “Say good-bye to Harper, David,”

Saylor trilled as she began making her way toward David’s car,

moving on the balls of her feet to keep her heels from sinking

again.

David’s eyes met mine, and I could tell the shock was definitely wearing off. He was getting that same predatory look he’d

had at the Homecoming Dance. “Tomorrow. You and me. We

need to talk,” he said in a low voice.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Duh. But . . . I need to

smooth things over with Ryan before I’m seen having sneaky

conversations with you. So let me find you tomorrow, okay?” “Pretty sure ninjas and magic and dead guys trump your

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Rachel Hawkins's Novels
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» Rebel Belle (Untitled Series #1)