The Dead List by Jennifer L. Armentrout Page B

look.
    “What?” She pouted. “It is sweet. He crossed the brutal sea of the cafeteria and he’s visiting you.”
    “I think it’s incredibly sweet, too,” Jensen said, biting down on his lower lip.
    My mouth twitched as I fought a smile. “You know, both of you—”
    A high pitched shriek cut me off. The sound was so loud and clear that it whipped through the noisy cafeteria, silencing everyone. I jumped to my feet just as Jensen did the same.
    The shrieking sound came again and it was coming from Brock’s table. Without thinking, I stepped forward, but suddenly Jensen was there. He wrapped his hand around mine as he pulled me back.
    At Brock’s table, Wendy was standing up, her hands pressed to her pale cheeks. She was still screaming—she hadn’t stop screaming. And everyone at the table had scattered, backing away with identical expressions of horror and disgust. Someone—Monica—had bent over at the waist, her long black hair shielding her face as she started to gag.
    “What the…?” I trailed off as I saw what lie on the table, next to Wendy’s book bag. “Oh my God.”
    Pulling my hand free from Jensen’s, I smacked both over my mouth. Lying on the table was a red bird—a cardinal, the state bird. Its wings were tucked neatly behind its back, and in the center of its little chest were a handful of mini stakes. Dozens stabbed clean through it.

Chapter 7
    A horrible prank.
    That was what the staff said once one of them had decided to check out why Wendy was screaming. That was what the teachers had said in the afternoon classes, where each one lectured us on the virtues of maturity.
    I’d never known anyone to stab a bird and place it in someone’s book bag as a prank. It was sick and disturbing, and not even remotely funny. Not to mention, when had it happened? Wendy had to have the bag on her all morning. Wouldn’t she have, I don’t know, noticed a dead bird in there before lunch?
    The sight of the dead bird lingered all day, which I imagined it was the same for everyone. Well, everyone except Linds, who, while in art class, had expressed her disappointment at not seeing Wendy freak out. But it was more than just the grotesque sight. The bird—the type of bird—made me think of the past, a place I didn’t need to dwell on.
    When I got home that afternoon, the house was quiet and empty. Normally Mom would be driving to Huntington tonight, but after what happened this weekend, she was not making the trip.
    But I was still alone until she got off.
    Trying to concentrate, to have some sort of normality in my life, I’d plopped myself down on the couch and cracked open my history text and started my homework. It wasn’t until I read the same two pages four times that I dropped my highlighter in the crease of the book.
    I pressed the tips of my fingers against my temples, massaging away the slight ache there. Weariness tugged at me, urging me to curl up and take a nap, but the idea of falling asleep while I was alone in the house wasn’t on the top of my to do list.
    Maybe seeing Dr. Oliver really wasn’t going to be a bad idea.
    Opening my eyes, I shifted my attention to the archway leading out into the hall and to the stairs. Coldness seized my insides. I stared at the open walkway, unsure if I’d heard something or if it was just my imagination, but the tips of my ears tingled.
    There had been a noise, a soft thud upstairs—
    The doorbell rang, throwing my heart against my ribs. “Jesus,” I gasped, popping to my feet. I hurried to the door and stretched up, peering through the tiny peephole.
    “Whoa,” I murmured, spying the chiseled and striking profile of Jensen.
    Two visits in less than twenty-four hours? Er, well, three if I considered the lunch thing a visit. Maybe four if I added in the self-defense class.
    Beyond curious, I quickly unlocked the door and opened it. When he turned, the late afternoon sun kissed his cheek. “Hey,” I said lamely.
    A half smile appeared.