Frost Page 2

  I blinked at her, half amused, half horrified. If those girls heard her talking like that, they'd probably make her life miserable. I'd seen it happen back home. It could get ugly.

  Down the hall, Amy was looking straight at me. She waved, and the girls around her stared. I couldn't help feeling a little alarmed. At the same time, I was running through the Barbie names in my head, and I had to fight the urge to laugh.

  Sure enough, there was one wearing a tight, white T-shirt, which contrasted sharply with her orange-tan skin—the Malibu girl. The girl next to her was a little taller, in an understated dress shirt and black-framed glasses. She was the librarian one, then. The third was in yoga pants and a cropped sweater that fell off one shoulder. Yoga Barbie all over. The remaining girl was the tallest, and she kept her eyes on the floor. The rest of them stared at Amy, as if waiting for some kind of prompt.

  Charlotte turned to me, her eyes narrow. "Crap, I should have known."

  "What?"

  "You look like them." She gave me a wide-eyed look of warning. "They're coming for you."

  "Come on. That’s insulting. I so do not look like fake-tan girl.” I laughed, but when I looked up, Amy and her group were already approaching. "Shit," I mumbled. "You weren't joking."

  They stopped and observed me coolly, and I observed them back—equally coolly, I hoped. The resemblance was strange though. The five of them could have been sisters.

  "Hi," Amy said. "Megan, meet my friends: Margaret, Stacy, Alicia, and Becca."

  "Hi.” There was no way I was going to keep their names straight. "Nice to meet you."

  The four girls behind Amy nodded, and the tallest one on the right gave me a shy smile. I was fairly certain she was Becca, since she was standing on the end.

  "We're going to the coffee shop down the street after school. We'd like you to join us." Amy arched one perfect, pale eyebrow at Charlotte. "You can come too, if you’d like."

  Charlotte only nodded.

  "Uh," I mumbled. "Sure, okay. Sounds good."

  Amy turned, and her friends followed her back down the hallway, Becca giving me another small smile before she went.

  "Well, that was weird," I said.

  Charlotte's brown eyes were round. "They asked me to come. This is, like, the first time they’ve even talked to me."

  I glanced over at my new friend, feeling a little worried. It didn’t seem like Amy was really the sincere type. Maybe she'd somehow heard us talking and this was some kind of “mean girl” prank.

  "I dunno. Maybe we shouldn't go. They seem...weird."

  Charlotte laughed. "Well, they obviously want to be friends with you. I better go with you to make sure they don't make you a member of their weird Barbie cult." She took a bite of her sandwich, darting a look down the hall.

  "It would be cool if you came." I was already nervous. "For starters, they didn't even tell me what coffee shop they're going to.”

  "Oh, that'll be Fevero," Charlotte said, around a mouthful of peanut butter. "It's the one they always go to after school. It's the trendiest one in town."

  I tried not to look amused. "Sounds great."

  We both went quiet for a moment, and I snatched my sandwich off the bench and started unwrapping it. It wasn’t like I was really that hungry, but it gave my hands something to do. I was strangely nervous about meeting with Amy after school.

  "What's California like?" Charlotte said eagerly. "It must be warm all the time."

  I sighed, wishing I could banish all thoughts of sun-kissed beaches and clear, blue skies. "Yup, it's warm."

  "So, why did you get hauled out here?"

  I wasn’t going to tell her the real reason. It probably would have sent my one and only friend screaming out into the snowy countryside. "My uncle got a job," I said. "The pay is way better."

  "Right." Charlotte nodded and stared down at her crumpled lunch bag. "That sucks. I moved here from Vancouver. It was still sort of cold there, but nothing like here."

  "Here sucks."

  Chapter Four

  Fevero was a tiny shop tucked between a Dutch bakery and a pet food warehouse. It was—as Charlotte had said—making an attempt at trendy, with burnished-steel fixtures and wide, modern-looking chairs and tables. Strange artwork was scribbled on every available wall. I thought it was all hideous.

  The Barbie Girls were sitting at the back of the room, taking up a booth beside the gas fireplace. Amy waved as we came in. To her credit, she included Charlotte in the greeting.

  "Hey, girls. Come have a seat."

  I slid onto the white, plastic bench and found myself sandwiched between Becca and Charlotte.

  "Hi,” I said. This was already super awkward.

  "So..." Amy folded her hands on the tabletop and leaned forward like she was interviewing me. "You just moved here?"

  "Yup." Was I about to be inducted into some weirdo Ya-Ya Secret Pants Club? Maybe they had some kind of creepy sorority.

  "Your parents. Let's see... Foster parents, adoptive parents, uncles or aunts?"

  I blinked. "Uncle and aunt.”

  Charlotte’s eyes went wide. “I’m adopted. How did you guys know that?”

  Amy gestured at the other girls. "We're all the same. I was adopted. Margaret too. Stacy has foster parents, and Alicia lives with an uncle."

  My palms were starting to get sweaty. "I don't get it."

  She shrugged, studying me with blue eyes that had been heavily outlined with black liner. "We're just trying to figure out the connection here."

  Confusion and the beginnings of panic fluttered in my belly. Things I didn’t understand kept happening. Like when Uncle Dave had taken it into his head to move in under a week, or when I’d frozen a boy just by kissing him.

  I pushed the memory back down, determined not to think about it.

  “I moved here two years ago.” Amy set her coffee mug down and placed her palms on the table. “Shortly after that, Margaret did, and then Becca. Then Stacy and Alicia. Most of our guardians happened to get that big raise they’d hoped for, providing they moved to the ends of the Earth. All of us ended up at Grande Prairie High. How does that happen?"

  I gave her a blank look. "Coincidence? What are you saying?"

  “Why don’t you tell me?” Amy shrugged, almost too casual.

  I sat back in my seat, a little alarmed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  One of the girls—Margaret, I think—gave Amy an even look before turning back to me. "It's no coincidence that we look like we could be related. Come on. I'm six feet tall, and I reached this height by the time I was fourteen. I thought I would never meet a girl as tall as I am." She glanced over at Becca. "Then I met her. She's taller."

  Becca's cheeks flushed, and she nodded. She didn't seem to talk much.

  Amy spread her hands as if I couldn't possibly disagree with her reasoning. "See? What are the chances of all of us ending up here? It just doesn't make sense." She glanced over at Charlotte. "Even you, as much as you might think we don’t notice you. I mean, you're super short, but your features are similar. Blond hair, pale skin..."

  Charlotte glared at her. "I've been going to school with you for two years and you haven't so much as spoken to me until now."

  Amy shrugged. "You may or may not be one of us."

  "Well, thanks." Charlotte sounded scornful, but she was also fidgeting in her seat like she was barely containing her excitement. "One of what, exactly?"

  "Whatever we are." Amy gestured at all of us. "We have to stick together. I think maybe we are related."

  Right. And maybe I was having coffee with a crazy person. "Then how did we all end up here? Where's the logic in that one? Someone magicked up a bunch of jobs to bring us out here?"

  "Maybe our real parents." Margaret leaned forward, her eyes shining. "Maybe they're going to meet with us."

  "This all sounds creepy." I slid sideways, nudging Charlotte. That familiar feeling was fluttering in my chest again. Things were happenin
g too fast, getting too weird. I had to get out. “Listen, Dave is picking me up in five minutes. I have to walk back to the school."

  Amy nodded, still cool and in charge. It didn't seem to bother her that I thought she was crazy. "All right. We'll see you tomorrow."

  Charlotte stood up, letting me slide out of the booth. "I'll walk over with you."

  We said our goodbyes and walked back to the school, our shoulders hunched against the cold.

  "What did you think of that?" Charlotte asked, her teeth chattering.

  "Weird," I muttered. "I don't know what I think. Maybe they're pulling a fast one on us. It does seem like something that Amy girl would do."

  "I could see that," Charlotte admitted. She waved as a beat up minivan rumbled into the lot, exhaust pumping out into the crisp air. "There's my dad. I'll see you tomorrow."

  I watched as Charlotte climbed in, sliding over sticky looking vinyl seats, and I waved to her as the van drove away. All the while my thoughts buzzed frantically, going over everything Amy had said.

  Things were still just as weird. Apparently moving here hadn’t solved anything.

  Chapter F ive

  Wednesday morning’s English class was painfully boring, a lecture on the inner themes and meanings of Lord of the Flies. I was thankful that a few brainy kids at the front kept the discussion going because I hadn't even read it. Skimmed it enough to take in the fact that little kids were dying and then closed it again. Disturbing, and not exactly my cup of tea. I should have done the homework, though, because Mr. Scott was already talking about a test.

  I exchanged a look with Charlotte, whose eyes were wide.

  "Did you do the reading?" she whispered. When I shook my head, she nodded. "Me either. I can hardly remember what it was about. Study at my place after?"

  The idea was appealing, not only because I anticipated another blowup from Janet tonight—she'd been stalking around the house this morning, complaining about how messy I was—but because I was certain Charlotte knew more about the stupid book than I did. At least, if I kept my grades up, it was one less thing for Janet to fly off the handle about.

  "Yeah, okay."

  Charlotte grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Good. We can study for a bit and then make popcorn and gossip."

  "Sounds good to me."

  "Do you ladies have something you'd like to share with the class?" Mr. Scott interrupted his soliloquy on the meaning of the conch shell to glare at me and Charlotte.

  My cheeks burned. "No."

  "Then I suggest you listen. The test isn't going to be easy."

  A collective groan greeted his statement, and thankfully, Mr. Scott turned his disapproval on the rest of the class.

  Charlotte poked her finger into her mouth and pretended to gag, and I sighed and fixed my eyes on the clock. Three hours until the last bell.

  ~ * ~

  I phoned the house between math and my last class of the day, history. Janet answered, and when I asked if I could go to a friend's to study, I got a curt, “Yes,” and a dial tone. I was surprised she hadn’t sounded more enthusiastic, considering she was getting rid of me for the evening.

  After history class let out, Charlotte and I grabbed our books and beat a hasty retreat down the stairs before too many people flooded the halls. I was pretty sure we were both hurrying to get out before the Barbie Girls emerged from class. Amy had been trying to make eye contact during math class, but I wasn’t in the mood for another borderline-insane conversation.

  Charlotte glanced over her shoulder as we reached the bottom of the stairs. "I just don't think I can deal with them right now. I'd rather it just be you and me."

  Pushing through the door and out into the open, I took a deep breath of the frigid air. "I know. I don't want to think about their crazy conspiracy theories right now, just how I’m going to pass that stupid test."

  "That's why we're studying," Charlotte said firmly.

  We reached the middle of the slushy parking lot, and she shuffled in a circle, scanning the cars.

  "He should be here soon. The van goes about two miles an hour, so sometimes he's late."

  While she was talking, I watched the entrance of the school. Students poured out, but so far, no sign of Amy and her cohorts. Hopefully, Charlotte's dad would get here soon.

  The parking lot slowly filled up around us, SUVs and jacked-up trucks rolling in one by one, nosing forward into the piles of brown slush that decorated the head of each parking stall. One in particular caught my eye, a long, black town car on the other side of the lot that stood out due to its impracticality. Sleek and shiny among the monster trucks.

  Leaning to one side, I tried to identify the driver.

  He had one hand draped out the window, smoke trailing from the cigar between his fingers. Whoever they were, they must have been doing well. The town car was fancy, and the cigar was so strong I could smell it from where we stood.

  Charlotte glanced over at me and then turned to look too, wrinkling her nose. "I thought I smelled something disgusting."

  "Whose dad?" I turned to Charlotte, who was shrugging her shoulders up to her ears, trying to get the top of her coat collar to cover them. The cold could creep through anything if I stood still long enough, which was why it was weird that I felt okay. I should have been freezing.

  "No idea." Charlotte wiggled her eyebrows. "But he must be loaded. New student in the lower grades, maybe? I heard we got a few."

  Frowning, I stared at the car again, at the smoke curling up from the window. Whoever he was, he needed to trade his car for a truck. It was impractical, and besides that, the car was sort of creepy. It seemed to lurk.

  As much as a car could lurk, I suppose.

  Charlotte's face brightened, and she waved one mitten in the air. "There's my dad."

  The van pulling into the lot barely limped along, its tires squeaking and slipping on the packed snow. My eyes went wide, and I had to bite my lip to keep from saying anything. I hadn’t really paid that much attention the last time Charlotte’s dad had picked her up. But now that I was about to climb in…it had to be safe, right?

  Charlotte didn’t seem the least bit fazed as she slid over the seat. Still, I knew my knuckles were going to be white the entire ride to her house.

  ~ * ~

  Charlotte's dad was nice, though he was nothing like my uncle. Uncle Dave was goofy, a total pushover, and more of a friend than a father figure. Charlotte's father was strict, with gray hair and a square chin covered with stubble. He talked the entire time he drove us home, barely paying attention to the road.

  I managed to squeak out my answers between deep breaths to keep myself from panicking as the van slipped and slid over the road.

  Twenty minutes later, my fingernails were stuck into the pleather seat, and my entire body ached from being rattled around. We’d made it in one piece, though, pulling up in front of a tiny, brick house with a rusty swing set in the front yard.

  Charlotte slid across the seat and yanked the door open, releasing me from the death trap. "Come on. We can make hot chocolate and popcorn while we slog through my sister’s notes. She graduated last year, but I asked her to save them. We should be able to get the gist of it from those."

  "No cheating, you two." Charlotte's dad gave us a stern look, his steel-gray eyebrows drawing down.

  The expression was a bit terrifying, but Charlotte only pulled a face and led me down the driveway. Then she opened the door and ushered me inside. The house was small and clean, arranged with military precision. There was nothing out of place, though there was hardly any furniture to be out of place.

  We went into the living room while her dad retreated to his den, and Charlotte drew the curtains back from the big bay window, letting the glow from the streetlamps flood the living room.

  "We should probably study first." She plunked her books on the table and turned towards the doorway, letting her jacket drop to the carpet. "Hold on. I'll grab my notes. They're in my closet somewhere."

>   "Cool." After wiggling out of my jacket, I dropped it next to hers. Then I unzipped my knapsack and pulled my books out. To study, I had to take my gloves off, but it seemed different here than at school. More dangerous. What if we watched a scary movie and Charlotte grabbed my hand or something? She seemed like the type that would. Of course, Adam and I hadn’t been watching a scary movie when it had happened, but still…