Burning Hearts

Copyright © 2014 Melanie Matthews Lulu Edition Cover Photograph Courtesy of Morgue File (cover image from mass market paperback edition) All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever without written consent from the author.

Burning Hearts is a work of fiction.

Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously.

Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

E-book ISBN 978-1-312-25388-9

1 DAYDREAMING ABOUT DEATH He doesn’t want to die.

Too bad he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

The slayer raises her knife. His fiery eyes burn with fear and hatred, staring at his executioner, gripping the instrument of his ruin. They move at the same time: his arm shooting up to block her attack, while she thrusts the bronze blade toward his heart. She’s quicker. The knife goes deep, down to the cedar hilt. He screams. She twists the blade, and he screams again. Then she wrenches it free, blood-soaked, and watches as he burns from the inside out, the roaring flames muffling his whimpers.

Death finally arrives, reducing him to a pile of ashes.

There’ll be no place of rest for him. No urn. No marker. No stone with engraved identification.

He doesn’t deserve to be remembered, to be mourned.

A villain isn’t honored.

She takes her shoe and desecrates his remains, smearing his ashes into the dirt. And then she walks away, head held high, eyes on the horizon.

Jenna Love has no doubt that she’s a hero.

“What’re you staring at, loser?”

No wait, she was wrong.

Jenna knew that vile, deceptive voice.

She could pick out his nails-on-a-

scratchboard tone from a crowd of thousands.

Well, he didn’t sound that bad, but it was only proper for a girl who’d been dumped

to think her ex-boyfriend was the scum of the earth.

Jenna had been in a trance during the middle of class, thinking about killing. It’d happened once that morning while she was eating breakfast at home. Well, tried to eat.

The daydream or waking nightmare was so terrifying that she’d puked up all her cereal.

And it’d happened again during Mr. Orin Graves’ senior history class—but thankfully without the puking part. The students were in groups of four, working together to answer questions from the textbook’s chapter on the Crusades. Apparently, Mr. Graves thought it was better for the students to teach themselves while he sat at his desk, circling lowrent apartment vacancies in Phoenix.

Jenna looked away from the bane of her existence, Valentine Lockhart. She hadn’t been staring at him, per se, but more at his chest—clothed in a faded yellow T-shirt with OASIS HIGH SCHOOL in red chipped lettering above the school’s mascot—a halfpeeled red scorpion iron-on with its stinger still perfectly intact, poised to strike.

She hated that Mr. Graves had put her with three of the seven people who she hated. None of her friends were in history with her. No wonder she was close to failing.

Not to mention Mr. Graves’ subpar approach to education.

It was Jenna’s last year. She had senioritis even when she was a freshman. Back then, she’d been friends with the Stuck-Ups. They used to talk about the joys of graduation—which meant freedom. Jenna still cared about graduation, but it had more to do with never seeing the Stuck-Ups again.

She looked over at Mr. Graves, still circling prospective places to run away to.

Despite his don’t-give-a-damn demeanor, she wished him luck on his quest to flee from the quiet town of Oasis, Arizona where nothing really happened.

Well, nothing exciting anyway.

The biggest news of the year was when local deputy Harris “Tiny” Harrison won the hotdog eating contest in Scottsdale, and then died a day later from a heart attack.

Mayor Grahame Goode had put up a grand statue of Tiny on Main Street. For either a tribute or an insensitive and thoughtless gesture, the town had served free hotdogs to all attendees.

Despite the ridiculousness, Jenna had gone to the ceremony. No one passes up free food.

“Don’t even talk to her. Don’t even acknowledge her.”

Jenna turned away from Mr. Graves’ hopes for a better life and stared at her former friend, Sadie Pierce. She was platinum blond and beautiful in her tight tee and jeans.

She was sitting next to Val, whose golden blond hair was a sexy wild mess. Sadie’s boyfriend, Kit Cavanaugh, rounded out the rotten trio, scratching at his brown beard that was fuller than the buzz cut on his head. He’d never said anything mean but Jenna still hated him; he was guilty by association.

Jenna gave Sadie a false smile. “I see someone’s been paying attention in English.

‘Acknowledge.’ Such a big word for you, Sadie. Go home and tell your parents. I bet they’ll be so proud!”

Jenna didn’t used to be so sarcastic. She used to cry all the time. But when the Misfits—an insult her four friends proudly accepted—had taken her in and treated her as a true friend, she got some gumption back.

Val chuckled at Jenna’s uppercut to Sadie’s ego.

“Don’t encourage her!” she scolded Val. Val just shrugged.

“And you!” She turned her fury to Kit, who was still scratching his soon-to-be hobo beard. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Kit turned to Jenna, his supposedly number one enemy, looking lost. “Uh…” “Ugh!” Sadie groaned. “Just move your desks away from her! We can do this assignment all on our own!”

Their desks were already two feet away, but Val and Kit obliged Sadie, and moved another two feet. Alone, in the middle of the classroom, Jenna was a boat without a paddle in a sea of unfriendly or indifferent ships. No one seemed to notice she was adrift. Not even Mr. Graves, who’d finished circling and was now dozing off with drool running down his salt-and-pepper stubbly chin.

Jenna almost wished that she’d go into another trance. Even if she saw herself killing another person, it was worth it to escape her tormenters. No matter how much sass she spilled, how many feelings she hurt, or how much she showed their taunts didn’t matter, at the end of the day, lying awake in bed at night, there was a part of her that still mourned for the life she once had—for the boyfriend she once had.

In the beginning, he’d seemed perfect as all handsome guys do. He’d been nice and sweet until she’d said no. He’d asked again. And she’d still said no. He’d asked a third time, not so nice and sweet. She’d wavered, thinking, but then said “no.” Refusing to have sex with Valentine Lockhart had cost Jenna all her friends. He’d been enraged, calling her a “tease,” and through some sort of wicked persuasion, had convinced all her friends to disown her. Jenna didn’t think he could be so cruel, and her friends could be so malleable.

To ease her suffering, she’d remembered her late grandpa’s words of wisdom: It takes a strong person to successfully deceive. But it takes an even stronger person to successfully resist.

Point was: Don’t be weak.

Her former friends were clearly weak, believing every lie and half-truth about her.

But Jenna was weak too.

She’d resolved to never show her wounds, pretending like they weren’t there, but in reality, they were just hidden with a flimsy bandage. She wanted to be strong, to heed her grandpa’s advice, but at seventeen with a past life destroyed, a present life with no direction, and a future of no promise, well, that’s just a great big recipe for weakness.

The bell finally rang, announcing lunch. The students scattered out and Mr. Graves woke up from his nap. Jenna thought that she was the last to leave, but Val caught her by the arm as she exited the classroom. Sadie and Kit were ahead in the hall, looking on, confused—just as Jenna was.

“You should’ve said ‘yes’.”

Jenna jerked her arm from his grasp. “Why? ’Cause you’re so great?”

He gave her a malicious smile. “You’ve gotten fat. If you were still with me, I would’ve kept you looking good.”

No girl likes to be called “fat,” but she kept her cool, throwing an insult back at him.

“If I would’ve stayed with you, I would’ve got a venereal disease.” She pushed past him.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to find my friends.”

She walked casually by Sadie and Kit as if their presences weren’t toxic.

Sadie kept quiet, but wrinkled her nose at Jenna as if she smelled. Kit kept scratching at his beard.

Val easily caught up and blocked her exit. “You’re such a loser, Jenna.”

Passing students cupped their ears in rapt attention.

Jenna smiled, showing how strong she could be. “Yes, I was a loser—when I went out with you—but not anymore. I’ve gotten over it. Apparently, you haven’t.”

She wasn’t being entirely truthful. Valentine Lockhart was beyond gorgeous with fairy tale golden locks and Tahitian blue eyes. A part of her still swooned every time she saw him. But the memories of their relationship and how it’d ended brought her back from the brink of insanity where she almost believed that he was her soul mate.

“Why do you think I broke up with you, you idiot? I’m over you.”

Jenna shrugged. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She found a space in the crowd and moved around Val, casually walking away—but she really wanted to run.

“I sleep fine!” His voice carried down the hall. “You’re the one tossing and turning over me! No wonder you come to school looking like a freaking zombie!”

He was throwing insults like curveballs, but Jenna kept catching them in her itdoesn’t-bother-me glove as she walked down the hall.

Sadie came up behind Jenna, giggling. Kit, at his girlfriend’s side, kept silent as usual.

“More like a vampire,” Sadie suggested loudly. “She’s so pale. And that fiery red hair? Yeah, she’s a vampire. She’s always sucked.”

Jenna lost her glove. She was incensed—ready to blow—ready to murder. Her heartbeat was striking against her chest like a jackhammer, threatening to burst out.

The cafeteria doors opened. Hungry students went in. Noise filtered out, along with the smell of processed meat. It was a distraction. It was also the knowledge that her true friends were nearby, waiting on her. Jenna calmed instantly; her heartbeat returned to normal; her chest remained unbroken.

There’d be no killing today. Val, Sadie, and even Kit were off the hook.

But for how long, Jenna didn’t know.

2 The MERRY MISFITS

“I dunno what I’d do without y’all!”

Jenna sat with her true friends at a cafeteria table. She took out her bagged lunch of a sandwich, snack-size chips, and a diet soda. Val was wrong. She wasn’t fat. She wasn’t necessarily thin, and her clothes were a little snug around her average five-footfive frame, but she wasn’t about to bust a button on her jeans.

“Were they giving out happy pills in last period?” asked Riddick Sharpe.

He looked badass with his black-haired Mohawk and all-black attire, but he wasn’t a stereotypical silent loner, often making quips, and always had a smile for her. He wrote poetry in secret, but it wasn’t grounds for an investigation.

Jenna chewed up and swallowed a bite of her cold cut turkey sandwich; it was still nice and fresh from lying against the ice pack in her lunch satchel.

“Nope. I’m just glad to see y’all.”

Kylie Vale leaned forward. She had long brown hair, chopped haphazardly, and was the liveliest of the group. “Oh, my goodness!” She slapped a hand over her heart. “Did you meet a guy?” She smiled. “That’s why you’re grinning like an idiot! You’ve met someone! Who is he?”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease. I’m never dating again.”

“Never say never,” Caleb Dasher advised with a smile.

He had curly sandy blond hair that fell over his eyes. His dimples were Code Red on the Cute Radar and he never said a bad word about anyone despite having the excuse to hate all society. At twelve, he got into a car accident with a drugged-out teenage girl, and lost his lower legs. He went everywhere in his trusty wheelchair, tricked out with spinners.

“Trust me,” said Jenna. “I’m gonna be single for the rest of my life. I’m gonna be one of those old ladies who’s got a bunch of cats, and when kids lose their toys in my front yard, I’ll shake my fist at ‘em and yell, ‘Get outta here you damn bunch of hooligans,’ and keep all their stuff in my basement.”

Riddick chuckled. “You’ve really thought this through.”

Jenna nodded. “I have a lotta free time on my hands.”

“Well, you’re depressing” Kylie commented. “We all need to do something fun this

weekend.”

“I was gonna light bugs on fire with a magnifying glass,” Riddick said in a serious tone. “You know as a tribute to the way things were before the age of digital oppression.”

Prudence de Winter—or “Pru” as everyone called her—gave a slight smile. She was mostly quiet, but nice. She had a sleek black bob with blunt bangs and always smeared her full pout with red lipstick.

Jenna thought her and Riddick would be perfect together, and Kylie and Caleb. But she wasn’t going to play matchmaker. She was the last person to give others advice on love and relationships.

Caleb chuckled. “And is this after you stakeout trees, shooting down birds with rocks and a slingshot?”

Riddick snapped his fingers. “I totally forgot about the birds! Horrible things!

Tweeting all the time! Crapping on cars!” He banged his fist on the table. “They need to be stopped!”

Kylie placed a hand over her heart. “I hope you’re not serious.”

Riddick shook his head; his gelled Mohawk stayed perfectly in place. “Kylie, how long have you known me? I’d never hurt any animal…unless it’s cute. I hate cute animals. They’re plotting to take over the world, you know?”

Pru nodded. “He’s right.” She’d finally spoken up. “Forget robots. Forget zombies.

It’s kittens, puppies, and baby birds. The enemy.”

Caleb lightly smacked his palm against his forehead. “Why didn’t I see it before?!” he exclaimed dramatically.

Jenna laughed. “Ah, I love y’all.”

Riddick looked deeply into her eyes. “Seriously, are you high? And where can I get some?”

“I’m not—” Jenna was cut off from the nearby noise of a girl laughing. She turned to see the Stuck-Ups—her former friends—sitting three tables over. Sadie was giggling like a hyena at something or someone. She kept looking over at Jenna’s table, pointing, urging Kit to look and condemn too; he preferred to keep stabbing a plastic Spork at his

food.

Jenna turned back to her Misfits. “There’s your cuz,” she reminded Kylie with a half smile.

Kylie rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me I’m related to that sorry excuse for a human being.”

Sadie Pierce and Kylie Vale were unfortunate cousins. When they were kids, they used to be close, but as the years passed, they drifted apart; it was all Sadie’s doing.

Apparently, the Pierces were the upstanding folk of Oasis, whereas the Vales were a bunch of “drunks, bastards, and convicts,” if you believed Sadie’s gossip.

“Freak!” yelled another one of the Stuck-Ups. Jenna knew that voice and turned to focus on Daniela Ross. Her long brown hair was in a braid at the side of her head. It was the new style going around and Daniela had boarded the Conformity Train. She sat on the lap of her boyfriend, Barrie Novak, who used to flirt with Jenna. He had long auburn hair that was slowly turning brown. He seemed more interested in Daniela’s body than staring at Jenna.

Daniela and Barrie sat next to Emma Wane and Aidan Clare. Emma had recently chopped all her blond hair off into a pixie cut and added pink streaks to the front. Jenna hated to admit it, but it looked good. Aidan, who was experimenting with dreadlocks, had his brown hair tied up in a small bun.

“Yeah, she’s such a freak!” Emma agreed. She nudged Aidan. “She’s such a weirdo, right babe?!”

Aidan shrugged, noncommittal. After Kit, he was the second guy Jenna had been closest to. Barrie was always a sleaze. Even when Val had turned everyone against her, Barrie caught her alone at school, saying that if she’d go out with him, he’d leave the Stuck-Ups. So of course when she refused, he joined in on the Let’s Bash Jenna Movement. If only Daniela knew how fickle her Barrie could be when it came to girls.

Jenna had been the closest to Emma, thinking they were BFFs. Her jabs hurt the worst, along with Val’s, who’d told her on more than one occasion that he loved her.

While the girls sneered, the guys ignored. All except Val. He folded his arms over his chest, staring at her. Jenna was confused by his look. He wasn’t sneering; he wasn’t judging; he wasn’t plotting. He was just staring. For a moment, Jenna thought she saw a

fleeting look of melancholy.

Was Val sad? Did he miss her?

She continued to stare at him until he casually brought his middle finger up and flipped her off with a grin stretched across his face.

She turned back to her friends, shaking her head. “I can’t wait to get outta here.”

“Wanna skip?” asked Riddick.

Jenna shook her head. “I meant Oasis.”

“Where are you gonna go?” asked Caleb.

Jenna shrugged. “I dunno. Anywhere.” She sighed. “Before I commit murder.”

“Ah, go ahead,” Riddick urged. “I’ll visit you in prison. Slip you cigarettes and razor blades in a hollowed-out copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

Jenna chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure the ghost of Jane Austen would love that.”

Kylie smiled. “Ooh, I wish I could meet someone like Mr. Darcy.”

“Darcy was a jerk,” Pru declared.

“He was proud, is all,” Kylie countered.

“Pride is okay,” Caleb stated. “It’s vanity that’s the problem.”

“I’m more of a Jane Eyre fan,” Riddick confided. “That girl went through hell and she could’ve gone crazy, but she didn’t.” He smiled and put his arm around Jenna’s shoulders. “And neither are you.”

Jenna smiled. “Thanks—but that was a story.”

He removed his arm and took a swig of his soda, swallowing loudly. “And ours are too if someone were to write it all down.”

“The Merry Misfits,” Pru suggested.

“Merry?” Kylie furrowed her brow. “Doesn’t that mean happy?”

“I was being sarcastic,” Pru clarified.

“We are happy,” Caleb countered with a dimpled smile.

Jenna nodded. “That’s right. We’re seniors. We’re passing…barely…all our classes.” She gestured among everyone. “And we all get along. I’ll admit, when I was with the Stuck-Ups, we didn’t interact. And when I got tossed out, y’all could’ve lemme sit alone, friendless,”—she smiled—“but y’all didn’t.”

Kylie wiped a tear away.

“You know who should’ve gone crazy?” Riddick said, clearly trying to get off topic.

Jenna turned to him and smiled. “Who?” “Harry Potter.”

“I don’t follow,” said Caleb, shaking his head.

“Think about it,” Riddick continued. “That dude lived in a cupboard under the stairs for years. A freaking cupboard! If that was real life, Harry would’ve murdered the Dursleys.”

“Magic?” Pru suggested as an explanation.

Riddick shook his head. “Nah. Ain’t no magic trick badass enough for Harry to keep his sanity while basically being locked in a mini closet.”

The bell rang, ending their discussion of the lives of fictional characters.

When Caleb wheeled out from under the table, Riddick exclaimed enthusiastically, “I’ll take you to class, buddy!”

“But I wanna!” Jenna whined.

Riddick chuckled. “I know you do.” He tugged gently on her red hair. “I was just messing with you.”

Jenna relaxed and got behind Caleb, ready to push him down the hall. “Later, peeps,” she said in farewell to Kylie, Pru, and Riddick.

“See y’all later,” said Kylie, waving before heading off.

Pru just gave a smile and a wave, leaving in another direction. Riddick was already walking away, listening to his iPod. They’d meet back later at the end of school; it was always a daily celebration.

Jenna and Caleb’s next class was easy-going. Art with Ms. Jane Rush-Holliday meant students could explore their inner Monet or Picasso by sitting with their friends, listening to music, and even chewing gum.

She rolled Caleb to the elevator; it was a privilege for faculty, staff, those with disabilities, and the every-once-in-a-while student with a broken leg.

Caleb used his student ID as a key card to unlock the doors. Jenna rolled him inside, much to the chagrin of the students who had to deal with backed up traffic down the hall.

As they rode up, he said, “I know your secret.”

She smiled, but had no idea what he was talking about. She hoped that he was playing and decided to play back.

She stood in front of him. “I have so many! Which vice do you know about? And are you gonna tell? If so I’ll hit you. Not in the face. Don’t wanna leave a noticeable mark. I’ll use a thick heavy phone book, slamming it against your chest.”

“You know for a psycho, you hide your maniacal schemes very well.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, I only know two of your secrets.” He raised a finger. “One, you’re only my friend so you can ride the elevator.” He raised another finger. “And two, you still sleep with your stuffed bear at night.”

“Ugh!” she groaned, raising her fists, pretending to be found out. “You got me, Caleb.” She smiled. “But you’re wrong on one thing.”

“Oh, yeah?” He leaned back in his wheelchair. “Which one?”

“I sleep with a stuffed bunny.”

Caleb was trying not to smile. “Oh, sorry, I must’ve got that wrong. All those nights I was sitting up in that tree, staring at you through my binoculars, I guess I saw wrong.”

“You sneak up a tree, look at me in my bedroom, and all you care about is who I sleep with? Caleb, Caleb, Caleb!” she jokingly admonished.

“I tried to get a good look at you, but that Puritan nightgown covered you from head to toe.”

She shrugged. “I’m old-fashioned. What can I say?” She tugged gently on his earlobe. “Now how’d you manage to get up a tree?”

“Jet pack,” he replied deadpan.

“Ebay?”

Caleb nodded, continuing the charade. “Relatively cheap too.”

3 STRANGE HEIRLOOMS Jenna sat next to Pru while Riddick sat across from them on the bus. Caleb had already been picked up by his mom, and Kylie’s dad had come for her.

When Jenna had dated Val, she’d the luxury of catching rides in his flashy yellow Camaro—but no more. Her parents could pick her up, but they worked everyday at the family business: Love’s Funeral Home and Crematorium. She didn’t mind riding the bus as long as Riddick or Pru was with her. They lived on the same street as Jenna with Kylie and Caleb only a few miles away in the same suburban neighborhood.

Before befriending the Misfits, Jenna had no idea that they lived so close to each other. The Stuck-Ups were just over Los Muertos Bridge across Rojo River. They didn’t live in extravagant homes, but they thought that they were better than everyone because they were the only families living on the “other side of the bridge.” Jenna was glad they were still there. She couldn’t stomach having her former life so close.

Pru tapped Jenna on her arm, and then pointed with a smile at Riddick. He had his ear buds in, rocking out, motioning like he was playing the drums. Jenna reached over and tugged on his black T-shirt.

He stopped rocking out and turned to her. “What?!” he yelled over his loud music.

Jenna motioned for him to unplug his ears. He did.

“What’re you listening to?” she asked.

“Scoot over.”

Jenna did and Riddick sat beside her and Pru, all scrunched up. He offered Jenna a bud, and she put it to her ear—there was a lot of screaming.

She pulled it away from her ear. “Who is it?” she asked in a raised voice, still partially deaf. “‘Death is My Friend’ by The Bloody Knuckles.” He took notice of her furrowed brow.

“Heavy metal,” he clarified.

“Too heavy for me. It’s loud.” She offered the ear bud back to Riddick; he secured it with its mate. “Shouldn’t you be deaf by now?” she asked reasonably.

“WHAT?!” He smiled, and then shrugged. “Probably.”

When the bus stopped in front of Jenna’s modestly-sized red-brick house with a white picket fence, Riddick and Pru debarked with her. All three of them had been cast in Macbeth by their English teacher, Mrs. Willa Thames. Fortunately, they were playing the parts of the three witches (or weird sisters); it was always the most popular feature of Shakespeare’s tragedy to bored high school students.

Riddick, who seemed antisocial to anyone other than the Misfits, was actually enthusiastic about being in the play that was to be shown to the entire school. It all worked out for Pru, who naturally shy in front of others, got to say her lines hidden inside a black hood.

“When will your parents be home?” asked Riddick, and then proceeded to plop down on Jenna’s bed; he grabbed the remote and flipped through her basic cable package of only forty channels.

Pru seated herself quietly on a wicker chair in the corner of the room; it sat against a white wall decorated with Jenna’s paintings of roses, her favorite flower.

Jenna slapped Riddick’s dirty black boots from off her rose-decorated bedspread.

“In a few hours. Why every time you come over, you get on my bed?”

Jenna noticed Pru’s smile, her cheeks blushing a bit.

Riddick shrugged. “Soft mattress. Mine at home is like prison-issue.” He shut off the TV, evidently not finding any program of interest. “Where’s your X-Box?” “How many times have I told you? I don’t have one. Why don’t you get one?”

“Folks said they couldn’t afford it. But generous ol’ step mom can get her hair and nails done every week—not to mention the tanning.”

“Tanning?” Jenna held out her hands. “We’re in the desert. Can’t she go outside?”

Riddick shrugged again. “Apparently, the sun just ain’t radioactive enough.”

Jenna went to laugh, but fell into another trance…

She’s holding a strange knife, standing before a girl with fiery eyes. Then she stabs the girl in the heart, watching as she bursts into flames. The ashes explode in the air and as the wind stirs, it consumes Jenna’s face, covering her in death, executed by her own hand.

“Are you all right?” asked a voice that was rare to hear.

Jenna blinked and turned to see Pru, wearing a veil of worry across her face.

Riddick’s hands covered Jenna’s; she was slightly trembling, clutching the bed post.

“I’m fine,” Jenna said, removing her hands from the post and Riddick’s warm embrace. She smiled to allay their worries. “Really, I’m good.” She sighed, trying to expel her distress. “Who wants vanilla ice cream with crumpled up Oreos? It’s what all actors eat before performing.”

Riddick smiled, satisfied with Jenna’s assertion of happiness and distracted by the

mention of sweets. He rested against her pillow, crossing his arms behind his head.

“Throw in some vodka while you’re at it.”

“Like you could handle vodka.”

“I’m a seasoned alcoholic. I hide it very well. Come here, smell my breath.”

Jenna put her hands on her hips. “I’m not smelling your breath.”

Riddick shrugged. “Your loss, babe.”

“Smells like peppermint,” Pru informed with a shy smile. “He has a whole bunch of them in his backpack.”

Jenna recalled that Riddick’s breath had been minty of late. “To cover up the alcohol?” she asked Pru in disbelief.

Pru shook her head. “He drank rum once. Threw it up.” She patted her stomach.

“The mints are for his acid reflux.”

“Shut up, Pru! You hardly ever speak and when you do, it’s to divulge my secrets to Jenna.” He threw a pillow at her.

Pru caught it and threw it back at him. She turned to Jenna. “How about we get some ice cream?” She glanced at Riddick and smiled. “But no Oreos for Riddick.”

“What?” He threw out his hands. “I’m supposed to eat plain vanilla? That’s absolute torture! Throw in some chocolate syrup or something!” he begged Jenna and Pru. Jenna smiled at Pru. “You go ahead in the kitchen. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Pru seemed hesitant but left the room.

Jenna sat on the bed next to Riddick’s stretched legs. “Don’t worry. Your stomach problems are safe with me.” And for added measure, she patted his flat stomach.

Riddick caught her hand before she could pull it away. His eyelids hung low.

“Careful putting your hand on a man, Jenna Love.”

She gave him a mischievous smile. “I’ll remember that the next time I see a man.”

He furrowed his brow as if furious, but then sat up with a grin, and grabbed her sides, tickling her.

“Stop! Stop!” she urged, laughing.

He immediately stopped and settled back down onto the bed. “Now run off to the kitchen and get me my sweets, sweetie.”

She raised her eyebrow. “I know you just didn’t order me around.”

“Oh, I did.” He lightly pushed her off the bed. “Don’t forget the Oreos.”

She smiled and pinched his cheek. “Ooh, if I didn’t like you…”

His face fell. She was confused. They both went to speak, but Pru interrupted them.

“Jenna!” she shouted from the kitchen. “I can’t find the Oreos!”

He went back to smiling. “For a mute, she sure can get loud.”

She returned his smile. “Coming!” she yelled to Pru. As Jenna went into the pantry to retrieve the Oreos, she wondered over Riddick’s expression. He almost looked…sad? She’d wanted to ask him what was wrong, but was interrupted by Pru. She decided to leave it alone. She had four great friends with Riddick, Pru, Kylie, and Caleb. She didn’t want any drama. That was the good thing about the Misfits.

But she had her own personal drama.

Like clockwork, every four hours, she’d a vision of killing. She wasn’t a genius, but she wasn’t dumb either. Something was going on. She just didn’t know what. There was a slight urge to confess, to tell her friends. But what would they think of her? They spoke of acceptance, but would they really be friends with a crazy person?

“Where’s that chocolate sauce?!” Riddick yelled from her bedroom; obviously, he found the bowl of just plain vanilla ice cream Pru had brought him to be lonely and in need of even more sugar.

Jenna went back to being happy and brought him what he wanted. As they lay on her bed with Jenna in between Riddick and Pru, eating ice cream and watching an awful, but funny sci-fi movie called The Squid Monster from Planet Doom, a loud noise interrupted their supposed rehearsal time.

“What was that?” Riddick pushed mute on the remote, silencing the screams of a blond girl being squeezed by a tentacle.

Jenna sat up. “It sounded like something falling on my floor.”

“Had a dead body propped up in your closet and now it’s crashed?”

“Of course, Riddick,” Jenna said sarcastically. “You know me so well.”

Pru held up her silver spoon. “Sounded metallic.”

Jenna slapped her hand to her forehead. “Oh, it’s that knight’s armor I keep in storage!”

“Seriously?” asked Riddick.

Jenna rolled her eyes at him. “Whatever dropped sounded small.”

“Like your brain,” Pru said to Riddick with a smile.

“You know,” Riddick began, “you should go back to saying nothing ’cause you’re full of attitude.” He pointed his spoon at Jenna. “I blame you. She wasn’t like this ’til you showed up.”

Jenna knew he was joking, but she feigned sorrow anyway. “Well, I guess we shouldn’t be friends anymore.” She frowned, adding to the charade.

“No, no!” Riddick grabbed her arm. “I was only playing.”

Pru giggled. “For someone who scored the highest on the SAT’s, you sure are dumb.”

“Wait.” Jenna furrowed her brow. “If you’re that smart, then how come you’re barely passing all your classes?”

“Don’t do my homework.”

“So if you did your homework in every class, you’d be a straight-A student?”

“Probably.”

Jenna socked him. “You idiot!”

“Ow!” Riddick rubbed his upper arm. “That hurt.”

Jenna started to laugh, but stopped when she noticed he seemed to really be in pain. “Hey, are you okay?”

He lifted up the sleeve of his black T-shirt. There was a nasty red mark on his upper arm.

Jenna slapped her hands to her mouth. “Oh, my goodness! I am so sorry!” she apologized against her fingers, making her voice sound muffled.

Riddick smiled slightly and shook his head, pulling his sleeve down to cover the damage. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m fine.” Then he smiled wider. “Damn Jenna, are you a mutant with super strength or something?”

Jenna gave him a mischievous grin. “I can also melt brains just by looking at a guy.”

She stared him down.

“I think you’ve already melted his heart,” Pru informed.

Jenna was shocked. “What?”

Riddick jumped off the bed. “Let’s see what fell. Then we have to rehearse. It’s gonna get dark soon.”

Jenna let it go. She could’ve halted everyone right there and demanded to know if Riddick liked her, but she didn’t. She knew Pru wasn’t playing a joke; that wasn’t her style. But the possibility that Riddick liked her was…well, it was weird. They got along well, but he was Goth and she was whatever the opposite of Goth was.

And as much as it was pushed, opposites do not attract.

“It sounded close,” Jenna deduced. She walked to the foot of the bed where there was a cedar chest bestowed by her late grandpa, Simon Love, in his will when he died a year ago.

“It must’ve been that,” Riddick said, pointing to a large silver lock on the floor.

Jenna crouched and picked it up. It looked like a lock from a pirate’s treasure chest.

“That’s weird.”

“How?” asked Pru. “Well, ever since this was handed down to me from my late grandpa’s possessions, I could never get the lock off. A key was never found. So I just left the chest here as a reminder of him.”

Riddick and Pru crouched with her. He took the lock from Jenna, examined it, and then pointed to the chest. “Wanna look inside?”

Jenna was curious to see what was hidden within. But as soon as she laid her hand on the lid, the front door opened.

“Jenna, we’re home!” yelled her mom, Rachel, with her dad, Jacob, no doubt following behind.

She took the lock from Riddick and placed it on the lid of the chest. “Another time.”

She stood up and retrieved Macbeth from her desk. “Let’s rehearse being witches.”

After several renditions of “Double, double, toil and trouble,” the soon-to-be Oasis High premiere actors were done for the day. And after another bowl of ice cream, followed by leftover lasagna, Riddick’s step mom arrived to pick him and Pru up.

“Hurry up, it’s getting late,” she urged Riddick, standing on the welcome mat at the front door.

Mrs. Polly Sharpe had just come from the salon. Her long brown hair was in a fancy

bun, streaked with blond highlights. Her nails were perfectly manicured, painted in hot pink. She was wearing a tight tank with short shorts and flip-flops. Apparently, she thought that she was fourteen instead of forty.

“Why don’t you stay and have some lasagna?” asked Jenna’s mom, who had thick and wavy red hair—without repeated visits to a fixer-upper. She and Jenna could be twins.

Mrs. Sharpe managed a smile of bleached whites. “No, thank you. We must be getting on. Pru’s mom’s waiting.”

Jenna, Riddick, and Pru were sitting at the dining room table. Pru had already finished her meal, but Riddick was taking slow bites.

Jenna’s dad (who always made sure his blond hair was styled neatly, even though the dead didn’t care what he looked like) sat at the head of the table, enjoying seconds.

After taking his last bite, he turned to Pru with a gentle smile. “How’re your parents doing?”

“They’re okay,” she replied briefly.

Pru’s parents had recently gotten a divorce. It was all the town of Oasis could talk about for two weeks until it was replaced with other gossip. Pru lived with her mom, while her dad was in Phoenix for his new job. She visited him every other weekend.

Jenna was sure Pru was being cryptic for a reason. Her parents were most likely not okay, but Pru didn’t say much or anything about her home life. Jenna often felt bad for inviting her over, witnessing how well Jacob and Rachel Love got along. It was evident to everyone in town that the high school sweethearts were soul mates. They never argued and worked great together in the family business of burying and cremating dead people. Jenna didn’t consider it to be a macabre life. Everyone dies. Someone has to take care of the bodies.

She had no problem working at Love’s Funeral Home and Crematorium once she graduated high school, but her parents insisted on college. She had no idea what she wanted to do in life, but was assured by teachers and guidance counselors that she’d discover that once she entered, finding inspiration in the liberal arts curriculum. Jenna would prefer to just burn people. Besides, she was daydreaming about it. Maybe fate was speaking to her.

“Must be going,” Mrs. Sharpe not-so-delicately announced.

Riddick let his fork fall with a clang! on the half-eaten plate of lasagna. “Wouldn’t wanna miss her show: Silicone Stepmothers.”

He said it low enough for those only at the table to hear. Jenna’s dad stifled a laugh.

Jenna patted Riddick on his arm to console him. He winced in pain. “Oh, sorry,” she apologized. “Lemme see.”

Riddick wouldn’t let her. “It’s fine. I’m okay.” He smiled. “See you tomorrow at school.”

Jenna shook her head. “Nah, think I’m gonna skip the whole day.”

“Yeah, right,” said her dad, smiling.

Jenna sighed. “Of course, I’ll be there. It’s not like I have nothing better to do.”

Everyone said their goodbyes with Mrs. Sharpe being the quickest about it, but Jenna pulled Pru back while the others walked outside. “Hey, Pru, can I ask you something?”

Pru smiled. “You just did.”

“Yeah, yeah, but um, well, does Riddick have a crush on me?”

Pru fell characteristically silent.

“C’mon. You can talk.” Jenna gave her an encouraging smile. “You’ve done it before. I know you can.”

Pru unsealed her red lips. “I’m not getting involved.”

“That means ‘yes,’ right?”

“Hypothetically, if he did, how would you feel?”

“I dunno. He’s not ugly or anything, but he’s my friend and well, I dunno if we’d work well together.”

Pru chuckled. “You’re not trying to run a corporation. It’s high school hookup—these things never really last. Especially if you’re gonna go to college after graduation. Riddick plans on moving to Houston to be with his mom and having his step dad set him up with a job at his car dealership.”

Now Jenna chuckled. “I can’t imagine Riddick selling cars.”

“No, he’d be in the auto shop, a mechanic.”

Jenna furrowed her brow. “He knows how to work on cars?”

Pru nodded. “Pretty good too. He fixed up his step mom’s car…well, that was before she arrived. It was supposed to be his, but…”

“Along came Polly.”

“Yep.” Right on cue, Mrs. Sharpe honked the horn, urging to flee.

“Well, I’ll let you go.”

Pru went to leave, but then stopped, and turned back to Jenna. “Deep down, Riddick’s really a sensitive person. If you two didn’t work out, it would break his heart.

I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but maybe it’d be best if you just stayed friends. And you’re just coming off a bad break with Val.” “It’s been three months,” Jenna reminded her rather crossly.

“Still,” said Pru, taking no offense. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jenna folded her arms over her chest, defensive. “I don’t look at him. He’s a jackass.”

“A jackass who was your first love.”

Jenna shook her head and unfolded her arms, letting them hang limp by her sides.

“If I’d given him what he’d wanted, we would’ve never broken up, but then I’d never be friends with y’all and truly,”—she smiled—“I’d rather have that.”

Pru gave her a hug. Jenna tugged gently on a few strands of her black hair, just like Riddick’s; but instead of his falling sharply down, it stuck up in the middle like he’d been electrocuted.

“He’s really a good guy,” Jenna said. “But I dunno if I’m ready to be back in a relationship.”

Mrs. Sharpe honked the horn twice.

Jenna sighed. “You’d better go before she breaks a fake nail. Nice talking to you.”

She smiled. “You should do it more often.”

“I prefer to listen than speak.” Pru winked. “I’m a spy-in-training.”

“I knew it! That’s not your real hair, is it?” Jenna tugged on her black bob again. It didn’t come off. “No, it’s real. If you were wearing a mustache, I could’ve ripped that off.”

Pru smiled. “Now there’s an idea. I should go to school wearing a mustache.”

Jenna nodded in agreement. “Yeah, no one would make fun of you then.”

Jenna’s parents reentered the house. Her dad approached Pru with a gentle but urgent smile. “Polly’s about to have a fit in that car. And I think Riddick’s about to commit murder.”

Pru said her goodbyes and left. Jenna watched Mrs. Sharpe drive away with Riddick looking sullen in the backseat, and Pru playfully pushing his face, trying to cheer him up. It didn’t work and Pru gave up.

It was late and Jenna decided to go to bed. But just as she was settling under the covers, she noticed the silver lock on top of the chest.

Now she was wide awake—bitten by the curiosity bug.

She padded to the end of the bed and got down on her knees before the one thing Simon Love had left her after his death. She always knew he had it—placed in a corner of his room at his old house that her parents eventually sold to a newlywed couple looking to get away from Los Angeles.

Grandpa Simon was a bit of a recluse, but he was never rude to people. He just preferred to be alone ever since his wife, Dottie, had died on Christmas day, three years ago. After his burial—Simon Love didn’t want to be cremated—Jenna received the chest but couldn’t open it. The lock was so thick and strong, her dad was afraid that he’d destroy all his tools just to open it. It was decided to leave it alone, that perhaps nothing of great importance was inside because it was so light in weight.

Well, now the lock was off—mysteriously opened—all by itself.

She couldn’t help but to connect the events. Three times that day she had visions of stabbing people in their hearts. They’d caught fire, and then turned into piles of ashes.

The first vision that morning had been horrific and sickening; she vomited. But the next two were not that vomit-inducing; it was as if she were doing something good. She was protecting the world from the baddies with strange fiery eyes. But how could murder be condoned? And why’d her victims catch fire with only a stab from a small knife? The grandfather clock in the living room chimed loud, announcing it was midnight. Jenna settled herself before the chest and opened the lid. She picked up the first item, confused.

“A white tunic?” she wondered aloud.

She proceeded to remove a pile of clothes that one would wear out of a scene from

Lawrence of Arabia until she found three strange heirlooms. One was a small book; its spine was cracked and the black leather cover was peeling, but the pages were blank.

The second item was a piece of jewelry, a necklace. A bronze chain held a pendant of the same metal, engraved with a black cursive script that resembled an ancient language.

She placed both items on the floor, for the third item was the heirloom that made her shiver. After controlling her shaky hands, she carefully removed the brown leather sheath. The knife was the same one in her visions. It had a polished cedar hilt with a curved bronze blade. It didn’t look dull, but new as if forged only hours ago. She studied the black cursive script that was engraved from the top of the hilt to the tip of the blade; it was still all nonsense. But she didn’t need a translator to know what a knife could do.

She stood up and held the weapon, poised to strike. There was only one word to describe how she felt: awakened. A surge of strength took hold of her.

Destiny called. And she answered. She was meant to wield this knife. She was meant to kill.

So much for college. ###

To Read More of Burning Hearts, buy at Amazon, Smashwords, or Lulu bookstores in e-book and paperback formats.

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