Betwixt, Before, Beyond by Melissa Pearl Read Free Book Online

behind him and clears his throat.
    Trent turns around and peers down at my helper.
    "What the hell do you want, Scarface?"
    Dale stands as tall as his five foot... I don't know, eight inches... will allow him to. "Did you take Nicole home last night?"
    Trent rolls his eyes and turns back to his locker. "And why would that be your business?"
    "I'm just wondering where she is."
    "Isn't everybody?" Trent rips off his shirt. I stare at his long torso, a torso I had run my hands over. I remember lying on his bed with him one afternoon in the summer, running my fingers over his tight muscles and memorising every curve. It had seemed so romantic at the time, now the thought just makes me sick. A nother memory flashes through my head and I shudder.
    "I just want to know where she is."
    "How the hell should I know?"
    "Because you’re her boyfriend!"
    Trent's shoulders bunch with tension. I see a muscle twitch in his neck as he pulls a PE shirt over his head. "Look, she plays hooky all the time, okay. Her parents don't care. She's probably at home."
    "Nicole hates being at home. If she plays hooky she goes to L.A. and she always takes one of her friends."
    How did he know that?
    "Look man, I don't know... maybe she's flying solo on this one. Maybe she hitched a ride to L.A. and is blowing off steam with her Dad's credit card. She'll be back tonight and loving all the attention tomorrow."
    "I would never hitch. I'm not that stupid."
    Dale ignores my yelled response and continu es with his calm interrogation. "What if she doesn't come back tomorrow?"
    "Then maybe she's finally found the guts to run away."
    My insides twist. Why does everyone assume I want to do that?
    "Why don't you text her, find out if she's okay?"
    "And why don't you mind your own business." Trent slams his locker and spins around.
    Dale doesn't budge. Raising his chin, he gives a small nod, but won't back down. "You were the last person to see her."
    "What are you, a cop or something? Look she got out of my car and that's the last time I saw her!"
    "Where'd she get out?"
    Trent's fists bunch into tight knots.
    "Dale, it doesn't matter. He's not gonna tell you anything. Let's just leave it." I try to pull his arm, but my fingers wisp straight through him this time.
    He ignores me, bunching his own fists, unafraid of the nostril snorting giant in front of him.
    "Oi! You two! Get your butts out on my field. Now!!" Coach Yeller (it's actually Gellar, but everyone calls him Yeller... for obvious reasons) pulls the boys apart with a look of steel. Trent shoves Dale out of his way as he walks past. Dale stares after him, unfazed by the roughness.
    "Finnigan! Move!"
    "Coming sir, I just have to use the bathroom." He puts on a grimace and holds his stomach.
    Coach Yeller takes a disgusted step backwards. "Make it quick!" Spinning on his heel he marches outside.
    Dale clears his throat and waits for the slam of the door before grabbing his bag and walking the other way. "You coming?"
    "Ahhh, no thank you. I don't really need to see you poop."
    "I'm not going to the bathroom." He pulls the door open. "I want to check out Trent's car."

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    Dale looks over his shoulder as we amble out into the parking lot. Ducking low, we skirt around the vehicles until we reach Trent's Jeep. Dale runs his fingers along the edge of the window. Dropping his bag, he unzips it and pulls out a long, flat piece of metal with a little hook on the end. Is that a slim jim?
    "Why do you have that in your bag?"
    Without saying a word, he inserts it down the edge of the window, jiggles it like a pro and pops the lock. "In case I ever lock my keys in the car." He shoots me a grin then opens the door.
    "But, how'd you..." My voice dies away as I watch Dale hunt around the passenger's seat. Opening the glove box, he rifles through it as I'm swamped by another memory.
     
    "Trent, stop it." I pushed his fidgeting fingers away from the fly of my jeans, trying to keep my voice light.
    "Come