The Body Finder
Page 71
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“I got you this instead.” He pulled out a black velvet box, the kind that holds fine jewelry. It was long and narrow.
She gasped as she watched him lift the lid.
Inside was a delicate silver chain, and on it was the polished outline of a floating silver heart that drifted over the chain that held it.
Violet reached out to touch it with her fingertip. “It’s beautiful,” she sighed.
He lifted the necklace from the box and held it out to her. “May I?” he asked.
She nodded, her eyes bright with excitement as he clasped the silver chain around her bare throat. “Thank you,” she breathed, interlacing her hand into his and squeezing it meaningfully.
She reluctantly used the crutches to get out to the car, since there were no handrails for her to hold on to. She felt like they ruined the overall effect she was going for.
Jay’s car was as nice on the inside as it was outside. The interior was rich, smoky gray leather that felt like soft butter as he helped her inside. Aside from a few minor flaws, it could have passed for brand-new. The engine purred to life when he turned the key in the ignition, something that her car had never done. Roar, maybe—purr, never.
She was relieved that her uncle hadn’t ordered a police escort for the two of them to the dance. She had half expected to see a procession of marked police cars, lights swirling and sirens blaring, in the wake of Jay’s sleek black Acura.
Despite sitting behind the wheel of his shiny new car, Jay could scarcely take his eyes off her. His admiring gaze found her over and over again, while he barely concentrated on the road ahead of him. Fortunately they didn’t have far to go.
Even the parking lot at school had an entirely different feel as the cover of night began to fall in a sheer dark curtain, allowing the distant twinkling of the stars to break through the dusky sky. Violet could hear the music migrating out from the open doors of the gymnasium as couples paraded into the dance.
Jay patiently led Violet inside, showing his student ID, and then helping Violet with hers, to the two teachers manning the door and checking identifications. Once inside, Violet was surprised at herself. She had expected her hypercritical eyes to devour everything and mentally tear it to shreds, from the cheesy décor to the dorky DJ playing the music and trying to be “hip” to what the kids were into. Right down to the obnoxious and unpleasant Queen Lissie.
But she didn’t. She kind of liked it, in all of its tacky splendor.
She let Jay lead her to the photographer, a man in a cheap suit with a greasy comb-over-style hairdo. They had their picture taken in front of a backdrop of draped tulle in shades of pink and red, and flanked by freestanding white—probably Styrofoam—pillars that were meant to look Greek and tragically romantic. Instead, they looked tragically shabby, as if they might crumble at any moment from years of overuse. But Violet didn’t care about any of it; she could hardly breathe whenever she glanced sideways at her arrestingly handsome date.
When they were finished they saw Chelsea and Claire. Actually, the two overly wound-up girls came running right at Violet, screaming with excitement to see her. As if they didn’t see her every single day.
“Oh…my… God, Violet! You look amazing!” Claire gushed at her, and Violet tried not to be insulted by the insinuation that it was so far-fetched for her to look good.
And then Jules walked up with her date, a senior from another high school, and Violet almost didn’t recognize the tall, leggy bombshell towering over her. Jules wore an almost sinful black dress with a bustier top that left little to the imagination and no room for a bra of any kind. Before this moment, Violet hadn’t even realized that Jules had boobs, let alone full-on cle**age.
“Wow!” Claire breathed, unable to say anything beyond that single word. And suddenly Violet wasn’t so insulted, because Jules’s transformation had actually left Claire, the girl who always had something to say, completely speechless.
The music was loud, and the bass was up way too high, making everything from floor to ceiling vibrate. They had to raise their voices just to hear one another.
“Yeah, Jules!” Chelsea said in a voice thick with envy. “Go away, you’re making the rest of us look bad.” She winked at Jules’s date wickedly. “I bet you just want to eat her up, don’t ya?”
He stared at Chelsea with bewilderment and glanced back at Jules for help.
“Just ignore her,” Jules explained over the noise from the sound system. “She doesn’t get out much.”
Chelsea tried to look hurt by Jules’s words, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. “I’m just sayin’, Jules, he’d better watch his back tonight, or I might be trying to take you away from him.” Chelsea loved to play the potentially bi-curious card, even though everyone knew she liked boys far too much to go to bat for the other team.
“Gross!” cried Claire, who wasn’t pretending at all. Claire hated it when the conversation deviated too far off her straight and narrow path. The operative word being straight.
“Don’t worry, Claire-bear,” Chelsea soothed condescendingly. “I’m not going to hook up with Jules.” She wrapped her arm around Claire’s waist and then said suggestively in her ear, “I’m much more likely to make a move on you.”
“Eww!” Claire shrieked, shoving Chelsea away. “Get away from me!”
“Leave her alone, Chels,” Jules interrupted. “Or you’re gonna make her start her ‘It’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve’ speech. And, sorry, Claire, but none of us really want to hear that.”
She gasped as she watched him lift the lid.
Inside was a delicate silver chain, and on it was the polished outline of a floating silver heart that drifted over the chain that held it.
Violet reached out to touch it with her fingertip. “It’s beautiful,” she sighed.
He lifted the necklace from the box and held it out to her. “May I?” he asked.
She nodded, her eyes bright with excitement as he clasped the silver chain around her bare throat. “Thank you,” she breathed, interlacing her hand into his and squeezing it meaningfully.
She reluctantly used the crutches to get out to the car, since there were no handrails for her to hold on to. She felt like they ruined the overall effect she was going for.
Jay’s car was as nice on the inside as it was outside. The interior was rich, smoky gray leather that felt like soft butter as he helped her inside. Aside from a few minor flaws, it could have passed for brand-new. The engine purred to life when he turned the key in the ignition, something that her car had never done. Roar, maybe—purr, never.
She was relieved that her uncle hadn’t ordered a police escort for the two of them to the dance. She had half expected to see a procession of marked police cars, lights swirling and sirens blaring, in the wake of Jay’s sleek black Acura.
Despite sitting behind the wheel of his shiny new car, Jay could scarcely take his eyes off her. His admiring gaze found her over and over again, while he barely concentrated on the road ahead of him. Fortunately they didn’t have far to go.
Even the parking lot at school had an entirely different feel as the cover of night began to fall in a sheer dark curtain, allowing the distant twinkling of the stars to break through the dusky sky. Violet could hear the music migrating out from the open doors of the gymnasium as couples paraded into the dance.
Jay patiently led Violet inside, showing his student ID, and then helping Violet with hers, to the two teachers manning the door and checking identifications. Once inside, Violet was surprised at herself. She had expected her hypercritical eyes to devour everything and mentally tear it to shreds, from the cheesy décor to the dorky DJ playing the music and trying to be “hip” to what the kids were into. Right down to the obnoxious and unpleasant Queen Lissie.
But she didn’t. She kind of liked it, in all of its tacky splendor.
She let Jay lead her to the photographer, a man in a cheap suit with a greasy comb-over-style hairdo. They had their picture taken in front of a backdrop of draped tulle in shades of pink and red, and flanked by freestanding white—probably Styrofoam—pillars that were meant to look Greek and tragically romantic. Instead, they looked tragically shabby, as if they might crumble at any moment from years of overuse. But Violet didn’t care about any of it; she could hardly breathe whenever she glanced sideways at her arrestingly handsome date.
When they were finished they saw Chelsea and Claire. Actually, the two overly wound-up girls came running right at Violet, screaming with excitement to see her. As if they didn’t see her every single day.
“Oh…my… God, Violet! You look amazing!” Claire gushed at her, and Violet tried not to be insulted by the insinuation that it was so far-fetched for her to look good.
And then Jules walked up with her date, a senior from another high school, and Violet almost didn’t recognize the tall, leggy bombshell towering over her. Jules wore an almost sinful black dress with a bustier top that left little to the imagination and no room for a bra of any kind. Before this moment, Violet hadn’t even realized that Jules had boobs, let alone full-on cle**age.
“Wow!” Claire breathed, unable to say anything beyond that single word. And suddenly Violet wasn’t so insulted, because Jules’s transformation had actually left Claire, the girl who always had something to say, completely speechless.
The music was loud, and the bass was up way too high, making everything from floor to ceiling vibrate. They had to raise their voices just to hear one another.
“Yeah, Jules!” Chelsea said in a voice thick with envy. “Go away, you’re making the rest of us look bad.” She winked at Jules’s date wickedly. “I bet you just want to eat her up, don’t ya?”
He stared at Chelsea with bewilderment and glanced back at Jules for help.
“Just ignore her,” Jules explained over the noise from the sound system. “She doesn’t get out much.”
Chelsea tried to look hurt by Jules’s words, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. “I’m just sayin’, Jules, he’d better watch his back tonight, or I might be trying to take you away from him.” Chelsea loved to play the potentially bi-curious card, even though everyone knew she liked boys far too much to go to bat for the other team.
“Gross!” cried Claire, who wasn’t pretending at all. Claire hated it when the conversation deviated too far off her straight and narrow path. The operative word being straight.
“Don’t worry, Claire-bear,” Chelsea soothed condescendingly. “I’m not going to hook up with Jules.” She wrapped her arm around Claire’s waist and then said suggestively in her ear, “I’m much more likely to make a move on you.”
“Eww!” Claire shrieked, shoving Chelsea away. “Get away from me!”
“Leave her alone, Chels,” Jules interrupted. “Or you’re gonna make her start her ‘It’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve’ speech. And, sorry, Claire, but none of us really want to hear that.”
