All Kinds of Bad by Rachel Rust

Author:Rachel Rust [Rust, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781773390598
Google: _EU8vgAACAAJ
Amazon: 1773390597
Barnesnoble: 1773390597
Goodreads: 32184321
Publisher: Evernight Teen
Published: 2016-10-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

She Goes with It

I arrived at school to find Alex’s black Mustang parked in my usual spot under the large maple tree. Its driver’s side tires were angled into the spot next to it, effectively taking up that spot too.

“Idiot,” I muttered, and then had to park Frankie next to a rusty Dodge pickup in the middle of the lot.

Nathan was waiting for me by my locker, which both lifted my spirits and reawakened dread in my stomach. “Did Rollins come find you?” I asked. “Anyone say anything about The Shack?”

“Nope.” He stepped behind me as I gathered my morning books. “No mention of it at all.” His hands wrapped around my stomach and his lips grazed across my neck and shoulders, making me giggle. After I shut my locker, he reached in front of me with a long arm and grabbed my backpack by a strap.

“I can carry my own bag,” I said.

He stared me down with a hint of a grin and raised the bag up for me to take back, but as my fingertips brushed the nylon, his grin cracked wide and he yanked the bag away, flinging it up onto his shoulder. “C’mon,” he said with a nod.

I complied, figuring there were far worse things in life than a cute guy insisting on carrying my backpack. With fingers intertwined, we made our way down the hall. Eyes fixated on us and, like the parting Red Sea, everyone moved out of Nathan Stone’s path.

The rest of the school day went by without incident. No mention of The Shack or busted windows. No sightings of the police at school. I saw Nathan every once in a while in the hallways. He kissed me under my ear while dropping me off at the lunchroom, and playfully poked my side each time we passed each other in the hallway between classes. He liked to make me giggle and this brought on stares from everyone around us. I could feel the nosy small-town gossip and half-truths swirling around the two of us. But I chose not to care.

After school, Nathan didn’t have basketball practice, so we drove—and kissed—our way to his house. Or, rather, his garage. Caroline was still nestled into her space. Her hood had been removed, exposing her grimy bits.

My black flats stepped into the garage behind Nathan, making an abrasive sound as they squashed the layer of gravel and dust which coated the concrete floor. “Are you going to work on your car?”

“No, can’t do much right now. I have to order some parts.”

“You ever going to tell me how you named it?”

Nathan smiled and sat on a stool near the workbench. “My grandma named it.”

My mouth opened but nothing came out. His dead grandmother named his car? My eyes darted around the garage, wondering if maybe it was haunted.

“Was her name Caroline?” I asked.

“Margaret.”

“Oh,” was all I said as the only normal explanation fell flat.

“Sounds weird, I know,” Nathan said. “But when I was six, my grandma gave me a toy Camaro.

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