“Are you guys ready to go?” Violet asked as she grabbed Jay’s arm, steering him toward the exit.
Jay chuckled but shrugged his arm away. “Violet, the movie doesn’t even start for an hour. Let’s find a place to sit so we can finish eating.”
Violet blinked, trying to think of an argument against staying, but she couldn’t. And before she could protest, Jay, Mike, and Chelsea were already headed for an open table.
Violet sighed, defeated by her crippling inability to think quickly.
Her legs felt unsteady as she gave in and followed the three of them. She stopped once, to glance over her shoulder. But the boy was no longer sitting at the front of the café.
Violet’s heart leaped into her throat as her eyes scanned the room. She’d thought it was paralyzing to have him sitting there, watching her. But this feeling was worse: not knowing where he’d gone, yet knowing he could still be nearby.
She hoped that he’d decided to leave her alone. But somehow she doubted it.
Violet sat silently at the little round table while the others ate and talked and laughed.
Thankfully the numbness, that deadened sensation that had gripped her from the moment she’d first spotted FBI Sara’s friend sitting there, had lifted. It had been replaced by something else, something closer to outrage. Violet felt as though her personal space had been invaded, her privacy violated.
She felt clearer now. Too clear, as a heightened sense of awareness infiltrated her mind. Her head reeled with questions and theories, suspicions and doubts. She worried as she scanned the other customers, and as she warily eyed the café’s entrance.
She couldn’t stop herself from wondering: Why did he come here? What does he want?
If Jay noticed, he didn’t mention it. He was enjoying himself. He and his friends were having fun, even without her participation.
Violet didn’t care. She had other concerns at the moment.
She was relieved when it was time to go, and she led the way out to the parking lot, pushing through the crowd, rushing to get out of the confined space. And, somehow, Jay managed to keep up.
She felt better once she was outside, like she could breathe again. They were already at Jay’s car when Mike and Chelsea caught up with them.
Chelsea stopped grinning at Mike long enough to scowl at Jay. “Are you two trying to ditch us or something?”
But it was in that brief moment, while Chelsea wasn’t staring at him, that Violet saw the fleeting look cross Mike’s face as he glanced down at Chelsea.
It was so quick that unless someone had been looking directly at him, like Violet was, they would have missed it. But it had definitely been there. The corner of his mouth had twitched upward, his eyes crinkling just slightly as he watched her.
And Violet knew: Mike liked Chelsea.
As soon as Chelsea’s gaze slipped back to him, Mike’s cheeks turned pink and he looked away as if she didn’t exist. Neither Jay nor Chelsea noticed.
The absurdity of it broke through Violet’s apprehensive mood, and she couldn’t help grinning to herself. Chelsea had been falling all over herself to get Mike’s attention, never realizing that she’d had it all along.
By the time they reached the theater, Violet was feeling much more like herself. She even teased Jay for being so choosy about where he parked his precious car and managed to find her appetite again . . . for popcorn and licorice, at least. She loaded up on both at the concession stand.
When they got to the dim hallway outside the theater, Violet hesitated.
“Here.” She handed the tub of popcorn to Jay. “Why don’t you give me my ticket stub and I’ll meet you guys inside? I’ve gotta use the bathroom.”
She knew it was pointless to ask Chelsea to come with her, because Chelsea had no intention of leaving Mike’s side, even for a few short minutes. Instead, Jay handed Violet her stub and she disappeared into the restroom.
Inside, she was all alone, which always bothered Violet. And as usual, she wondered if she were to scream, would anyone actually hear her above the pounding bass from the surrounding theaters? Someday she thought she might try it, just to find out.
No, you won’t, she chided herself. You’re such a chickenshit.
She tried not to think about things that might make her scream while she hurried to use the bathroom and wash her hands. And when she was finished, she rushed through the door, nearly running into the person waiting in the hallway.
Violet jumped, startled. And then recognition dawned, and screaming became an all too real possibility.
If only she could find her voice.
“What are you doing here?” Violet glowered at the boy in front of her, lifting her chin. “Are you following me or something? And don’t try to tell me it’s a coincidence we’re both here at the same time. I saw you at the Java Hut.”
He shrugged, his hands buried in the pockets of his scruffy jeans. “I just came to deliver a message from Sara Priest.”
She blinked. “So she sent you?” Violet squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t let him see how much Sara Priest’s name affected her.
He shook his head, his black hair falling across his eyes. “Not exactly. But I was hoping that maybe you’d be more willing to talk if I came instead of her. You have to return her calls eventually.”
Violet’s outrage lessened. For days she’d been ignoring the messages from Sara Priest, each of them reminding Violet that this was an urgent matter.
“Just tell her I don’t want to talk to her.”