I swiped my hand forward and made a grab for my keys. He tugged his hand back, and I missed.
Lucas laughed, his crazy eyes flashing, and jumped to his feet. He had my scarf and my keys. The whole thing seemed like a joke to him. That lopsided smile didn’t leave his face.
“Give me the keys—” I choked out.
He moved forward and backed me against the side of my car. He pressed himself against me, pushing hard. No way to escape.
I froze in panic. How crazy was he? How dangerous? What was he going to do to me?
I uttered a short cry of surprise when he pressed the car keys into my hand. “See? I’m a nice guy. I can be a nice guy, too.”
I pushed him back. “Just go away, Lucas. Please.”
His head drooped. He took a few awkward steps back. Just enough to let me edge to the car door. I pulled it open and practically leaped inside. I saw him wrapping my scarf around one hand. I slammed the door shut and locked it.
My hand shook so hard, it took three tries to press the start button. The car started up with a roar.
I shoved it into reverse. I started to back out of the spot—then slammed the brake hard. Lucas stood behind the car. I watched him in the mirror. He waved my scarf in front of him.
I sent the window rolling down. “Get out of my way! Let me go, Lucas.”
He laughed that ugly laugh again. He didn’t move.
“Get out of the way. I’ll run you over. I swear I will.”
“Try it!” he called back.
“Come on, Lucas. Move!”
“Poppy, do you want to go out some time?” he asked.
“Are you crazy?”
“Is that a no?”
I hit the gas pedal and backed the car up, swinging the wheel, hoping to miss him.
“Whoooooaaah!” He screamed as the car backed into him. I stopped and watched in the mirror as he scrambled onto the trunk. He hunched on his hands and knees on the trunk. I shot the car forward, and he went tumbling off.
I didn’t wait to see if he was okay. My tires screeched as I spun the car to the narrow driveway, and I sped out of the garage, deep shudders running down my body, the car squealing from side to side, my trembling hands not really in control.
That creep. That stupid creep.
Did he really ask me out after terrifying me?
He backed me against my car and stole my scarf. And then he asked me out.
Is he totally out of his mind?
Somehow I made it home. I was shaking the whole way and fighting back tears. I didn’t want to cry. I was more angry than upset.
I just wanted to get to my room, and close my eyes, and try not to think, and let the shudders end. But Heather stopped me in the living room.
She sat on the couch with her stockinged feet on the coffee table, her laptop balanced on her lap. She looked up from the glow of the screen as I entered the room.
“How was your new job?”
“The job is okay,” I said. Then I sighed. “But I had a little problem. That creep from Harlow’s store. Lucas. He followed me into the garage behind the office. He . . . he practically attacked me. I think he just wanted to frighten me. I don’t know. I don’t know what he thought he was doing. He kept saying he liked me. It was awful.”
I dropped down on the couch beside Heather. I suddenly felt so weary. I guess it was all the adrenaline letting down.
Heather patted my leg. “Wow. That’s scary. What did you do?”
“I . . . I almost backed my car over him. It was a nightmare!”
She shook her head. “How awful.”
“I—I don’t know how dangerous he is,” I stammered.
Heather closed her laptop. “Want to hear something weird? Someone at school said they saw Keith hanging out with Lucas. Like they were real buddies or something.”
I frowned. “That can’t be true. Keith would never hang with a loser like Lucas. That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s what I heard.”
“No way. Your friend has got to be kidding. Keith would hate Lucas.”
Heather shoved her glasses up on her nose. “Oh. I almost forgot. Ivy called here. She was trying to reach you.”
I squinted at my sister. “Ivy called here? Why didn’t she call my phone?”
“She said she kept getting voicemail. Like you wouldn’t pick up.”
I pulled my phone out of my bag. It was dead. Completely out of power. Probably why Ivy didn’t get through.
“I don’t want to talk to her anyway,” I said.
“She told me she misses you. She wants to make up with you.”
“It isn’t going to happen,” I said. “All of my friends are dead to me. They totally messed with my head, and I’m going to pay them back.”
“Poppy, Ivy has been your friend for years,” Heather said. “And now you’re planning some kind of revenge against her? What are you going to do?”
“Something terrible,” I said. “I don’t know what yet. But it will be terrible.”
