Friday Feature: Grunge Gods and Graveyards

Parted by death. Tethered by love.

Lainey Bloom’s high school senior year is a complete disaster. The popular clique, led by mean girl Wynter Woods, bullies her constantly. The principal threatens not to let her graduate with the class of 1997 unless she completes a major research project. And everyone blames her for the death of Wynter’s boyfriend, Danny Obregon.

Danny, a gorgeous musician, stole Lainey’s heart when he stole a kiss at a concert. But a week later, he was run down on a dangerous stretch of road. When he dies in her arms, she fears she’ll never know if he really would have broken up with Wynter to be with her.

Then his ghost shows up, begging her to solve his murder. Horrified by the dismal fate that awaits him if he never crosses over, Lainey seeks the dark truth amidst small town secrets, family strife, and divided loyalties. But every step she takes toward discovering what really happened the night Danny died pulls her further away from the beautiful boy she can never touch again.

Excerpt

*In this scene Lainey runs into Danny at a party at her best friend's house.*

I headed up the narrow staircase just as Danny descended. We did that weird dance where we moved to the side in order to let the other person go by, except we kept moving to the same side. Danny laughed and made a grand gesture with his hand. “After you, chiquita.” I laughed and shimmied past him. As I slid past, my boobs grazed the buttons on his shirt. I felt embarrassed and tingly. Danny coughed and sputtered. “See you later, right?”

“Right.” I hurried upstairs to Wilder’s bedroom. I didn’t want him to see my blush.

I darted inside Wilder’s messy room, shut the door, and leaned against it. The bras were gone, presumably flung inside her closet. Wilder opened a bag of potato chips and offered me one, but I shook my head. I climbed onto her bed and pressed my face into a pillow. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I groaned.

“I had no freakin’ clue she was throwing a party. She had been all secretive, but I thought it had more to do with this senior soccer player she’s been sweating.”

“No. She likes Danny. Did you see how she looked at me when he helped me with my bag?”

Potato chip crumbs sprinkled Wilder’s chest, and she brushed them off, not even caring if crumbs got inside her bed sheets. “I try to pay as little attention to her as possible. Besides, you’re not her competition. Why would she be jealous?”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I mean. She shouldn’t be threatened by you.”

“Again. Thank you.” I knew I wasn’t pretty enough to compete with Wynter, but having Wilder imply the same sentiment kind of hurt.

“Uh...” She shoved another chip in her mouth.

“Good call.”

Wilder swallowed. “So, how’s your mom?”

“The same. Awful. Liz barely lets me in to see her.”

“How come?”

I shrugged. “I think she wants Mom all to herself while she’s still ali—you know what? Let’s talk about something else.”

Wilder stood up and wiped her greasy hands on her jeans. “I don’t feel like The Real World tonight. How about an X-Files marathon?”

“That sounds awesome.”

Before she could dig out our favorite tape and pop it in the VCR, someone knocked on the door. “Enter.”

Danny poked his head inside. “Are you girls holing up in here the whole night? You should come down.”

Wilder waved him off. “Hell, no. I don’t want to deal with a bunch of drunken douches in my house. No offense.”

“None taken. I don’t often become a drunken douche.” He smiled, and I felt a rush of warmth spread through my body. “Would you be willing to lend us some tunes? Craig’s threatening to play some horrendous country songs, and your sister has an inexhaustible amount of 80s dance music.”

Before Wilder could answer him, I jumped from the bed and opened my duffel bag. “Here.” I handed him a stack of CDs and cassettes.

“Whoa. Just so you know, I’m totally going to judge you by your taste in music.”

I flipped my hair over my shoulder, a move I had seen Wynter do countless times in gym class. “Well, in that case, you’re going to think very highly of me. I have awesome taste in music.”

He laughed as he juggled the music in his hands. “Tori Amos. Green Day. Radiohead.” He lowered his voice. “You pass.” He looked at me, and without meaning to, I bit my bottom lip. “There’s this band you should listen to called—”

“Danny!” Wynter’s shrill voice cut the air. I deflated.

Danny held up the music. “Thanks for this.” He walked backward and stumbled on Wilder’s boots next to the door. His cheeks reddened. “I brought my guitar. Nutley and I are going to play later. At least come down for that.”

I smiled at Wilder. “Sure. Absolutely.”

“Yeah, totally,” said Wilder.

“Great.” He left and closed the door.

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