Back Malice
Chapters (67)
  1. Copyright
  2. Dedication
  3. Chapter 1
  4. Chapter 2
  5. Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 4
  7. Chapter 5
  8. Chapter 6
  9. Chapter 7
  10. Chapter 8
  11. Chapter 9
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. Chapter 25
  28. Chapter 26
  29. Chapter 27
  30. Chapter 28
  31. Chapter 29
  32. Chapter 30
  33. Chapter 31
  34. Chapter 32
  35. Chapter 33
  36. Chapter 34
  37. Chapter 35
  38. Chapter 36
  39. Chapter 37
  40. Chapter 38
  41. Chapter 39
  42. Chapter 40
  43. Chapter 41
  44. Chapter 42
  45. Chapter 43
  46. Chapter 44
  47. Chapter 45
  48. Chapter 46
  49. Chapter 47
  50. Chapter 48
  51. Chapter 49
  52. Chapter 50
  53. Chapter 51
  54. Chapter 52
  55. Chapter 53
  56. Chapter 54
  57. Chapter 55
  58. Chapter 56
  59. Chapter 57
  60. Chapter 58
  61. Chapter 59
  62. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  63. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  64. Crave, by Tracy Wolff
  65. Keystone, by Katie Delahanty
  66. Sting, by Cindy Wilson
  67. Keeper of the Bees, by Meg Kassel

For a few moments, he blinks confusedly at Lalana. She proceeds to plant a kiss on the two-dimensional face.

“Well, that’s disturbing,” he says, his eyes bright. Although, let’s face it. Everything about him is bright, from the light reflecting off his cheeks to the glow that radiates from inside him. What’s more, as smart as he is, he’s not arrogant in the slightest. Unlike other people I know. Other people I’ve forgotten.

Now, if Zeke asked me to prom, I would actually consider it. Maybe. Probably.

Archie walks into the room, still in his Marie Curie shirt and khaki shorts. Contrary to popular belief, my brother’s not actually dirty. Instead, he bought a dozen of the same T-shirt and shorts after reading an article about decision fatigue and highly effective people.

“Barack Obama and Michael Kors wear the same outfit every day,” he’d explained to me. “It’s one less decision they have to make so that they can focus on more important things.”

I gaped at him. “But President Obama wears power suits. And Michael Kors wears all black. Not…” I gestured helplessly at his decidedly unfashionable getup.

He pushed the glasses up his nose. “Are you seriously asking me to wear tight pants when I sit in the basement all night?”

I guess not. But his insistence on comfort does make him the target of hushed and not-so-hushed snickers at our school.

“Hi, Lalana,” he says now, oblivious to my scrutiny. “Nice cutout.” My best friend is currently dancing Thor over the tabletop. We all stare at his bobbing head, transfixed.

Damn. Chris manages to look hot even on a stick.

“At the risk of interrupting…” Archie says drily, as though he expects nothing less from my friends or me, “do you mind if Zeke and I grab some food? I know I said I would have dinner with you, but we’re in the middle of a project. Besides—” He glances slyly at the acrobatic Thor head. “It doesn’t look like you need any more company.”

“Oh, sure.” I shove the perfectly arranged beef and broccoli platter at him. “Here, take this. I’ll eat the tofu. It’s my fave anyhow.”

Oops. I haven’t taken any photos of the beef and broccoli yet. But the foodie account can wait. Zeke and Archie’s friendship is way more important, and I’m thrilled they’re hanging out again.

With one last smile from Zeke, the boys leave.

Lalana and I take one look at each other and dissolve into laughter.

“Did you”—she wheezes—“see the look…on Zeke’s face…when I was fondling Thor?”

“And Archie!” I gasp. “I think he was wondering if I was somehow switched at the hospital!”