Page 85 of Ominous: Part 1
But there’s no Eli.
I straighten from the wall, my own smile slipping. He’s not there.
He could’ve been sick or absent or… anything at all when they took this photo. I missed picture day for fourth grade because I had chicken pox. For the second time. It left a scar over my lip, just above my Cupid’s bow.
I turn the page and flick my gaze down to the list of names on the team, divided by junior varsity and varsity.
Up. Down. Over and over again until I could recite a few. Darrel Johnson. Lucas Miller. Kam Harris. Johnny Baca, the guy I met at the party.
No Eli. No other E names at all. Only one Addison.Jasper.He looks vaguely familiar, but he’s definitely not Eli.
It could be a misprint.
I flip to the junior class, each square photo listed alphabetically by last name.
Again, I drag my finger, my head bent over the page, neck aching in my concentration, but it’s all background noise.
The photos skip from Jasper Addison to a girl with dark hair, Emily Adeline, to a boy with no hair, Fernando Alvarez.
I glance over the entire page, rows and rows of smiling faces staring up at me.
Eli’s is not one of them.
I flip to the index, every student, teacher, and coach’s name listed in alphabetical order. I look over the As, row by row.
No other Eli’s in that section.
Frowning, I turn once more to the wrestling pages. And as my pulse picks up speed, confusion and frustration gnawing at me in my tunnel vision, I hear a voice at my side.
“What’re you looking for, baby girl?”
I jump, whirling around and slamming the book closed, clutching it close to my chest like a shield as I take a step back, my pulse hammering too fast.
I blink, a flush of adrenaline racing through my body as I stare up at Eli, his hands in his pockets, his dark hair damp and hanging in his eyes. He’s wearing a black shirt, his wrestling shirt. Trafalgar Dragons.
Even from here, the distance I put between us, I can smell the soap on his skin, mingling with the beachy scent ofhim.
He has one brow cocked, a soft smile pulling on his beautiful lips.
My chest is heaving, moving the book I have cradled to it.
“Where were you?” I blurt the words out, glancing past him, like I might spot the cops there, waiting in the shadows. “What happened this morning?”
He stares at me a moment, then steps forward, closing the space between us. I have the urge to back up, but I fight back against the instinct. I’m not scared of him. I’m nervous around him, but there’s a difference.
He reaches for the yearbook, his fingertips grazing my wrist as he does, and the hairs on the back of my neck lift with his touch. I can’t stop my slight flinch, more a seizing of my limbs than anything else, but it’s still there.
He pulls the book from my arms, and I let him, dropping my hands by my sides as he looks down, studying the cover. I take in the slight curve at the tip of his nose, the pale violet shadows like bruises under his eyes as he grips the yearbook in both hands, pulling his bottom lip between his white, straight teeth.
I dig my nails into my palms, waiting for him to explain, and I don’t know what I want an explanation for first. The yearbook could be easily explained. The cops, though… that seems like a more sinister story.
After several seconds, he looks up through his lashes at me, his chin still tilted down. “I had practice,” he says.
I frown, glancing past him. I can’t see any windows from here, but I know it’s well after dark. Past eight by now. “This late?” I ask, bringing my gaze back to him.
“Bleacher runs.”
I realize for the first time, his chest is rising and falling faster than usual beneath his wrestling shirt, and his cheekbones are tinged with pink. I know better than to think it’s from embarrassment. I don’t think Eli ever feels an emotion like that.
