Don't Look Behind You (Don't Look Series Book 1) by Emily Kazmierski (summer reads .txt) 📗

I’ve missed seeing you.

Ducking down in my seat, I munch on my toaster pastry.

“Why are you slouching like that?” Aunt Karen asks. “Sit up so we can go.”

She’s going to think I’m ridiculous if I tell her. Or maybe she won’t. It’s worth a shot.

“What if our new neighbor is, you know?”

She stares at me for a moment, surprised. “Don’t be ridiculous. You think I wouldn’t know if our new neighbor was a wanted fugitive? Give me some credit.”

I’m not ready to let it go. “Have you’ve seen this person? Actually met them?”

“Yes, I’ve met them. His name’s Justin. He’s quiet is all. I’ve known him forever. We went to school together, back in the day.”

“You did?”

“It’s a small town, Megan.”

“If you say so,” I mutter, chewing on the inside of my cheek. My instincts are whispering that there’s more to this Justin person than my guardian is saying, and I’ve learned not to ignore them. It’s too much of a coincidence that he moved in right after us. Or maybe I’m jumping at shadows.

Maybe if I know a little more about the guy, he won’t creep me out so much. “Where did he work before the school?”

“The dairy.” It’s an automatic response. She pulls up outside the school. “Got everything?”

I pull open the front flap of my backpack to reveal the recorder and push its start button.

“Good girl. See you after school.”

It’s a half hour before school starts, so there isn’t anybody here yet. Aunt Karen had to go into the grocery store early, for what she didn’t say. I figured I’d rather be at school early than have to walk from the house. The concrete steps are warm in the morning sun as I pull up a seat and take out my phone.

I’ve posted a few more images since the leaves, and I’ve gotten some good feedback. I scroll back through my feed, pausing on a photo I took of my orchids blooming where they hung in my window back home. Large yellow flowers. Small crimson blooms. Pale pink petals so tiny they don’t even look real.

A dingy white car pulls into the lot and Noah climbs out, pink box in hand. He waves when he spots me and jogs over. “Want a donut? I thought you might be in the mood for some breakfast since your aunt doesn’t cook.”

I’m a little embarrassed that I told him that. It’s true, though. I have never eaten so much takeout in my life. “I wouldn’t say no to a chocolate bar.”

“I got one of those. Actually, I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got half a dozen. Here.” He opens the pink box, holding it out.

I thank him, taking one. This was so nice of him. Besides, the toaster pastries I’ve been eating don’t last very long in my stomach.

“Okay… So for our art project, here’s what I was thinking.” Noah goes on, detailing an idea about combining my photos with his love of anime to create a collage of one of his favorite characters. I nod along, not really listening.

I’m glad he took me to meet the art teacher, Mr. Baugh, because the advanced class is way better than being stuck in art 101 with a bunch of freshmen. Mr. Baugh took one look at my social feed and told me to request a transfer. It’s not a photography class, specifically, but Mr. Baugh hopes to get filmography and photography sections going in the next couple of years. It’s nice to have classes with Noah, since I somehow don’t have any classes with Fiona, Marisa, or Viv.

“Want to get together tomorrow night to work on it? At your place?”

“I can’t. Drama club.”

Noah takes a sip from his coffee cup. “We’ll figure it out.”

I’m glad he’s not pushing, because I already know what Aunt Karen would say if I asked about having friends over.

“Are those donuts?” Fiona calls as she, Viv, and Marisa walk over from their cars.

“Yep. Want one?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Fiona says, plucking an old fashioned out of the box. Marisa takes the one covered in sprinkles.

The janitor walks right past us and around the corner.

I jump, realizing that he walked right up to us without making a sound. I have to be more alert. Relax, I tell myself. You’re being paranoid. The man didn’t pay us any attention.

“So… the school janitor. He’s weird, right?” I try to act casual as I turn back to my friends. Probably fail.

“Who?” Fiona asks, peering over my shoulder.

Marisa follows suit. “Oh, you mean the new guy, Justin?”

“He’s new?” I squeak.

“Yep. And super cute.”

Fiona grimaces.

Viv leans in conspiratorially. “I heard a rumor he got fired from his last job because he was caught with a student. You know what I mean.”

“Really?” Marisa’s bright eyes are glued to Viv.

I’m fighting to keep my eyes from glazing over. This Justin is new at the school. He’s new. Which means he could be the physical manifestation of the phantom who destroyed my life. Fiona’s voice cuts through my terror haze.

“They wouldn’t let him work at the school if any of that was true,” Fiona says, shaking her head.

“They do background checks before they hire any new staff,” Noah says.

That may be true, but what about criminals the police can’t identify? What if they don’t have a record? A background check on someone like that wouldn’t turn up a single, bloody thing.

Chapter 7

Day 102, Thursday

Esau is in a mood today, barking orders at the stage crew and making his actors run the same scene over and over until it’s beat perfect. His exacting, demanding nature is both eye-roll inducing, and something else I don’t care to think about right now.

“Again,” our director commands, throwing his black braids behind his back. The gauges in his ears are flat black under the lights. Marisa and the other actors reset the scene, adjusting their bodies into the forms Esau has told them to