He steps closer to me, and I make the mistake of stepping closer too, and then I make the double mistake of inhaling, and he smells like chocolate cake and buttercream frosting, and I’m pretty much convinced this guy sleeps in a bakery every night, like is-there-a-Pillsbury-factory-nearby-and-does-Jake-have-a-bed-there convinced. “Because,” he says, my pulse skipping as his dark eyes lock with mine, “here I get the satisfaction of besting you in this competition. Might want to check the scoreboard, Shoshanna. Your lead is slipping.”
My heart thumps, then races. He’s lying. He has to be lying. There’s no way he’s beating me.
But the problem is, Jake doesn’t look like he’s lying.
“This—this is cheating!”
He rolls his eyes. “How is this cheating?”
“It’s—I—” I spin around. “I’m going to Myra. Myra!”
And then I’m speed-walking toward Myra’s office, and Jake is speed-walking behind me, muttering, “This is ridiculous! Why am I chasing you?”
And I’m saying, “You’re right. Maybe you should stop!”
But he keeps going, and then we’re both in the doorframe of Myra’s office, panting a little, which really tells me I should speed-walk through the mall more often. Myra glances up from a giant stack of papers and gives me the look. Then she gives Jake the look. Then she pauses Frank Sinatra crooning from her speakers and asks, “This conversation is going to aggravate me, isn’t it?”
“It had better!” I respond. “Jake is cheating.”
“I am not cheating! I am—” He pauses, realizing he was shouting and looking embarrassed. Who’s juvenile now, Jake? It takes every ounce of willpower to not stick my tongue out at him. “I am not cheating,” he repeats, voice calm, but a hand clenched at his side. “I promise.”
Myra nods. “I believe you, but could you do me a favor and tell me why Shoshanna here thinks you’re cheating?”
“I’ll show you.” Jake steps up to her desk. My stomach lurches as he shows her the quiz. I’m quickly regretting the second cup of sugar-laden coffee I drank earlier.
Myra says the good kind of “mmm” not the bad kind. “This is really something, Jake. You did this all on your own?”
“I have a friend who codes,” he answers. “And Daniel helped.”
“Daniel what?” I gasp. “Betrayer, first of his name.”
“How are the customers responding?” Myra asks, ignoring me.
“Some don’t want to take the quiz, but the ones who take it usually buy the recommended book.”
“Great, love it. Keep it up.” Myra glances at me next. “It’s definitely not cheating, Shoshanna. Come on now. The store is packed. You need to be selling books, not distracting Jake from doing exactly that.”
My throat gets all tight, and my face flushes, like I might start crying, which is a completely unreasonable response to my boss asking me to do my job. Myra is awesome, actually the best, and letting her down is not my favorite feeling. I take a quick breath. The last twelve hours have been a lot. I need a moment alone to recalibrate. Hoping my voice will be steady, I say, “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
“Good, thank you.”
I hurry out of her office, and with no more eyes on me, a few tears release, warm and wet against my cheeks. I wipe them away as I head through the break room and then into the stockroom, where I close the door behind me and slide down to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees and trying to breathe and keep from breaking into full-fledged crying.
It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to win the bonus. My moms are going to love their Thai dinner. And everything will return to the way it’s always been.
“Why are you on the floor?” a voice asks.
Startled, I look up and find Arjun and Sophie-Anne on the other side of the storage room, unloading boxes. I quickly wipe at my face. “Nothing, no reason. Uh, I’m just tired. Dead tired.”
“Zombie or vampire?” Sophie-Anne asks. She flips open one of the books and looks at the text on the flap.
“What?” I ask.
“Zombie or vampire?” Sophie-Anne repeats, slapping the book closed.
Arjun’s silver chains jangle as he walks over to a box and slices it open. He explains, “You said you’re dead. I think she wants to know what kind of dead you are—zombie or vampire?”
“Oh, right,” I say, like that makes sense.
Sophie-Anne walks toward me. She leans over, blue eyes wide, blond hair falling in tendrils around her face. I blink hard, for a second feeling like I’m staring up at Mama. Then she speaks. “Zombies have more physical strength, but vampires have more control. What do you want when you’re eating people?” Her eyes widen. “Chaos or control?”
I scoot back against the door, mostly amused but with a healthy dose of fear. “Um, neither. Thank you for explaining, though.”
“No problem!” Sophie-Anne replies.
“Ow,” Arjun says in a monotone. I glance over. He has a paper cut on his index finger and is staring at the drop of blood.
“Ouch.” I wince.
“Ooh!” Sophie-Anne wanders toward him.
“Please don’t—” I say, but it’s too late. “—lick the blood.”
Sophie-Anne cleans off the finger with one swipe of her tongue.
“Oh my god,” I groan.
“Thanks.” Arjun gives her a dazed smile and then kisses her right on the lips.
“Y’all are disgusting.”
“Aw!” Sophie-Anne squeals. “Thank you!”
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Myra asking me to come back to her office. Nerves stiffen my shoulders. Am I in trouble? What if she bans me from the competition? At least Arjun and Sophie-Anne were weird enough to stop my urge to cry again. I take a deep breath, then force myself up off the floor. “I’ll see you guys later—” Sophie-Anne is now straddling Arjun on a box of books, fingers threaded through his hair. “And you’re making out. Okay. Bye.”
I really wish I could say this is the first time that’s happened.
Chapter Eight
Myra’s door is still open. Anxiety pulses through me, and I try to steady my thoughts. She’s not going to kick me out of the competition. It’s fine. Everything is fine, like in The Good Place. Wait, no. That’s a terrible example.
I shake my head, then step into her office. Myra looks up at me and slides down her reading glasses. A pink crochet chain holds them like a necklace across her collar. “Hello, Shoshanna,” she says, voice disconcertingly neutral.
“Hi.” I lift my hand to bite at a nail, then embarrassed by the urge, lower it back down and stuff it into my pocket. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Apology accepted,” Myra replies. “If.” She lets that “if” hang in the air an extra-long time. “You prove it. By working together with Jake.”
At that exact moment, Jake pops into the office. My shoulders stiffen at the sight of him, and I feel a weird burst of irritation when he doesn’t even look at me. “You asked to see me?” he asks Myra.