Free Shot Through the Heart by Niki Burnham Page B

chemistry?”
     
    “No!” Crap, that came out strong. “I mean, it’s nothing important.”
     
    If she only knew.
     
    •  •  •
     
    “Not that I’d ever complain, because your dastardly deed benefits me in a multitude of ways, but—”
     
    “I’m not dastardly, and you’re going to complain no matter what.” I slide a quick look at Josh, careful to keep my focus on the empty street.
     
    “After all your Molly Cannon whining, I can’t believe you agreed to this.”
     
    Josh spreads his feet wide so he can flick a dime-sized beige spider off the toe of his shoe. We’re crouched between the rhododendrons alongside the Blanchard & Sons Funeral Home three blocks from the senior parking lot. On the plus side, no one’s around—Molly swore no one’s died in Eastwood during the last week—so we don’t have to worry about a hearse showing up to make a delivery or mourners tromping down the back stairs for a smoke and then demanding to know what we’re doing lurking in the bushes. On the downside, since we just finished a sweaty soccer practice and had to slink on our stomachs to maneuver between the gaps in the rhododendron branches, Josh and I both have mulch stuck to our knees, shins, and shirts. We’re itchy and filthy, it’s all I can do not to sneeze, and the spiders are driving me insane. But if this works, it’ll be worth it.
     
    The hiding in the rhododendrons at a funeral home part of it, at least. I’m not so sure about the Molly part.
     
    “I can’t believe I agreed to this, either,” I say on an exhale. “So let’s not talk about it.”
     
    “You know it’s only going to make things worse with Molly.”
     
    Josh, never one to take a hint, apparently doesn’t take requests, either. “I’ll handle it.”
     
    I’ve thought of little else since AP Calculus. I’d hoped soccer practice would clear my brain so I could figure a way out of the hole I’ve now dug for myself, but as Josh and I were walking from the locker room to the field at the start of practice, Molly texted to let me know she switched shifts with someone else at Cumby’s and arranged to meet Drew this afternoon behind her grandparents’ funeral home. She even timed it so Josh and I would be done with soccer but Joe Delano would still be at football, allowing us to stage our ambush in safety.
     
    I spent the next hour-plus wondering whether it was lucky or unlucky that Josh kept our squirt guns stowed in the trunk of his car, ready to go. Or that he’d read Molly’s text at the same time I had—in his typical phone-stealing fashion—and texted back it’s on before I could think of a way out.
     
    “You’re going for my fake girlfriend idea, aren’t you? Planning to let it slip that you’re with Peyton?” He doesn’t try to hide the self-satisfaction in his tone as he checks the water level in his gun for the third time since we arrived, then rests it against one knee. “Let the rumor mill inform Molly you’re not interested in her and you won’t have to. No embarrassment for anyone. I told you it was a brilliant plan. Now that you’ve convinced Molly to help us get Drew, you’re really going to need it.”
     
    “For your information, Molly approached me, not the other way around. She claimed she told Peyton earlier this week that she wanted to help us, and Peyton was supposed to pass along the message.”
     
    “No way!” Josh’s voice is incredulous as he stomps another spider. “I’m gonna kill my sister. She didn’t say a word.”
     
    “Don’t do that. My guess is that Peyton either didn’t have time to tell you or didn’t think Molly was serious. This is Molly Cannon we’re talking about. You know, the girl who’d rescue those spiders from you, given the chance. If you were Peyton, would you have believed her?”
     
    Josh lets out a long belch. “You’re denying me a reason to kill my sister? What kind of friend are you?”
     
    “One who’s trying to tell you what