On its own, each piece of the outfit would have looked girlie. But together, they formed the most masculine package I’d ever seen.
“The green is for the forests of the Highlands where my clan comes from.” Zachary pointed to the kilt’s vertical threads. “The yellow line is for the sun that shines once every three weeks.” He winked. “Luckily, we keep busy with lots of indoor activities.”
The girls laughed. The boys glowered.
Behind me, Mickey whispered to Dylan, “Is that the guy?”
“Must be. I’m supposed to watch out for him.”
“I can see why.”
Zachary’s face turned serious. “The red thread is for the blood my ancestors shed, kicking out the Sassenachs, the pasty weak English.”
“So what’s the blue?” asked Rachel Howard.
“The blue is for the water. In Irish Gaelic, Moore and Muir mean ‘sea.’” He cocked his head. “But in Scottish Gaelic, it just means ‘big.’”
The girls covered their mouths and cackled.
“What a tool,” Mickey muttered.
Becca merely laced her arm through Zachary’s and gave a quiet, knowing smile. I wanted to smack it off her face.
As if hearing the shrieks in my head, Zachary turned in my direction. When he saw me, he broke into a smile—a real one, not the arrogant smirk he’d been wearing for the last minute. I ducked behind the pear tree.
“What’s that say on your belt thingie?” Hailey Fletcher asked Zachary.
“Er, it’s the family herald.”
“I can’t read it.”
“Hailey, get away from his crotch,” Becca snapped, before her voice turned sweet. “Zachary, tell them what it says.”
I peeked out from behind the branches.
“It’s the family motto,” he said. “Durum patientia frango.” Zachary looked at me from the corner of his eye as he translated. “By patience, I overcome difficulties.”
I stared at him, frozen with regret. He’d asked me first. It could have been me standing with him. Even if we’d kept it painfully platonic to soothe his fears, I could’ve at least kept him out of Becca’s clutches. If I hadn’t been an idiot.
Her hand slid up his biceps. “I don’t think you’ll have difficulties tonight.”
My eyes and nose began to burn, and I almost expected smoke to pour out my ears, like a cartoon character’s.
“Forget him,” Megan whispered to me. “Let’s go dance.”
I took Dylan’s arm, steadying myself as we proceeded past Zachary and Becca’s crowd, on into the gym. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
I looked back. This time, Zachary wasn’t watching me at all.
When did you get taller than your brothers?”
After three minutes of slow-dancing with Dylan—one hand on his shoulder and one in his hand, like people our parents’ age—that was the best conversation starter I could conjure up.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Silence fell again.
I considered pleading sore feet so we could stop. In fact, my brand-new shoes were chafing like crazy. Thank God I brought blister bandages.
But as I loosened my hold, I saw, not ten feet away, Zachary and Becca dancing, next to another sparkly fake tree. Their bodies were melded together from chest to thigh, her arms draped around his neck, her fingers playing with the back of his hair. They were laughing together, at ease in each other’s arms. Like something more than plain old prom dates.
Over Zachary’s shoulder, Becca caught my eye. Her smile turned sly and triumphant.
I wanted to run away more than ever, but wouldn’t give Becca the satisfaction. I twined my arms around Dylan’s neck. “That’s better.”
His eyes widened at the sudden press of my chest against his. He looked away quickly, but his Adam’s apple bobbed with tension.
People walking by did a double take at the sight of us, no doubt remembering Logan from when he went to Ridgewood before the Keeleys moved. Before bleaching his hair, Logan had looked a lot like Dylan did now.
My regret deepened. Only a total basket case would take her dead boyfriend’s little brother to the prom.
As the song ended, Dylan practically pushed me away, then looked at his watch. “It’s ten o’clock. Don’t you have to do something?”
“Crap!” I said, the way most people would say, Hallelujah! “Come with me.”
I hurried out to the hallway.
“Right on time!” Amy handed me a ballpoint pen and a thick roll of raffle tickets that looked no smaller than before. “Almost everyone is here, so you’ll be catching the stragglers, aka the drunks.” She picked up her purse. “Right now I am dying to dance.”
“So is Dylan. He’s a friend of mine.” I put extra emphasis on the F-word, then pushed him in her direction. He gave me a panicky look as Amy dragged him off.
I sat at the table, grateful for the solitude. Alone, I didn’t have to pretend to have a good time. I didn’t have to pretend to ignore Zachary and Becca. Or pretend I didn’t miss Logan more than ever.
At eleven o’clock, the class treasurer, D’Wayne Singletary, showed up to take the cash box and the raffle tickets. I thanked him and headed for the girls’ room.
In the stall, I examined my right foot, grimacing at the red welts beneath the shoe’s strap. “Ow.” Luckily, the bathroom was empty, so no one heard me whine.
But then a trio of new voices sounded from the hallway outside. Please keep walking. Please keep walking.
A hand thumped the outer door, swinging it open.
Hailey Fletcher’s squeal echoed in the tiled room. “Becca, how do you keep from humping that boy on the dance floor?”
“Massive self-control.” Becca’s footsteps stopped near the sink. “Gross! Look at the shine on my face.”
“Powder. Now.” Chelsea Barton snapped her fingers. “You have to look perfect for your prom queen picture.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Becca said.
I heard the zip of a purse, then the clatter of makeup components, so I decided to stay put. I slipped off my right shoe, then quietly unwrapped a blister bandage.
“Becca, don’t worry,” Chelsea said. “The polls say you won by a mile.”
“That’s because everyone’s scared of me. You never know how they’ll vote in secret.” She groaned. “My nose is like an oil spill. Zach really makes me sweat.”
“He makes us all sweat,” Chelsea said. “I am so hating you.”
“I know. And Hailey, if you don’t put a leash on your boyfriend—”
“What’s Nate doing now?” Hailey asked as she entered the stall next to me.
“His cracks about Zachary’s skirt and pantyhose? I cannot be held responsible when Zach smashes Nate’s head against the bleachers.”
“He knows Nate’s just bullshitting.”
“First of all, Hailey,” Becca said icily, “Nate isn’t bullshitting, he’s threatened. Second of all, Zachary seems calm, but he’s tough. He’s from inner-city Glasgow.”
No, he’s not, I thought as I pasted the bandage over my blister. Zachary was from Maryhill—a working-class Glasgow neighborhood, but with university types. Not “dodgy,” as he would say.
“And don’t forget,” Becca continued, “those football hooligans get into huge fights—rows, they call them—and people get beaten to death. For all we know, Zachary’s killed someone.”
I rolled my eyes as I refastened my shoe. Dylan was probably wondering where I was by now.
“Fine, I’ll talk to Nate,” Hailey said. “Speaking of kilts, what’s Zach wearing under there? I’ve always heard they go commando.”
“I can’t tell yet.” Becca’s words were distorted, as if she was putting on lipstick. “I tried to feel him up while we were slow-dancing, but that kilt is made out of wool.”
“Did he grope you, too?”
“That’s not his style.” She sighed as she snapped her lipstick cap. “This is going to be the single gr
eatest night of my life. I will be crowned a queen, and then I will wear that crown—and only that crown—while Zachary Moore finds out what it means to be royally screwed.”
There was a chorus of hoots, following by the slap of a high five.
In your dreams. Becca had probably seen me walk in here and was saying all this to torture me. No way Zachary would sleep with her. Right? No.
“You have to give us the play-by-play,” Chelsea said.
“I wouldn’t do that to him.” Becca’s voice was almost vulnerable. “Whatever happens is between us.”
Hailey whimpered. “But you’ll tell us what he wears under the kilt, won’t you?”
“Of course. It’s my duty as an American.”
The next voice belonged to Rachel, who I hadn’t even realized was there, since she hadn’t taken part in the catcalls. “Becca, have you two even kissed yet?”
“No, we were saving it for prom. I think.”
“Uh-huh. You know who looks even hotter than Zach tonight?”
“Trick question,” Becca said, “because the answer is no one. But who are you talking about?”
“Tyler Watson.”
“Oh my God, yes!” Hailey exclaimed. “That boy is wasted on Stacey Sellars. And what is she wearing? Panda skin?”
Chelsea snickered. “I didn’t know Lady Gaga had a line of prom gowns.”
“Stacey can have Tyler,” Becca said with a sneer. “For now.”
“Oooh . . .,” they crooned.
“Tyler is so next month,” Becca murmured. “After Zachary flies home with some pure dead brilliant memories.” She mimicked his accent better than I ever could.
“You really think you and Zach’ll do it?” Rachel said. “I thought he still liked Aura.”
“Fuck Aura.” Becca’s purse zipped shut with emphasis. “By the time I’m done with him, he won’t even remember her name.”
As soon as I was released from Bitch Central, I hurried back to the gym, hoping to find Zachary. As I entered, the hip-hop tune’s pounding bass seemed to crush my skull, even though it was a song I usually liked.
On the far end of the gym, Megan and Mickey stood side by side against the wall, shoulders not touching. I scanned the dance floor, where Siobhan and Connor were jamming with Jenna and Christopher.
I had no idea what I would say to Zachary (“I like your outfit”? “My heart is disintegrating”? “Please don’t have sex with Becca”?), but I had to say something.
A hand waved in front of my face. “I’m right here.”
I started at the sight of Dylan, then took the cup of punch he offered me. “Thanks. Have you seen the guy with the kilt?”
“Why?” His voice was full of caution, and I thought of Logan’s warning to him, to watch out for Zachary.
“I have to tell him something.” I didn’t meet Dylan’s eyes when I added, “It’s for school.”
“Riiight.”
“So have you seen him?”
“You want something to eat? They have these awesome chips, I think they’re crab-and-ranch flavored.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know that sounds gross, crab and ranch? But it works.” He adjusted his tie again, maybe noticing he was rambling. “They also have plain chips.”
“I said I’m not hungry.” I bit my lip at the sound of my crankiness. “Sorry. I’m a little distracted.”
He seemed to come to a decision. “You know, I saw Kilt Guy go through there.” He pointed to the door leading to the boys’ locker room.
“Be right back. Promise.” I handed him the punch cup and scurried off.
Walking down the locker room hallway, I heard nothing but the clack of my heels and the soft thump of bass. For some reason I recalled a science lesson that said lowest frequencies travel the farthest. I imagined the sound waves rolling out from the speakers, curling around the corners, and finding me here alone, like a victim in a slasher film.
I hesitated at the outer door, but only for a second. Maybe it wasn’t too late not to lose Zachary.
The bleachers of Ridgewood’s athletic field gleamed a dull silver in the moonlight. Since there were no ghosts, I figured Zachary had to be nearby. But the stands were empty.
I sighed, feeling stupid for my impromptu wild-goose chase. Could Zachary have left the prom entirely? Not with Becca—she’d never leave before they crowned the king and queen. Maybe they’d had a fight.
I couldn’t give up. I pulled out my phone to call him.
That’s when I heard Becca’s low, sultry laughter.
I inched behind the bleachers, staying in the shadows and softening my footsteps. Soon I saw Zachary standing against the small wooden snack bar with his back to me. Two silver, high-heeled shoes appeared around his calves, along with two hands on his back, descending lower.
I was too late. Becca had drowned him.
I shrank back, afraid to watch and even more afraid to be discovered. The thought of Becca directing her victorious laugh at me shot spikes of fear across my shoulders.
Then I heard Zachary’s voice, soft and low, which gave me hope. If he was using his mouth to speak, it wasn’t doing anything else.
I peeked at them again. Becca was seated on the snack bar’s condiment counter. I couldn’t hear Zachary’s words, but the tender way he held her face said it all.
Finally he lifted her from the shelf and set her on her feet. She dusted off her butt, then his, though his didn’t need it. Then she took his hand as they headed back toward the building. He looked down as if surprised, but didn’t pull away.
I stumbled to the front of the stands and sank onto the bottom bleacher. My lungs seized up, but if I cried, my mascara would turn my face into a muddy mess. So I swallowed my sobs until my stomach ached.
A familiar whisper came from behind. “Aura.”
I gasped and turned. Sitting on the top bleacher, glowing violet in the night, was Logan.
Remember how we used to sit up here freshman year,” he said, “at football and lacrosse games? Far enough we could pretend we were too cool to care whether Ridgewood won?” “Somehow we always cheered anyway.” I got to my feet and resisted the urge to run to him, knowing I’d break my ankles in these heels.
“This is where I first asked you out.” He put his hand on the seat beside him. “You were eating an ice-cream sandwich. It was dripping down your wrist, and I had the worst urge to lick it.”
“I don’t remember you asking me out here.”
“I asked you to come to our first gig. Where we kissed for the first time.”
Now that I remembered like it was yesterday. Though Logan had been full of fire onstage, his kiss was soft and sweet, almost shy.
“That doesn’t count as you asking me out. I would’ve come to your show anyway.”
“Just because you didn’t know what I was asking doesn’t mean I didn’t ask.”
I grinned up at him, then realized my neck was getting stiff. “Can you come down here?”
He didn’t bother walking. In a flash he was next to me. “Wanna dance?”
“Let’s go closer to the school so we can hear the music.” I looked at the assortment of ghosts on the athletic field, going through the motions of their respective sports, unable to act as a team. “And be alone.”
“You look amazing, by the way.” He touched the tail of his open shirt as he walked beside me. “I’m way underdressed.”
“I don’t care.”
He beamed at me. “So how much are you hating prom night?”
“Let’s see, Megan and Mickey aren’t speaking, Dylan keeps stepping on my toes, and—” I cut myself off, not wanting to reveal the worst part.
“Let me guess: Bagpipes and the Bitch?”
“Good guess.” I told him what I’d overheard in the girls’ room and then seen at the concession stand.
“I don’t remember Becca being that desperate,” he said. “Aren’t guys usually throwing themselves at her, not the other way around?”
>
“She wants Zachary because he made her chase him. Looks like she finally caught her prey.”
“Did you actually see them kiss?”
“No, but they were—”
“What, talking?”
“While glued to each other,” I said. “They could’ve been kissing before I walked up.”
“Or she tried to kiss him and he had to talk her down from her horn-doggedness.”
I snorted. “If Becca could hear you say that, you’d be twice dead.”
We stopped off the side of the front courtyard, close enough to hear music floating from the gym’s high windows. It was a song from last year, one that Logan and I had danced to at Homecoming.
He held out his hand, palm up. I placed mine in it, willing my fingers to feel his. He drew me close, and I clasped my hands behind his neck. To any pre-Shifters watching, I had my arms wrapped around nothing, but I didn’t care what anyone thought. I was at home in Logan’s ethereal embrace.
“Look,” he said, “I don’t know this Zachary guy, and I don’t want to know him. But if he was really into you—and it sounds like he was—I don’t see how he could like Becca, too. Maybe as friends, but not in a hookup way.”
I wanted to believe him. After all, Logan had zero motive for making me think well of Zachary. He could have told me to surrender the fight. But he spoke as if he only wanted me to be happy, and as if he realized he might not always be the source of that happiness.
“Who wouldn’t want Becca?” I asked him, still insecure. “She’s gorgeous.”
“She’s scary. Something about her always made my balls wish they were internal organs.”
A much-needed laugh burst out of me. It was rare that Logan said the exact right thing.
We swayed in the shadows, and when I closed my eyes, I could pretend the other ghosts weren’t watching me, maybe remembering when they’d danced at their own prom. I could pretend I felt Logan’s arms around me.
“You have got to be kidding.”
We broke apart at the sound of Dylan’s voice. “Dude, what’s up?” Logan said. “Hey, my tux looks awesome on you.”
Shift Page 15