Reborn

by Stacy, S. L.

  “This is it, then,” he says bitterly.

  “No.” I look back at him. “I just…I have to go. The dance,” I remind him. “It’s going to be half over by the time I get there.” I turn again to leave, but Jasper’s insistent hand grabs my arm.

  “You can’t! Please, don’t go,” he pleads, trying to cover up his initial outburst, but it’s too late; I’ve already caught the glint of alarm in his midnight blue eyes, felt it in his unrelenting grasp. “Stay. Let’s talk through this.” This is the second time today he’s tried to convince me not to go.

  You have your orders. Apate is in charge tonight…

  “You’re sending them after Farrah. After my sisters.” Even after all of his lies, I want him to tell me I’m wrong. That of course he wouldn’t send them to attack the sorority—Nike’s guardians of the partitions between our universes.

  The corners of his mouth turn down into a stubborn frown. “It’s the only way. Otherwise she’ll have them send me back.”

  Without another word to Jasper—I have nothing left to say—I run downstairs and out of Frasier Hall, calling the cab company on the way.

  Chapter 24

  On the ride over, I grimace at myself in my compact mirror. Clumps of limp, damp blonde hair hang around my face, all of the curl gone, and smears of mascara stain the delicate skin below my eyes. I dab my cheeks with a tissue, rub some berry red gloss on my lips and comb my hair with my fingers. That’s as good as it’s going to get, and I don’t really care, anyway. All I care about is making sure my friends are okay.

  By the time the cab pulls up to the Riverfront Bar and Grill, the black sky has opened up. Rain bleeds down the cab windows in silvery rivulets. “Thanks,” I tell the driver, handing him a crumpled wad of fives and ones for the cab fare and tip. I get out and attempt to shield my head from the incessant rain with my black sequined purse. Thunder crashes just as I dive under the green awning of the restaurant. White lightning flashes out of the corner of my eye. I race inside, past a startled-looking hostess, and I don’t pause until I reach the double doors leading to the formal dining room. The muffled bass of a techno song strains against them. I yank one open, the music hitting me like a punch in the chest.

  The house lights are down, strobe lights briefly illuminating patches of the room in red, blue and green as they bounce off the walls and floor. They splash a kaleidoscope of color over Tanya’s white strapless dress as she dances with her date in the corner. I see Carly and her boyfriend among the crowd hugging the bar, waiting for drinks. A breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding rushes out of me. There’s no sign of Liz, Genie, Sam or the rest of Jasper’s ragtag army. My eyes circle the room again, this time in search of Farrah so that I can at least warn her, but a slouched figure sitting at one of the tables catches my eye first. Staring into his drink, Jimmy taps his foot absent-mindedly to the thumping bass.

  “Jimmy!”

  He looks up at the sound of his name and jumps to his feet.

  “What happened to you?” he wonders, looking me up and down with concern.

  “Is it that bad?” I reach out to smooth the collar of his white shirt. “You look handsome.” Even though his black suit jacket is draped over the back of the chair and the knot of his red tie sits low on his chest, he looks refreshingly sophisticated. Well, as sophisticated as a restless punk rocker can get.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late. I had the worst afternoon—”

  “It’s okay,” he assures me. “Tanya told me.”

  “She invited you,” I guess. He nods. “I’m really happy you came.” Tears spring to my eyes again, and I divert my gaze to the floor. “I would have understood—”

  Jimmy gently presses two fingers to my lips. “Of course I came. I acted like an ass the other night. We shouldn’t have played the song.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not your fault. It’s…oh God, Jim, I’ve been such an idiot. You and Anna were right to warn me about Jasper. He sent that guy to the bar to request the song. He was trying to come between us.”

  “Let’s just forget about it for tonight.” He takes my hand in his. “Dance with me?” The techno song has ended, and I see my sisters cuddling up to their dates as a slow song starts—I think it’s a duet between Rihanna and some guy, but I can’t remember the name of it. I smile, and we walk out onto the dance floor. Jimmy wraps his arms around my waist, I sling my arms around his neck, and we sway to the music middle school dance-style. Halfway through the song Jimmy pulls me closer to him, and I lay my head on his shoulder.

  A tentative hand on my back makes me lift my head up. Jimmy’s hazel eyes narrow at something behind me. I crane my neck to look over my shoulder.

  “Max!” I exclaim, slipping out of Jimmy’s arms so I can turn fully to face him. A blast of red light catches Max’s quivering jaw and unblinking blue eyes. Even in the darkened room, his knuckles look white as he clutches a clear plastic box.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he says stiffly, thrusting the box into my hands. Inside it is a wrist corsage of velvety, blood red roses. “Glad to see it didn’t stop you from having a good time.”

  “I—I didn’t know you were coming,” I admit, trying to catch Max’s gaze, but he and Jimmy are locked in a staring contest.

  “What are you doing here?” Max asks Jimmy.

  Jimmy throws his hands, palms out, in front of him. “Tanya invited me.”

  “Tanya invited me.”

  “I’m going to kill her.” I whip my head back and forth between Jimmy and Max. “Oh, this is ridiculous! Just make out already.” I might as well be talking to a wall. Neither boy even flinches at the joke. “I need a drink.” I toss the box with the corsage on a table on my way to the bar.

  “Vodka cranberry,” I tell the bartender. While he’s mixing my drink, I grab a small pink plate from the buffet table and build a short tower out of a triangle of cheesecake, a brownie and a couple of cookies. Beside me, a long fingered hand darts out to snag a mini spinach and cheese quiche and add it to a plate already piled high with nachos and cocktail weenies.

  “You girls have quite the spread here,” Peter says. Tall and thin in a powder blue tuxedo, he looks like one of those gel pens I had in middle school. “Look at this.” He holds up a cocktail hot dog by its toothpick. “It’s a hot dog, wrapped in bacon. I love America!”

  I take my drink from the bartender. “I’m afraid to even ask what you’re doing here,” I tell him.

  “I’m here for the free food.” He slides the hot dog off the toothpick and pops it into his mouth. “Jimmy called me,” he explains around his food. “I came to Victoria’s rescue when her date fell through.”

  “Victoria!” I blurt, smacking a palm against my forehead. “Do you know where she is?”

  Peter licks the grease off his fingers, smacking his lips together. “She told me she was going to the ladies’ room. That was like an hour ago. Red wine, please,” he calls over to the bartender. “On second thought, I wouldn’t go looking for her if I were you. She’s not very happy with you right now. Can you hand me my drink, love?”

  Holding my breath, I get the glass and pass it to Peter. At least now I know where my disdain for red wine comes from. “You always seem to know more about what’s going on with my friends than I do,” I realize, thinking back to Jimmy after he cut himself on stage, and Anna and Eric’s disappearance. I know Victoria must be upset because Sam stood her up, but why is she mad at me? Because I was late?

  “Just think of me as your messenger boy,” Peter says before he tosses back a sip of wine.

  “There you are! Where have you been?” Tanya rushes up to us just as Peter brings the glass down from his lips. She knocks into his arm, sending a stream of wine flying through the air. Time seems to slow down as she, Peter and I watch the burgundy liquid splatter the front of her white dress. At first, the only sound that escapes Tanya’s flamingo pink lips is a hoarse gasp.

  “My dress!” she shrieks, gaping down at the spreading red sta
in. “You ruined my dress!”

  “Love, I am so, so, so sorry—”

  Tanya’s date looms up behind her. “You ruined my girl’s dress, faggot!” he bellows. One of his beefy arms swings out, the fist on the end of it cracking against Peter’s jaw. Peter loses his balance and stumbles backwards into the buffet, the fold-out table collapsing underneath him. He slides to the floor along with an avalanche of hors d’oeuvres.

  “Hey, douche bag!” Jimmy barks, stalking up to Tanya’s date. “Lay off—”

  “My dress!” Tanya’s sob drowns out Jimmy’s voice. Tears pour down her tan cheeks.

  “It’s okay.” Carly materializes beside her and places a reassuring hand on her arm. “It’s just a dress—”

  “Just a dress!” Tanya grabs Carly’s puffy sleeve and makes to rip it from the rest of her pale pink dress. They stagger as one mass of clawing fingers, taffeta and glitter into the closest dancing couple.

  I stay silently frozen as I watch the room explode into chaos.

  Chapter 25

  Arms lash out like black tentacles as the boys pummel and wrestle each other. My sisters tear around the room in a rainbow blur, slapping, kicking and scratching each other. At last I feel my feet moving underneath me, like they have a mind of their own. They carry me back out into the hall and around the corner to the women’s restroom. I collapse through the door, and it swings back and forth behind me a few times before finally closing with a click. Above the rhythmic drip issuing from one of the porcelain sinks I hear muffled sobs.

  “Big?” My voice echoes along the white tiled walls. The whimpers falter. “Victoria, is that you? We have a little problem.”

  An auburn head peeks around the pale green door of the last stall. “Hello there, little sister.” Victoria emerges fully, her silver satin flats plodding soundlessly over the floor as she inches toward me. Her silk dress shimmers like the surface of a sapphire blue lake. “Nice of you to make an appearance.” Although her freckled cheeks are damp, her mascara smudged like mine, her voice is steady and scary calm. I find myself taking a step backward.

  “Peter told me something was up.” I’m unable to keep the nervous quiver out of my own voice. “What’s wrong? Is it because Sam stood you up?”

  “Oh, no. Samantha Carson showed up at the house, right on time.”

  My mouth goes dry. “What?”

  “I had to tell her that there was a misunderstanding, and that she could leave.” For every deadly step my big sister takes toward me, I take another automatic step back.

  “Victoria, I—”

  “Do you realize that pretty much every fraternity on campus is represented here tonight?” she yells, cutting me off. “So thanks, Siobhan, for not only outing me to the entire sorority, but basically the entire Greek community!”

  I start when my back hits the cool wall behind me. “I thought you said you asked Samantha to leave,” I say to keep her talking, to distract her from punching me with one of the fists balled at her sides. My comment stops Victoria in her tracks. Her cheeks flush blood red in embarrassment.

  “Carly tried to help, like she always does. ‘Oh there must be some mistake!’” Victoria squeals. Her impression of Carly would normally have me rolling on the floor with laughter if she didn’t have me cornered in the ladies’ room. “‘Victoria’s not gay!’ I should have played along, but instead I—I choked up. Everyone was staring at me, but I couldn’t get the words out.” Her brow furrows at me, her amber eyes darkening to a stormy brown. “I still blame you.”

  “Victoria, I can explain.” The words pour out of me in a rush as she takes a few more deliberate steps in my direction. “I kept forgetting about your date, and I brought it up with Jasper. He told me he would find you one. I thought he was setting you up with Sigma Iota Sam.” I should have known better. Nothing ever goes right when Jasper meddles.

  “Oh! I understand.” Victoria’s smiling, but it’s a wide, crazed smile. “You forgot about me so you got one of your boyfriends to do your job for you. Oh, yes, I understand completely. Thanks. That made me feel so much better!”

  “I’m sorry!” I cry out. “I see how shitty it was of me, and I am sorry! I don’t know what else to say!”

  “There’s nothing else you can say. You know, I always saw you as someone I could really trust. Really depend on. But lately…” She shakes her head sadly. “First, you don’t come back to the house when I ask you guys to—when Farrah first arrived—”

  “I thought you were over that.”

  “Then you disappear with Jasper during the mixer,” she continues as though I haven’t said anything. “I catch you going through Farrah’s stuff. You’ve broken curfew twice. And tonight you came late to your own event.”

  “I’m sorry about all of it!” I yell, which startles Victoria, who became so engrossed in her rant she seemed to forget I was still there. “I want to make it up to you. Just tell me what to do.”

  Victoria closes her eyes, breathing out in an exasperated huff that flutters hair. When she next speaks, it’s in a calmer, more reasonable tone. “Nothing.” My shoulders sag with relief, but then she continues, “If I can’t trust you, I don’t want you to do anything for the chapter. You’re suspended from your position and all future social events until you can get your shit together.”

  Rage bubbles inside of me. At first I’m surprised it hasn’t awakened my wings, but then I remember what Jasper said about hormones—that my wings would be easier to control over time. That was probably a lie, too. It’s the ambrosia. “You’re overreacting,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “I think you’re getting off easy. I could make things a lot worse for you.” She brushes past me on her way to the door.

  “I see what’s going on here.” My hand darts out to stop her, and I tug her around to face me. She yelps in pain and surprise and tries to pull away from me, but I only dig my fingers harder into her arm.

  “What the hell!”

  “You’re just mad that you want all of this—” I release her and run my hand in the air alongside my body—“but you can’t have it. You will never have it.”

  Victoria chokes on her laughter. “You think I want all of that.” She looks me up and down, her upper lip curling in disgust.

  “Don’t play dumb. I know you have a crush on me.”

  Placing a hand on her chest, Victoria says through fake sobs, “I guess I can’t hide it any longer. Siobhan, I have a ginormous crush on you, and I die a little more with each passing day that we are not together. Please,” she groans, rolling her eyes. She reaches out to open the door, but I grab her arm again.

  “We are not done here!”

  “Oh, I’m done—”

  I hear someone growling.

  It’s me.

  The next thing I know, I’ve knocked Victoria to the floor and am holding her there with my legs and hands. Despite the burst of strength fueled by my overflowing anger and the ambrosia treatments, Victoria’s a seasoned athlete. In seconds she has me pinned to the floor.

  “I don’t even like blondes!” she yells as she pushes down to restrain my flapping arms and legs.

  “Let me go!” I grunt, freeing one of my wrists from her grasp. I reach up and pull her hair as hard as I can. She screams and tries to tear her head away, but it only makes me yank harder. While the pain distracts her, I roll out from underneath her. I rebound and am about to lunge at her again when Tanya and Carly tumble inside the bathroom.

  “Carly’s sick,” Tanya says as Carly disappears inside the first stall, retching into the toilet. Tanya hurries after her to keep Carly’s unruly curls out of her face while she pukes.

  “Someone should have told the bartender to cut her off,” I admonish. Victoria and I both have our arms crossed. We exchange furious glances, our breaths coming out in short, angry gasps.

  “She hasn’t had anything to drink!” Carly’s body heaves again, and Tanya turns back to her. “It’s okay, Carly. It’s…what in the world?” Suddenl
y she pulls back. Underneath her pink dress, Carly’s back ripples like the surface of a rushing creek. It only takes me seconds to realize what’s happening.

  “Tanya, get—” I try to warn her as two white feathered wings split through Carly’s dress, slapping against the sides of the stall and forcing Tanya out. Tanya gapes at them in horror. Carly shudders and lifts her head up from the commode, her stomach seemingly settled now that her wings have emerged.

  “What happened?” she croaks. Feathers rustle as she struggles to turn around in the stall. There’s a clap of thunder outside, followed by a buzzing sound—a sizzle of electricity that draws my eyes to the ceiling just in time to see the fluorescent lights blink off, throwing us into darkness.

  “Crap,” Victoria says. She fumbles around for something on the sink. A moment later, the screen of her cell phone sheds pale light in the darkened bathroom. “Stay here with Carly,” she instructs Tanya and pushes open the door with her hip, motioning for me to follow her.

  “I—I’m sorry,” Victoria stammers as we step out into the hall. The entire restaurant is bathed in blackness. Where dance music once thumped from the dining room, an eerie silence now coils around us. “I don’t know what came over me. This isn’t like me.”

  “But it’s like me?” I reply in exasperation.

  “Of course not. There’s something else at work here,” she says almost to herself. I’m about to ask her what the heck she’s talking about, but Farrah walks briskly out of the dining room, a glimmer of blonde and gold in the dark.

  “Do you feel them?”

  “Feel what?” I start to ask, but Victoria talks over me.

  “A little.” She tilts her head as though she’s listening for something. “I catch snatches of their thoughts. They’re mostly jumbled, but they keep returning to ‘water.’”

  “The storm?” As if on cue, lightning blazes outside, briefly illuminating the hardwood floor, eggshell wallpaper and potted ferns.