by Ali Cross
“Yeah.” She made a sound like a squeezed accordion.
She stripped off her sweatshirt and held it out to me. “Here.” I started to question her, but before I could she had another one, a little faded, poised above her head. “Come on,” she said. “Put it on—I’ll get you jeans in a sec.”
I took off my sweater and shirt and pulled on the sweatshirt instead. It felt so good that I smiled. It was probably the most comfortable thing I’d ever worn. If I owned something like that I don’t think I’d ever take it off.
“Here, I think these’ll fit,” Miri said, handing me a pair of faded blue jeans. I dropped my skirt and pulled them on.
“Yeah, they’re great!” I felt different in these clothes, like I was someone else altogether. Like I was Miri. Except when I looked around, it didn’t seem like even Miri could feel good in a room as dark and gloomy as this. I nodded my head. “This weekend—we should paint your room this weekend.”
Miri looked at the bottle on the floor. She reached out her toe, as if she’d kick it under the bed, but then she pulled her foot back. “Yeah. That’d be good.” She turned her back on the bottle before walking past me and out the door.
chapter sixteen
Pulling into the school parking lot, I let the Audi come to a stop in the driveway because Daniel had parked his flashy, red (of course), sports car, his prized possession (until the next big thing), sideways in the road. He leaned against the shining sports car, arms crossed. His face was a thundercloud. But I’d seen worse.
“Ew,” Miri said.
“Yup.”
“It’s just . . . I know he’s your uncle and all, but, well. The guy gives me the creeps.”
“That would be because the guy is a creep.” To say the least.
I sat there, hands braced against the steering wheel, staring straight ahead at my pseudo uncle, but he didn’t move. I drew in a big breath and let it out slowly. “Hang on.”
“We gotta hurry,” Miri said as I climbed out of the car.
“I know. This’ll be quick.” Because Daniel hated making scenes, right? How bad could it be right here in the school parking lot? I shut my door and looked around as I walked the short distance toward him. Oh yeah. It’d be a scene if there was anyone around to see it—but we were totally and completely alone. Well, except for Miri, but somehow I figured Daniel’d make an exception for her.
I stopped about five feet away from him and copied his stance. He had nothing on me. I had the glower down to a science. Sure enough, after a moment it was him who dropped his arms and straightened. He reached into his open car window and grabbed something off the seat.
“You were supposed to bring these to school.” He handed me a stack of glossy invitations.
“We’re having a party?”
Daniel nodded, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He’d managed to surprise me after all. “After Lucy’s funeral.” Anger and disgust burned through my throat. How dare he?
“Make sure you get these handed out, all right?” He opened his door and took his seat, resting his arm on the open window. I stepped back as he shifted and the car moved. “Oh, and Desi,” he said, pulling up beside me. “Your father instructed me to have this party. I just thought you ought to know.”
So that was it.
This was Father’s doing. Which meant this wouldn’t be just any high school party. This would be the kind of party where kids get a taste of everything Hell has to offer—with about as much long-term satisfaction as a rat in a maze.
I swallowed against the sudden need to throw up, and my skin prickled with cold despite the California sun.
Father.
I couldn’t believe I really thought he’d let me have my freedom.
That I could choose my own path.
That I could choose to disobey him.
The trick now was, what the hell was I going to do about it?
Just as Miri predicted, we’d missed homeroom and the halls were abuzz with students heading to first class. We stopped at my locker and Miri interpreted the hype that dominated every passing conversation—game day. And apparently Daniel had the school announce our party because people I’d never met pressed around me grabbing invitations from my hands without even asking.
If I hadn’t been used to the press of wanters and needers in Hell I might have been totally freaked out. So I was only sort of freaked out. Human teenagers were a totally different breed of wanters.
“Hey,” a tall, broad guy said as he slipped an invitation off the top of the pile in my hand. “I’m Josh.” He flashed me an All-American grin that matched the Homecoming Queen smile on the face of the girl clinging to his arm.
“Josh Fowler, quarterback, and his cheerleader girlfriend, Stacie,” Miri supplied as the pair walked on, their arms draped around each other, all seductive glances and coy whispers.
Warm hands slipped over my eyes and sent tingles shooting in every direction across my body. I stood completely still. Miri laughed, an awkward, tinny sound. But I made no move.
“Guess who?” said a laughing voice behind me. His laughing voice. I couldn’t have moved or responded, even if I’d tried—which I didn’t. Hidden beneath his hands, I Remembered my dream and every part of me longed to be back in the garden. To reach up and tangle my hands in his hair.
Instead, I did nothing.
“Hey, it’s me, Michael.” He dropped his hands and came to stand beside Miri. He put one arm over her shoulder, looking very natural and comfortable there. Miri beamed. And it hit me—they were friends.
Disappointment and something like jealousy flooded through me, stinging the backs of my eyes. Michael. My Michael. I laughed out loud, mainly to chase the memory of the dream away, but it sounded forced and harsh.
Michael touched my arm. Warm, warm, warm. Oh, his touch was warm. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird, or anything.” His eyes searched mine, but I had no idea if he found what he was looking for. I shrugged, not trusting that my voice wouldn’t give me away.
The way I wanted to throw myself into his arms.
The way I wanted to feel his lips against mine.
The way I wanted to be the girl he once knew.
I turned away, grabbed my books, and slammed the locker shut with a satisfying bang.
Despite the horrible night, Miri practically glowed. This morning I’d thought maybe I had a bit of that too—a bit of that delicious, warm sunshine for myself. But not anymore. I felt Michael walking behind me, as if we were actually touching. His breath, warm and comforting, a pull from his body to mine that said, wait up. Touch me, be with me.
I walked faster and didn’t mind a bit when my footsteps echoed like gunshots.
I made an excuse that I needed to use the bathroom so I wouldn’t have to endure the torture of Michael’s nearness for a second longer.
Miri was already sitting in her seat when I got to class. Her eyes grew wide when she saw me. I saw the questions lurking there, but I ignored them.
I had to stuff my hands under my thighs before she saw them shaking—she’d probably assume I was suffering the effects of my own demons, and she’d have no idea just how right she’d be.
Michael breezed past, the faint scent of citrus trailing in his wake. His fingertips grazed my hair where it had settled on my shoulder and a zing of hope coursed through me.
Yeah, it didn’t last.
All the years in Hell gave me lots of time to practice hiding the warm spark far, far away—now I was more desperate than ever to lock it up.
Except for Miri.
I didn’t know exactly how I’d do it, let a piece of the warmth move through me so she could know I really did care and really did want to help her, but I had to try. Just long enough to make sure she was safe and that’s it. I’d never let Michael see it—I couldn’t. I didn’t think I could bear to see the disappointment in his eyes if he discovered how far I’d fallen.
“Miri?” Mrs. Park said. She held a slip of paper in her hand
and nodded when Miri looked at her. Miri sighed and seemed to move in slow motion as she rose and walked to the front of the room. She took the paper from Mrs. Park and didn’t even look at it before leaving. I stared at her as she walked out. I couldn’t help but think whatever it was had something to do with me. And it probably wasn’t good.
“All right guys. Let’s pick up where we left off yesterday. I think we’ll use the same readers again—if that’s all right with everyone.” My stomach roiled with the desire to be anywhere but there, doing anything other than reading the role of Lady Macbeth with Michael sitting behind me hearing the guilt ring in my voice.
I knew he knew.
Heknewheknewheknew.
He had to.
Because I could feel the goodness in him—it radiated like the rays of the sun.
So he had to feel the evil in me. He had to. It was plain as day to anyone who could See.
But he’d talked to me.
He’d played our game with me.
He’d touched me. On purpose.
Three times.
When I picked up my lines, my voice quivered. Mrs. Park smiled and said, “Good, good,” like I was doing an awesome acting job. Except I wasn’t acting. I felt every bit ashamed as Lady Macbeth—and at least a zillion times more.
I owned my role as the Queen of Shame.
Class lasted forever, and Miri never returned. When the bell rang, I hurriedly stuffed my things in my bag, then packed Miri’s books, too. I slung both bags over my shoulder and walked with my head down toward the door.
And slammed right into Michael.
“Crap.” This so wasn’t happening.
“You can’t avoid me forever, Desi.”
I could certainly try.
I stared straight ahead, my eyes resting on the hollow of his neck, right where the collar of his mild blue shirt opened (he wore his uniform—I guess I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t gotten the memo about game-day attire). Smooth skin. And so close, so familiar. I could just . . . lean forward . . . and kiss . . .
“Desi?” He placed a finger under my chin and gently raised it upward. I avoided looking at him still, but tears gathered in my eyes and then I had to blink them away, and then they were running down my face and then he was kissing me, and whispering how much he missed me and how everything would be okay and that helovedmehelovedmehelovedme.
Two things happened: The bell rang. And Mrs. Park cleared her throat.
“I think,” she stammered, “I think that’s enough of that.” Shame swept over me like a sudden downpour of rain, but I was powerless to move.
“I’m sorry,” Michael said. He pulled back and slipped his hands down from where they’d tangled into my hair (when had that happened?) and rested them on my arms. He squeezed just a little. Beneath his hands, my skin tingled with delicious fire.
“Well, I . . .” Mrs. Park muttered before turning away.
“It’ll be okay.” Michael tipped his head, his lion-eyes shining with love and, impossibly, hope.
All I could do in response was breathe.
And breathe.
And that felt like a lot. Like too much.
He squeezed me again, and I remembered. Breathe.
Michael turned and walked away, and Miri took his place. Hands on my arms and everything. “You okay?”
I just breathed.
“How do you know him? He started at Mary’s a few days before you—but he’s been with The Hallo—” she cleared her throat, “I mean, he’s different.”
I shrugged, just barely. Imperceptibly. How could I possibly say how I knew him? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it myself. And no, he certainly wasn’t like other boys.
Miri gave me an appraising look, but seemed to decide she knew enough. “Well, I totally approve—he’s hot,” she said, turning around as if to admire him—but he was long gone.
“You have no idea,” I said, my skin only beginning to cool from his touch.
We stepped into the hall and the spell Michael had woven around me began to fade. There were students rushing by, stopping to ask for invitations, and reaching in to hug Miri. She smiled and acted like everything was fine, but I could see the shadows hiding in her eyes.
I grabbed her elbow and tugged her to me just outside of Knowles’ room. “What happened? Where’d you go?”
Sure enough, I could see the want lurking in her eyes. She might act like she was fine, but she’d been playing that part for a long time now. Inside, I knew she was wishing I still had that bottle in my bag.
“Miri?”
She shook herself a little, and her eyes cleared, as if she were waking from a dream. She sighed. “I’m okay.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Well, mostly okay.” She smiled, just a small one, but it was real. It said she wasn’t okay, but she would be. “Dean Nelson wanted to see me—about our little disappearing act yesterday.” I took a step back. More trouble. I’d caused more trouble.
Miri pinched a corner of the cuff of my (her) sweatshirt. “I told him your friend had died.” She smiled, this time for me, this time with real warmth. She could put aside her own sadness if it would make me feel better. I so wanted to do the same for her. She shrugged. “What could he do, then?” She put her arm around my shoulders and together we walked into Knowles’ classroom. “But I did get a warning—so no more tragedies, okay? At least not during school hours.” She laughed and . . . I laughed. Impossibly, I laughed.
Even Knowles, who winked at me on his way to the whiteboard, couldn’t ruin the moment. Much.
chapter seventeen
Sixth period was cancelled so all the students could attend the pep rally. I’d never imagined a group of kids could be so psyched about a game. Girls ran into the bathroom before heading to the gym—then came out with their faces painted with navy blue and silver slashes.
Boys ran down the hall with streamers flying over their heads chanting, “Death to Deacons!”—Deacons being Deacon’s School for Boys, St. Mary’s biggest rival and our opponent in tonight’s game. Or so Miri told me.
Miri pulled me along behind her when I would’ve liked to just skip out early. I thought she’d want that too, but instead her eyes shone with excitement as she yanked me into an uncomfortable seat on the gym bleachers. Miri said this was the perfect way to get to know Mary’s—to see them at their best. And somehow, she seemed to mean it.
“What gives?” I asked, leaning into her so we could hear each other over the noise.
Miri’s cheeks flushed and she flopped her hands on her lap in this embarrassed-seeming gesture. “I don’t know,” she said, looking around, looking at anything but me. “It’s just . . . sometimes, when I’m here and everyone’s like . . .” she waved over the crowd, “well, like this, happy, and stuff. It just makes me feel . . .” She finally looked at me, and her eyes begged me to understand. “Normal.”
With a jolt I Remembered Aaron. A time at lunch when we’d snuck into the gym and ate our meal of vending-machine chips and chocolate bars and shared a bottle of Coke. “You make me feel human, D. Like, normal, or something,” he’d said. I’d choked on the Coke and it burned my nose. He’d laughed, but I didn’t. How could he feel so human around me, when I was the farthest thing from it?
And now I sat staring at Miri, who looked back with her eyes wide and not understanding. So much like Aaron’s.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, resting her hand on my forearm. I just looked at it, her frail, pale hand, cool but not freezing, trying to give comfort to me, a demon. To a Shadow that had taken a life just two days before. My gaze travelled up Miri’s arm, to her face. I opened my mouth to say something—the truth, I think, from the way it burned as it made its way up my throat.
“Miri, I—”
“Hey, mind if I sit with you guys?” Michael asked, cutting me off and saving me—or rather, saving Miri—from what I was about to say. “I don’t really know anyone.” He smiled, and I felt Miri sigh.
And
me? I pretty much felt like I did that night when Aaron showed up at Daniel’s front door. Like I’d been caught. Trapped. And a trapped animal is a desperate one.
Michael sat beside me.
Warmth pressed in on both sides, from Miri, from Michael, and I sat like a frozen statue between them. I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe, and my thoughts tumbled around in an endless, meaningless jumble.
I watched the raucous crowd as a helpless teacher stood in the middle of the gym trying to get everyone’s attention.
A group of girls came running onto the floor, their cheery yells and clapping effectively quieting the noisy crowd. One girl, beyond gorgeous, stepped up to the floundering teacher who smiled gratefully and left the floor, taking the mic with him.
The cheerleaders lined up and clapped twice in unison. Everything was quiet for the span of two heartbeats. Then the beautiful girl who stood in the middle, nodded once and loud music blared from the speakers above my head.
The girls moved through a routine that was more dance than cheer, but by the end they had the whole crowd on their feet cheering to the beat of the music.
Stacie, the quarterback’s girlfriend, flew through the air in a complicated acrobatic move, her blonde ponytail streaming behind her. But my gaze kept sliding to the girl at the center of it all.
When we sat down I leaned over to Miri and tried to whisper, but the noise was so great I ended up having to yell. “Who’s that girl?” I tried to point her out, but it seemed I didn’t need to—Miri knew exactly who I meant.
She spoke into my ear and said, “That’s Mandy Shaw, the captain.”
“Wow,” was I all I could say.
“Yeah, and would you believe it? She’s been asked out by every jock in school—even Josh asked her out—and she always says no. But for some reason she’s just started going out with Marcus.” Miri rolled her eyes when I stared at her with a blank look on my face.