“Joyce was here? With the bats?”
“No bats,” Buffy said. “Just a terrible case of gross green junk eroding her face, but she’s getting over it.”
Angel nodded. He understood. “Yeah, you should go.”
“I know.” Buffy sighed. Her mom was already upset with her for deserting sick friends. As much as she wanted to stay with Angel, she couldn’t neglect her responsibilities. “Will I see you tonight?”
Angel’s smile brightened her heart. “Midnight at Myra’s?”
“I’ll be there.” When the vampire was out of sight, Buffy shivered in the cold he left behind.
* * *
On her way back to the cafeteria, Buffy paused outside the classroom that had served as an infirmary. Police officers and paramedics were filling out forms and checking the corpses. A doctor and the detective in charge were discussing a press release with Principal Snyder, who had retrieved his clothes. They had decided to call the outbreak a noncontagious variation of Legionnaires’ disease. Buffy had no doubt the lie would work. The people in Sunnydale would believe anything to avoid dealing with the truth.
A little sickness won’t even keep them away from the rummage sale, Buffy thought.
Before she returned to the cafeteria, Buffy ducked into the restroom and caught Cordelia and Harmony taking stock of the damage to their appearances in the mirror. She was surprised the two girls hadn’t vacated the school as soon as the quarantine was lifted. When they saw her, they reacted like they wished they had.
“What are you doing here?” Cordelia demanded.
“We’re in the middle of serious cosmetic repairs, if you don’t mind.” Rolling her eyes, Harmony turned back to squint at her reflection.
Buffy was very much aware that the cool crowd claimed territorial rights to all the restrooms on campus. If anyone in the not-so-cool majority entered when Cordelia and company were present, they risked being chased away or publicly humiliated. A little harmless payback is in order, Buffy thought, taking her cue from the conversation she had had with Deirdre earlier.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re all right, Cordelia.” Buffy faked being immensely relieved. “When I heard you had lost all your teeth, I figured you’d be—”
“Who said I lost my teeth?” Cordelia gasped. “Xander! That no-good—”
“No, it wasn’t Xander.” Buffy tapped her cheek, pretending to think. “I don’t remember, but every-body’s talking about it.”
Harmony glanced at Cordelia with a slight smile, savoring the idea of having devastating ammunition to use against her best friend.
“I did not lose my teeth!” Slamming her hairbrush on the sink counter, Cordelia opened her mouth and tugged on glistening white enamel. “See? They’re real.”
“Oh, yeah.” Buffy winced with dismay. “I am so sorry.”
“They do look kind of fake,” Harmony said.
“And you still have crow’s feet around your eyes!” Cordelia shot back.
Deciding she could wait to freshen up, Buffy left the chilly restroom and walked into simmering pandemonium. The cafeteria was almost as chaotic in the aftermath of the Hellmouth epidemic as it had been during setup for the rummage sale. She paused inside the doorway to eavesdrop on the Dingoes’ lead guitarist and lead singer.
“Legionnaires’ disease?” Oz asked Devon.
“That’s what the cop said.”
“One diagnosis fits all? I don’t know.” Oz shook his head. “My memory’s a little hazy, but I think I was almost smothered by sheepskin seat covers.”
“What did you do?” Devon laughed shortly. “Pass out underneath them?”
“Can’t say.” Oz shrugged. “Maybe I inhaled something that was on the wool and had an asthma attack.”
“Could happen, I guess,” Devon conceded. “I leaned over to look at a pair of old Chevy hubcaps and woke up in the corner of a classroom.”
“Are you okay?” Oz asked.
Devon patted his chest and arms. “Yep.”
“Me too. Let’s go spin some tunes.”
As the two boys walked off, Buffy scanned the room for her mother and friends. She hoped all the survivors had recovered from their various ailments with amnesia. Muddled minds told no tales they couldn’t explain.
Andrew walked up and down the aisles, carrying the coiled bullwhip. He looked lost, and he was obviously looking for something. Jonathan? Buffy wondered. The short, quiet kid had been standing at rigid attention the last time she had seen him, but he wasn’t in the room now.
Willow sat on the chair by the shirts with her head propped on her hand, looking totally dejected. Xander wasn’t there, and Buffy put off going over. She couldn’t blame Willow if she spurned a sympathetic overture, but she didn’t want to go through it alone.
Better to face the music with her mom, who was helping Ms. Calendar sweep up the shattered black orb.
As Buffy took a step, Principal Snyder stormed in, dragging Jonathan by the ear. The boy still had the action figure blister packs, and Snyder was wearing the hat.
“Stealing will not be tolerated, Mr. Levinson.” Principal Snyder stopped by the checkout table and held out his hand. “I’ll take those. Then I’ll decide whether you’ll spend the next month in detention or at juvenile hall.”
Alerted to Jonathan’s whereabouts by the commotion, Andrew cautiously crept closer. He stopped a few feet from Buffy.
“I was going to pay for them,” Jonathan said meekly. “After I got back from the—you know.”
“Sure you were.” Principal Snyder folded his arms.
Buffy was pretty sure Principal Snyder had been too distracted to pay for the hat. Not that she could point that out without paying a price. Still, as a champion of the underdog with a duty to thwart injustice, she had to do something to help Jonathan.
“Actually,” Buffy said, moving closer, “he told me a little while ago that he was waiting to buy them.”
“One juvenile delinquent vouching for another juvenile delinquent.” The principal sneered. “Why should I take your word for it, Ms. Summers? Everyone knows you criminal types stick together.”
“Ask him!” Jonathan pointed when Xander walked in. “Xander knows I was going to pay!”
Xander stopped dead, whipping his hand behind his back to hide a can of soda. “Me?”
The detective stuck his head in the door. “Snyder! We need you to sign these reports.”
“Make sure you get a receipt.” Principal Snyder glared at Jonathan, then shouted at Ms. Calendar. “The rummage sale opens to the public in an hour! The police are blaring an announcement from their patrol cars all over town. You will be ready.” He mumbled as he headed out the door. “Next year’s fund-raiser for the marching band will be something simple, like selling candy.”
Xander continued on across the room toward Willow.
No sooner had Jonathan slipped the Snyder noose than Andrew confronted him about his action figure heist. “Some best friend you turned out to be, Jonathan. You know how much I want that 1978 mint condition Walrus Man.”
Buffy joined her mom and Ms. Calendar behind the artifact table just as they swept the last bits of black glass into a dustpan.
“Buffy!” Her mother smiled as she stood up. “I was hoping to see you before I went back to the gallery. It seems I owe you an apology.”
“Oh.” Buffy waited to find out why.
“Ms. Calendar explained that you were helping other students who were in danger.” Joyce smiled sheepishly. “I should have known you wouldn’t turn your back on your friends.”
“That’s okay, Mom,” Buffy said with a grateful glance at the teacher. There was truth in what Ms. Calendar had told her. She had saved Willow and herself from certain death in the Hellmouth.
Ms. Calendar held out a wastepaper basket, and Joyce dumped the broken glass. “Such a shame,” the teacher said.
“Yeah.” Buffy wrinkled her nose. “I guess that black thing wasn’t . . . alive.”
Ms.
Calendar looked at her askance, apparently realizing Buffy knew more about how the orb had been shattered than she wanted to say. She didn’t say anything either.
“Hardly!” Joyce exclaimed. “It was a rare piece of black jade called ‘Endless Night.’ The last owner claimed that it hypnotized him.”
“Really?” Buffy didn’t volunteer her corroborating second opinion.
“It really is too bad a vandal got in here and smashed it,” Joyce said. “The Mayor would have paid quite handsomely for it, I’m sure.”
“The Mayor wanted to buy it?” Buffy asked.
Ms. Calendar took the dustpan from Joyce and set it aside with the wastepaper basket and broom. “I’m sure Mayor Wilkins will understand that this wasn’t your fault, Ms. Summers. You can still invite him to the Joel Shavin showing at the gallery.”
“Oh, no.” Joyce shook her head and pulled her car keys out of her pocket. “He doesn’t know this was the ‘Endless Night’ his father lost at auction all those years ago, so please don’t tell him. I’ll just invite him to another gallery event—someday. Next year, maybe.”
“All right, if that’s what you want.” Ms. Calendar smiled, then left to make sure everything was set for the delayed start of the rummage sale.
Buffy felt bad about messing up her mom’s opportunity to impress the Mayor, but the black jade was dangerous. Things would have turned out much worse if Mayor Wilkins had bought it and gone bonkers after prolonged exposure. Once again, her seemingly irresponsible actions had responsible consequences. And as usual, she couldn’t tell her mom. She couldn’t explain that she had been in the cafeteria tracking down virulent demonic vermin and had mistaken the black jade for a heinous Hellmouth beast.
“Is Willow going to be all right?” Joyce looked across the room and frowned with concern. “She looks so depressed.”
“She’s had a tough day, but I’ll go check.” Buffy cocked her head to study her mom. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, but—” Joyce hesitated. “You might ask Ms. Calendar to find those black lace gloves and put them aside for me.”
“Consider them yours,” Buffy said.
“Don’t be late for dinner.” Joyce waved and walked out.
Relieved that her mom was finally leaving the building, Buffy took a deep breath and headed toward men’s shirts. She wasn’t sure how to approach Willow, and she didn’t know if Xander was mad at her too. His lack of wordage at the door was troubling. Snyder might have shocked him speechless, but it was hard to tell.
The rocking rhythm of an old Queen song started playing as Buffy walked up to Xander and Willow.
“Hey!” Grinning, Xander lowered his voice. “It’s the Slayer theme song: ‘Another One Bites the Dust.’ ” He sang along to the title phrase. “Makes you wonder how much other people really know.”
Xander was joking, but he had a point. Giles would know if a Slayer in the late seventies had lived in Britain, but she didn’t want to. The Chosen One of twenty years ago was dead, like all the Slayers before her.
“I always liked that song,” Willow said, “before the dusting thing got real. Now it just makes me . . . sad.”
“He was cute,” Xander said, assuming she was really talking about the kur. “Is, I mean. Cutie’s not dead. He’s just in another place, but if you remember how he controlled your mind and twisted your thoughts, maybe you won’t miss him quite—”
Buffy cut him off. “I am so sorry, Willow, but I couldn’t let you die.”
“I know.” Willow sighed. “I just don’t want to talk about it.” She looked at Xander. “Ever again.”
“Never it is.” Xander tapped his foot to the beat of the Queen song for a moment. “I think Oz likes you.”
“The guitar guy?” Willow scoffed. “Oh, yeah. Right. I can just see me holding down the band table at the Bronze.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Xander said.
Willow smiled. “Well, yeah. But there’s strange, and then there’s impossible.”
“Incoming,” Xander announced when the first wave of student shoppers burst through the doors.
All the tension eased out of Buffy as she listened to her friends banter back and forth. Her mother was back in mom mode, and Giles was dutifully keeping Watcher notes. Good had triumphed over evil one more time, and normal reigned supreme.
Best of all, she had a midnight rendezvous to keep at Myra Stanley’s tombstone, inscribed in 1953 by her beloved husband of sixty years: MY ANGEL FOREVER.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Diana G. Gallagher has written young adult and adult novels in several series: Buffy the Vampire Slayer; Charmed; Smallville; Sabrina, the Teenage Witch; and others. She lives in Florida with her husband, five dogs, three cats, and a cranky parrot. Her hobbies include gardening, politics, and grandchildren.
Simon Pulse
Simon & Schuster, New York
Visit us at simonandschuster.com/teen
Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Diana-G-Gallagher
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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ISBN: 1-4169-5109-1
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