“Nothing . . . just a poser.”
“Why do you hang with him then?”
“I don’t, he finds me,” Deacon said darkly, but then his face brightened and he pulled her to him, tilting her body from side to side. “You look great,” he said before he dropped his chin to kiss her. “Mmmm, you sure we need to go to school?”
“I definitely do,” she said, laughing. Deacon sighed, giving in, and draped his arm around her before wheeling her around toward the school entrance. Hannah let her hand inch slowly around his waist, finding her rhythm as they walked in together.
“There’s a Halloween party on Saturday, wanna go?”
“I have to see,” she said excitedly. “I’d like to go . . . it’s just my parents . . .”
He kissed the side of her head. “I’ll break you out if I have to.”
Saturday night, Hannah opened her front door and jumped back at the sight of a towering, black-cloaked person on her doorstep, his face shielded from the porch light inside an ominous hood.
“Grim Reaper?” she said after a beat.
Deacon laughed and gave her a kiss. “Where’s your costume?”
“I can’t go . . . I called you a bunch of times, but there was no answer.”
“Shit, okay.” He leaned close and whispered, “I’ve got an idea.”
Her arms shaking and her stomach wrung in knots, Hannah dropped, mid-prayer, from her windowsill to the accompaniment of her parents’ bedroom TV. The bottom of her jeans caught on the hydrangea bush and sent her tumbling to the ground. She lay paralyzed for several seconds, staring up at the window and listening for any movement from their room, but just the light from the TV flickered back.
She had been careful to close her bedroom curtain behind her before she jumped, but any hint of wind would still give her away if her parents opened her bedroom door. All of the numerous ways she could get caught, including that one, ran through her head as adrenaline thumped through her ears. Hannah searched the cold grass for her cat ears, which she’d managed to find in the attic without her parents noticing. She’d dressed in all black and turned the tip of her nose into an upside-down triangle, complete with symmetrical whiskers. Not bad for a last-minute costume.
At last, she found the ears. She held her breath and cut across the neighbor’s lawn, then began walking quickly, avoiding the glow from the street lamps. She could see him in his car about a block away. The motor was running, and his frosty breath made it look like he was smoking.
“Deacon, I’m so frickin’ scared . . . what if they come down and check on me?” she whispered frantically as she slid into the car.
“Come on, we’re late.”
Hannah could hear the party before they even pulled up to the house. They were definitely on Deacon’s side of town, where every palatial abode seemed bigger than the last. Hannah sighed, taking in the mansion—every light holding its own through an array of majestic windows and reminding her of a lit Christmas tree. Gosh it’s gorgeous, she thought, wondering what it would be like to live among so many rooms and wander around in designer clothes and perfectly coiffed hair and makeup, just like on Dynasty. How could you not be popular with a home like that?
The house was set back from the street on a slight hill that led to a wide circular driveway. Cars were parked everywhere, even on the lawn. Deacon pulled his car in backward, parking practically in the neighbor’s yard.
“Whose house is this?”
“Some schmuck.”
“Whaaat . . . why are we here, then?”
“I wanted to be with you tonight . . . besides, it’s great people watching.” Deacon chuckled and kissed her hand. “Be my girl?”
Hannah nodded, liking the sound of it. She waited as he walked around the front of the car to open her door. His cloak nearly reached the ground, making him seem even taller than normal—and more foreboding.
“I’ll take good care of you. Just don’t leave my side.”
Cat ears in place and holding her breath, Hannah stepped through the massive double front doors, feeling every bit the party crasher who would soon be discovered and ceremoniously kicked out. She squeezed Deacon’s hand, readying herself for the ejection.
Deacon strolled in with his chest lifted and shoulders back. He immediately acknowledged a few of the guys with a casual lift of the chin, and several kids called out his name. The party appeared well into full swing, based on the state of the house and the swarm of people already there. The whole school had apparently showed up—or at least, all the cool kids, including the jocks and cheerleaders, were there. Not a nerd was in sight. There were kids she recognized in orange Ghostbuster jumpsuits, and a couple in that Beetlejuice striped suit, complete with black eye circles. Some Karate Kid characters with rolled bandannas tied around their heads were partying together with rubber bracelet–wearing Madonnas and colorful Cyndi Laupers, straight off of MTV. Hannah’s cat costume looked childlike in comparison.
Deacon held her hand and steered her through the crowd of sweaty bodies and drenched heads to the massive kitchen, and then out to the backyard deck, where the keg was. Hannah felt like she was with a rock star; she could almost taste what it was like to be popular. Her eyes grew wider at every turn as she soaked in her first high school party, realizing how much she’d been missing.
Deacon’s cool expression, meanwhile, didn’t waver. He pumped the keg a few times, filled two cups, and passed her one.
“What do you think?” he asked, looking bemusedly at the side of her head. He reached over and pulled a few twigs out of her hair.
Hannah smiled, bringing the plastic cup to her lips and letting the icy liquid strike her empty belly. “You know it’s my first . . .” she said, shivering slightly.
“I figured . . . no big deal, you’re not missing much. Keg parties are pretty much all the same.”
“Do the cops usually come?”
“Shit, hope not. Then we’d really be screwed,” he said, raising his furry eyebrows in alarm. He smirked and leaned in to kiss her, but stopped inches from her lips.
“What?” Hannah was confused.
“Nothing,” he said, and he brought his mouth to hers, hesitating a little before pulling away and saying, “Come on, it’s cold out here.”
They could hear people talking loudly over the music when they passed the mansion’s central hallway. It seemed filled with kids seeking refuge from Van Halen’s Jump, which was blasting from the living room stereo. Hannah’s head jerked back at the sight of Gillian and Leeza leaning against the wall, holding beers and talking to some tall kid dressed as Prince from Purple Rain, wearing a gold chain that showed off his sprinkle of chest hair. Gillian was dressed like one of the members of Duran Duran and blatantly flirting with the guy, while Leeza, wearing Princess Leia’s slave costume from Return of the Jedi, was bobbing her head with a fixed smile like a marionette.
Gillian turned and gave Hannah an icy once-over before bellowing for all around to hear, “Look at the skank who just walked in.”
Mortified, Hannah shrank back behind Deacon’s shoulder and turned the other way.
“Look who’s calling who a skank . . . the queen of skanks,” Deacon threw back.
“Why the fuck did you bring her here?” sneered Gillian.
“Not your flavor, bitch?”
Hannah pulled on Deacon’s arm, trying to get him to move away as Gillian’s face grew ugly, her viper eyes slicing into Hannah.
“Come on, let’s go, Deacon,” Hannah pleaded. The guy in the Prince costume was moving toward them, and Hannah could feel her human ears prickle with heat.
“Dude, I’m supposed to yell at yous, but I kinda need some weed,” he said in a thick New York accent; he was clearly not from their town. “Got any?”
“No,” Deacon said, glaring at Gillian. “Come on.” He walked Hannah back into the empty kitchen, where it was quieter.
“Do you know that guy?”
“Never saw him before. Could be a cop.”
“W
ow, really?”
“Don’t be so impressed,” he said, shaking his head. He played with the light switches until just the ones above the stove and sink glowed.
A tall, skinny blond girl from one of Hannah’s classes, dressed like the mermaid from Splash, entered through the back door with a guy in an Indiana Jones costume. Hannah was trying to place him when the girl dramatically flung herself toward Deacon like he was her long lost friend, tripping over her mermaid tail as she approached. Hannah gasped when she tried to kiss him. Deacon snapped his head back, dropped Hannah’s hand, and pushed the girl away.
“You’re loaded, Clarice,” he said, appearing annoyed.
“Noooooooo,” the girl sang back gleefully. Her eyes were clearly glassy, and she bent toward his ear and gurgled something Hannah couldn’t hear. When she pulled back, she noticed Hannah next to him. “Aren’t you in my history class?”
Hannah shook her head. “Spanish.”
The girl nodded sizing up Hannah, then looked back at Deacon. “Arrrrrre you two a couple?” Clarice hiccupped the last word. “That’s uuuutterly convenient, get all the weeeeeeed you want . . . since when do you hook up, Deeeeeacon?”
“What do you want, Clarice?” he said impatiently.
“Dime bag, pleeease.”
Deacon checked the bill she passed before reaching into his pocket, all the while surveying the three different entrances into the kitchen. Now Hannah understood why he had turned most of the lights off: he’d been setting up shop.
Another boy wearing a straggly black-haired wig and an AC/DC T-shirt approached them a moment later.
“Dude.”
“Billy the acid king,” Deacon said quietly to Hannah. “What do you need?”
“Same.”
“Three-oh.”
The rest of the night consisted of similar transactions, so many that Hannah lost track. Deacon had a nickname for almost everyone. She couldn’t believe how many kids from her school liked to party like that—drinking and using, seeking out pot, cocaine, even acid. It seemed like Deacon carried an endless supply. The tall Prince guy with the gold chain walked back through the kitchen at one point and stopped in front of them.
“Got a light?”
Deacon shook his head and gave him a bored stare. The guy narrowed his eyes and turned to another couple who helped him light up his joint right there. All three of them took hits, holding the sweet smoke in their lungs until they couldn’t stand it. He then offered Hannah a hit.
“No, not her,” Deacon said sternly, putting his hand up to the guy’s chest. The guy shrugged and walked out to the crowd hanging out around the keg.
“Are you protecting me or something?” Hannah asked. The idea of it felt sexy to her, but maybe that was the beer talking.
Deacon rolled her into his arms, his face suddenly serious. “I don’t want you to . . . ever.”
He kissed her one last time before they scrambled to the side of her house underneath her bedroom window, both of them trying not to laugh and make more noise than they already were. Swearing under his breath, Deacon successfully hoisted her up after the third try. Hannah cringed as she slid through her window and landed headfirst on her bed. Like a gymnast scoring a perfect ten in competition, she rose triumphant, beaming back down at Deacon below. She reached down, clasped his hand, and whispered good-bye before he headed back to his car.
Hannah carefully closed her window and flopped down on her bed, her heart bursting out of her chest as she listened in earnest for sounds above her room.
Her bedside clock was blinking, stuck at 1:35. The power must have gone out on her side of town, too. The music had abruptly cut off while they were at the party, and the house had gone dark. The kids’ initial screams had soon turned into laughter and whistles. Just then, out of nowhere, Deacon grabbed Hannah and pulled her through the back door and down the deck stairs.
“Where are we going?”
“Just come, hurry.”
Both out of breath, they quickly got into his car. Deacon released the parking break and let the vehicle glide down the lawn into the street without turning on its headlights.
“What is it?” she asked after he started the engine a few houses away. “Why are we sneaking off?”
“Sometimes the cops cut the power . . . anyway, we should get you home.” He took her hand and kissed the inside of her palm. “Wish we could stay out all night together.”
“I’d like that,” she said, moving closer to him to rest her head on his shoulder. She thought about the parade of kids who had come up to them, some of them talking to her for the first time. She’d never spoken to so many people in her life. For Hannah, it felt nice to be noticed for once.
“Do you hang out with any of those people, the ones who came into the kitchen to buy?”
“Nope.”
“Me neither,” she said, yawning.
Hannah watched the sky outside her window, thinking about the wild and strange ride the whole night had been—all because of him. She couldn’t believe she’d snuck out of her house and gotten away with it. At last she heard his car pull away—their “getaway car,” the one carrying the dangerous boy she couldn’t stop thinking about. Eventually, she fell asleep still wearing her cat ears and black whiskers, hoping for more magical nights like this one. She liked being “his girl.”
Chapter 20
THEY MET UP EVERY DAY BEFORE SCHOOL AND AFTER FINAL period. Hannah wasn’t sure where Deacon went during the day, she rarely saw him between classes. Every morning she looked forward to walking with him into the building and through the halls, always with his arm wrapped around her waist, blissfully feeling like his and only his—and then, of course, kissing him by her locker before she headed to class. He called her most nights, too, usually after ten, but sometimes they only got to talk for a few minutes before he had to head out. Hannah wondered when he slept or ever did homework.
School was a lot more bearable with Deacon in her life. Hannah couldn’t wait to see him every day. The way he looked at her, like she was the most important thing to him, made her feel strangely confident.
“You look beautiful,” he told her one afternoon after school, leaning against the bay of lockers while she collected her notebooks and binder.
“You say that every day,” she said, grinning up at him. It was true, he did, but she never tired of him telling her so. And she took extra care now in the mornings before school, getting up early to get her makeup and hair just right, sometimes even setting her wild tresses in Clairol Benders, those flexible heat curlers that always burned her fingertips. She’d wear them overnight to tame her hair into some sort of style, always hoping that he’d notice. Often he did say something, which she lapped up like a puppy.
“But you do,” he said playfully.
“What if I told you that?” she teased, feeling bold.
“I’d say that you couldn’t see me.”
Hannah’s stomach fell, and she froze, thinking the moment she feared was finally here. She searched his face. His constrained grin didn’t match his words or the shot of sadness in his eyes.
“The real me,” he finally added after a long, torturous pause—and like a light switch, his eyes brightened again, restoring her breath.
Hannah turned back to gather her books, letting the chill his words had made run up her back and settle, as his left hand absently played with one of her curls.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked when she climbed into his car Thursday after school. It was the day after Halloween, and Hannah had dragged herself through most of her classes after staying up late into the evening, waiting for him to come over. He’d never showed. He blamed it on it being an especially busy night for him—and, to Hannah’s delight, he was being extra attentive and affectionate with her now. It made it almost worth getting stood up again.
Hannah just wanted to go home and take a nap. But the look on his face melted any sort of conviction, as it had since she’d known him.
“Your house?”
“Probably not a good idea,” he said.
“Guess mine, then.”
Deacon threw her a mischievous look, making Hannah laugh.
“This time you can see it during the daytime.”
“Ah, I think I already have missy . . . like, our first weekend together?”
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” she said. Had her LSD trip really happened a mere three weeks earlier? It seemed forever ago.
Deacon rested his free hand on her upper thigh while they listened to New Order, letting the music sweep the cares of the day behind them. When Hannah realized that she was biting the ends of her hair, she stopped, tucked the strands behind her ear, and placed her hand over his. They arrived in her neighborhood and to her surprise Deacon kept driving when they saw her mother’s car in the driveway. For a minute, she thought about the embarrassing time they found her mother asleep outside in the car. She pushed the thought away and glanced over at Deacon. Something told her that she wasn’t going home anytime soon.
Gossamer Park sprawled for nearly three hundred acres in the center of town around a manmade lake. It was surrounded by walking trails, a paddleboat area, and frequented fishing spots, and was home to the oldest trees in the area, with plenty of pavilions and picnic areas where teens and derelict old men liked to hang out—until the park patrol kicked them out, anyway. Growing up, local kids held their birthday parties there, which had made Hannah curious about the place, especially since she was never invited to one. Neither of her parents had ever frequented the park, not even to push Kerry in a stroller when she was a baby like other moms did. Just another facet of their antisocial weirdness, she reasoned.
Deacon swung his car around under a row of towering oak trees facing the lake, over which the autumn sun was slowly fading. He left the keys in the ignition to keep the heat on, jammed his hands in the pockets of his leather trench coat, and stared out over the water. Hannah shifted in her seat and pretended to take in the scenery, but after a while she felt puzzled by the growing silence; it was making her anxious. More than once, she spied Deacon’s pensive profile out of the corner of her eye—the same face he’d had on when he’d talked to the Prince guy at the Halloween party. She stuffed her sweaty palms under her legs and waited.
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