Evermore ti-1

by Alyson Noel

  The next morning when Riley pops in, she stands before me and says, "Still cranky?"

  I roll my eyes.

  "I'll take that as a yes." She laughs, hopping on top of my dresser and kicking her heels against the drawers.

  "So, who are you dressed as today?" I toss a pile of books into my bag and glance at her tight bodice, full skirt, and cascading brown hair.

  "Elizabeth Swann." She smiles.

  I squint, trying to remember that name. "Pirates?"

  "Duh." She crosses her eyes and sticks out her tongue. "So what's up with you and Count Fersen?"

  I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the door, determined to ignore the question when I call, "Coming?"

  She shakes her head. "Not today. I have an appointment."

  I lean against the doorjamb and squint. "What do you mean by 'appointment'?"

  But she just shakes her head and hops off the dresser. "None of your beeswax." She laughs, walking straight through the wall and disappearing.

  Since Miles was running late, I end up running late too, and by the time we make it to school, the parking lot is completely full. All except for the very best, most sought-after space.

  The one on the very end. The one closest to the gate.

  The one that just happens to be right next to Damen's.

  "How did you do it?" Miles asks, grabbing his books and climbing out of my tiny red car, gazing at Damen like he's the world's sexiest magic act.

  "Do what?" Damen asks, gazing at me.

  "Save the spot. You have to get here like, way before the school year even begins to snatch this one."

  Damen laughs, his eyes searching mine. But I just nod like he's my pharmacist or mailman, not the guy I've been obsessing over since the moment I saw him, "Bell's gonna ring," I say, rushing past the gate and heading toward class, noticing how he moves so quickly he beats me to the door with no visible effort.

  I storm toward Honor and Stacia, purposely kicking Stacia's bag when she gazes at Damen and says, "Hey, where's my rosebud?"

  Then regretting it the second he answers, "Sorry, not today." He slides onto his seat and gives me an amused look. "Someone's in a foul mood." He laughs.

  But I just shrug and drop my bag to the floor.

  "What's the rush?" He leans toward me. "Mr. Robins stayed home."

  I turn. "How'd you-" but then I stop before I can finish. I mean, how can Damen possibly know what I know-that Mr. Robins is still at home, still hungover, still grieving the wife and daughter who recently left him?

  "I saw the substitute while I was waiting for you." He smiles.

  "She looked a little lost, so I escorted her to the teachers' lounge, but she seemed so confused she'll probably end up in the science lab instead."

  And the second he says it I know that it's true, having just seen her entering the wrong class, having mistaken it for our room.

  "So tell me. What have I done to anger you so?"

  I glance up as Stacia whispers in Honor's ear, watching as they shake their heads and glare at me.

  "Ignore them, they're idiots," Damen whispers, leaning toward me and placing his hand over mine. "I'm sorry I haven't been around much. I had a visitor; I couldn't get away."

  "You mean Drina?" And the moment it's out, I cringe at how awful and jealous I sound.

  Wishing I could be cool, calm, and collected, act as though I didn't even notice how everything changed the moment she appeared. But the truth is, that's pretty much impossible for me, since I'm much closer to paranoid than naive.

  «Ever-» he starts.

  But since I've already started, I may as well continue. "Have you seen Haven lately? She's like a Drina Mini-Me. She dresses like her, acts like her, even has the same eye color. Seriously, stop by the lunch table sometime, you'll see." I glare at him, as though he's responsible, as though it's his fault. But the moment our eyes meet, I'm right back under his spell, a helpless hunk of steel to his irresistible magnet.

  He takes a deep breath then shakes his head as he says, "Ever, it's not what you think."

  I pull away and press my lips together. You have no idea what I think.

  "Let me make it up to you. Let me take you out, somewhere special, please?"

  I can feel the warmth of his gaze on my skin, but I won't risk trying to meet it. I want him to wonder, to doubt. I want to drag it out for as long as I possibly can.

  So I shift in my seat, glance at him briefly, and say, 'We'll see."

  When I exit fourth-period history, Damen is waiting outside the door. And assuming he just wants to walk me to the lunch table, I say, "Let me just drop my bag in my locker before we head over."

  "No need." He smiles, securing his arm around my waist.

  "The surprise starts now"

  "Surprise?" And when I look into his eyes, the whole world shrinks, until it's just me and him, surrounded by static.

  He smiles. "You know, I take you somewhere special-so special you forgive my transgressions."

  "And what about our classes? We just blow off the rest of the day?" I fold my arms across my chest, though it's mostly for show He laughs and leans toward me, his lips grazing the side of my neck as they form the word-Yes.

  And as I pull away I'm amazed to hear myself answer with how instead of no.

  "No worries." He smiles, squeezing my hand as he leads me through the gate. "You'll always be safe with me."

  Sixteen

  "Disneyland?" I climb out of my car and gaze at him in shock. Out of all the places I thought we'd end up, this never cracked the list.

  "I hear it's the happiest place on earth;" He laughs. "Have you been?"

  I shake my head.

  "Good, then I'll be your guide." He slips his arm through mine and leads me through the gates, and as we wander down Main Street I try to imagine him coming here before. He's so sleek, so sophisticated, so sexy, so smooth-it's hard to imagine him trolling a place where Mickey Mouse rules. "It's always better during the week when it's not so crowded," he says, crossing the street. "Come on, I'll show you New Orleans, it's my favorite part.".

  "You come here enough to have favorites?" I stop in the middle of the street and stare at him. "I thought you just moved here?"

  He laughs. "I did just move here. But that doesn't mean I haven't been," he says, pulling me toward the Haunted Mansion.

  After the Haunted Mansion we head for the Pirates ride, and when that's over, he looks at me and says, "So which one's your favorite?"

  "Uhm, Pirates." I nod. "I think." He looks at me.

  "Well, they're both pretty cool." I shrug. "But Pirates has Johnny Depp, so that kind of gives it an unfair advantage, don't you think?"

  "Johnny Depp? So that's what I'm up against?" He raises a brow;

  I shrug, taking in Damen's dark jeans, black long-sleeved T-shirt, and those boots, his easy good looks dwarfing every Hollywood actor I can think of, though it's not like I'll admit that.

  "Wanna go again?" he asks, dark eyes flashing.

  So we do. And then we head back to the Haunted Mansion.

  And when we reach the part at the end, where the ghosts hitch a ride in your car, I half expect to see Riley scrunched in between us, laughing and waving and clowning around. But instead, it's just one of those cartoon Disney ghosts, and I remember Riley's appointment and figure she must be too busy.

  After yet another go on those rides, we end up at a waterfront table in the Blue Bayou, the restaurant inside the Pirates ride. And as I sip my iced tea I look at him and say, "Okay, I happen to know this is a really big park with more than two rides. Rides that have nothing to do with pirates or ghosts."

  "I heard that too." He smiles, spearing calamari with his fork and offering it to me. "They used to have this one called Mission to Mars. It was known as the make-out ride, mostly because it was very dark inside."

  "Is it still here?" I ask, my face turning every shade of crimson when I realize how eager I sound. "Not that I want to ride it or anything. I wa
s just curious."

  He looks at me, his face clearly amused. Then he shakes his head and says, "No, it closed a long time ago."

  "So you were going on the make-out ride when you were what-two?" I ask, reaching for a sausage-stuffed mushroom and hoping I'll like it.

  "Not me." He smiles. "That was way before my time."

  Normally I'd do anything to avoid a place like this. A place so congested with the random energy of people, their bright swirling auras, their odd collection of thoughts. But it's different with Damen, effortless, pleasant. Because whenever we touch, whenever he speaks, it's like we're the only ones here.

  After lunch, we stroll around the park, going on all the fast rides and avoiding the water rides, or at least the ones where you get soaked. And when it gets dark, he leads me over to Sleeping Beauty Castle, where we stop near the moat and wait for the fireworks show to begin.

  "So, am I forgiven?" he asks, arms snaking around my waist, teeth nipping at my neck, my jaw, my ear. The sudden burst of fireworks, their booming crackle and snap, seem faint and far away, as our bodies press together and his lips move against mine.

  "Look," he whispers, pulling away and pointing toward the expanse of night sky, a profusion of purple color wheels, golden waterfalls, silver fountains, pink chrysanthemums, and for the grand finale-a dozen red tulips. All of it flaring and blasting, in such quick succession it vibrates the concrete under our feet.

  Wait-red tulips?

  I glance at Damen, eyes full of questions, but he just smiles and nods toward the sky, and even though the edges are sparking and fading, the memory is solid, imprinted on my mind.

  Then he pulls me close, lips to my ear when he says, "Show's over, fat lady sang."

  "You calling Tinkerbell fat?" I laugh as he takes my hand and leads me through the gates and back to our cars.

  I climb into my Miata and get settled in, smiling as he leans through my window and says, "Don't worry, there'll be more days like this. Next time I'll take you to California Adventure."

  "I thought we just had a California adventure." I laugh, amazed by the way he always seems to know just what I'm thinking before I've even had a chance to utter the words. "Should I follow you again?" I slip my key in the ignition and start the engine.

  He shakes his head. "I'll follow you." He smiles. "Got to see you home safely."

  I pull out of the lot, merge onto the southbound freeway, and head home. And when I check the rearview mirror, I can't help but smile when I see Damen right there behind me.

  I have a boyfriend!

  A gorgeous, sexy, smart, charming boyfriend! One who makes me feel normal again.

  One who makes me forget that I'm not.

  I reach over to the passenger seat and pluck my new sweatshirt from its bag, running my fingers over the Mickey Mouse applique on the front, remembering the moment Damen chose it for me.

  "Notice how this one doesn't have a hood," he'd said, holding it against me, and estimating the fit.

  "What are you trying to say?" I squinted into the mirror, wondering if he hates my look as much as Riley thinks.

  But he just shrugged. "What can I say? I prefer you hoodless." I smile at the memory, the way he kissed me as we stood in line to pay, the warm, sweet feel of his lips on mine And when my cell phone rings, I glance in my rearview mirror to see Damen holding his.

  "Hey," I say, lowering my voice so that it's husky and deep. "Save it," Haven says. "Sorry to disappoint you, but it's just little ole me."

  "Oh, so what's up?" I ask, signaling my intended lane change so that Damen can follow:

  Only he's no longer there.

  I glance between my side and rearview mirrors, frantically scanning all four lanes, but still, no Damen.

  "Are you even listening to me?" Haven asks, clearly annoyed. "Sorry, what?" I ease up on the gas and look over my shoulder, searching for'Damen's black BMW; as someone in a monster truck passes, honks, and flips me the bird.

  "I said Evangeline is missing!"

  "What do you mean 'missing'?" I ask, hesitating for as long as I can before merging onto the I33, with Damen still nowhere in sight, even though I'm sure he didn't pass me.

  "I called her cell a bunch of times and she didn't pick up."

  "And," I say, anxious to get through this call-screening story so I can get back to my own missing person's case.

  "And, not only does she not answer, not only is she not in her apartment, but nobody's seen her since Halloween."

  "What do you mean?" I check my side mirrors, my rearview mirrors, and glance over each shoulder, but still come up empty. "Didn't she go home with you guys?"

  "Not exactly," Haven says, her voice small, contrite.

  And after two more cars honk and give me the finger, I give up. Promising myself that as soon as I'm done with Haven I'll call Damen on his cell and sort it all out.

  "Hel-Io?" she says, practically shouting. "I mean, jeez, if you're too busy for me, then just say so. I can always call Miles, you know;"

  I take a deep breath, striving for patience. "Haven, I'm sorry, okay? I'm trying to drive and I'm a little distracted. Besides, you and I both know Miles is still at acting class, which is why you called me." I merge over to the far left lane, determined to punch it and get home as quickly as I can.

  "Whatever," she mumbles. "Anyway, I haven't exactly told you this yet, but, well, Drina and I kind of left without her."

  "You what?"

  "You know; at Nocturne. She just sort of-disappeared. I mean, we looked everywhere, but we just couldn't find her. So we' figured she met someone, which believe me, is not out of character, and then-well, we sort of-left."

  "You left her in L.A.? On Halloween night? When every freak in the city is on the loose?"

  And the second it's out of my mouth, I see it-the three of them in some dark, seamy club, Drina leading Haven to the VIP room for a drink, purposely eluding Evangeline. And even though it goes blank after that, I definitely didn't see any guy.

  "What were we supposed to do? I mean, I don't know if you know this, but she's eighteen, which means she can pretty much do what she wants. Besides, Drina said she'd keep an eye on her, but then she lost track of her too. I just got off the phone with her, she feels awful."

  "Drina feels awful?" I roll my eyes, finding that hard to believe. Drina doesn't seem like the type to feel much of anything, much less remorse.

  "What's that supposed to mean? You don't even know her."

  I press my lips and accelerate hard, partly because I know this strip of road is currently cop free, and partly because I want to outrun Haven, Drina, Evangeline, and Damen's strange disappearance, everything, all of it-even though I know that I can't.

  "Sorry," I finally mumble, lifting my foot and easing into a regular speed.

  "Whatever. I just-I feel so awful, and I don't know what to do…"

  "Did you call her parents?" I ask, even though I just sensed the answer.

  "Her mom's a drunk, lives in Arizona somewhere, and her dad skipped out when she was still in the womb. And trust me, her landlord just wants her stuff cleared out so he can turn the apartment. We even filed a police report, but they didn't seem overly concerned."

  "I know;" I say, adjusting my lights for the dark, canyon route.

  "What do you mean you know?"

  "I mean I know how you must feel." I scramble to cover.

  She sighs. "So where are you? Why weren't you at lunch?"

  "I'm in Laguna Canyon, on my way home from Disneyland. Damen took me." I smile at the memory, though it turns pretty quick.

  "Omigod that's so bizarre," Haven says.

  "Tell me," I agree, still not used to the idea of him kicking it in the Magic Kingdom even after seeing it with my own eyes.

  "No, I mean Drina went too. Said she hasn't been in years and wanted to see how it's changed. Isn't that wild? Did you guys run into her?"

  "Um, no," I say, trying to sound matter of fact despite my churning stomach, sweaty palms, a
nd overwhelming feeling of dread.

  "Huh. Weird. But then again, it is pretty huge and crowded."

  She laughs.

  "Yeah, yeah it is," I say. "Listen, I gotta go, see you tomorrow?"

  And before she can even respond, I pull to the side of the road and park by the curb, searching my call list for Damen's number, and pounding hard on the wheel when I see it's marked private.

  Some boyfriend. I don't even have his phone number, much less know where he lives.

  Seventeen

  Last night, when Damen finally called (at least I assumed it was him since the display read private), I let it go straight into voice mail. And this morning, while I'm getting ready for school, I delete it without even listening.

  "Aren't you at least curious?" Riley asks, spinning around in my desk chair, her slicked-back hair and Matrix costume a shiny black blur.

  "No." I glare at the Mickey Mouse sweatshirt still in its bag, then reach for one that he didn't buy me.

  "Well; you could've let me listen, so I could give you the gist."

  "Double no." I twist my hair into a bun, then stab it with a pencil to hold it in place.

  "Well, don't take it out on your hair. I mean, jeez, what'd it ever do to you?" She laughs. But when I don't respond she looks at me and says, "I don't get you. Why are you always so angry?

  So you lost him on the freeway, and he forgot to give you his number. Big deal. I mean, when did you get so dang paranoid?"

  I shake my head and turn away, knowing she's right. I am angry. And paranoid. And things far worse than that. Just your everyday, garden-variety, easily annoyed, thought-hearing, aura seeing, spirit-sensing freak. But what she doesn't know is that there's more to the story than I'm willing to share.

  Like Drina trailing us to Disneyland.

  And how Damen always disappears whenever she's near.

  I turn back to Riley, shaking my head as I take in her sleek shiny costume. "How long are you going to play Halloween?"

  She folds her arms and pouts. "For as long as I want."