Expel

by Addison Moore

  I bow into the board and heavily scrutinize the faces of the delicately carved creations. We’re all there, Logan taking up the space next to me, Chloe on the opposing lineup with Ellis next to her on one side—Gage on the other and this puzzles me.

  “Marshall has an interesting sense of humor,” I gloss over the board one more time before pecking a quick kiss into Gage. “I’m going to hop in the closet and change,” I give a seductive smile. Really I’m going to sneak up to the butterfly room and arrange the pillows and comforter I hauled up this afternoon after Gage planted the haunted mirror in my closet. God forbid anyone actually find the demented speculum and fall in.

  It’s been way too long since Gage and I had a magical moment together and what better place to make magic happen than the butterfly room? I’ve been fantasizing about this moment all day long. His arms wrapped around me, me peeling his shirt off all slow and seductive, a hot trail of kisses raining down my neck like fire, butterflies actually fluttering in our midst. There is no greater magic than Gage and his kisses.

  I close the door behind me and turn on the light fully expecting to see my distorted effigy in that screwed up mirror of Demetri’s, but I don’t. Instead, a monstrosity so horrific stares back I jump out of the closet and scream until my lungs burn with fire.

  “Shit!” Gage startles, his face bleaching out in an instant.

  “Clown Fem!” I hiss.

  Mom and Tad file in the room with differing levels of undress. Mom with her blouse unbuttoned and bra fully exposed, Tad in his boxer shorts and knee high socks that brand themselves against his pale flesh like twin black stains.

  “Judas Iscariot!” Tad belts out.

  “What the hell happened?” Mom looks me up and down, terrified.

  Gage jumps over and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I proposed.” He grins at the two of them.

  “And, I accepted,” I say, still panicked by the not so nice man in the mirror.

  “You did?” Gage’s eyes sparkle with a laughter all their own.

  “Of course, I would accept,” I soften into him, outlining a heart on his chest with my finger. “Yes, yes—yes!” I peck a kiss on his cheek.

  Gage bears into me with a heavy gaze, never wavering with that look of joy in his eyes and suddenly we’re having one of those memorable relationship moments right here in front of a partially dressed Mom and Tad.

  “Congratulations!” Mom shouts, touching her hands to her ears. She lunges over and embraces the two of us before breaking down into deep heaving sobs.

  I glance over at Gage, a little afraid of the fact we may have emotionally damaged my mother. There could be permanent psychological trauma for all parties involved if the truth be told at what the hell I was really screaming at.

  “I’m just so happy,” she sniffs back tears, recomposing herself just enough. Her face is awash with tears as she sweeps back her hair. “I’m going to throw you a party.”

  “No, you don’t have to do that.” The last thing I want is Tad bitching about how much he spent on our fake engagement dinner.

  “Hear that, Lizbeth?” Tad muses. “We’re off the hook. Lest you forget that we’re still making monthly installments on that little welcome home party we threw Ethan after Christmas.”

  “I insist,” she clutches onto me with her icy hands. “This means just as much to me as my own wedding. “Oh,” her fingers speed to her lips as she reaches an epiphany, “why don’t we celebrate right alongside our vow renewal, Saturday? I’m sure Demetri won’t mind if we make the announcement. And as soon as I’m able, I’ll throw you a real party. I just can’t keep this good news contained. And the Olivers will already be there. It’s perfect.”

  Gage and I appraise one another before nodding into Mom, who is still completely hopped up on her latest nuptial triumph.

  “We’ll leave you two alone, but don’t stay late,” Mom points a finger into Gage before pulling him into a tight embrace. “You’re going to be my son-in-law,” she whispers. “Welcome to the family! Tad get over here and welcome your new son.”

  “Don’t you see what’s happening here? They’ve rolled the dice, and now they gotta pay the price. This is your basic shotgun wedding playing out only they’re voluntarily running down the aisle.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mom practically vomits out her disgust.

  “Teen pregnancies are an epidemic. Skyla, here, sees all the attention the other two are getting, what with all the fancy cash and prizes, caskets no less, she wants in on the take.”

  This again?

  “The take?” Gage drops the smile from his face. The only thing it looks like he wants to take on is Tad.

  “That’s right, the take,” Tad comes over and shakes the words into Gage’s face. “What better way to shack up with your girlfriend on my dime than to knock her up and marry her? Let me guess, just before summer break you two will have another little announcement to make.” His fingers twitch in air quotes. “And mark my words, Lizbeth,” he turns to my mother, “there will be two tiny caskets lining our bedroom in a few months time, when every one of these bozos figures out it’s not so easy to stop an infant from wailing away at three in the morning. Oh, sure, they’ll have excuses, they have school in the morning, a football game—they have to get ready for prom. We’ll have two extra mouths to feed, and before you know it, they'll realize this arrangement of inconvenience no longer fits their lifestyles, what with Skyla’s insatiable desire to rake against his brother whenever she has a scratch to itch.”

  “It was a side effect from the medication.” Mom barrels into him before reverting her attention back to me. “Tell him you’re not interested in Logan.”

  I open my mouth but nothing comes out because technically that wasn’t Logan or me in the boathouse back at Cain River.

  “Ah-ha!” Tad dances a jig in his underwear. “She hesitated!”

  “No,” I shake my head at Gage. “I’m not interested in him. I swear.”

  Gage presses out a depleted smile.

  “I was thinking about Holden,” I whisper.

  “Who’s this Holden kid?” Tad straightens. “See, Lizbeth? Case in point. She’s got a long list of suitors we’ve yet to discover.”

  “He is not a suitor. The only one for me is Gage,” I say, fatigued by the whole Tad and Mom circus that erupted spontaneously. “Gage and I will be thrilled to share our news on Saturday. Thank you for extending the offer.” Now get the hell out, I want to say, but opt for a manufactured smile instead.

  Tad holds the door open for my mother while glaring over at the two of us.

  “You had to open a can of worms and ruin everything,” she scolds him on the way out.

  “It’s called the truth,” he barks. “Something your girls don’t seem to know too much about.”

  “My mother should lace his food with lighter fluid,” I say, shutting the door and locking it.

  “I volunteer to hide the body.” Gage slides the dresser fully over the door.

  “So I guess we’re engaged.” I bite down on my lower lip, trying to hide a smile.

  Gage backs me gently into the wall, picks my hands up over my head and presses a light kiss on my lips.

  “Would you marry me?” He winces when he says it.

  “Is this a proposal?” I needle into him with the challenge.

  He shakes his head. “This was just a preview. I have a proposal planned that you will never see coming.”

  It reminds me of Chloe’s words, and my stomach lurches.

  “Well, then, let me give you a preview of my answer,” I pause, drinking down his anticipation, the rise and fall of his chest as it touches up against mine, “yes.”

  Gage and I fall into a kiss that has the map of our entire future emblazoned in it.

  A vision emerges, awakens my senses to the scene unfolding before me. It’s me in a white dress. I’m walking down a petal-strewn aisle. I watch as my satin shoes move in rhythm, the fabric runner moves beneath me
, the blades of rich green grass on either side liven the world with color. Down at the end of the aisle a man dressed in a dark suit waits for me. I look up and see a familiar bright smile, anticipation and longing written all over his face—Logan.

  I pull back and take a breath.

  Gage drops his hands to my waist and lets out a sigh. “I saw it, too.”

  Chapter 70

  Vision Division

  I help Gage hoist the mirror of terror into the bowels of the attic. Gage swore the image was gone, even knocked on the solidified glass to prove his point but I had him throw a sheet over it anyway.

  He climbs back into the butterfly room just as I finish arranging the pillows, and I lure him over to me by way of a kiss.

  “Tell me,” he pauses to take a breath. “When Dudley shared his visions with you is that what it was like? You saw them at the same time?”

  I feel horrible. I want the ground to open up and swallow me. I want to feel the earth press back together and crush my bones right out of my skin.

  “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I swear.” He twirls his finger around a loose lock of my hair. “It felt intimate—beautiful sharing something like that with you. Not the actual image—that was quite possibly the worse vision I’ve had to date. But, strangely I feel closer to you now than ever before.”

  A swell of tears blur my vision, holds the tiny room hostage as they warp my lenses and make the butterflies pinned to the walls wobble for me.

  “I never wanted Marshall’s kisses. He is a master of manipulation. The visions—” I stumble in search of words.

  “No,” he places his finger to my lips. “It’s OK.”

  “I swear I will severely injure him if he ever gets near me again.” I press my lips together. “That vision we just shared—”

  “I’ve seen it before,” Gage whispers, gazing past my shoulder. He sounds tired, defenseless to the horrible truths that are unraveling around us.

  I’ve seen it before, too, but I’m not in the mood to share that tidbit of information. I don’t see the point in yanking his balls off and grinding my heel into them.

  “Well,” I pull him in close and slip my hand inside his shirt, give a light scratch at his chest, “the only person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with is right here in this room.”

  Gage gives a gentle kiss, pulls at my lips with his and lingers before letting go. “Nice save.” His chest vibrates with the idea of a laugh. “But, I don’t want you to feel like you’re chained to me. Maybe Logan’s right, we should finish out the faction war and then give you some breathing room, let you figure out who you want to be with.”

  “No,” I pull him in by the back of the neck, “Logan is not right. Logan is hardly ever right. I know I want to be with you.”

  “Skyla,” he compresses a sorrowful sigh, “please, don’t deny you have feelings for him.”

  “Why does this night keep going there?” I sink my head back in frustration.

  A tender trail of molten kisses trace up from my chest to my ear.

  “Much better,” I whisper, running my fingers through his hair and clenching on. “Less talking, more kissing.” I find his lips and seal my mouth over his. I don’t plan on letting Gage come up for air anymore. I plan on reminding him of how much it is I love him and plan on loving him every single day. I hope he sees our whole future unfold like a love letter.

  It’s going to happen.

  I’m going to make sure it will.

  ***

  I spend most the week drifting in and out of a conversation about my own wedding with my mother. I swear it’s like she’s suffered a psychotic break and all she can focus on is marrying off her seventeen year-old daughter.

  “Shouldn’t you be fixated on uniting Drake and Brielle in holy matrimony?” I give a devious smile over to Brielle. In all honesty, I do prefer my mother’s attention calibrated on me rather than Demetri.

  We’re shopping for bridesmaid dresses at the mall. Mom has delved further into her insanity by suggesting we each choose our own dress to wear this Saturday and opened up her wallet carte blanche.

  “Oh,” Mom tilts her head with curiosity, “I didn’t think you were still together,” she whispers into Brielle.

  “You know how that goes.” Bree shrugs.

  “What?” Clearly this is news to me. An argument over the casket debacle does not a relationship break.

  “He’s already asked Emily to prom,” she says nonchalant like it were insignificant on some level.

  “What?” I shriek.

  Brielle ignores me while sifting through a whole line of tents that she could easily hide that mountain of flesh erupting from her stomach. I swear, if I were her, I’d totally be expecting an alien to pop out at any moment—then again, if it were me, that might be a very real possibility.

  “It’s not that big a deal. I’ll go stag,” she says it like she means it. I appraise her for a quivering lip or flushed cheeks, but she doesn’t look like she’s about to cry or throw things or lop off Drake’s balls.

  “You will not go stag.” I’m defiant about this. “You can go with Gage. He would love to take you.” I don’t feel bad one bit offering my boyfriend up to another girl, well, not this girl anyway.

  “Who are you going to go with?” For the first time Brielle’s voice breaks with emotion—finally a crack in the armor. I was beginning to wonder about her.

  “I’m going with Logan.”

  “What?” My mother’s mouth squares out in horror.

  “It’s a mercy thing,” I’m quick to correct. “It was Gage’s stupid idea.” Actually Gage is impervious to stupid ideas. It was genius—every breath that boy takes is a work of art.

  “Gage?” Brielle looks up as though she were envisioning it. “That’s like going with my brother, you know, if I had one. I guess that’d be OK.”

  “Good—pick out two dresses,” I encourage. “One for Saturday and one for prom.”

  Mom makes crazy eyes at me from behind Brielle. She’s probably just envisioned Tad crapping his pants.

  “And I’ll do the same.”

  My cell goes off. It’s a text from Marshall.

  I have a dress for you.

  A breath gets caught in my throat. I pan the vicinity for signs of his being, but something tells me his voyeuristic nature precludes logical bounds and limitations such as flesh and bones—time and space.

  No thanx ~S

  It has magical properties. He counters.

  I’m sure it does. I’m sure it would bewitch me right into your arms. ~S

  For that I’ll wait until our union officially commences. This frock has the ability to absorb a floating spirit. In the event one had a spirit one needed to assign to a certain body. Just imagine a night with the Pretty One wrapped around you like a sheath.

  The thought of Logan caressing me all night at prom makes me dizzy.

  My cell buzzes softly in my hand. You’re intrigued already I can tell by the color in your cheeks.

  I walk over to the mirror—startled to find my rosy flesh staring back at me.

  I want a guarantee. ~S The last thing I need is another bodily mix up.

  I can attest to the method myself. It’s practically foolproof.

  I twist my lips at the words practically and foolproof. In and of themselves they’re dangerous—together they read like a bad omen.

  “How’s this for prom?” Mom holds up a dress reminiscent to the one Chloe wore the night she disappeared.

  “I think I’ll dig something out of my closet, save you some money,” I offer.

  “Thank you!” She mouths. “Now pick out something nice to wear to your engagement party. I have a little surprise cooked up for you.” She winks before drifting off into a sea of pastel dresses.

  I look over at Brielle with her swollen belly, no promise of forever from Drake who has all but pulled the plug on any kind of future they might have had outside of genetically engineering a child together. It make
s me feel so amazingly lucky to have someone wanting to spend their forever with me—three someone’s.

  I squint out the window into the dull grey sky. I wonder what my celestial mother and her peeps at the destination station have up their sleeve as far as my love life is concerned?

  On second thought, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.

  Not that she’d tell me.

  Know it all bitch.

  Chapter 71

  Power Surge

  The sky over Paragon shifts and turns, changes every color the dark rainbow has to offer with the ease of a kaleidoscope. I study the veining that spiders through the clouds, the thick cords that snake through the sky like the roots of some infallible tree, a herculean Cedar of Lebanon erecting itself in a shadow that lurks up above.

  In my mind I make flowers out of the smaller less aggressive clouds, the textured dark coils become exotic blooms that take a foreign shape, they have no name, no color. This is a dark Eden hovering above, drawing us in, engulfing us in its wicked garden.

  Gage and I walk hand in hand to second period under the cloak of a threatening sky. The heavy underbellies of the precipitous brumes, full and fat, beg to rip apart and release their fury over the island.

  “Hope your mom has good weather tomorrow,” Gage looks up just as the sky fractures into tendrils of sizzling light.

  “You mean, hope we have good weather tomorrow,” I press a soft kiss into his lips. “You warn your parents?” I would ask about Logan slash Holden, but we both know Holden could care less—hell, he could care less if we reprised our performance from the Althorpe dinner and started rutting in the wedding cake. That might actually amuse Holden on some level—give him ideas.

  “They’ve been sufficiently warned.” His eyes widen.

  “What?” I tug at his hand and cease all movement. “Tell me. I’ll make sure we’re severely late to second if you don’t spill. What was that face? Your mom isn’t coming? I knew she hated me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.” He tries to control the wild grin waiting to explode onto his face.