Zack is … going stag.
Good for him.
The Halloween party looks much the same as it did last year. Only the first-years seem actually excited to be here. Everyone else is simply making an appearance and waiting for the real event to start. Amongst the cheesy disco balls and streamers, it’s easy to spot the Idols at their table near the stage. They all stand out like sore thumbs, sucking the life from the room.
Well, at least that’s how it feels to me.
As soon as we walk in there, all eyes are on us. The Bluebloods continue to glare as we scout out a table, grab some snacks, and sit down to chat. Their gazes in particular feel like they’re burning into the back of my head. Freaking Tristan, Creed, and Zayd. Ugh. The girls have come at me plenty since heading back to Burberry, but I have yet to see those assholes make a move.
That scares me.
“Harper’s nose is still swollen,” Miranda whispers, and I grin, just before she drags me out on the dance floor and makes me work for it. Jessie joins us a while later and steals my dance partner. Andrew, meanwhile, is off dancing with some cute first year guy, and I’m left to grind it alone for a while.
That is, until Zack shows up. I pause in my movements, my heart pounding so loud that I can hear it over the thumping bass of the music.
“Hi,” I say, and he smiles. It’s a nice smile, too, one of the truest emotions I’ve ever seen on his face. When the administrators asked me into the principal’s office after the game and asked if I knew who had sent the video, I played dumb. Outright lying isn’t my thing, but they in no way suspected me, so it was easy to dodge their interrogation. What they had asked me was if I felt unsafe with Zack Brooks attending Burberry Prep.
I’d had to answer that direct question with a direct response.
No, I don’t feel unsafe.
“Hi,” he says back, and the music switches to a slow song, one that makes me feel like that swarm of butterflies is taking off inside of me again. I’m all aflutter. “May I have this dance?” I suck my lower lip under my teeth, and decide that even if he is a bit goofy in that green wig, he’s still handsome. Closing my eyes, I remember dancing with Zayd at that party last year, how our bodies had seemed to meld together. Will I ever feel that way with a guy again?
I guess I could at least try to find out?
I let Zack take my hand in one of his while the other falls respectfully to my waist. The floor clears of dancers, leaving only a few couples left to sway with the music. I giggle at first, because Zack in makeup just isn’t the sexiest combination, but as we begin to move, I start to forget. All I can see is the deep brown of his eyes, and the way he looks at me.
“Because I’m in love with you, even though I know I’m not good enough for you.”
My cheeks flush. Did he really say that? Did he really mean that?
Our eyes are locked as we sway, spinning in slow circles with orange, black, and white spotlights tracing over our skin. As we turn, I can see Zayd in his stupidly tight Power Rangers uniform watching us. He’s dressed as the red ranger, which suits him. His mask is off currently, and I meet his gaze briefly over Zack’s shoulder before I turn back to that soft, brown gaze.
If I had to guess … I’d say Zayd looks jealous. But that can’t possibly be true. If he cared at all about me, he wouldn’t have done what he did. At any time, it would’ve only taken one of the guys to tell me the truth about what was happening, to step in and make things right. Just one of them. Even if it were an unbreakable Infinity Club bet, could they have looked anymore excited about what they were doing? And how about an apology?
No, there’s no way Zayd is jealous. No way.
Zack and I continue to dance, and shortly after, we’re joined by Tristan and Harper. Tristan’s all done up like the Mad Hatter, complete with top hat and everything. He holds Harper possessively by the waist, and dances far too close to us. Every time we turn, I see them, her dressed up like Ariana Grande, and him with his blade gray gaze locked on her face.
There’s a little pang in my chest that I can’t identify. But what I do notice is that when Zack spins me, and the rose necklace flutters, Tristan sees it. For a microsecond, his eyes widen, but he’s brilliant at hiding it. Just brilliant. The next time we make eye contact, he’s scowling at me.
Creed has disappeared, dressed once again like a pirate (same as last year) with an unbuttoned red blouse, a plastic sword, and breeches so tight that there’s little left to the imagination. I’m guessing that’s why he was asking Miranda to buy him something yesterday: he didn’t expect to lose his off-campus privileges and ended up without a costume. Sucker. He doesn’t come back for the next several songs and by then, I’ve already forgotten about him. Him, and Tristan, and Zayd.
For whatever reason, Zack has that effect on me. I grin as he dips me, laugh as he lifts me back up, and squeal as he hoists me into his arms and spins us both around in circles.
When we leave for the cemetery portion of the party, I’m grinning ear to ear. I even let him hold my hand as we take off our heels and run barefoot through the grass and under the shadowy limbs of trees. It’s the perfect, foggy Halloween night, too.
My heart is racing as we stumble onto the party with our hands still linked.
I expect trouble, but there’s no resistance when we show up. For the most part, everyone ignores us.
For the most part.
“Careful if you’re drinking, the tattling teetotaler’s here,” someone mumbles, but really, should those in glass houses throw stones? This all started because Creed and his cronies reported me for drinking last year. Bunch of bullshit.
Zack grabs a beer, so does Miranda. Andrew, Jessie, and I stick with sodas, heading onto the dock to dangle our feet in the icy water for a while before we realize that the majority of the students have disappeared into the actual graveyard.
“Should we check it out?” I ask, this little niggle of suspicion working its way up from my stomach and into my chest. My heart pounds as I check my phone, pulling up the footage from the security cameras. There’s nothing there, but a quick rewind shows … My mouth drops open as both Zack and Miranda lean over to peer at the screen.
It’s Creed, rifling through my stuff, looking for my journal, finding my journal.
“Oh my god,” Miranda whimpers, slapping her hand over her mouth. “Creed, you fucking idiot.”
I push up from the dock, leaving my heels behind, and take off for the graveyard with the others following along behind me. Déjà vu hits me hard and fast as I come around the corner and find Creed lounging on top of one of the mausoleums with a horde of ghouls and ghosts surrounding him. Devils and demons, Miranda calls the Idols and their Inner Circle. She is spot freaking on.
Just like last year, I stand there with my heart pounding as Creed clears his throat, lifts up a bobby pin and picks my look. Just like last year, he’s the perfect picture of beauty and cruelty as he flips through the pages and stops on one at random. Just like last year, he opens his mouth to read my personal thoughts and feelings to an uncaring audience.
Unlike last year … I’m ready for it.
“Give me the word, and I’ll kick his ass,” Zack snarls, reaching up to take off his dangly earrings. It’s pretty funny actually, but I don’t want Creed Cabot to know that I’ve been onto him and his asshole friends all along. I put a hand against Zack’s chest to hold him back.
Creed smiles, this easy, satisfied expression, like a cat who’s just killed a mouse. What he doesn’t know is that the mouse was already poisoned and now he’s infected, too. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.
“Dear Journal,” Creed begins, his beautiful voice dripping ice. The crowd titters already, excited at the thought of bloodshed. Becky, Harper, and Ileana are lounging on tombstones in their short-shorts and miniskirts, grinning and laughing. Tristan and Zayd each sit on a different headstone nearby. “Today was hard. Too hard. When I walked into math class and saw Jalen and Ebony sitting together, it all came back to me.” Creed pauses for a minute, looking up to scan his audience. His gaze comes to rest on me, and I swear, I almost just throw my head back and laugh. When he returns his attention back to the page, I stifle my chuckle with my hand and Zack gives me the strangest look.
“Creed, don’t,” Miranda pleads, stepping forward and pulling off her pink wig. She moves between our little group and the gathered horde of Bluebloods and Plebs. Several of the boys step up to block her, but keep their hands well off of her person. There’s not a person at Burberry Prep who doesn’t know what Creed did to Craig Taittinger. “You’re better than this: prove it to me.”
Her twin pauses for a moment, looking up again. There’s a war going on in his eyes, but the battle’s over before it’s even begun. Tristan turns around and levels him with a deadly stare.
“Keep reading.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” Creed snaps, and this strange bird of hope takes flight inside of me. An Emily Dickinson poem comes to mind: “Hope” is the thing with feathers. If Creed actually defies Tristan, if he puts aside the journal, then …
“So you take orders from your sister then? Or is it Charity that’s got your panties in a wad?” Tristan turns fully to face Creed, and they have a stare down that reminds me of two alley cats I once saw outside the Train Car, locked in a fierce battle of wills. Unfortunately, Creed scowls and breaks the stare, opening the journal back up.
“This should be good,” Harper crows, and I feel this satisfied little twitch in my hand when I think about punching her. I shouldn’t have resorted to violence, but my dad … My daddy … No. I can’t think about that right now. Charlie is having a bunch of tests done this week, and I’ll know more by the time fall break rolls around. This time, I am most definitely not staying at school to play poker with the Idols.
“It all came back to me,” Creed repeats, carrying on without a hitch in his voice, “that night when Tristan triumphantly announced that he was going on a date with Ebony.” Creed pauses for a moment, crinkling up his face. I can see Tristan’s shoulders stiffening from here. Jalen Donner is no longer looking at me and laughing. Neither is Ebony. Instead, she’s gaping at Creed while Jalen turns his attention to Tristan.