* * *
Back
at my old school, the teachers always decorated for Halloween. Orange plastic
pumpkins were set in the windows, waiting to be filled with Tootsie Rolls and
Butterfingers, and construction paper witches flew across every wall. Last
year, the principal hung candy-corn lights around her office door, which also
had a sign that said, in green shaky letters,
Boo
! I always thought it
was cheesy and fake, and it never occurred to me that I might someday miss it.
Nobody hung decorations at Evernight.
"Maybe they think the gargoyles are scary enough," Raquel suggested
over our lunch in her dorm room.
I remembered the one outside my bedroom window and tried to imagine him draped
in candy-corn lights. "Yeah, I see what you mean. If your school actually
is a dank, scary dungeon from hell, Halloween decorations are sort of beside
the point."
"Too bad we don't run a haunted house. You know, for little kids from
Riverton? We could dress up, make it really scary. Play devils and demons for a
weekend. Some of these jerks wouldn't have to act that much. We could raise
money for the school."
"I don't think Evernight Academy needs more money."
"Good point," she admitted. "But we could raise money for
charity, maybe. Like a help hotline or suicide prevention or something. I don't
think many of these people care about charity, but they'd probably do it just
for their college applications. None of these rich bitches even talk about
college, probably because they're all legacies at Harvard or Yale or something,
but still, they've got to apply. So they might go for the idea, right?"
The images flickered in my mind: cobwebs on the staircases, students laughing
maniacally and the sound echoing throughout the great hall, and innocent little
kids, wide-eyed with terror as Courtney or Vidette waved long black fingernails
above their heads. "We're too late, though—Halloween's only two weeks
away. Maybe next year."
"If I come back here next year, please shoot me." Raquel groaned,
flopping backward onto her bed. "My parents say I should stick it out,
because I got a scholarship to come here and otherwise it's just my old public
school, with the metal detectors and no honors program. But I hate this. I hate
it."
My stomach rumbled. The tuna salad and crackers Raquel and I had shared wasn't
nearly enough to satisfy my hunger; I'd need to eat again in my room. I didn't
want her to realize that, though. "It's got to get better."
"Do you really believe that?"
"No." We both looked at each other, expressions bleak, and then burst
out laughing.
As our laughter died down, I realized that I could hear shouting—not close by
but farther down the hall. Raquel lived not far from the central archway that
connected the girls' dorms to the classroom areas; to me, it sounded like the
noise was coming from there. "Hey, do you hear—"
"Yeah." Raquel pushed herself up on her elbows, listening. "I
think it's a fight."
"A fight?"
"Trust somebody who used to go to the meanest public school in Boston. I know
a fight when I hear one."
"Come on." I grabbed my book bag and started out the door, but Raquel
grabbed at the sleeve of my sweater.
"What are you doing? We don't want to get in the middle of anything."
Her eyes were wide. "Don't ask for trouble."
She made sense, but I couldn't listen. If there was a fight, I had to make
sure—absolutely sure—that Lucas wasn't mixed up in it. "Stay here if you
want. I'm going."
Raquel let me leave.
I hurried toward the sounds of yelling and even screaming. That was Courtney's
voice, savage with glee, shouting, "Take him out!"
"Guys, yo, guys!" Those were Vic's words echoing in the corridor.
"Knock it off!"
Heart sinking, I turned the corner just in time to see Erich punch Lucas in the
face.
Lucas went sprawling backward, falling on his ass in front of the whole school.
The Evernight types started laughing, and Courtney even applauded. Lucas's lips
were smeared with blood, stark against his pale skin. When he realized that he
was looking up at me, he shut his eyes tightly. Maybe the embarrassment hurt
more than the blow.
"Don't insult me again," Erich commanded. He held up his hands,
studying them as if satisfied with his handiwork. His knuckles were smeared
with Lucas's dark blood. "Or next time, I'll shut you up
permanently."
Lucas sat up, staring at Erich intently. A weird silence fell over the crowd,
as if everything had become a lot more serious—as if the fight weren't over but
had only begun. It wasn't dread I sensed, though; it was anticipation.
Eagerness. The desire for punishment. "Next time this is going to turn out
a whole lot different."
"Yeah, I guess so," Erich jeered. "Next time, it's
really
going to hurt." He stalked away, the conquering hero in the eyes of
Courtney and the others who followed him. Everyone else sort of hurried away
before any teachers could arrive. Only Vic and I stayed.
Vic knelt by Lucas's side. "You look like crap, by the way."
"Thanks for breaking it to me gently." Lucas took a deep breath, then
groaned. Vic helped steady him and offered a wadded-up tissue for the blood
trickling from Lucas's nose.
I didn't know what to say. All I could think was how terrible Lucas looked.
Erich had clearly gotten the better of him. Ever since the incident in the
pizza parlor, I'd been thinking of Lucas as a much rougher guy, somebody who
got into fights all the time for the hell of it. Well, now he'd just gotten
into another fight. Did that prove I'd been correct? Or did the fact that he'd
gotten the stuffing knocked out of him prove that Lucas wasn't such a tough guy
after all?
Finally I asked, "Are you all right?"
"Sure, fine." Lucas didn't look up. "You only need one or two
molars, really. The rest are spares."
"You lost teeth?" Vic blanched.
"One of them is kind of loose, but I think it's sticking around."
Lucas paused, then said to me, "I told you it would be like this
eventually."
He had told me that, someday, he would be a pariah at Evernight. Sure enough,
the day had arrived. But why was he pretending that he had left me alone for my
own good? I was the one who had walked away from him.
"As long as you're okay," I said. I left him again, while he was
still sprawled on the floor. Maybe this time he would notice which one of us
was doing the walking.
Confusion and sadness settled over me, making my shoulders sag and my throat
tighten. I bit my lip, hard enough for me to taste blood. It braced me up, but
I still couldn't go back to Raquel's dorm room; I wasn't ready to deal with her
questions. So I headed up to the library to hide out for the next half hour or
so until political science. Surely I could find something to read, maybe some
books on astronomy or even just a fashion magazine. If I hid behind a book for
a while, maybe I'd feel better.
As I walked toward the door, it swung open to reveal Balthazar. He cast a comic
glance down the hallway. "Is the coast clear?"
"What?"
"I assumed you were hiding out from the battle royale between Lucas and
Erich."
"The battle's over." I sighed. "Erich won."
"Sorry to hear that."
"You are? I thought most kids here didn't like Lucas."
"He's definitely a troublemaker," Balthazar said. "But so is
Erich, and Erich's got other people here on his side. I guess I have a soft
spot for the underdog in any fight."
I leaned against the wall. Already I felt exhausted, as if it were midnight
instead of early afternoon. "Sometimes it feels so tense here that I'm
surprised the whole place doesn't shatter like glass."
"So relax. Don't study for a while," Balthazar coaxed.
"I'm not here to study. I'm just going to hang out, I guess."
"Hang out—in the library. Okay. You know what?" He leaned slightly
closer to me. "You need to get out more."
I was too miserable to laugh, but I did smile. "That's an
understatement."
"Then let me make a suggestion." Balthazar hesitated just long enough
to let me understand what he was about to do, then folded his hand around mine.
"Come with me to the Autumn Ball."
Despite all Patrice's hints and jokes, I hadn't ever dreamed that Balthazar would
ask me. He was the handsomest guy in the school, and he could've invited
anyone. Even though we got along and were friends—and even though I wasn't
immune to his considerable charm—I'd never envisioned this moment.
And I'd never thought that my first impulse would be to tell him no.
That was stupid, though. The only reason I wanted to refuse Balthazar's
invitation was because I was still hoping for someone else to ask me, and that
someone wasn't ever going to ask, because I'd pushed him away for good.
Balthazar looked down at me tenderly, his brown eyes hopeful. I could only say,
"I'd love to."
"Great." That smile of his deepened the dimple in his chin.
"We'll have fun."
"Thanks for asking me."
He shook his head, as if disbelieving. "I'm the lucky one here. Trust me
on that."
I smiled up at him, because that was one of the nicest things anybody had ever
said to me. Totally not true, given that the most popular guy in school was
taking the class geek to the big dance—we all know who the lucky one is in that
scenario—but really nice.
My smile was a lie, though. I hated myself for looking up into Balthazar's
handsome face and wishing that he was Lucas, but I did.
The first packages arrived at halloween's mail call. Long
cardboard boxes, some of them bearing the elegantly scripted labels of
expensive retailers, a few from addresses in New York and Paris. Patrice's came
from Milan.
"Lilac." Tissue paper rustled as she lifted her gown for the Autumn
Ball. Patrice held the pale silk up to her body, supposedly letting me see what
it would look like on but really almost hugging it. "Don't you think it's
a lovely color? I know it's not in vogue right now, but I adore it."
"It's going to look wonderful on you." Already I could tell that the
shade would flatter Patrice's complexion. "You must have gone to a hundred
big parties like this."
Patrice pretended to be modest. "Oh, they all blur together after a while.
Will this be your first dance?"
"We had a couple at my old school," I said, not mentioning that these
were held in the school gym, with music provided by the A/V geek who mostly
played his extremely lame mashups. Patrice wouldn't understand that at all,
much less the fact that I spent each one of those dances standing awkwardly
against the wall or hiding in the girls' bathroom.
"Well, you're in for a treat. They don't give balls like this any longer.
It's magic, Bianca, it really is." Her face lit up with anticipation, and
I wished I could share her excitement.
* * *
The
two weeks between Balthazar's invitation and the ball itself were confusing for
me, because my emotions kept tugging me in a thousand different directions at
once. I could look at dresses in a catalog with my mother, happily picking out
favorites, and within the next hour be so lonely for Lucas that it felt like I could
hardly breathe. Balthazar smiled at me to give me strength during one of Mrs.
Bethany's in-class grillings, and I thought about what a great guy he was. Then
I drowned in waves of guilt, because I felt like I was leading Balthazar on. It
wasn't like he had dropped to his knees and promised to love me forever, but I knew
he wanted me to feel more for him than I did.
At night, I lay in bed and imagined Balthazar kissing me or holding my face in
his hands. The images were meaningless; I might as well have been remembering a
scene from a movie. Then, as I became sleepier and my thoughts wandered, my
fantasies changed. The dark eyes gazing at me became forest green, and it was
Lucas with me, his mouth on mine. I'd never been kissed, but as I lay beneath
my blanket, twisting restlessly, I could imagine it so clearly. My body seemed
to know more than I did. My heart raced, and my cheeks flushed with heat, and
sometimes I hardly slept at all. The fantasies of Lucas were better than any
dreams.
I told myself that I wouldn't keep going on like this. I was going to the
Autumn Ball with the handsomest guy in the whole school. It was the one really
wonderful thing that had happened to me so far at Evernight Academy, and I wanted
to enjoy it. No matter how many times I repeated that in my mind, though, I never
believed the dance could really make me happy.
That changed when I put on my dress the night of the dance.
"I took it in a little at the waist." Mom wore a tape measure around
her neck and a few straight pins stuck into the cuffs of her shirt. She knew
how to sew—really sew, any kind of clothing you can think of—and had altered
the catalog-bought dress for me. (She wouldn't alter my uniforms for me,
though, explaining that she only had so much time in the day. This turned into
a suggestion that I learn how to sew myself, but no way. Mom didn't believe in
sewing machines, and I couldn't see spending my free Sunday afternoons learning
how to use a thimble.) "I lowered the neckline some, too."
"You want me to flash the guys?" We both laughed. It was kind of
ridiculous for me to act modest while I was standing in front of her in panties
and a strapless bra. "This plus more makeup than I've ever worn
before—Dad's not going to be happy with you."
"I think your father will manage to endure, especially once he sees how
gorgeous you're going to look."
I stepped into the midnight-blue dress, which rustled softly as Mom helped me
pull it up. She zipped up the side, and at first I thought she'd taken it in
too much—but then she hooked the clasp, and I realized that I could still
breathe. The bodice was molded perfectly to me, until it melted into the full
skirt. "Wow," I whispered, spreading the soft, filmy fabric with my
hands, marveling at how good it felt to touch. "I want to see."
Before I could move to the mirror, my mother stopped me. "Wait. Not until
I do your hair."
"I just want to look at the dress! Not my hair."
"Trust me. You'll be so happy if you wait to get the full effect."
She beamed. "Besides, I'm really enjoying this."
I couldn't exactly say no to the woman who had spent the last week altering my
dress. So I sat on the edge of the bed and let her start brushing and braiding.
"Balthazar's a terrific guy," she said. "Seems that way to me,
at least."
"Yeah. Definitely."
"Hmm. That sounded less than enthusiastic."
"It isn't. At least, I don't mean it to be." My protests sounded
weak, even to me. "I just don't know him very well yet. That's all."
"You study together all the time. I'd say you know him well enough for a
first date." Mom's deft fingers wove a slender braid at my temple.
"Is this about Lucas, maybe? Whatever happened with you two?"
He tried to turn me against you and then started beating up on construction
workers in town, Mom. So naturally he's the one I want to be with. Maybe you
and Dad would like to go chase Lucas with flaming torches now?
"Nothing really. We're not right for each other. That's all."
"You still care about him, though." She spoke so gently, and I wished
I could just turn around and hug her. "If it helps any, you and Balthazar
obviously have more in common. He's someone you could be serious about. But I'm
getting ahead of myself. You're sixteen, and you don't need to think about
being serious. You need to have fun at this dance."
"I will. Just wearing this dress is sort of amazing."
"It needs something else." Mom stood in front of me, studying her
handiwork with her hands on her hips. Then her face lit up. "Eureka!"
"Mom, what are you doing?" To my dismay, my mother was walking over
to my telescope, scissors in hand, and snipping off the ends of my strings of
paper origami stars. "Mom! I love those!"
"We'll fix them later." She held two small strands now, the ones with
only the tiniest stars on the end. Their silvery paint sparkled as she put them
in my hands. "Hang onto those for a second, will you?"
"You're nuts," I said, the moment I realized what she was doing.
"Tell me that again after you see it." After Mom slid the last bobby
pin in place, she wheeled me around to face the mirror. "Look."
At first I couldn't believe that the girl in the reflection was me. The
midnight-blue dress made my pale skin look as creamy and perfect as silk. My
makeup wasn't all that different from what I usually wore, but my mother's
experienced hands had shaded everything more softly. My dark-red hair was
pulled back from my forehead in several small braids of varying widths, then
flowed down my neck—the way women might have worn their hair in the Middle
Ages. Instead of a wreath of flowers like they wore in old pictures, I wore
silver stars in my hair, small enough to look like jeweled clips. They glinted
as I turned my head from side to side, studying myself from every angle.
"Oh, Mom. How did you do this?"
Tears were welling in my mother's eyes. She was such a sap, in the best way.
"I had a beautiful daughter, that's how."
She always told me I was pretty, but this was the first time I'd ever thought
Mom might be telling the truth. I wasn't some magazine-cover knockout like
Courtney or Patrice—but this was beauty, too.
When we went into the living room, my father looked about as shocked as I felt.
He and Mom hugged each other, and she whispered, "We did good, huh?"
"We definitely did."
They kissed each other like I wasn't there. I cleared my throat. "Uh,
guys? I thought teenagers were the ones who were supposed to make out on prom
night."
"Sorry, honey." Dad put one hand on my shoulder; his hand felt cool
to me, as if I were glowing with warmth. "You're absolutely stunning. I hope
Balthazar knows what a lucky guy he is."
"He'd better," I said, and they laughed.
I could tell that Mom and Dad wanted to go downstairs with me, but to my
relief, they didn't. That would have been taking chaperoning a little too far.
Besides, I liked having a few moments to myself as I went, the skirt of my
dress lifted in one hand and fluttering as I made my way down the steps. It
gave me a chance to convince myself that all of this was real and not some
dream.
Below me I could hear laughter and talk and soft strains of music; the dance
had already begun, and I was running late. With luck, Patrice would be right
about keeping guys waiting.
The second I reached the bottom of the stone steps and walked into the
candlelit great hall, Balthazar turned, as if he'd somehow sensed I was coming.
Just one glance at his eyes, at the way he was staring at me, made me realize
Patrice had definitely been right. "Bianca," he said, stepping
closer. "You look amazing."
"So do you." Balthazar was wearing a tuxedo, classic, the way Cary
Grant dressed back in the 1940s. As handsome as he was, though, I couldn't help
glimpsing the great hall behind him and sighing, "Oh, wow."
The hall was hung with bowers of ivy and illuminated with tall white candles
that had been set in front of old, hand-hammered plates of brass, so that they
reflected even more light. On a small stand in the corner sat the band, not a
bunch of rock'n'rollers in blue jeans and T-shirts but classical musicians in
tuxes even more formal than Balthazar's, playing a waltz. Dozens of couples
danced, in a perfect pattern, like a scene from a picture two centuries old. A
few of the new students stood against the wall, guys in suits meant to be campy
or cool, girls in short dresses with sequins; they all seemed to be aware that
they'd misjudged the occasion.
"I just realized I should have asked you this before—Can you waltz?"
Balthazar offered me his arm.
I took it as I said, "Yes. Well, mostly. My parents taught me all the old
dances, but I've never done them with anyone else. Or anyplace but at
home."
"First time for everything." He led me further into the great hall,
so that the candlelight shone more brightly all around us. "Let's
begin."
Balthazar swung us into the dance as if he'd rehearsed it; he knew exactly
where we belonged and exactly how to move. Any doubts I had about my waltzing
ability vanished immediately. I remembered the steps well enough, and Balthazar
was a wonderful lead, his broad hand against the small of my back guiding me
expertly. Nearby I saw Patrice smile at me approvingly, before she was whisked
away in the next move of the dance.
After that, the dance stretched into one long, happy blur. Balthazar never got
tired of dancing, and neither did I. Energy flowed through me like electricity,
and I felt as if I could've danced for days without slowing down. Patrice's
smiles and Courtney's disbelieving stare told me that I looked beautiful, and
more than that—I felt beautiful.
I'd never realized just how wonderful that kind of dancing was before. Not only
did I know the steps but everyone else did also. Each couple was a part of the
dance, everyone moving in time, all the women extending their arms at just the
right angle, just the right time. Our long, full skirts all twirled with us,
creating colorful swirling rows ahead of the guys' black shoes, everyone's
steps precisely on the beat. It wasn't confining—it was liberating, the freedom
from confusion or doubt. Every move flowed from the one before it. Maybe this
was what it was like to dance in the ballet. We were all moving together to
create something beautiful, even magical.
For the first time since I'd arrived at Evernight Academy, I knew exactly what
to do. I knew how to move, how to smile. I felt comfortable with Balthazar and
basked in the warmth of his admiration. I fit in.
I'd never seen how I could be a part of the world of Evernight, but the path
stretched before me then, broad and deep and welcoming—
"If that crew had gotten their claws into you—a sweet girl like you—I
didn't want to have to watch."
Lucas's voice echoed in my mind, so clear that he might as well have whispered
into my ear. I stumbled, and the rhythm of the dance was lost to me in an
instant. Balthazar quickly steered me off the dance floor with his arm across
my shoulders. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I lied. "I just—it's so warm. I think I'm getting
overheated."
"Let's get some fresh air."
As Balthazar guided me through the dancers, I realized what I'd nearly done. I had
been proud to be a part of Evernight—a place where the strong preyed upon the
weak, where the beautiful looked down on the ordinary and where snobbery was
more important than friendliness. Just because they'd stopped picking on me for
one night, I was ready to forget what bastards most of them were.
Only remembering Lucas had brought me to my senses.
We stepped out onto the grounds. No chaperones lurked outside. Apparently Mrs.
Bethany and the other teachers expected the late-fall chill to keep most
students indoors, and when the cold air hit my bare shoulders and back, I could
see why. Before I could start shivering, Balthazar took off his tuxedo jacket
and wrapped it around my shoulders. "Better?"
"Yeah. I just need a second."
He leaned closer, clearly concerned. Balthazar was such a gentleman, such a
good and decent person. I wished he'd asked someone else to the dance, a girl
who would appreciate him. He said only, "Let's walk for a while."
"Walk?"
"Unless you'd prefer to return to the dance—"
"No!" If I went back in there, maybe the spell would fall over me
again and cloud my mind. I needed my head clear until I could understand what
I'd nearly done. "I mean, no, not yet. Let's go."
The stars were brilliant overhead. It was a cloudless night, perfect for
stargazing. I wished I could retreat back to the room at the top of the turret
and look through my telescope at stars far away instead of all the confusion
that surrounded me here. Behind us, the music and laughter of the dance slowly
faded as we walked deeper into the woods.
At last, Balthazar said, "Okay, who is he?"
"Who?"
"The guy you're crazy about." Balthazar's smile was sad.
"What?" I was so embarrassed, both for my sake and his, that I tried
to bluff my way out of it. "I'm not seeing anybody else."
"Give me some credit, Bianca. I've had enough experience to tell when a
woman is thinking about another man."
"I'm sorry," I whispered, abashed. "I didn't mean to hurt
you."
"I can take it." He put both his hands on my shoulders. "We're
friends, right? That means I want you to be happy. I'd rather you were happy
with me—"
"Balthazar—"
"—but I know it's not always that simple."
I shook my head. "No. It's not. Because you're the most amazing guy, and
you ought to be the one I'm thinking about."
"There's no 'ought to' when it comes to love. Trust me on this." His
tuxedo shirt was brilliant white in the moonlight. Somehow Balthazar had never
looked as handsome as he did when he was letting me go. "Is it that guy
Vic? I see you talking to him sometimes."
"Vic?" I had to laugh. "No. He's great, but we're just
friends."