Authors: Jocelyn Davies
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Love & Romance, #Fantasy & Magic, #Social Issues, #Adolescence
A Beautiful Dark
A Beautiful Dark
Jocelyn Davies
Dedication
For my grandparents Sandra and Mark Messler, who have been saving a place for my first novel on their coffee table since I was old enough to spell
Contents
It happened at night. I woke to the sound of the wind blowing my curtains back. I opened my eyes but saw nothing. Not even moonlight. Not even shadows.
And in the morning, the window was closed. A feather rested on the floor beneath it, the only reminder that I’d woken up in the night at all. In the shadows, I couldn’t tell if it was light—or dark.
T
he air had a brutal edge to it as I stood outside of Love the Bean, the local free-trade coffee shop. Snow from a recent storm had frozen over in the subsequent days’ chill, leaving the roads and the sidewalks in town slick and hazardous. I almost slipped four different times as I walked from my car to the front door. The wind sliced at my neck where it was exposed beneath my hat, and I scanned up and down the street for signs of life.
Welcome to Saturday night in River Springs, Colorado: downtown was dead. Eden’s Gate Market, Big Mouth’s Diner, Into the Woods Outdoor Co.: most of the storefronts were dark.
Cassie and Dan were waiting for me inside the coffee shop. Every year I made them promise not to throw me a party, and every year they didn’t listen. It had become a tradition. So tonight, I’d planned everything. We were starting with celebratory cupcakes and lattes, courtesy of our friend Ian, who worked at the Bean and was always giving us free stuff; then when Ian ended his shift the four of us were going to see the midnight show of
Storm Enemy
at the Clark Street Cineplex, because I loved, loved,
loved
terrible disaster movies.
Struggling not to lose my balance on the icy sidewalk, I pushed through the front door.
At first, I thought I’d made a mistake. Except for the recent addition of some fairy-tale-caliber twinkle lights, the room was mostly dark, and completely empty.
“Hello?” I whispered. The door closed behind me with a light jangle of bells. I could hear a quiet, insistent sound. A soft
shhhh
ing.
“Surprise!” Cassie jumped out at me from behind a purple velvet armchair.
“Come
on
,” I groaned dramatically, finding it difficult to act surprised when I really wasn’t. I should have known she’d ignore my plan in favor of hers.
On cue, probably half of the junior class exploded out from behind various other velvet armchairs and overstuffed couches and from behind the coffee bar. I could see the rest of the girls from the ski team, Cassie’s friends from her band, and Dan’s track buddies. Northwood High School was small enough that most of the different groups got along, and apparently my birthday was enough of a reason for them to converge.
“Happy birthday!” everyone yelled.
“Cassie!” I hit her with my hat. “You promised!”
She held up her hands in surrender. “Sorry. You know I never do what you tell me to do.” She laughed and shook her head. “You never learn.”
Cassie grabbed my arm and maneuvered me through the crowd toward a circle of couches in the back. I could see Dan waiting for us with a mischievous smile and a glittering box.
“Okay, wait, I know you also said no presents,” Cassie shouted above the music as we worked our way through the throng, “but I have no self-control.”
“You better not have spent—”
“Of course not. Don’t worry, it’s total crap.”
When we got to the table, I started to say “I hate you,” but Dan interrupted me by nearly toppling me over in a bear hug. “Aw, don’t be mad! Are you mad? Do you still love us? Because if not, my plan to finally have Cassie all to myself worked.” He punched Cassie playfully on her arm. She rubbed the spot, and I could see the muscles in her cheeks twitch as if she was trying not to smile.
“Please, do you
see
the apocalypse? Because I’d give up on that happening until you do.” She reached down to pick up a steaming mug. “And even then, it’s negotiable.”
“I’m holding out for a hot zombie,” I added.
“Yeah, or, like, the hot scientist who finds the cure.”
“Or the hot government agent who’s assigned to protect you from the international terrorist who plans to wipe out the nation with the world’s first zombie virus weapon of mass destruction.”
“Because you carry the zombie virus antidote in your blood.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s a recessive trait.”
“What movie are we talking about?” Dan asked.
“Anyway, Skye,” Cassie said, ignoring Dan’s question and holding the mug out ceremoniously, “this is for you.” She opened her cardigan, and a flash of metallic flask glinted at me. “Seventeen is a big year.”
“It’d be bigger if the apocalypse was coming,” Dan mumbled.
“Did you two start drinking before I got here?” I asked teasingly.
Cassie was decked out for the occasion in a floral minidress under her favorite yellow vintage cardigan, her red hair piled loosely on top of her head. She wore thick, sweatery tights and snow boots that were ubiquitous in Colorado during the winter. Dan was in his navy blue hoodie, the one he never took off. His straight brown hair flopped in his eyes, and he pushed it back. I just couldn’t stay mad at them. They’d been my best friends since kindergarten, and we were still as tight a unit as ever.
“Okay, I admit it,” I said. “You guys are amazing. This place looks incredible.”
“Aw, she likes it!” Dan nudged Cassie. “Don’t get all mushy on us now, Skye.”
“It
better
look effing incredible.” Cassie sighed. “It took me like two hours to finish making the paper icicles and untangle those little twinkle lights.”
“You are a craft goddess,” I assured her.
“Speaking of crafty,” Dan said, pointing to the present on the couch behind him, “you probably don’t want to hear this”—his voice dropped to a stage whisper—“but we
got you something
.” He mock-ducked, as if I was going to hit him.
“Hilarious,” I said. “Did you practice that?”
The present was wrapped in wrinkled silver tinfoil with gold glitter glue looping out the words
Happy Birthday, Skye
.
“The present was totally
my
idea,” Cassie said.
“But
I
was in charge of wrapping it,” Dan said, jumping in.
“As if she couldn’t tell.” Cassie rolled her eyes at me. “But don’t open it now; it might be too much for your surprise-averse heart. Do us all a favor and open it later when we don’t have to painfully wait for your reaction. Okay?”
“Okay.” I laughed. “Plus, I don’t want to ruin this gorgeous wrapping job.”
“It’s harder than it looks,” Dan insisted.
“I’d like to propose a toast. I know I don’t usually like surprises, but . . .” They looked at me expectantly. “This one is pretty cool. Thanks.”
Cassie lifted her mug. “We like doing this stuff. It makes us feel all warm and fuzzy. And we know birthdays are hard for you.” I gave her a pointed look, which she pretended not to notice.
“To always having each other’s backs.” Dan raised his own mug.
“To seventeen,” Cassie added. “The year it all falls into place.”
Our mugs clinked together, echoing through the noisy coffeehouse as if it were only the three of us.
The twinkle lights cast a fuzzy glow over everything, and the music blasted full-volume out of the coffee shop speakers. More than one person had Cassie’s idea to stash a flask on them. Maggie Meltzer, the captain of the girls’ ski team, fed me shots of Jägermeister from her pink aluminum water bottle as the rest of the team started a dance party around us. Someone else pushed one of Dan’s track friends up against me and then we were dancing, too. From somewhere I couldn’t quite pinpoint, I heard Cassie’s voice float up: “For someone who isn’t crazy about surprises, she’s really taken to this one.”
Eventually I started to feel a little dizzy, like when you swim too far from shore and suddenly realize that you can’t touch the bottom anymore. Pausing for breath, I tipsily made my way back to our couches, using my arms to propel myself off the furniture, swimming against the tide. Cassie was sitting next to Dan, their heads tilted toward each other, their knees almost touching as they talked.
“Hey, Skye!” I turned around to see Ian smiling and wielding a tray of multicolored cupcakes. Cassie and I liked to call him Dan’s best “XY” friend. He had clean-cut sandy hair and a treasure map of freckles scattered across his face. Seeing Ian always made me happy. Not as happy as I often felt he wanted me to be, but still.
“See, we can stick to at least one part of the original plan.” Ian offered me first choice. “On the house.”
“How are you not already fired?” I asked as I picked out a pink-frosted vanilla cupcake with rainbow sprinkles.
“This place would fall apart without me. I’m the sexy handyman.”
I pushed him lightly. “Shut up.”
“Really.” He nudged his shoulder against mine. “Anyway, I’d get fired for you.” He set the tray on the low table in front of the couch where Cassie and Dan sat. Cassie jumped up immediately. “Oooh, sugar,” she crowed, grabbing a chocolate cupcake with yellow frosting.
Ian dropped down beside me. “I’ve got a fifteen-minute break,” he said. “So, were you surprised?”
“You mean even though you all went against my
explicit
instructions to not surprise me? Just like you did last year?”
“And every year?” He picked up a chocolate cupcake and began peeling off the wrapper, sucking some frosting off his thumb.
“Yeah. Believe it or not, I was.”
Ian nodded to himself, pleased. “So what do you think of the band?” he asked.
I glanced back to the small stage in the corner where three guys were playing indie pop. “Not bad.”
“Not as good as The Somnambulists,” Cassie said quickly.
“Is that what we’re calling your band now?” Dan said, amused.
“But your band wasn’t available tonight,” Ian reminded her. “You had a surprise party to make happen.”