Burn (14 page)

I feel rather catatonic the rest of the afternoon. After school,
Gage
tries to cheer me up by taking me shopping for Halloween costumes. He seems to have completely accepted the fact I was taken to
Ezrina’s
lair as though it were something natural—expected.

“Look, I can tell you’re pretty shaken up.” He brushes the hair from my face. “Stay away from Dudley. The guy is bad news.”

Paragon glows a luminescent orange, as a magnificent sunset tries to penetrate the puff of fog lying over us thick as wool. It gives the impression that inside this mist, the island is on fire—a strange fire that envelopes you, forgets to let you burn.

Gage helps me out of his mother’s two-seat convertible. It feels weird driving so low to the ground after mounting over the road for weeks in his tank of a truck.

“So is it totaled?” I feel bad for not asking before.

“Nope. Needs bodywork and some windows. I might get rid of it, though.”

“I feel terrible,” I say, walking past him as he holds a door laden with fake spider webs open for me.

It’s dark in the store. Odd noises emit from the speakers in the form of creaking doors, wild cackles that more than remotely sound like Michelle, and a woman expertly screaming. A strobe light goes off in spasms to our left as a layer of artificial fog drifts around our feet. Gage points up as an entire row of corpses greets us hanging from the ceiling. Probably employees. I’d consider hanging myself if I had to be subjected to this for more than five minutes—seems reasonable.

“You sure you want to do this?” I ask, as Gage speeds us down aisle after aisle.

“I’m sure.” He plucks a vampire costume off the rack and holds it up against himself. “I’ll let you dress me,” He examines the cape at arms length. “Maybe just this once.”

“I’m a sucker for a hot vampire. Thank you for being so nice.” I circle my arms around his waist. “That’s exactly why I love you.” I bite down on my bottom lip hard. Crap! I may have accidentally told Gage that I love him while sandwiched between a witch and a scarecrow.

“You love me?” His lips curl as his dimples depress themselves an inch on either side.

Of course I love Gage in the loose sense of the word, but I’m not ready to
love
, love Gage, am I?
 
 

“I do.” My lips feel as though they’re on fire as I give way to a huge grin. I do love Gage. There’s a certain relief in hearing myself say it. It feels right.

The air dissipates around us, suffocates us in the reality of our words. Gage stares back at me with wide-eyed anticipation of what it all means.

He pulls me in, rubs his cheek up against mine. “I’m glad you’re OK. I’m glad you weren’t hurt in the accident,” he punctuates it with a quick kiss.

“Me? I’m glad you weren’t hurt. I’m glad you’re alive.”

“I’m glad you’re alive.” He pecks another kiss. “And I’m alive.” He pushes in another quick one. “And that you and I are alive together standing in this tiny space, right here, right now.”

My stomach bottoms out, and my heart races for Gage. He presses in with a heartfelt kiss.

It must be real if he can make me feel this way—if I don’t want to stop his kisses from lingering.
   

***

Gage drops me off at home and I find Brielle lying on my bed helping herself to Chloe’s diary.

I snatch it out from underneath her. “What the hell are you doing?”

The window to my bedroom has been boarded up, and it looks like Mom has washed and replaced my bedding.

“Relax. I already knew half that stuff.” She rolls over and stretches out her limbs like a lazy cat.

I open it to where I left off and see that the pages thereafter are still sealed shut.

“What are you doing here?” I try to stifle my insane annoyance with Brielle at the moment.

“Drake is getting ready to take me to dinner. I thought I’d come and hang out. Got his new car today, you see it?”

“No.” I feel like I’ve just been bitch slapped. For sure it’s starting to feel like Drake is the golden child of the family. If the car was in the driveway, I didn’t notice, but then it was dark and I’m still mental from seeing
Ezrina
.

“Well good for him.” I bury Chloe’s diary in my underwear drawer before plopping on the bed. “Guess what I heard today?”

“What?” Her eyes widen with expectation.

“Michelle is
gonna
have a baby.”

“Are you freaking serious?” There’s a burst of excitement in her voice.

“I shit thee not. And I suppose you know about
Carly
now.” I tick my head back to the underwear drawer.

“I knew about
Carly
, but Michelle?” Her hands and feet pound the bed with excitement.

“Wait, does everyone know about
Carly
?”
I’m stunned by this
.

“I don’t think so. I heard Chloe threatening her once in the gym about a baby carriage, plus when she started to sport tents day after day, I got suspicious,” she pauses. “So when she left school early, I figured she was going to lay her egg.”

“Egg?”

“Yeah, you’re full of them. You didn’t know that?” Brielle rolls her eyes then burst into laughter.

“Michelle is going to have Dudley’s baby. Is that freaking wild?”

“Yeah, that’s wild.” Brielle gets up on her elbows and gazes out at the wall in front of us. “So,” her tone softens, “what are you wearing tomorrow night?”

“Gage picked out a French maid costume for me. Only I won’t have to wear that choker thing.” I yank down my scarf.

She winces at the sight of my neck.

“That’s beyond disgusting.” She sticks out her tongue.

“How about you guys?”

“I’m a nun, and he’s a priest.”

“Oh, I get it—Mr. and Mrs. Blasphemy.” I roll over onto my stomach. “So what do you think is
gonna
to happen to Michelle?”

“Let’s see, she’ll be wishing she were dead in about nine months when she’s trying to squeeze a watermelon out of her ass, then after that, Dudley will wish that he was.” She gives a big toothy grin.

It’s comfortable lying here with Brielle. Strange how she knew that stuff about
Carly
and didn’t mention it.

I look at her chestnut brown hair falling over her shoulders, her perfect features, that porcelain white skin.

Hanging out with Brielle feels natural, like if she ever did lose her mind and marry Drake one day, I could totally see her as my sister. I sort of already do. There’s no way she knows she’s a Count or understands the fact she’s supposed to oppress me simply because of my lineage. I don’t know how I could have ever suspected Brielle of slitting my throat.

She dips her hand down onto the floor and reemerges with a sickle shape piece of glass.

Brielle locks eyes with me, lost in a cold isolated stare. The light refracts off the shard, spraying pale blue dots and shadows all across the room.

“Are you afraid of me,
Skyla
?” She asks with a slow whisper. There’s not a hint of laughter in her eyes, nothing that suggests she might be teasing.

“No.” I lie, rubbing my fingers across my stitches. “Should I be?”

“I think you should fear just about everybody.”

Chapter Twenty

Boo
  

 
Halloween morning on Paragon is dark, damp, and blustery. No game tonight, but I decide to wear my cheer uniform to school anyway, minus the scarf I’ve been wrapping around my neck like a second skin.

Mom gasps as I enter the kitchen.

“What is that?” She makes her way over and taps my stitches with the pads of her fingers. “Looks so real.”

“Like it? Gage and me went and got a bunch of cool stuff at the Halloween store yesterday.” I turn around towards the fridge so she won’t see my face light up like a flame.

Shit! What was I thinking? For sure I wasn’t thinking she was going to touch it. Hell, I didn’t even think she’d notice.

“So what are you?” Mia comes around the corner and ogles at my neck. Her face contorts in a repulsive manner, and she backs off as though it might be contagious.

“I’m a cheerleader who got her throat slit.” I walk over and pull a banana off the counter while considering the irony.

“So how’s the baby making going?” Mia asks as she picks her backpack off the floor.

I hold my hand up and shield my face from Mom so I can retch freely in Mia’s direction.

Why would she ask that? That’s totally disgusting. I’d rather have my throat slashed a thousand times than ever bring up the subject of baby making with Mom.

“You know. It just seems like it was a whole lot less work when you were born.” She starts slicing into a grapefruit.

I can’t breathe. This is sick.

“Excuse me,” I sigh into my words. “It’s neither normal nor healthy to be discussing this at breakfast, or quite frankly at any meal with your children.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,
Skyla
,” Mom’s voice is laden with sarcasm. “Has my desire to produce a beautiful baby brother or sister ruined the digestive process for you?”

“Completely.” I push a box of Drake’s cereal away to prove a point. “You know, maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

Her mouth gapes open, and she stands
there
staring at me in disbelief.

She stops cutting her fruit and walks over at an uneven clip with the knife still in her hand.

“Just because you’re rooting for this not to happen, doesn’t mean I’m willing take whatever you feel like dishing. I’ve got time and money working against me. The last thing I need is your attitude.”

“What the hell is going on?” Tad scampers over at a brisk pace. “Is she upsetting you again?”

“What do you mean again? I haven’t been upsetting her,” I say taking a giant step back. It’s too late, I’ve lit the fuse—I can feel it.

“I’m fine,” my
mother
whispers, shuddering in his arms. The drama is so thick, for a moment I think I missed something.

Tad’s eyes hook onto Dr. Oliver’s handy work braided across my neck and his face explodes in a crimson ball of anger.

“I thought I told you not to expose this family to the graffiti you’ve inflicted upon yourself.” There’s a renewed calm in him.

“It’s for Halloween,” I say, quietly running my finger across the incision.

“You are pushing the both of us to the outer limits.” His voice shakes as efforts to control
himself
begin to wane. “Is this family some kind of joke to you?” His voice booms across the house creating an unnatural echo. It’s deathly silent in the void.

There it is. The explosion.

I can feel Drake pulling up a seat beside me eagerly anticipating the rest of the show.