Mrs. Jansen narrows her eyes at me, then turns to Bastian. “This is your friend? From your English class?” Bastian is crumpling and uncrumpling his Tux Depot receipt. Now he rips it in half and stuffs it back into his pocket agitatedly. “Sebastian? I am speaking to you,” she says.
“Y-yes, Mother, that’s her. She has been very helpful to me, especially since I joined the class so late in the y-year.”
Mr. Jansen is staring at me as though I were a particularly fascinating insect that was pinned under a magnifying glass. “Tai chi, did you say? Do you go to a local studio?” he asks in a deep voice with a trace of an accent. German? Scandinavian?
“What? No! I used to go to a studio in Austin—that’s where I’m originally from—but now I just study, um, privately,” I improvise. “So you guys are from DC, right? How are you enjoying Ridgemont?”
I realize that I’m babbling and blathering and in general making a fool of myself, but for some reason Bastian’s parents make me nervous. Really nervous. Part of it is what I know about them and the fact that they basically walked in on us trying to move light spirits to the other side—which, based on recent history, could get Bastian in terrible trouble and land him back in a mental hospital.
But it’s something else too. There’s an aura about them… of what? Coldness? Cruelty? Like if they were driving along and saw a deer in the road they’d steer toward it rather than away from it? But that’s a harsh thing to think about two people I just met, based on nothing but a creepy feeling plus the super-mean way Mrs. Jansen spoke to Bastian just now.
“Sebastian, we must go. Cook is preparing dinner for seven o’clock,” she says, tapping on her slim diamond wristwatch.
Cook? Now she’s talking like a character in a Victorian novel.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, young lady,” Mr. Jansen says, tipping his tweed cap.
As they walk away, Bastian throws me a desperate look over his shoulder. I know he’s worried about what his parents may or may not be thinking. I know he’s worried about Jason and Jonathan’s spirits too.
Who are no longer there.
I close my eyes and try to sense them, wherever they are.
Nothing. Hopefully they moved on by themselves or found Lucio or another available luiseach.
Sighing and shaking my head, I hurry down the corridor to the department store where Ashley’s waiting with some dresses to un-blah me.
CHAPTER 39
Just for Tonight
You look so beautiful, sweetie!” Mom gushes as she zips the back of my dress.
I peer at the long, flimsy mirror that hangs on the back of my closet door and inspect my outfit. My vintage black party frock with the lace top and sleeves is only faux vintage—it was the best I could do at the department store, and the most “me” out of the dozen outfits Ashley had preselected—but it’s really pretty anyway. Definitely prettier and more me than the maroon velvet mini-dress she tried to push. Besides, it feels authentically vintage when I think of it as a “frock.”
Mom finishes zipping and closes the fisheye hook at the top. She pats my shoulder. “There. Done!”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to your first school dance. Oh, Sunshine, you’re going to look back on this night when you’re older and cherish the memories. Speaking of memories… you need to let me take lots of pictures before you go. And a video. And maybe—”
I turn around laughing and kiss her on the cheek. “The guys are picking us up in about five minutes, so I’m not sure if we have time for the full celebrity photo shoot treatment.”
“Maybe just a few pictures then. Like twenty or thirty or forty.” Mom’s gray eyes shimmer with tears, which she swipes with the back of her hands. “My baby is all grown up!”
“Hardly! I’m only sixteen. I have a long way to go before I’m all grown up.”
She leans back and smooths my frizzball with a tender smile. “You and I both know that’s not true. Still, deep in my heart you’ll always be my baby, Sunshine State.”
“Aw, thanks, Mom. I love you to the moon and back.”
“I love you to the moon and back.”
“Ta-da!”
Ashley prances into the bedroom and twirls around. She’s been in the bathroom for practically an hour doing her hair and makeup.
“Ladies, check… this… out!”
She starts strutting across the floor as though she were a model catwalking on a runway. Her dress is way shorter than what she usually wears and also tighter, with a super-low neckline. I tried to talk her out of it at the mall and steer her toward one of the other less Las Vegas-y dresses, but she absolutely insisted on this one and reminded me a little tersely that she was the fashion expert, not me.
Of course she looks gorgeous as always. It’s just that, speaking of sixteen, she appears way older, like she’s an adult, especially with her heavy makeup, corkscrew curls, and body glitter.
“Oh my!” Mom’s eyes move from Ashley’s neckline to her hemline and then back up again. I can practically hear her trying to formulate a diplomatic response. “That’s quite the, um, outfit, Ashley. Should we take a quick photo and text it to your mom and dad?”
“Good one, Kat, ha ha. Sun, you need more makeup. Come on, I’ve got tons of stuff in the bathroom!”
“Thanks, Ash, but I’m fine,” I say quickly. The pink lip gloss and shimmery green eye shadow she insisted on earlier are about all I can handle; I’ve never been comfortable putting creams and powders on my face.
“Suit yourself.” Ashley slips her feet into a pair of pointy stiletto heels that are the same red as her dress. “The boys should be here any sec. Let’s wait for them downstairs!”
“Okay.”
“I’ll get my camera,” Mom says, heading for the door. “I think this occasion calls for a real thirty-five-millimeter versus my cell phone, don’t you? It’s not as fancy as your Nikon, Sunshine, but it should do the trick, and I don’t have to futz with all those complicated settings.”
“Sounds good.”
Before I leave my room I do a full sweep to make sure I have everything. Helena’s necklace hidden under my vintage Chinese silk scarf. Check. Mom’s vintage beaded purse with my Luiseach knife and cell phone inside. Check.
“Come on, come on,” Ashley says impatiently, holding the door open.
“All right already.”
“After you, Sunny-G.”
I walk past her and start down the stairs, holding my taffeta skirt up with my hands and squeezing the beaded purse under my left armpit. Not exactly graceful.
Suddenly I feel a shove from behind, and I scramble to stay on my feet. I let go of my skirt and the purse and grab the railing.
Was it my imagination, or did Helena’s necklace just grow hot and then cool? It must have been my imagination because the necklace feels normal now, like it’s barely there.
Behind me Ashley’s on her knees, clutching the railing too. “Ow! I’m so sorry. These stupid shoes… one of the heels caught in the carpet and I fell. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I reassure her.
“Is my makeup still okay?”
I laugh. “Yes, your makeup’s still okay.”
We rise to our feet and straighten our dresses and hair.
“Are you girls ready for pictures?” Mom calls up from the living room.
The doorbell rings. Ashley and I hurry downstairs.
Mom runs to the door and opens it. The guys walk in carrying corsage boxes. Nolan looks so handsome in a 1980s powder-blue tux, white ruffled shirt, and bow tie. And sneakers. Bastian is uncharacteristically dapper in his elegant black tux get-up. He seems to have replaced his crooked tortoiseshell glasses with contacts, his skin is smooth with a hint of a new tan, and his hair is styled neatly.
Nolan’s eyes light up when he sees me. “You look… exquisite.”
I beam. “Why, thank you, sir!”
“Seriously, you two are such dorks,” Ashley
whispers in my ear.
Bastian stares at Ashley, looking a little star-struck. Or like a sixteen-year-old guy swooning in front of his crush. I really need to get him to rein that in. “You too, Ashley. That is a lovely dress.”
“Thanks, Bas! I love your tux. Yours too, Nolan.”
I introduce Mom and Bastian to each other as Ashley and I pin on our corsages—mine is white gardenias, hers is a big, exotic yellow orchid. (At the department store I lied to Ashley and said that the “surprise” Bastian and I had to discuss privately was a choice of her corsage.) Then Mom takes a ton of pictures in different combinations: me alone, me and Ashley, me and Nolan, Ashley and Bastian, all four of us together.
At one point while Mom is posing Nolan and me on the couch, Ashley grows impatient.
“Come on, let’s start this party!” she says loudly.
Mom frowns a little. “This is the last one. Um, Nolan, honey, what time did you say you’re bringing the girls home?”
“Eleven o’clock, Mrs. Griffith… Kat,” he replies. “The dance is supposed to be over by ten, ten-thirty at the latest.”
Bastian glances at his watch. “Yes, we should go. I believe the festivities are beginning at seven?”
Ashley winks. “Yes, Bas. The festivities are beginning at seven!”
They both laugh.
Nolan glances at me and raises an eyebrow.
“I think Bastian’s in love,” I tell him in a low voice. “I’m definitely going to have to put an Aidan spell on him.”
“Good luck with that.”
Now I laugh.
The four of us head out into the night. It’s cold, and I shiver in the thin velvet stole I borrowed from Mom. Nolan wraps his arm around me and keeps it there—and I don’t feel queasy in the least, just tingly-happy from his touch. I’m not sure why Aidan’s spell isn’t kicking in, but I’m not complaining. In front of us Bastian holds Ashley’s elbow as she teeters on her impossibly high heels.
Nolan leans his head toward mine. “Hey, just for tonight, let’s forget about spells and pentagrams and demons and all that,” he whispers. “Promise?”
I reach up to adjust my green silk scarf, and my fingers graze Helena’s necklace. Aidan said both he and Helena would be bodyguarding me tonight—and that Lucio, Aura, Zalea, Giovanni, Xerxes, and Mikhail would also be standing by near the high school because the dance, with its anticipated high attendance, might be a potential magnet for demonic activity.
With all this protection I can afford to breathe a little, right?
I just need to turn my busy, anxious brain off for a few hours.
“I promise,” I whisper back.
CHAPTER 40
The Spring Dance
The shiny new Ridgemont High gymnasium is jam-packed with students and the dance is in full swing by the time the four of us arrive.
Earlier in the day Ashley and I had come by to help Tiffany and the other volunteers decorate. I pause and admire our handiwork in the gym. White tablecloths, heart-shaped glitter, and vases of pink crepe-paper roses cover the tables. Pastel-colored streamers and balloons hang from the rafters. Tiny flecks of light from the disco ball spin and shimmer across the floor.
On the stage the members of Angry Jell-O—two guitarists, a bass player, a drummer, a singer, and a girl on electric piano—play a cover of a popular song I think I may have heard on Ashley’s car radio but can’t name for the life of me because that’s how knowledgeable I am about popular songs. Ha. Hundreds of students are on the gym floor bopping and wiggling and gyrating. I also have zero knowledge about how to dance like this—the best I can do is awkwardly imitate dances from Jane Austen movies, like the English country dance or the cotillion or the Boulanger or the minuet.
“Come on! What are we waiting for?” Ashley tugs on Bastian’s hand and pulls him toward the middle of the floor.
“B-but I told you. I don’t dance,” he stammers.
“It’s time you learned. I’ll teach you!”
Bastian hesitates.
“Baaaas!”
“All right, Ashley, whatever you say. You are very persuasive.”
The two of them disappear into the crowd as I turn to Nolan. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Alone at last.”
“Well, not exactly”—he grins and nods at the swarm of dancing bodies—“but alone enough.”
“I’m trying really hard not to think about… you know.” I plaster on a big, goofy pretend-smile. “I will relax! I will have fun!”
Nolan cocks his head and grazes my cheek with the back of his hand. I lose the pretend smile and lean into his touch. He doesn’t know everything. I’ve told him about May first and the plan to whisk me out of town to some secret luiseach compound right before then, but I haven’t told him about Aidan’s plan to go through with the guera spirito ritual or even what the ritual is. I’ve been percolating some ideas about it, and I don’t think Nolan will be thrilled about them.
“Earth to Sunshine.” He pushes back a loose strand of my frizzball hair. “I completely understand if this”—he sweeps his hand in a wide arc—“isn’t helping to take your mind off the ongoing, um… situation. If you want, we can just bail and grab some coffee at Dream Bean and talk. I guarantee we’ll be the best-dressed people there.”
“That’s really sweet, but you know what? I promised you I’d try to forget about that stuff and enjoy myself tonight. So if you’re game, I’m game. How about some punch and cupcakes?”
“Sounds good. But if you change your mind, the offer stands.”
Nolan takes my hand and we wander over to the refreshment table where Tiffany is barking orders at several student volunteers. It’s weird, but I find her meanness comforting now. Victoria, dressed as Ms. Warkomski, is one of the adult volunteers along with about a dozen other teachers from the school—also Principal Henderson, Vice Principal D’Angelo, and Coach Martinez.
Victoria is manning the punch bowl. She catches sight of us and waves eagerly.
“Hello, dears,” she says when we walk up to her. “How are you enjoying the dance?”
“Hi, Ms. Warkomski.” I’ve gotten very good at that, calling her by her alias. “We just got here. It seems like a big success. The place is packed.”
“Punch?” She hands Nolan and me two paper cups.
As I take the cup she lowers her voice and says, “About the matter we discussed. Are there any updates?”
I had told Victoria about Anna appearing in my yard on Monday morning and warning me about that nasty wind demon’s presence. Victoria had been really glad to hear I’d seen her daughter, but she was still worried about her dream, which she felt might be prophetic, and wanted to make sure Anna continued to “check in.”
“No updates, Ms. Warkomski. But I’m keeping my eyes and ears open.”
“Of course, dear. I have complete faith in you.”
Victoria turns to help Vice Principal D’Angelo unpack a box of compostable cups. Nolan and I grab a couple of cupcakes from a platter and wander away from the table.
Just as we’re finishing up our punch and cupcakes, the band switches to a slow number. Nolan reaches his hand out to me and bows. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Griffith?”
Aww. My courtly, old-fashioned suitor.
I curtsy. “Yes, you may, Mr. Foster. I believe yours is the first name on my dance card. Actually yours is the only name on my dance card.”
Nolan grins and wraps his arm around my waist as I lean my head against his shoulder. We sway, not exactly in time to the music because we’re both rhythm challenged, but I don’t think either of us cares. I wait for the nausea to kick in. It doesn’t. I wait for Nolan to pull away and hold me at a just-friends distance. He doesn’t. I close my eyes and breathe in the warm, familiar scent of his skin, and in that moment I’m truly able to forget the bad stuff and pretend I’m just a regular, happy, love-struck sixteen-year-old girl dancing with her amazing, wonderful boyfriend at the high school
dance.
Either that or I’m Elizabeth Bennett dancing with Mr. Darcy at the Netherfield Ball.
Ashley and Bastian are dancing nearby, holding each other very close as she caresses his back and shoulders in a slow, seductive way. He kisses the top of her head, and she tips her face so their lips meet. They kiss for a long moment—a passionate, making-out kiss.
Whoa. When did they go from just friends to that?
I really, really have to nip this in the bud. Bastian needs to keep a clear head for his luiseach training.
“Sunshine! There you are!”
Someone grabs me from behind and yanks me out of Nolan’s arms.
“What the…” Nolan exclaims.
I turn around—it’s Lucio. His face is bright red, and he’s panting for breath. He looks out of place in his jeans and hoodie in the sea of tuxes and suits.
“Lucio? What are you… what’s wrong? Is my mom all right? And Aidan?” I’m suddenly panicked.
“No, it’s not that. Sorry, I… I sprinted from the parking lot and… why aren’t you two picking up your phones?”
“What are you talking about?” I pull my phone out of Mom’s beaded purse and push the ON button. It doesn’t light up. “That’s bizarre. I just charged it this afternoon.”
Nolan checks out his phone. “Mine seems to be dead too, which doesn’t make sense because—”
“Guys, guys!” Lucio holds up his hands. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no time. Sunshine, we have to get you out of here. Your dad will be here in a sec and Helena and the rest of the council too. They’re putting the evacuation plan in place. Your dad has a private jet waiting.”
A chill runs down my spine, and my heart begins to hammer in my chest. “An evacuation plan? Private jet… what’s going on?”
“We had the wrong date,” Lucio replies grimly.
Nolan frowns. “What?”
“We thought Dubu planned to complete the pentagram spell on May first. But it’s not May first. Helena found out somehow. Dubu faked us out by having one of his demons give us false information. He’s not waiting until then. He plans to complete the pentagram spell tonight.”
The Sacrifice of Sunshine Girl Page 22
