“Many people. Some just pass through, others stay for a while. You’ll meet many of them.” Stopping at the morbid-looking doors in front of us, Ben laid his right palm on one and it swung open on silent hinges. “The domicile will recognize you once you meet with Hades.” He ushered me in. “You are free to roam about, but I must warn you to beware of two things. First, the Pit.” He gave me a chilling look over his wire-rimmed glasses. “It is to be avoided at all costs. The Titans are imprisoned down there and with good reason. They are wily, deceptive, and self-serving, and have surrounded themselves with the scum of both Olympus and Earth. While they are bound and cannot get out, anyone can venture in. If you do, you are on your own.” Ben gave me a stern, fatherly look. “Do not expect anyone to rescue you.”
I threw up my hands in surrender. “Got it. Not going in to see bad boys. What’s the other warning?”
“Lastly, beware of those who talk of escape routes. Do not heed these wild tales. This is Hades’ realm and I assure you, if there was a way out, he would have found and eliminated it. He is no man’s fool.”
But would he be a fool for a woman … like me?
Meg
Half Full
Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have minded an afternoon alone with Jeremy, but things were far from normal. He stood there, the sun behind him highlighting his tight, low-riding black jeans and worn leather jacket; the same outfit he’d had on when we first met in that pizza shop.
“You seem … distracted,” he said, tucking a dark lock behind his ear. He pulled a chair over to mine and sat, draping his arm around me. “Is everything all right?”
I leaned my head onto his shoulder, looking up into his sky-blue eyes and hoping they would take me to some place far away. It didn’t work. I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek into his shoulder, breathing deep. Old leather, patchouli, Jeremy. And here I was again—watching my words and keeping secrets.
“Yeah. Just school and things, you know. Too much going on to keep track of.”
Besides everything that had just gone down with Hades, I was bothered that Jeremy showed up alone and didn’t ask about Shar. While the omission made me uneasy, I didn’t bring her up; if the subject wasn’t discussed, I wouldn’t have to lie about why she wasn’t here. Instead, I asked him about his fall schedule at NYU and what classes we might have together. He ordered a salad and finished my hummus plate; I couldn’t eat.
To my relief, he had plans for the night, and sadly, I was glad when we parted ways at my subway stop an hour later.
“If everything goes well tonight, I’ll have some good news to text you later.” He smiled mischievously and ran his fingers through my hair, pulling me close for a kiss before allowing me to get off the train. It took every ounce of self control I had to smile and wave goodbye until the train entered the tunnel.
On the way back to the dorm, I rewound Shar’s disappearance in my head, and then started walking faster. I wanted to be back in our room. Not that there would be any answers to our problem amongst Shar’s things, but I had a desperate desire to get back and just feel her presence.
The dormitory was pretty empty when I got there; a lot of students went home on the weekends, then returned Sunday night for classes on Monday. Praying I wouldn’t have to meet any eyes or make any small talk, I strode down the hall and rode the thankfully empty elevator to the third floor. The institutional, cream-colored walls were punctuated every few feet with solid-looking green doors, and every now and again music blared out of some of them as I passed. A bulletin board overflowed with numbers for tutoring, jobs, books for sale, and summer-abroad programs. I got to our door having seen no one, and with a sigh of relief I unlocked it and pushed inside.
I’d left my laptop on; the screen saver, a slide show of the band Elysian Fields, renewed itself over and over. Posters lined the walls on my side of the room, so that not even a hairline of the standard-issue paint could be seen.
Shar’s side of the room was empty.
I started hyperventilating.
Calm down! This won’t help either of you! I scolded myself.
When I was in control, I nudged the door shut with my hip, threw my purse and the fleece—still in its garment bag—on my bed, and stumbled into the emptiness that used to be Shar’s space. I opened every drawer in her desk, in her dresser.
Nothing.
Nothing hung in the closet.
Nothing tucked beneath the naked mattress.
Nothing hidden under the bed—not even dust.
An infinite circle of nothing.
I wandered over to my densely packed side, which contrasted harshly with the starkness of hers. Shoving the stack of textbooks on my desk to one side, I sifted through the papers underneath, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of Shar’s powder-puff pink Post-it notes, but once again, nothing.
Continuing the frantic search, I tackled my dresser, going through every stuffed drawer and every bottle and trinket on top, searching for something, anything, that was hers. All I found were my own clothes, black and purple nail polish that Shar would die before wearing, perfume she said smelled like a funeral parlor, and a tangle of Lucite necklaces.
I felt chilled. I’d reached that numbing sense of acceptance you get when something has gone horribly wrong; a kind of autopilot. All I could do was stare at Shar’s half of the room.
She was … gone.
At some point, it got dark outside, and I must’ve crawled into bed and fallen asleep, but I couldn’t remember when. All I knew was that when I opened my eyes, pale sunlight was streaming in through the window. When I managed to squint at the clock, 7:04 blinked out in insistent digital lines. Horrified, I jumped up.
School!
I was still in my clothes from yesterday, and while I’d kicked off my Westwoods, I hadn’t bothered to take off my makeup. I shoved on Converse sneakers and grabbed books, notebooks, and pens, stuffing them into my messenger bag. I dropped it over my shoulder, pulled my purse off the floor, and headed out. Catching sight of myself in the full-length mirror screwed to the door, I made a disgusted noise at my reflection. Black liner was smeared under my eyes, and my hair was sticking up in all directions. I found a fedora and smashed it over my dark mop, then left before I could start thinking about trying to fix anything. Shar always said I looked like the walking dead—now she was right.
Out in the street, I shambled over to the academic building. The cool, fresh air woke me up a bit and I tried to look at everything logically. Maybe Jeremy not asking about Shar had nothing to do with Shar’s disappearance. Maybe Ian had canceled and he was embarrassed, so when he saw that I was alone too, he didn’t bother to bring it up. But what about that empty room? Would she need all her stuff in Tartarus? How long was Hades planning on keeping her?
What would I say if anyone asked me where she was? Shar was in my Calc and Lit classes and had other friends besides me. I decided to go with yesterday’s plan—Shar had a family emergency and left, I assumed, for her parent’s house in Bronxville. Hopefully no one would want me to elaborate. Thus armed, in I went.
The first bell rang just as I got to the second floor. Kids in the hallway started moving left and right, into the empty classrooms. Girls and guys turned to me as they passed. The girls smirked; I was a walking wreck. The guys stared a moment, some of them smiling slightly, before moving on. I wanted to demand that someone—anyone—say they’d seen Shar.
I slipped into the room past Mr. Lazarus, who was sitting at his desk taking attendance, checking off names in his grade book as people came in. A few people looked my way but said nothing. Once I was settled, I kept my eyes glued to Shar’s desk and tried not to swallow my tongue when Maddie Harris plopped herself down into it; she usually sat behind Shar. My eyes shot to Laz, who was particular about people keeping their seats, but he made no move to correct anything.
/> Don’t freak out. It’s just a seat.
Then he got up from his desk and started babbling an intro to the day’s Calc lesson. I bent my head to my notebook and scribbled something, anything, to look busy. It was bad enough that Maddie was sitting in Shar’s seat and that Laz said nothing about it, but without lifting my head, I felt sure the dozen or so guys in the class, in between taking notes, were glancing my way.
With a shiver I remembered the rules of the Siren game. Males will be drawn to you, Hades said. And they had been, even before our deal was renewed. Thanks to Shar and the mini-makeover she gave me—a sharp, sleek haircut coupled with an acceptable dose of color—I felt a new confidence. Whatever the reason, Siren superpower or revamped look, I’d been handling the attention I was getting. But now I had to be on guard; my powers were back, and even though they weren’t as strong without Shar around, I’d have to be careful and use them only for the assignment.
The assignment! I was so consumed with Shar that I hadn’t given a thought to Paulina Swan-whatever. I’d have to deal with that later. Right now I had to get through Calculus and avoid entrancing any of the males that crossed my path: classmates, teachers, janitors. Unless I engaged them with my voice, they’d leave me alone and I’d have no reason to bother with them.
Laz droned on and on, writing problems and page numbers on the board. Dutifully I jotted them down, gripping my pencil hard and digging it into the page. The point snapped under the pressure and I let out a small but exasperated sigh.
Laz turned around, caught sight of me, and smiled for a second before going back to his blackboard. I dropped my gaze quickly and carefully folded the flap of my messenger bag back to get another pencil. My hand was deep in one of the pockets when I heard a soft plip. As I straightened up, a neatly folded note was resting on top of my open Calc book.
I slowly slipped it off the desk, flicking my glance between it and Laz. Unfolding the paper as quietly as I could, I read:
Me, Jordan & Sarah r going 2 Starbucks @ 3:15,
can u come?
Jordan. Sarah. There was only one other person in that trio—Trey Addington-North. Cautiously, I lifted up my head and turned to the right, only to see him staring at me from the next desk, a hopeful expression on his face. I raised the note a little, and he grinned and raised his eyebrows as if to ask, Well?
I stifled a laugh behind my hand. Blond, perpetually Bahama-tanned, and status-conscious Trey of the hyphenated last name was asking me if I would join him and his pals for their daily latte slurp at Starbucks? I wondered how Jordan and Sarah would feel about that ? My guess was not too happy, since they’d never liked me. As for Trey, we’d sat next to each other in this class since September and I was lucky if he would pass worksheets to me.
Before I could stop myself, I looked over at him again, expecting to see the superior expression he usually wore when speaking to the unwashed masses. Maybe he’d be laughing that I actually believed he was serious. Instead, I found him grinning expectantly.
The bell rang.
Grabbing my bag and shoving books, papers, pencils and whatever into it, I wrangled my way to the front of the room, a clutch of guys straggling around like shy groupies after a rock star. They kept their distance, although they hung in the doorway. Was this Hades’ idea of diminished powers? Either that or I was totally working the neurotic mental patient look.
“Gentlemen, don’t you have somewhere to go?” Laz said to them—they were blocking the entrance, preventing the next class from coming in. When they didn’t budge, he went over to shoo them away and I seized my chance.
I glided over to the desk where Laz kept his grade book and discreetly scanned the roster of names, written neatly in his block printing in alphabetical order. Harris, Hernandez, Jackson … Kwan? No Johnson, Sharisse. An uncomfortable tingling raced up my spine. I read it again. And again. She simply wasn’t there. We’d had two tests, five quizzes, and God knew how many homeworks so far for this quarter. I knew she’d done them—we studied for the last test together and she beat my score by three points, but now there was no record of it.
“Margaret?” I jumped when Mr. Lazarus said my name.
I looked up from the grade book and found him standing on the opposite side of the desk, smiling as he had when I broke my pencil during class. Hades and I would definitely have to have a chat.
“Do you need something?”
I mashed my lips together, somehow turned them into a smile, and shook my head. “Nope, I’m good.” Then before he could say anything further, I spun on my heel and headed out the door. Thankfully, my fan club had dispersed and gone to whatever class they had next. But I hadn’t escaped completely.
“Meg!” a male voice shouted. Trey jogged up to me. “So, can you come?” he asked.
This is ridiculous! Last week you wouldn’t give me the time of day! I put my face in my bag as if I were looking for something.
“It’s my treat,” he added.
“I can’t,” I mumbled. “I’m meeting my boyfriend after school … and if I don’t leave now I’ll be late for French!” I ran for the stairwell, not looking back.
Classes proved uneventful. In French I sat in the back of the room off Madame Cratier’s radar, fielded a question in Social Studies without consequences, and survived a lab—with two guys on my team—by not making any requests or issuing any orders. At lunch I sat alone, burying my face in my notes to discourage any conversation. In Lit, again, Shar’s seat was occupied by someone else, and she was MIA from Miss Winning’s grade book.
When the final bell rang, I made my way down to Shar’s locker—there was one last thing I wanted to check. No one had asked me about her, and I hadn’t brought her up—yet. I wove my way through the milling students who chatted as they walked to their lockers, all the while searching for Alana Dean.
I spotted her at her locker, Caroline and Kate close by. I approached the group with trepidation. They were talking and giggling, and when I heard Alana’s voice, it dredged up the memory of that last text, the one that Shar read to me before she was taken away: Going out with your vampire roomie again?
They ignored me as I sidled up to them, and I stood there for several seconds, apparently invisible.
“Alana,” I began. She didn’t turn around right away, but I could tell she heard me—or at least her friends did, because they stole glances at me, whispered, and snickered.
When she finally did face me, she regarded me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
“Alana, um, can I talk to you for a second?” I asked.
“Why?” she snapped, a sneer on her face. I wanted this to be quick, but she was determined to turn it into a sideshow. Months of Shar’s waning interest must’ve really taken its toll. Caroline and Kate looked down their noses at me, covering their mouths to unsuccessfully mute hasty giggles.
“Just for a second.”
“I don’t have time for you—”
“It’s about Shar,” I cut her off.
She looked confused.
“Have you … heard from her?” It was a good place to start.
She shook her head and narrowed her muddy eyes at me. “Who?”
“Shar. Sharisse Johnson.”
“I don’t know any Sharisse.” Alana tossed her long brown hair back.
“Look, I know things haven’t been the same between you two,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “but it’s really not her fault—”
“You look,” she said, annoyed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know any Sharisse Johnson. None of us knows any Sharisse Johnson.” She inclined her head toward the girls, who shook their heads and laughed. “It’s bad enough to know Meg Wiley!”
It was too rude.
“Yes you do,” I insisted, stepping up to her and putting my hand on t
he locker next to hers. “She’s your friend, my roommate, God help me. And this”—I banged on the locker door—“is her locker. She … ”
The trio had backed up a step. Alana cracked a smile and then howled with laughter, her friends quick to join her.
“OMG, you are insane !” she tittered. “This”—and she banged the locker just like I did—“is Caroline’s locker.” She pulled Caroline to her side, and said, “Prove it to her. Open it.” Caroline dutifully twirled the combination and the locker popped open. Pictures of Caroline, Alana, Kate, and some guys were plastered in neat rows. Nothing of Shar’s resided there.
“See,” Alana went on, “I guess being in a room all by yourself for so long has affected your mind. Better go to the nurse and see if she can give you something for that.”
The three of them laughed again. Caroline slammed her locker shut and they walked off, leaving me standing there, horrified. The skin on the back of my neck prickled and stung.
He erased her! Is it permanent? Is this what’ll happen to me?
I didn’t want to think about anything the future might hold in store. I figured that thanks to Alana’s networking, the female population of the school would soon think I was a loon and Hades’ wonderful gift would have the male segment panting at my heels. Together, those things would be a lethal combination.
Eventually, I made my weary way back to my half-empty dorm room; there was nowhere else to go. Inside, I was once again confronted by Shar’s complete absence.
Suddenly I heard a loud buzz coming from the direction of my desk. In the space I’d made last night by swiping my books aside rested an iPhone—the newest generation of the one Hades had given to us for our first assignment. It buzzed and buzzed, and the screen blinked with a red light. I snatched it up and a text flashed on the screen.
Margaret, I thought this would be of use. And just in case, I took the liberty of blocking some of the features so there won’t be any awkward calls to anyone who shouldn’t be involved in our business, like last time.
Sirenz Back in Fashion Page 5
