I closed my eyes and concentrated, trying to bring the images into even sharper focus. My fingers stroked the silken fabric of the dress, and I breathed in, almost imagining that I could smell the sweet, soft lilac perfume that my mom had always worn. I’d liked it so much that she’d given me a bottle of it for my last birthday, but I hadn’t worn it since she’d died. It just reminded me of how much I missed her.
Slowly, the waves of feeling and the images started to fade, the way they sometimes did with an object like this. If they weren’t used, or in this case worn, emotions and feelings leaked out of items over time, like water dripping out of a cup with a hole in the bottom of it, until there was nothing left. Sometimes, the old images were imprinted with new thoughts, feelings, and emotions as new experiences were had or new people used the object in question. Sometimes, they just faded away altogether, leaving nothing behind but faint echoes of who and what had been before.
I started to put the dress back in the closet, but the images that I’d just seen, the feelings that I’d just experienced, wouldn’t let me.
Maybe it was the way I’d felt when I’d first tried it on, like I’d be the prettiest girl at the sophomore prom. Maybe it was the smile on my mom’s face when she’d seen the dress, when she realized how perfect it would look on me. Maybe it was knowing that a little piece of her that I’d thought I’d lost forever had been right here hanging in my closet the whole time.
But suddenly I wanted to go to the homecoming dance, and I wanted to wear this dress, if for no other reason than it would have made my mom happy. Grandma Frost was right. It was time to start living again.
Morgan had said the same thing about Jasmine, that that’s what Jasmine would have wanted everyone to do after her death. Except in my mom’s case I knew that it was true, that it was what Grace Frost would have wanted for me, her daughter.
I could feel it in the fabric of the perfect dress that she’d bought for me.
And I realized that’s what I wanted, too.
So I slipped the dress off the hanger and put it on the bed. The sequins winked up at me like eyes, each one blinking with encouragement.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, unzipping my hoodie and letting it fall to the floor.
Chapter 18
By the time I got ready, it was after eight, which meant the dance had been going on for an hour already. I’d missed the part where the homecoming king and queen would be announced for each class, the couples the other students had voted for two weeks ago. But like Morgan had said, who else was it going to be in our second-year class besides her and Samson now that Jasmine was gone?
I stared at myself in the mirror in the bathroom. Violet dress and eyes, wavy brown hair loose around my shoulders, freckles splashed across my winter white skin. I didn’t look like a beautiful fairy princess like Daphne had, but at least I didn’t come off as a total slut like Morgan either. I didn’t know what I was, other than that Gypsy girl who saw things. But I was determined to have a good time tonight—or at least fake it well enough so that no one else would know the difference but me.
I left my dorm and walked across the campus quad. Everyone else was already at the dining hall, so the quad was even more deserted than before. A cold breeze gusted across the lawn, bringing the fall chill with it, along with the faintest bite of winter. I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing that I’d thought to grab a coat before I’d left my room, but I didn’t want to go back for one now. If I did, I doubted that I’d make the effort to come back and go to the dance at all.
Finally, I reached the dining hall. The front doors were open, the light spilling outside and banishing some of the shadows. Several students stood around the entrance, a few of them taking drags off cigarettes or something stronger when they thought no one was looking. Some kids were drinking, too, and the sour stench of beer mingled with the clouds of sweet, choking smoke.
I walked past the other students and went inside. To my surprise, the dining hall had been completely transformed since lunchtime. The usual round lunch tables were gone, replaced by a single long banquet table that stretched down the left wall. Crimson and pumpkincolored autumn leaves twined with greenery and baby’s breath clustered around an enormous ice sculpture shaped like a giant cornucopia. Candles also flickered on the banquet table, highlighting the gourmet food that covered the surface. More leaves and greenery hung from the ceiling, along with strings of silver and gold lights that bathed the area in a soft, romantic glow. Even I had to admit that it was all very classy, very elegant, and very beautiful.
I’d missed the harvest ritual, which had been held before the dance had started, but I could see the remnants of it. Tall bronze rods topped with beeswax candles burned in the open-air garden, and golden bowls full of fresh-picked grapes, oranges, almonds, and olives sat at the feet of the various statues of the gods there, including Dionysus and Demeter. Everything in the garden seemed to have a warm bronze tinge to it tonight, including the goblets full of wine that had been placed next to the bowls of fruits and nuts, and the air smelled sharp and sweet, like citrus. I waited a moment, wondering if I’d feel the same kind of invisible force that I had at the bonfire last night. But whatever presence that might have been summoned by the ritual had vanished already. I let out a breath. No more magic mumbo jumbo tonight. Good.
I didn’t know how many students went to Mythos, but it looked like every single one of them had shown up for the dance. Couples wearing glittering gowns and tuxedos held on to each other and swayed back and forth on the dance floor. Some sat at the tables that had been set up on the far side of the hall, kissing, giggling, and whispering into each other’s ears. Others clustered around the food table, dipping strawberries and other fresh fruits into a dark chocolate fountain that spewed out a never-ending stream of warm, gooey goodness. I even saw a few kids eating the caviar that had been put out as part of the buffet. Yucko.
I’d been right about the homecoming kings and queens having been crowned already. Morgan McDougall stood on the edge of the dance floor holding court with her fawning Valkyrie friends. A glittering tiara topped Morgan’s head, and a triumphant smile curved her crimson lips. This was her coming-out party, and she wanted everyone to know it. Morgan had her arm looped through Samson Sorensen’s, her body plastered to his side. Samson looked handsome in his tux, although he was holding on to his garish gold crown instead of actually wearing it. He bent down and slobbered a kiss onto Morgan’s neck while she talked to her friends.
I couldn’t help but wonder what Jasmine would do if she was here right now. If she saw how easily Morgan had stepped into her place as queen of the second-year Mythos students. I imagined that Jasmine would go over, snatch the crystal crown off Morgan’s head, and start beating her friend and Samson with it. The Valkyrie had certainly been capable of doing something like that, given all the rage that I’d felt when I’d picked up that photo in her room. The one of Morgan and Samson that Jasmine had ripped up.
My eyes roamed over the rest of the dining hall. Students weren’t the only ones here tonight. More than a few professors could be seen in the crowd, including Metis, Coach Ajax, and Nickamedes. The three of them stood off to one side of the hall, drinking punch, talking, and occasionally stepping forward to keep the dry-humping on the dance floor to a minimum. Ajax and Nickamedes both wore tuxes, while Metis looked soft and pretty in a green evening gown.
Finally, I spotted Daphne and Carson deep into a slow dance. Daphne had her head on Carson’s shoulder, and the band geek had a goofy, dreamy look on his face. Morgan said something to the two Valkyries standing next to her and pointed at Daphne and Carson. The three of them laughed and snickered, making fun of the new couple. But Daphne and Carson were so into each other that they didn’t see or hear the Valkyries. I doubted it would have bothered them anyway. Not tonight.
Since I didn’t want to tromp through the crowd to get to Daphne and Carson, I skirted around the edge of the dining hall and headed for the refresh
ment table, just to have something to do. Just so no one would see that I was a total loser who was here by myself. Coming here had been a mistake. I’d thought it would be fun, but now I wasn’t so sure. Because my only, sort-of friend was totally into her date, which meant that I didn’t have anyone else to talk to—much less dance with.
So I got in line, piled a plate high with fresh fruit, and dipped everything into the dark chocolate fountain before grabbing a glass of sparkling fake champagne punch. I headed for the tables in the back of the dining hall, but all the seats were occupied by couples. I stood there, feeling stupid and awkward, food in one hand and drink in the other, with nowhere to sit down and eat and absolutely no one to talk to.
I sighed. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking, coming here by myself. I was going to take my food back to my room and stuff my face before reading comic books the rest of the night. Which was what I should have done in the first place instead of coming here and trying to fit in, trying to pretend like I actually belonged here.
I turned and walked back around the edge of the dance floor, weaving in and out of the couples who crossed my path. I was about halfway toward the exit when someone stepped in front of me. The guy had his back to me, so he didn’t even see me. I had to jump back to keep from slamming into him, and the sharp motion made the punch slosh out of my glass and splatter down the front of my dress, staining it. Great. Just great.
“Hey,” I muttered. “Watch where you’re going.”
The guy must have heard me, because he turned around and glared at me, and I found myself staring up at Logan Quinn.
I hadn’t talked to Logan since last night when he’d tried to kiss me and I’d totally freaked out about it. I hadn’t been able to get close to him in gym class, but I’d looked for him the rest of the day out on the quad, hoping to apologize again. I hadn’t seen him then, but now that I finally had, I couldn’t stop staring at him.
Logan looked absolutely gorgeous in his black tuxedo, although he’d already undone his tie, as if it was choking him. The jacket stretched over his shoulders, highlighting just how totally muscled they were. His black hair glistened underneath the silver and golden glows from the twinkling lights, and his eyes glittered like ice in his face. I stood there, breathless.
Logan glared at me another second before doing a visible double take. His eyes slid down the front of my dress, lingering on the punch stains that dotted the long skirt. My cheeks started to burn. Why did I have to run into him now? Why couldn’t I have at least seen him before I managed to splash punch all over myself?
“Excuse me,” I muttered, and moved past him.
I hurried over to the buffet table and put down my plate and glass, having lost my appetite for, well, everything. I turned around, and there he was again, standing right behind me, still staring at me.
“Gypsy girl?” Logan asked in an uncertain voice, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether or not it was me.
“Spartan,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest to try to hide some of the sticky stains on my dress. “Enjoying the dance?”
Logan looked at me another moment, then shrugged. “As well as any other, I suppose. They’re all the same—long and boring.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how to talk to him when he wasn’t teasing me—or when he wasn’t saving my life. And I certainly didn’t know what to do now, when he looked so freaking sexy in that tux.
“Do you want to dance?” Logan asked in a low voice, his eyes gleaming in his face.
My heart leapt up into my throat. I’d never realized until just this second how much I wanted that very thing. How much I wanted to step into his arms, even if it was only for tonight. But I couldn’t answer him. I just couldn’t make myself say the words.
I didn’t have to. Logan put his hand around my waist, careful not to touch the bare skin of my arms, and pulled me out onto the dance floor along with all the other swaying couples. I let him, as if in a trance, mesmerized by the sensation of his hand on my waist. I could feel the heat of his fingers even through the silky fabric of my dress.
“So,” Logan said once we stood in the middle of the floor. “How are we going to do this? Because I can’t touch your skin or anything, right?”
I just stared at him. If there was anyone I’d want touching me, it would be Logan. But I couldn’t risk it. I just ... couldn’t. For once, I didn’t want to know someone else’s secrets. I didn’t want to touch Logan and realize that he was really laughing at me deep down inside. That he was thinking about how pathetic I was and how sorry he felt for me. I wanted to pretend like he actually cared about me, even if it was just for this one dance.
“No,” I finally said. “You can’t touch my skin, not without me flashing on you. So, just, uh, put your hands on my waist or something, and I’ll put mine on your shoulders. Okay?”
He gave me a crooked grin. “Whatever you say, Gypsy girl.”
Logan’s hands curled around my waist, and I settled mine on his shoulders, somehow resisting the urge to reach up and run my fingers through his thick ink-black hair. Slowly, we began to sway in time to the music, some old, sad song about lost love.
We didn’t speak. I could feel Logan’s ice blue eyes on my face, but I didn’t look into his. I didn’t want him to see everything that I was feeling right now. I wasn’t touching him, not really, not touching his skin anyway, but I still felt so much. The lean strength of his body. The gentle way he held on to me. How easy it was to move to the music with him despite the fact that I was totally uncoordinated and sucked as much at dancing as I did at gym class. It was the first time in a long time that I was completely overwhelmed with sensations, even though I wasn’t using my psychometry magic at all.
A sharp stab of longing pierced my heart, making my whole body quiver with its aching intensity. Because I knew that I was very close to developing a major, major crush on Logan Quinn. If I wasn’t a complete goner already.
I don’t know how long we danced before he cleared his throat.
“You look beautiful tonight, Gwen,” Logan said.
He wasn’t flirting with me or talking about sex like he usually did, but, for once, I almost believed him. It was like ... I could almost feel him telling the truth, even though I wasn’t touching his bare skin. Or maybe that was just because I was lying to myself, trying to convince myself that this dance, this moment, meant as much to him as it did to me.
“Thank you. So do you. Um, not beautiful, but handsome. Very, very handsome,” I finished in a lame tone.
The truth was that he was beautiful—far more beautiful than I could ever be. Logan looked like one of the illustrations out of my myth-history book come to life—like some ancient warrior dressed up in modern clothes. A mix of old and new that seemed like everything to me. That seemed completely wonderful to me.
We kept dancing, and the rest of the room fell away. The other dancers, the kissing couples, the kids hanging around the refreshment table, Morgan and her catty entourage. It all just fell away until there was nothing but Logan and me.
Logan holding me, his eyes on mine, his head slowly dipping lower and lower, my eyes fluttering closed, my breath catching, catching in my throat in anticipation of something that I knew would be completely wonderful—
A sharp tap on my arm snapped me out of my reverie, and a hot spurt of annoyance surged through me at the contact. I jerked to one side, causing Logan’s lips to slide past my cheek and into my hair. The sharp tap came again, and more annoyance filled me. Whoever was stabbing me with her finger, she wasn’t very happy.
I dropped my arms and stepped away from Logan. A girl moved around me and slid in between the two of us. I recognized her as one of Talia Pizarro’s Amazon friends, although she was just my size and not as tall as the other girl. Still, the Amazon was beautiful, with a blaze of red hair and eyes that were greener than the emerald necklace she wore around her pale throat. She wore a form-fitting seafoam-colored dress that hugged her curves in a
ll the right places.
Pop! went my pseudo-Cinderella moment, and I suddenly felt like a giant grape next to her. One that was about to get squished.
“What do you think you’re doing with my date?” the girl asked in a sharp, angry voice.
I looked at Logan. He stared at me, then her. After a moment, Logan looped one arm around her waist and hugged her close.
“We were just dancing, Savannah,” he said in a light tone, smiling down at the other girl just like he had at me a moment ago.
Hurt filled me—hurt that Logan could dismiss me so easily. That he could almost kiss me, then look like he was about to do the same to another girl seconds later. Maybe he could, though. Maybe he didn’t feel the things that I did when we were together. Maybe he never had.
I shook my head to clear away the rest of the stupid romantic fog. Of course he didn’t, I chided myself. He was Logan freaking Quinn, the guy who went around Mythos Academy and signed the mattresses of all the girls he slept with. What had I been thinking? Because there was fun and then there was insanity. And anything to do with Logan fell squarely into the latter category.
“Yeah,” I said in a cold voice. “We were just dancing. And now we’re not.”
Logan looked at me, guilt flickering in his eyes. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something to me, but I didn’t give him the chance. I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving him to his date for the evening.
Chapter 19
I walked away from Logan as fast as I could, slithering through the crowd of dancers, careful not to brush up against anyone so I wouldn’t accidentally flash on them. Coming here tonight had been a bad, bad idea. What the hell had I been thinking? Everyone had a place at Mythos—everyone except me. No, wait. That wasn’t right. I had a role here, too, now—that Gypsy girl who had just made a complete fool of herself. The class idiot, in other words.
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