Elegy
“Jillian, sweetie, don’t you look pretty,” she cooed, pointing to Jillian’s block-print dress and wedge heels. Then Mrs. Patton raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow and assessed me coolly, before breaking into a high-wattage smile.
“You must be Jillian’s little friend,” she said, offering me a handshake full of bedazzled fingernails. I took an instinctive step back to avoid the nontouch, and her smile dropped.
“Sorry,” I offered lamely. “I, um, have a cold.”
I offered a weak cough as evidence, using my shaking hand to cover it. Then I waved that hand as if to say, See? Germ-ridden.
Mrs. Patton’s upper lip curled in disgust and she, too, took a step backward. Then she composed that lip curl into something that was only slightly less repulsed.
“You poor thing. Why don’t y’all just come on inside?”
She waved us into the entryway, gestured vaguely to a grand, curving staircase, and told us that the other girls were in the theater room on the third floor. Then she hurried away on her ridiculous heels, fleeing what she clearly assumed was the black death.
Now I realized why Jillian had demanded a fashion show before we left. And why we were wearing designer labels to a party that should have been filled with sweatpants and junk food.
I snorted as Jillian and I started up the stairs. “You have to admit, this explains so much about Kaylen.”
“Doesn’t it though?” Jillian murmured. “I told you, Kaylen is an okay person—she’s just a little . . . skewed.”
“I can see why. She’s living with a grade-A pageant mom.”
“Aw, who’s afraid of tiaras and mascara? We’ve fought demons.”
“I’ve fought demons,” I corrected. “You fought a crazed psycho killer with some serious girl issues.”
“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” Jillian waved her hand dismissively.
After what felt like a thousand miles of stairs and hallway, Jillian paused outside a set of red double doors. She’d just reached for one of the handles when both doors swung open and Kaylen came bounding out into the hall.
“Jill!” she squealed, enveloping her friend in a bear hug to which Jillian responded with an awkward back pat.
I’d always thought of Kaylen as something of a princess. But tonight, in stark contrast to her mother, she appeared in a set of comfortable-looking pajamas.
“So, Jill, I got those hot Cheetos you like even though they make everyone else want to puke.” She abruptly shifted her attention to me. “And you’re Amelia, right? Josh’s secret new girlfriend?”
Now that took me aback. All I could do was stutter, “Uh . . . y-yeah. I guess I am.”
I thought I’d have to dance around this issue for hours—maybe suffer a few sly, catty comments in the process. But Kaylen just came right out and addressed the elephant in the room.
“Not so secret anymore,” she noted, before I could say anything else. “Anyway, come on in—the other girls are already here.”
She started to wave us inside, grinning.
“You got all done up for Mom, right?” Kaylen asked. “Don’t worry: you can go ahead and change into your comfies in the powder bath.”
“Thanks,” Jillian breathed, immediately slipping her feet out of her tall wedges. Then she and I hefted up our bags and followed Kaylen inside.
The theater room matched the house perfectly: overdone, with heavy red drapes and gold tassels everywhere. The only difference was that this room looked a little friendlier with the addition of a rom-com on the big screen and a few pajama-clad girls gathered beneath it.
I’d seen them before, following Kaylen and Jillian around Wilburton High. One of them—a strawberry blonde with a sharp nose and pale green eyes—hung back in the semicircle of theater chairs and arranged bowls of junk food on a low table. The other two girls approached us, both sporting messy sets of pigtails. Slumber-party couture, I guess.
“Nice dress, Jill,” one teased, flipping an ashy brown pigtail. “Are you going to a fancy horse race?”
“Are you running in one?” Jillian shot back, but she grinned warmly and gave her friend a playful shove. Then she moved toward the bathroom, apparently to change. Without looking back, Jillian wiggled her fingers over her shoulder. “I’m going to go un-Derby myself. See you in a sec.”
As soon as the door clicked shut, the third girl moved closer to me. Too close, actually, almost like a shark. Her smirk wasn’t necessarily hostile—in fact, it looked sort of pretty against her deeply tanned skin—but it made me uncomfortable. Deeply uncomfortable.
“So,” she said archly. “You’re Amelia?”
It was as if those three words were some kind of signal. All at once, the entire room seemed to focus on me. Each girl moved in concert, angling herself toward me like a missile seeking its target.
After a long, uncertain pause, I nodded and cleared my throat. “And all of you are . . . ?”
“Chelsea Qualls,” the ashy brunette offered, and then pointed behind her to the redhead. “That’s Elyse Richards.”
“And I’m Mya Homma.”
The girl with the deeply tanned skin and black hair waved at me, a gesture that I wasn’t sure whether to read as snarky or friendly. For lack of anything better to do, I waved back.
“Hi. I’m Amelia Ashley. I’m dating Joshua Mayhew. I enjoy competitive figure skating and long walks on the beach.”
The other girls laughed, relaxing by separate degrees. One by one, they each shifted away from me. Sensing that the attack was over, I smiled at them as genuinely as I could and reminded myself that I’d faced far scarier things than a roomful of teenage girls in judgment mode.
Still, when Jillian exited the powder bath, I took the opportunity to excuse myself to change—and breathe easier for the first time since we’d entered the room. Maybe even the house.
Chapter FOUR
An hour later, the awkward, interrogation-themed tension had almost dissipated. I guess a few peanut butter M&M’s and more than a few sips of stolen wine just had that effect on people. It also didn’t hurt when Jillian told them that my pajamas were previously worn by the actress now prancing around in the chick flick that we were only half watching.
“I can totally see the resemblance,” Mya said, using a bottle of Mrs. Patton’s finest merlot to draw an invisible line between the woman on the screen and me.
“Yeah,” I muttered awkwardly. “My famous aunt just loves to share her outdated clothes.”
“Outdated?” Chelsea breathed. “They’re freaking gorgeous. Is that silk?”
Chelsea sat in the chair next to mine, and she moved forward to touch my sleeve. Without thinking, I yanked my arm back before she had the chance. Jillian must have seen the small, insulted O that Chelsea’s mouth made, because she darted forward.
“Amelia has touch issues,” Jillian said defensively, leaning around me. “You know, like a phobia.”
“Oh.” Chelsea gave me a smile that was equal parts polite and weirded-out. Kaylen, however, looked intrigued.
“Really?” she asked. She sat up straighter in her chair. “How does that work, exactly? With Joshua, I mean.”
My mouth started flapping open and closed like a fish’s. How did I even begin to answer that? Luckily, before I had to craft some believable lie, Jillian faked a loud yawn.
“Bor-ring,” she grumbled. “New subject, guys. Please.”
I could have kissed her. Instead, I gave her a sly wink of gratitude.
“Okay,” Kaylen said. “No more phobia talk. How about a game of truth-or-dare?”
Jillian and I shouted no at the same time, almost as loudly as Chelsea, Mya, and Elyse cheered yes. With the rest of the party on her side, Kaylen grinned triumphantly.
“Four against two. It’s totally happening.”
I groaned loudly and glanced at Jillian. She shrugged, as if to say, No use fighting this. I sank into my plush seat, waiting until the very last minute to join the other girls in the cross-legged circle they’d formed around the coffee table. Once there, I folded my arms and prepared myself for the inevitable questions from Kaylen. But to my surprise, Mya jumped in with the first challenge.
“Truth or dare, Jilly?”
Obviously Jillian hadn’t expected that, either. She blinked a few times and then said, “Uh . . . truth, I guess.”
Mya exchanged meaningful looks with Chelsea and Elyse before turning back to Jillian. “Are you in love with Scott Conner?” Mya asked bluntly.
Jillian blinked even faster, as did I.
I knew that Joshua’s quiet friend Scott liked Jillian; his feelings were written all over his face, every time he looked at her. But I had no idea that Jillian might feel something for Scott in return, especially not after her misguided crush on Kade LaLaurie this winter.
Now, watching the red stain of a blush creep up her neck, I knew it must be true: Jillian liked Scott back.
“No,” Jillian muttered, after far too long a pause. “Of course I don’t like Scott. He’s like . . . a brother to me, or something. And he’s not even that cute. I’m mean—floppy hair is over, right?”
Instead of answering her, the other girls whooped and laughed in triumph.
“Liar!” Elyse crowed. “You do! You totally like him.”
Chelsea pointed an accusatory finger at Jillian. “You’ve got a crush on your big brother’s bestie. Admit it.”
“No,” Jillian spat. She chucked an M&M at Chelsea, who caught it deftly and popped it into her mouth. Somehow, this offended Jillian even more. She folded her arms over her chest and scowled at her friends.
“Fine. So I sort of like Scott, okay? I didn’t used to. But after we got back from Christmas break, he just . . . he started to look better to me. Cuter. Funnier.”
I heard what Jillian didn’t say: that Scott Conner, compared to a creep like Kade LaLaurie, looked like Prince Charming. Not that Scott needed the comparison—he’d always been a nice guy. But now, Jillian actually valued that quality. I couldn’t wait to tell Joshua.
Jillian’s girlfriends, however, continued to tease her mercilessly. And for once, she couldn’t seem to muster up any sharp comebacks. So she scowled harder and flopped angrily against the footrest of a theater chair.
“Traitors,” she hissed halfheartedly, after the last bit of laughter quieted. Then she turned to Kaylen. “Don’t think you’re going to get out of this, just because I’m embarrassed now. Truth or dare, Kaylen?”
Kaylen flashed everyone a smug half grin. “I always take the dare. You know that.”
“Oh, I know.” Jillian grinned back, but her smile wasn’t a happy one. “That’s why I already have your dare picked out.”
“Bring it, Jilly.” Kaylen curled her fists and flexed her arms into a strongman position. “I’m not afraid.”
When I saw Jillian’s smirk, I wondered whether Kaylen should have been.
“Okay, if you’re so brave, then why don’t you go get us another bottle of your mom’s wine?”
Kaylen had already started to beam confidently, when Jillian added, “And one of her old pageant tiaras. A big one. Which you will wear for the rest of the night.”
The other girls started cackling, but Kaylen paled faintly. I would bet anything that those tiaras, with all their sharp edges and cold sparkle, represented the worst of Kaylen’s fears. Just the thought of stealing one had her broken out in a visible sweat.
Despite the jealousy I’d felt toward Kaylen, despite the fact that she’d thrown herself at my boyfriend last fall, I suddenly wanted to protect her. To keep her from risking her mother’s wrath, and from having to see another tiara again, if she didn’t want to.
“Jillian, I think that’s one too many dares.”
I spoke as quietly as possible, but the other girls heard me. As Kaylen watched me, something in her eyes shifted from desperate to hopeful.
“Actually,” I went on, keeping my eyes trained on Kaylen’s, “I know that’s one too many dares. Kaylen will probably get caught stealing the tiara. And if she has to steal something, I’d rather have the wine.”
Faced with a choice between the humiliation of their queen bee and more booze, the crowd quickly chose the latter. As if to demonstrate, Elyse grabbed the bottle from Chelsea’s hand and tilted it back, draining the last few ounces.
“More wine, more wine,” she began to chant softly, once she’d finished off the bottle.
As Kaylen pushed herself up from the floor, her feigned look of boredom barely hid her obvious relief.
“Okay, okay,” she said, moving toward the doors. “I’ll get us another bottle.”
“Two,” Jillian called out, just before the doors clicked shut. Then she whipped around toward me.
“Thanks a lot, Amelia,” she said, dragging out my name sarcastically.
I shrugged, unbothered by the fact that I’d spoiled Jillian’s plans. It was just too bad if she momentarily hated me for it. I’d lost too many friendships to let Jillian ruin one of her own. Besides, Kaylen might be needy and a little self-absorbed, but that didn’t mean she deserved cruelty.
There was enough of it in the afterlife, I’d learned.
Oblivious to my motives, Jillian turned back to her friends, effectively cutting me out of the conversation. I shook my head and smiled.
Oh, Jillian. You are nothing if not yourself.
I settled against the foot of my chair, satisfied to listen in silence for a while. Whether or not I would make friends with these girls tonight, perhaps I’d found an ally in Kaylen.
Or at least I thought I had. Less than sixty seconds after Kaylen returned, passed the stolen wine to her friends, and flopped back into her place in the circle, she turned on me with a wide smile.
“Truth or dare, Amelia.”
My eyes narrowed as I stared back at her. If I was being really honest, I’d thought that Kaylen herself would give me the biggest break, considering what I’d just done for her. But no such luck.
Though I didn’t know her exact question, I knew its inevitable subject: the boy I loved; the boy I’d been through hell for, almost literally.
It should have been an easy choice. I should have picked truth, and then lied like crazy. Fibbed my way through the dark secrets about Joshua’s Seer heritage and my undead status. Provided some vague answers, like “yeah, he’s a good kisser,” or “no, we haven’t talked about what will happen to us after graduation.”
Instead, I lowered my head and flashed my darkest smile.
“Dare, Kaylen. I choose dare.”
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