Everwild (18 page)

“Lead the way,” she said, and realized she had put out her hand for Milos to take. Milos gave her the biggest smirk she had ever seen him give—and he refused to take her hand. She laughed to mask her own embarrassment that even that little gesture had, for the two of them, become a game—and Milos now had, so to speak, the upper hand.

He took her to a nearby neighborhood—a wealthy western suburb of Nashville, where tract mansions rose from what was once farmland. Everything was winding streets and culde-sacs. Allie lost all sense of direction in the moonlight but Milos seemed to know exactly where he was going.

He stopped at a huge house with a rounded driveway that was full of cars. There was music inside, and the sound of a crowd.

“A party?”

“Yes! And we are about to crash it!”

“Interesting,” she said, giving him a dubious look. “So is there a name for tonight's lesson?”

Milos thought about it. “I have no name for what we do tonight. Perhaps after the lesson is over, you can tell me what to call it.”

They walked right in through the side wall, having no need for the front door, and in an instant, they were in the midst of dozens of teenaged fleshies, doing all those things Allie's parents would have grounded her for when she was alive: drinking, smoking, dancing much too close in clothes that were far too revealing. And, of course, not a single adult was in sight.

“We were all so stupid when we were alive,” Allie noted.

“Ah, to be that stupid again.” Milos looked around, and pointed to the kitchen. “That way.”

The crowd thinned out in the kitchen; there were only about half a dozen kids in there. “There they are!” he said, pointing to a boy, maybe seventeen, talking to a girl about the same age. He wore a shirt that effectively showed off a body in ripped, varsity shape. He was also amazingly easy on the eye.

“Best-looking boy here, yes?”

Allie forced a shrug. “I hadn't noticed.”

“And her.” He pointed to the girl the boy was talking to. “Miss American Pie.”

Allie laughed. The girl was too pretty for her own good. A blond cheerleader type that Allie instantly invented a halfdozen negative fictions about: She must be an airhead, she must be a drunk, she must cheat on tests, she must backstab her friends, and that ridiculous rack
can't
be real.

“Why don't you skinjack her?”

“What possible point could that serve?”

“Listen to teacher,” said Milos.

Allie sighed. “Fine, but I'm not going to like it.”

But to her surprise, she was wrong. About everything.
She didn't put the girl to sleep. Not at first anyway. First Allie hid behind her consciousness, to get a good sense of her mental landscape. This girl was not any of the things Allie had imagined. She was smart and honest, never held a pom-pom in her life, and the mug of beer on the counter beside her wasn't even hers. Allie found it annoying that this girl didn't fit any of her preconceived notions.

“So, are you going to take the UT-Memphis scholarship?” asked the good-looking boy, “because I think you should. That way you'll be closer to home, right? And—” Suddenly he stopped, and something about him changed. It was very slight—the way he held his shoulders, the angle of his head—and although his eyes were brown, it was as if they were also blue with white speckles at the same time.

Now Allie gently put the girl to sleep, and took full control of her body.

“She looks good on you,” Milos said.

“Thanks, I think.” Allie looked around. The girl had clear vision, and saw everything in colors a little too vibrant. It figured. “So am I Cinderella at the ball now?”

“That depends. Am I the Prince of Charming?”

“Prince Charming,” Allie corrected, then she looked at him sternly. “Do you think I don't know what this is all about?”

He didn't deny it. “Indulge me,” he said. “One dance is all I ask.”

“Why should I?”

“Out of simple gratitude for all I have taught you.”

“No—you lied to me! You said tonight would be a lesson, not a free dance ticket.”

“It
is
a lesson,” Milos insisted. “Come, look here.” He led her to a mirror in a nearby hallway. “Look at yourself,” he said. “Before I met you, you would never dare to skinjack someone this beautiful.”

The girl in the mirror certainly was stunning. “I never felt I had the right … .”

“Why? Do you think so little of yourself that you should only skinjack people less attractive than you are? Why not a girl as beautiful as you?”

Allie couldn't look away from the reflection. “I'm not beautiful… .”

“Then I think you don't see yourself clearly. You are on the inside what she is on the outside. And your outside is pretty good too.”

Finally she broke away from her reflection and turned to him. “We should give these people back their bodies.”

“Yes,” agreed Milos, “but first the dance.”

He held out his hand to her. She looked at it for the longest time, then she put her hand in his, ending their little cat-and-mouse game. But now a new game had begun.

Milos, in the body of the beautiful young man, led her to the living room, where all the furniture had been pushed aside to create a dance floor. A dozen couples were dancing, and people without partners danced as well to the steady beat. Allie was never much of a dancer, but this girl came furnished with extensive muscle memory when it came to dancing. Allie found herself dancing better than she ever had before, and sweat soon began to bead on her forehead. She had almost forgotten the curious sensation of perspiration!

The song segued into another, and they kept on dancing
through two songs, three, and then the pace slowed. The fourth song was a slow dance, and Allie found herself moving right into it. Milos's arms swept around her, drawing her in, the space between them vanished, and she could smell cologne on his neck. She had to remind herself it was neither his cologne, nor his neck.

It was halfway through the song that Allie realized this girl was in love with this boy. And while the girl's mind and soul might have been asleep, her body was not.

Suddenly the room felt like a sauna, and Allie had to get out.

Pulling away from Milos, she hurried, pushing past the minefield of dancing couples, and out the back door, to an expansive pool deck.

It was cool out here, but there was no escape from the party. People were clowning around in and around the pool. People sat on lounge chairs. One couple sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi, making out.

“Get a room,” someone griped.

Although Allie looked away, the lip-locked couple stayed in the corner of her eye, and her gaze kept being drawn to them.

She felt hands slip around her waist. Milos's fleshie. She turned to him, and once more the space between them compressed until they were in that close-dance position again. Milos brushed his hand down her arm, raising gooseflesh all over her borrowed body, until his hand reached hers, and he clasped it.

“Look at me, Allie,” he said gently, and so she did. “We break no rules,” he said. “These two are already dating. They arrived at the party holding hands.”

He touched her face and although she knew it would be wise to back away, she didn't.

“Some feelings are lost to us in Everlost,” Milos said. “Some feelings can only be felt in living bodies. Do you understand?”

She did understand, and she was unprepared for it. In life she had never experienced how overwhelming, how strong those feelings could be. How they could confound the most rational of minds.

“And,” said Milos, his voice barely a whisper in her ear, “there are things we cannot
do
in Everlost … but we can do them here, in these bodies.”

Then he leaned in and kissed her. It was profoundly different from an Everlost kiss. An Everlost kiss was about connection, not passion. An Everlost kiss lacked this rudeness, this rawness of flesh, and the insane breathlessness of two hearts pounding faster and faster.

In that instant, Allie forgot who she was, and who she was in. She forgot this was not her body at all. She let the mind of the girl surface, and it began to swim and blend with her own thoughts, until she didn't know whether she was the girl or the intruder.

And for a moment, just for a moment, it felt right. It felt perfect. How could it not be? Their lips separated, and both of them stole a quick breath.

“We could be for each other … whatever we need,” Milos said.

This time it was Allie moving forward, pressing her lips against his, not wanting this feverish, dizzying sensation to ever end. This body she was in—it shivered with the thrill of it.

“Get a room,” shouted the same heckler, but the voice sounded part of another universe.

If Milos had, in that moment, lifted her in those strong, borrowed arms, and carried her off to a quiet place, she would have allowed him to do it, letting herself be swallowed by passion.

But the moment passed, her senses returned, and she pushed him away.

“Milos, no!”

He looked at her, out of breath, eyes barely in control. “Why no?”

She had trouble answering him, and so he kissed her again. She knew if she gave herself over to the kiss one more time, all would be lost. She would gladly be consumed by it.
This is what we are meant to do
, Milos had said.
This is what we are meant to
be
. It took every ounce of her will to say—

“Lesson over.”

She couldn't bear to pull out of his arms, so instead she peeled out of the beautiful girl, and back into Everlost.

Milos peeled away a moment later, once he realized that Allie was gone.

Allie stood there knowing she had done the right thing, but was still unable to turn and leave. They stood there for the most awkward of moments.

“Now you will say you hated that,” Milos said, sheepishly.

Allie shook her head. “No. No, I didn't hate it.” And that was the problem.

Beside them, the couple who, after all, really were dating, went back to kissing each other, probably thinking their
odd supernatural experience was solely the product of love and hormones. Allie watched them, part of her wishing it could still be her—but realizing that the other half of her wished that the boy could be Mikey.

Only now did she realize that the boy Milos had chosen
did
look just a little bit like Mikey. She wondered if Milos had chosen him for that very reason. What was it he had said?
We could be for each other whatever we need.
She wondered if the girl looked like Jackin' Jill.

“Next time, maybe?” said Milos with an apologetic grin.

“No,” said Allie, and took his hands, no longer in passion but in sympathy. “There won't be a next time, Milos.”

She could not hate him for this. He hadn't forced her— he hadn't taken advantage. He was just doing what boys do—and he was very good at it.

“Too bad,” said Milos. “I could have walked you down the red carpet at the Oscars. I could have danced with you in the White House.”

“Now who's thinking too big?”

Milos sighed. “Will you now walk back alone, or may I escort you?”

“Well, since we're both going in the same direction, it would be silly to walk alone.”

They returned to the highway together, yet apart. It was a long and painfully awkward walk.

“I'm sorry, Milos,” Allie told him, when they were halfway there.

But Milos shook his head. “Please,” he said. “I posed a question, and your answer was no. Never be afraid to tell anyone ‘no',” he said. “And that includes me.”

It didn't make it any easier that he was charming even in defeat. She knew she could have fallen for Milos had Mikey not already been a part of her life, and Milos knew it too. Never before had Allie been put in a position of chosing between two boys. Some girls might like such a game—toying with them, playing one against the other. Allie thought to the times she teased Mikey about Milos, and realized that maybe she had done a little bit of that herself. It made her want to see Mikey all the more.

The one comfort Allie could take from the evening's festivities was that her momentous lapse of reason would go unnoticed and unrecorded. Mikey would never know.

Except that he did.

In fact, he was standing right beside them when they kissed.

When Allie and Milos returned to the interstate, Moose and Squirrel were there, but Mikey was nowhere to be seen. Now that Milos's advances had hit a brick wall, he was itching to move on, and didn't appreciate waiting for Mikey.

“It is just like him to make the rest of us wait,” Milos said.

“How do you know what he's like?” Allie said, defensively. “You barely even know him.”

Milos knew better than to argue the point.

Allie looked around—to the fields across the interstate, and behind her, to the neighborhood they had just come from. She tried to catch a glimpse of Mikey's afterglow, but the moon was too bright; everything seemed to be glowing.

“Wherever he's gone, he couldn't have gone far,” Allie told the others. But when Mikey wasn't back by midnight, Allie began to worry.

“What if something happened to him?”

Squirrel stayed silent about it, but Moose—probably following Milos's earlier cue—was annoyed. “Let him catch up with ush.”

Milos, on the other hand, had moved past his irritation, and recognized that Mikey's absence was something out of the ordinary. “There will be a sensible explanation,” Milos reasoned, “and when he does come back, we can all be suitably angry at him. But for now we will wait.”

Allie kept a vigil all night, her mind filling with all the things that could have happened to him. What if the Nashville Afterlights kidnapped him? What if he got caught in one of Mary's stupid soul traps? Yet she knew she was grasping at straws. Those Nashville Afterlights were timid things—and as for soul traps, there was no evidence that Mary had ever been this far west.