Elegy (23 page)

Chapter
TWENTY-NINE

D
espite my patchy memory, I knew I’d always wanted to attend prom while I was alive. But I also knew that I’d never expected to be standing in front of its entrance—half dead, half alive, and dressed in stolen clothes—waiting to go inside and ask a handful of normal teenagers to fight evil with me.

I supposed I should be thankful that I’d had the forethought to change out of this morning’s dusty clothes and into my favorite pair of skinny jeans and the soft brown boots Gaby had picked out for me in New Orleans. Not prom appropriate, but certainly comfortable. At Joshua’s suggestion, I’d also thrown on a white cashmere top. Seeing the white threads now, I had to smile; I guessed Joshua would always have a soft spot for that color. Still smiling slightly, I turned to the Seers.

“How exactly are we going to do this? Get inside there, I mean?”

I gestured to the school gym, where crowds of fancily dressed students were now entering. The sun had already started to set, and we all looked too conspicuous milling around the Wilburton High School parking lot in our street clothes. Someone needed to make a decision about how we would accomplish our recruiting mission, and soon.

It didn’t surprise me that Annabel had her own overly confident idea.

“We just do it,” she said brashly. “Barge in and get as many people to follow us outside as we can.”

“Including half the faculty?” I asked, shaking my head. “If we just go ahead and crash the prom like we’re a freaking biker gang, we’re going to draw way more attention than we want.”

Annabel scowled at me, but I could tell that she also saw my point. We were still staring each other down when someone else interjected an idea.

“Why don’t we just wait here, and Amelia and Joshua go inside? They can pretend to attend the dance for a little while and then lure our friends outside to the keg.”

Everyone turned to Jillian, who was leaning against Scott’s car with her arms folded across her chest. Her suggestion was simple and therefore perfect. Why overwhelm our possible helpers with unfamiliar faces, when we could just give them Joshua? That way, we at least had a shot at recruiting the
girls
of Wilburton High.

Everyone else began to nod agreement. Yet Jillian herself didn’t look pleased with her own idea—she frowned heavily, and her eyes occasionally darted to Scott with a clear look of yearning.

“Why don’t four of us go?” I suggested with feigned indifference. “Jillian and Scott, me and Joshua? That way we can cover more ground once we’re inside.”

“Even better,” Jillian said quickly, and a little too eagerly. When the rest of the group gave their assent, she flashed me a small, barely concealed smile. I just nodded in response; it was the least I could do, considering what I would ask of her in a few hours.

As Annabel and her crew took their positions between Joshua’s truck and their nearby cars, I slipped my arm through Joshua’s and then glanced up at him. He smiled down at me, but the expression was tinged with too much sadness for me to return it. So I tugged him onward, looking back every now and then to make sure Jillian and Scott followed.

Although we made it across the parking lot without incident, we encountered our first problem at the entrance to prom. There, a vaguely familiar woman occupied the gym’s ticket booth, allowing those students who had prepaid inside and charging a slightly higher admission to those who hadn’t. When Joshua approached her with enough money for four tickets, the woman scowled down at him.

“Mr. Mayhew,” she said disdainfully, “I see you’ve put as much effort into tonight’s outfit as you normally put into your homework.”

I recognized her then: it was Ms. Wolters, Joshua’s surly Calculus teacher. I hadn’t seen her in person since I helped him through a differential equation last fall, although I’d seen plenty of her brutal homework assignments.

Joshua was still mumbling an excuse about our clothing when I plucked the money from his hands. Releasing my arm from his, I strolled up to the ticket booth with a saccharine smile.

“Ms. Wolters, is it? Joshua has told me so much about you—particularly about your class, in which he now holds the highest grade.”

The old woman eyed me suspiciously. “So far. But graduation is still a month off.”

“Well, with your excellent teaching skills, I don’t doubt that he’ll maintain that grade.” Then I leaned forward and lowered my voice so that only she could hear it. “And if he doesn’t . . . well, maybe the school board needs to know about that bottle of booze in your desk drawer?”

I had no idea whether or not Ms. Wolters drank on the job—it was just a blind guess. And a lucky one, judging by the stricken look in her eyes. Still wearing a sickly sweet smile, I slid Joshua’s money across the counter toward her.

“Four tickets to the prom, please,” I said loudly.

Ms. Wolters’s hands shook slightly as she took the cash, but I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for her. I flashed her one more sugary smile—as a warning—and then rejoined my companions to move toward the prom entrance.

When we were out of earshot, Joshua whispered, “What did you say to her to make her shut up so fast?”

I laughed softly and took his hand in mine. “I just told her that if she needed help counting the bills, you could do it. Since you’re so good at math and all.”

Joshua laughed like he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he pulled me closer and guided me through the double doors into his high school gym.

Although it had started getting darker outside, it still took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dimmer interior of the building. Once they did, I let out a small gasp of awe.

On some level, I knew that Joshua and I now stood in the Wilburton High gym, staring at a spectacle made mostly out of Mylar and strings of old Christmas bulbs. But if I squinted just right, this place was pure magic—a fairyland of shimmering dresses, twinkling lights, glitter-strewn tabletops, and oversized arrangements of white carnations.

“Wow,” I breathed as Joshua and I wove our way through the already-crowded tables near the dance floor, with Jillian and Scott following closely behind. “Is the prom always this pretty?”

“I don’t know,” he called out above the thumping music. “I’ve never seen one before.”

I glanced quickly at him, surprised. “Really? You didn’t go to prom your junior year?”

“Really.”

“Why not?”

“Because you and I didn’t meet until
this
fall.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes and pretending like he didn’t just make me go a little gooey-happy inside. Not that it was too hard a task for Joshua to accomplish.

Even knowing what lay in store, I couldn’t help but notice how deep the midnight blue of his eyes looked under the sparkling lights that hung in swoops above the gym floor.

With a sigh, I moved closer to him as he led our group toward a long, banquet-style table near the back of the gym, where Kaylen, O’Reilly, and their respective entourages had set up camp. We were still a few feet away but I could see two of the girls I’d met at Kaylen’s party, flanking boys who already looked a little drunk. Chelsea, under her layers of pink tulle and sequins, kept leaning forward to share annoyed glances with Mya, who looked lovely in an understated blue silk sheath dress.

Their glances shifted from annoyed to surprised when they caught sight of us approaching the table. I could almost feel their amused appraisal of my top, my jeans, my boots: nothing I wore tonight was prom appropriate, and we all knew it.

Luckily, Joshua’s guy friends couldn’t have cared less what he wore to prom; they were obviously pleased that he’d actually decided to come. O’Reilly waved to us first, booming loudly across the table.

“Mayhew, dude! And Scott,
and
Jilly-bean! Why don’t y’all grab some seats with us?”

Joshua and I exchanged a look, and I shrugged. What could it hurt if we stayed, just for a few minutes?

As if he’d read my thoughts, Joshua pulled out a free chair across from Kaylen and O’Reilly, who apparently had come to prom together.
Good for O’Reilly
, I thought, settling into my seat as Joshua took the one next to me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jillian rush over to chat with Chelsea and Mya; noticing how happy Jillian looked just to be here, I smiled a little.

While Joshua chatted with his friends, he reached over casually and wrapped his arm around my waist so that he could drag my chair—and me—closer to him. He left his hand at my waist, so I reached for it, entwining my fingers with his. I laid my head on his shoulder, absently listening to his conversation and gazing around the sparkling gym.

After a few minutes, I sighed and lifted my head to stare down the table. Everyone that we could possibly approach for tonight’s mission was here, seated at this table. I couldn’t ask for a better moment to start recruiting. I knew that we didn’t have much time left to do so, either.

Still, I hesitated, not quite ready to end this part of the night yet. And I couldn’t even muster up the will to feel guilty about it. I waited for a lull in Joshua’s conversation, and then caught his attention.

“It really
is
beautiful in here, isn’t it?” I asked him, tilting my head to indicate our surroundings. For a moment, he didn’t respond—just stared at me with the same sad smile that he’d worn earlier. Finally, he turned his lips to my ear and whispered, “Yes, it is.”

I knew what he meant by that comment—knew
who
he meant. And I suddenly couldn’t help myself: I lifted my head from Joshua’s shoulder, threw my arms around his neck, and pressed my lips to his. When he kissed me back, a chorus of hoots and cheers from the table interrupted us. I pulled away first, smiling and blushing with equal ferocity.

“Mayhew, dude,” O’Reilly called out appreciatively from across the table. “The night is young—save some for the after-party.”

I turned my grin on O’Reilly and then, catching sight of his outfit, I burst into laughter. He wore a baby-blue tuxedo with a formal cummerbund stretched tightly over his thick frame.

“I love it, O’Reilly,” I said, pointing to his ruffled dress shirt. “It’s too bad you shaved off your beard—you would’ve looked exactly like Barry Gibb.”

Immediately, I recognized my mistake. Although O’Reilly had heard of me by now, he and I had never formally met. And judging by his politely confused grin, he didn’t feel as familiar with me as I did with him.

“You’re . . . Amelia, right?” he asked haltingly. “Mayhew’s new girl?”

I tried to keep my voice pleasantly vague as I chirped, “That’s right—nice to meet you.”

But despite my less intimate tone, O’Reilly’s grin remained unsure. “How did you know about my beard, Amelia?”

I blinked back for a second, searching for a plausible explanation. Then I smiled widely. “Who
didn’t
know about your beard, O’Reilly? Rumor has it, you had a colony of pygmies living in there.”

He boomed a good-natured laugh. “Actually, I think it was just a couple of birds.”

“Sexy,” Joshua interjected. “And sanitary.”

He slipped his hand beneath the table to clutch mine, probably to keep me from tapping my nails nervously on the tabletop. Thankfully, a little more banter with O’Reilly convinced me that I’d averted disaster. He no longer seemed bothered by my earlier slipup.

“Are y’all going to the after-party at Mya’s house?” O’Reilly asked me, shouting over the pounding bass line of a new song.

Joshua flashed O’Reilly a bland, if somewhat tense, smile. “No, man. Not really our scene.”

Then Joshua looked back at me, silently asking whether it was time to present our bait. I wavered, knowing what I
should
say. Yet somehow, I still couldn’t. I began to squirm uncomfortably in my chair, so Joshua placed a steadying hand on the small of my back.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah . . . just, you know, dancing,” I offered lamely.

One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “In your chair?”

“Don’t knock it. Chair dancing is a valid form of artistic expression in many cultures.”

“Such as?”