Forsaken (22 page)

“Comb.”

“
Hair spray.”

“
Bobby pin.”

“
Hair spray.”

Carmen
inspected her masterpiece (A.K.A. my hair), sprayed it one more time, and then scrunched her nose in concentration.

“Can I see it yet?”
  Carmen had my back to the bathroom mirror so I wouldn’t see it until she was completely done.

“Almost ready
.” She smoothed down a couple more hairs and reached for the hair spray.

“If
you put any more hairspray on it, it’s going to look more like a helmet, than a hairdo,” Willow declared, “She’s going to a Ball, not for a ride on a crotch rocket.”

“
She might be by the end of the night…” her joke stopped short with Willow, but Phoebe snickered.  “You don’t know how hard the wind’s going to be blowing.  We can’t afford to cut any corners.”  Carmen chewed on a bobby pin and circled me a couple more times.

“
Done!” she announced loudly enough for the entire third floor to hear.  She came around to face me holding a small hand mirror. 

“Now if you don’t
like it, lie and tell me you do,” she grinned.  She held the mirror low, raising it slowly for effect. “Wait for it…wait for it-“.

“I’ve been waiting two hours.” I
groaned, as I tried to steal the mirror.  She pulled it out of my reach just in time.

“Patience
, grasshopper.  All good things come to those who- hey!” Phoebe snatched the mirror from her and passed it to me, rolling her eyes.  Carmen had done Phoebe’s hair first and it looked absolutely amazing.  Chunks of hair had been pulled back into a messy bun at the crown of her head.  The style accentuated each streak of blonde, red, and brown perfectly.  For an extra pop of color, Carmen had tucked a feather matching the bottom of Phoebe’s dress into the bun. I was reminded of the exotic birds I had in my vision.  I figured this probably wasn’t the best time to mention that.

Not havin
g had my hair fixed that many times, I noticed how heavy all of the bobby pins were; not to mention the eight layers of hair spray that probably added a few pounds. I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror.  A small section of hair had been French braided, starting from above my left eye and extending all the way down into the corner of a low side bun.  It was elegant, classy and simple.  I loved it.

“Oh Carmen, it’s beautiful.”  I move
d my head from side to side to get a better look.

‘You really like it?”
Her face was beaming.

“
I really do! You’re amazing!” I jumped up and gave her a hug.  She held me at a distance, but patted my back.

“Easy
, trigger.  No sudden movements.  Don’t go messing up my hard work.  You can come home a hot mess, but when you step off that boat in…” she checked her watch, “two hours, I want every head to turn.”  I jumped down from the stool, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and ran in to the kitchen to eat a snack before the make-up portion of the extreme makeover started.

An hour
and a half later, Phoebe and I stood on the boardwalk of the marina along with about a hundred other girls dressed in exquisite gowns, also waiting to board the yacht.  I looked down at my own dress nervously for the twentieth time.  Despite my anxiety, I swore it was created just for me.  I ran my hands down it, smoothing the posh fabric.  I touched the aquamarine necklace Finn had given me.  The skin beneath it tingled each time it moved, but oddly enough it calmed my nerves.  I looked up as the large white yacht I had seen my first day on the island slowly pulled in to dock.  It bore a resemblance to an oversized Ferrari on water with its sleek exterior and dark windows.  I couldn’t even imagine what the inside would look like.  I’d never been on a boat, much less a million dollar yacht.

“Please tell me that’s not Olivia.” I follow
ed Phoebe’s eyes and spotted the girl she was glaring at.  She was in a skin-tight blood red gown that followed every curve of her body down to her glittering silver heels.  It was definitely Olivia.  She was talking animatedly to two other girls I’d seen around Maren. “Maybe she’ll fall overboard before we get there.”

“She can’t be that bad.  Girls like her are all talk.”
I said. One thing I’d learned in life is that everyone had a story – good or bad.  I wondered what Olivia’s story was.  Right then her piercing eyes locked in on us.  She gave us her best condescending smile and swiftly turned her back on us.  I hoped she didn’t have a super hearing ability.

“Well, her ‘all talk
’ really works my nerves,” Phoebe huffed, still glaring at her.

The crowd
of girls began to move and I craned my neck to see if we were boarding.  A single file line was beginning to form, as each girl walked up a ramp then disappeared onto the yacht’s deck.  Several guys in black suits, who I assumed were Sons, stood on both sides, extending their hands to help each girl aboard.  Finally, it was my turn. I held up the bottom of my gown and delicately stepped on to the ramp.  For some odd reason I was reminded of the movie Titanic and the scene where Rose stepped off solid ground in her dress for the last time.  All I was missing was a wide brimmed hat and a prescription grade case of resentment.

The ramp itself was a little unsteady and had too many places for the heel of a shoe to get caught.  I held on to the two guys’ hands and stepped onto
the immaculate wooden floor of the deck.  Phoebe joined me a second later.  We were shuffled through a small opening that led to a sizeable room oozing with opulence.  Clusters of candles adorned small tables throughout the room.  Soft music played from hidden speakers, which added to the ambiance.  A plush white carpet spread across the floor, meeting walls painted a warm golden color.  They were trimmed with elaborate white molding punctuating the lavish surroundings.  Phoebe and I chose a love seat that was a shade darker than the walls.  Extravagant frames covered the walls containing pictures of guys, all with dark hair.  According to the plates below, group pictures had been taken of each graduating class. 

The boat started
to move and my pulse quickened, knowing I was getting closer and closer to seeing Finn.  Most importantly, I knew I’d have to walk back down that plank without falling and breaking an ankle, or worse, falling into the water.  My hair definitely wouldn’t survive that.  Carmen would be pissed. 

I thought
about Kira as waiters in white uniforms handed out glasses filled with ice water.  I planned on texting Kira later since I hadn’t talked to her today.  The memory of her blonde hair hanging limp over her bruised face flashed in my mind and a wave of nausea passed over me.  I set down my glass and squeezed my eyes shut.  I quickly realized it wasn’t the disturbing image, but the boat’s motion that was causing it.  I didn’t even think about sea sickness!  Falling in the water might not be so bad after I puked all over my dress.  For the next thirty minutes, I concentrated on keeping my dinner down and calming my nerves.  Phoebe had been talking non-stop about nothing in particular, which told me she was nervous too. 

The yacht inched
to a stop, and the other girls began to stand up.  I couldn’t see anything out of the dark windows lining the room, but I knew what loomed above us.  And who.  My palms started to sweat.

“
Showtime.” Phoebe’s eyes glittered with anticipation. As we stood up, the sea sickness in my stomach morphed into a million butterflies.  Why was I so nervous?  It was just Finn.  Who am I kidding, that was exactly why I was so nervous.  He will never be ‘just Finn’.  We followed the line of girls and gave our clutches to a Son who was creating an organized pile.  I guess they assumed it was easier to leave our belongings on the boat.  That phone call to Kira would have to wait.

W
hen we stepped out on to the deck, we caught a glimpse of the rustic looking contraption that would lift us up to the light station ten stories above.

“Oh
hell no,” Phoebe shook her head vehemently; “I am not getting on that thing.”  It greatly resembled a hot air balloon basket, except there was a single metal bar going across one side that swung out, acting as the entrance as well as the exit.  Four steel ropes connected to the corners were all linked to a winch high above.  I could imagine the Sons assembling this out of spare materials they just found lying around.  I wasn’t sure I was ready to trust their handy work with my life.  I watched as a girl in a flowing lavender gown began step in, but the Son manning the basket shook his head and said something that made her get back in line.

“Anastasia Whitman?” The same Son was now calling out my name.  Phoebe looked at me
with alarm as my own heart seized up.  Were they doing this by reverse alphabetical order?  That seemed odd.

“Yes?” I stepped out of line and raised my hand.  He gestured for me to come to the front.  I gave Phoebe one last confused look and walked past fifty or so gi
rls to the front of the line, while each one glared at me as I walked by. 

“Is there a reason I’m going first?” I whispered to the Son who was now holding out his hand to help me in to the basket.

“It’s tradition,” he said simply.  I stepped in, completely confused.

“What do you mean?” I asked, but before he could answer, the winch above me came to life and the basket started to rise.  Holding on tight, I looked out over the water shining in the moonlight and a blanket of silence fell over the night.  The view was beautiful, but I made sure not to look down.  Why did I have to go first?  Was it because of Finn?  Did he arrange this?  I looked up to see where I was going.  A catwalk extended out from the main building
, which I would have to walk down.  My heart was threatening to jump out of my chest and I could feel my hands shaking. The winch came to a stop as I reached my destination.  A crowd of dark haired guys stood about five yards away on the other end of the catwalk.  For one horrible second I imagined Finn standing me up, leaving me humiliated in front of everyone.  I’d have to be lowered all the way back down in a cloud of shame, to be taken back to the island. 

Then a figure step
ped out from the crowd. My heart stopped and my mouth went dry. Wearing a black suit over a dark gray shirt, he confidently sauntered down the catwalk towards me.  His dark hair was swept across his forehead perfectly and his dark blue eyes were slightly shadowed.  He stopped a foot in front of me.  The corners of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin.

“Welcome to the Cimmerian Shade Ball
, Anastasia.” he said formally with a gleam in his eye, then in a hushed voice added, “You look absolutely stunning” With a wink, he extended his hand and I tried to remember how to put one foot in front of the other.  We walked across the catwalk towards the crowd of guys awaiting their own dates’ arrival in the basket of death. The crowd split down the middle allowing us passage. Each guy respectfully nodded their head at Finn as we walked by.  Before I could figure out the reason for all the pomp and circumstance centered around him, we took a sharp left turn down a dimly lit hallway and climbed several stairs that lead to an unassuming door.  It opened from the other side and we stepped out in to the crisp night air.  I was entirely unprepared for the scene I saw before me. 

The Light Station had
been transformed into a page straight out of a black and white fairy tale. Rows and rows of lights had been strung the entire length of the platform, resembling a thousand tiny fireflies hovering above our heads.  Black carpet concealed the concrete beneath, with a dusting of glitter giving it the appearance of diamonds.  As we walked, the glitter lifted and swirled around our feet. Thirty or forty formal tables had been set up around the perimeter, with stark white covers hanging over the chairs, each secured with a wide piece of black lace.  Elaborate centerpieces overflowing with large white flowers and even larger black feathers sat on black and white damask tablecloths. Placed in the middle of the floor were at least fifty trees in white planters hanging with dark red fruit.  At around six to seven feet tall, they encircled a shiny black dance floor. The glow of enchantment was awe-inspiring, and the Ball exuded prestige and tradition.  In the middle of the ocean, the darkness of night pulsed with its grandeur.

             
“Wow.  This is incredible” I smiled up at Finn as I realized he’d been watching me. 

             
“Thirsty?” he offered.

             
“Definitely.” With his hand at the small of my back, he guided me back towards the tower.  We walked through a side door and I carefully made my way down another flight of stairs.  Whoever built this station, they obviously hadn’t taken high heels into consideration.  This time the stairs ended in a spacious room full of comfortable couches and chairs.  Floor to ceiling windows lined two opposite walls and a lengthy bar recessed into another wall.  I looked at Finn.

             
“It’s a mocktail bar.”  He smiled down at me.

             
“A what?” 

             
“A mocktail bar.  It has all of the normal drinks and cocktails, just without the alcohol.” He explained.  I’d never heard of a mocktail bar, but it sounded pretty good.  I tried to remember names of popular cocktails.