Thrall (2 page)

Royal shrugged. “Shouldn’t you boys be polishing your tiaras for the big entrance?”

The other two guys pushed away from the wall and moved to flank Derek. The dark-haired, olive-skinned boy was named Rick. He was in a few of my classes, but we’d never spoken to each other that I could remember.

The other was Parker Webb, co-captain of the soccer team. Cassie was standing so close to me I could feel her breath catch. Even in the moonlight, I could spot the rosy blush spreading across her cheeks. She’d been nursing a crush on Parker since we were all in middle school together. Okay, with his pale blue eyes and jet-black hair, he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes. But there was a coldness in Parker that had always set my teeth on edge.

Derek took a step toward us. “This is a private party. Are you going to go back inside, or do I have to move you?”

Royal’s stare was icy. “If you want to dance, Derek, you just have to ask.”

A dangerous smile bloomed on Derek’s face. “You want to repeat that?”

“We just wanted to take a walk,” Cassie said.

“So pay the toll.” Derek plucked the cupcake out of her hands. Cassie stood, eyes downcast, while Derek wolfed her cupcake down in three big bites. “Saved some for you.” Derek wiped a finger full of frosting across Cassie’s lips. She recoiled while the boys laughed. “Oops. You’ve got a little something on your face there.”

Without pausing for thought, I shoved my cupcake at Derek. He caught my wrist and hoisted it up over my head, crushing the cupcake in one smooth motion. Bits of cake and frosting cascaded down, leaving creamy splotches across the light gray satin of my dress. I wrenched my hand out of his grip, gasping.

Royal planted a hand on Derek’s chest and shoved him back. “Keep your hands off her.”

“It’s okay, Royal,” I mumbled. My heart beat wildly. All I wanted was to turn and run.

There was an unmistakable glint in Derek’s eyes. He was brewing for a fight. “You know...” He took a step closer to Royal. “Since you mentioned it, I do feel like dancing.” Parker’s eyes flicked from Derek to Royal as he took another sip from his flask. Rick just shook his head, grinning.

“Let’s go,” I said, catching Royal’s hand. Reading my growing panic, Cassie helped draw Royal back toward the building.

“Whatever.” Derek turned back to his friends. Parker pointed at a drop of frosting on Derek’s tux. Derek frowned, glancing at me once more before we pulled the gym door closed behind us.

Safe inside the dance, it took a minute before I could settle my nerves. I was only vaguely aware of Royal and Cassie venting about Derek and the soccer jocks. Their tirade washed over me as I focused on calming down.

With a fresh jolt of adrenaline, I realized I'd left my clutch on the refreshment table. Cassie had given it to me on my birthday last year. It was pearl-gray and covered in tiny glass beads that she’d sewn on by hand. The lipstick and the fifty bucks inside were nothing compared to its sentimental value.

“I’ll be right back,” I told Royal and Cassie.

Halfway to the refreshment table I saw Derek. He was standing at the table, scrubbing his tux with a napkin. My clutch glittered on the edge of the table behind a row of glasses. I edged closer to the wall, preferring to lurk in the shadows until he left rather than risk another confrontation. Derek reached for a glass of clear soda, turning toward me. I held still, willing myself to blend into the darkness. Something caught Derek’s eye. He straightened, staring across the gym with an odd expression on his face. I followed his gaze. That was the first time I saw her.

She moved through the crowd with a sensual, hypnotic confidence. Definitely not a high school student. Long, honey-blond hair hung in loose curls halfway down her back. Her dress flowed around her like mercury, swirling daringly around her thighs with every step. In her wake, dancers stopped and stared. Guys craned their necks to watch her pass, as though she was the only light in a world of darkness. One boy held a drink half-tipped toward his mouth, unaware of the soda dribbling down the front of his shirt. His date jerked the cup out of his hands, startling him out of his trance. Only then did he notice his shirt was sopping wet. It looked like he was waking up from a dream.

Headmaster Fiedler moved to intercept her with a distinctly ‘students only’ look in his eyes. She saw him coming and shook her head slightly, a little knowing smile playing over her face. The headmaster’s steps slowed, then stopped. The honey-blonde turned away from him and glided to a stop in front of Derek. Derek’s eyes bulged. She ran her fingers lightly over his tux.

“Looks like you’ve been up to no good,” she said. “My favorite pastime.” Her voice was rich, taunting. If I’d been any further away, the music would have drowned her out. But separated from them by a few yards at best, I heard her clearly. Satiny red lips quirked up at the corners. Derek licked his lips, unable to gather his thoughts well enough to form any words. She tilted her head to look into his eyes. “I couldn’t help noticing that little fight you had with your girlfriend.”

“Fight?” Derek shook his head slightly. “Who... You mean Braedyn? She wishes.” His laugh wavered, sounding a little strangled.

“Then this should make her crazy jealous.” The honey-blonde snaked her fingers up into Derek’s hair and drew his face down toward hers. He melted into the kiss. His hands reached for her waist, but she caught them with a light laugh.

Derek breathed out, stunned.

The newcomer played at straightening his collar. “Can you spare a minute? I need your help with something. Something private.” Her eyes slid over his shoulder, locking with mine. My heart gave a sickening lurch and I turned away, mortified. It was like she’d known I was staring, eavesdropping on their conversation. I started to walk back to Cassie and Royal, then stopped when I remembered my purse still on the table behind me.

When I turned back, both Derek and the newcomer were gone. I edged closer to the table, scanning the area, but couldn’t spot even a glimmer of that silver dress. I scooped the clutch up, grabbed a fistful of napkins, and retreated back to Cassie and Royal.

“She returns,” Royal said, eying my haul. “With enough napkins for an army.”

“Thanks for trying to cream Derek for me,” Cassie said. “Sorry about your dress. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You want to make it up to me?” I asked. “Grab a napkin. I prefer red velvet in my mouth, not in my hair.” Royal and Cassie grabbed some napkins and started cleaning bits of frosting and cupcake out of my hair.

Royal turned his attention to a clump of frosting on my shoulder and grinned. “Standing up to the soccer jocks. Who knew you had it in you?”

“What are the odds he’ll forget about it and leave me alone on Monday?”

“About the same as a bull not charging for the flapping red cape,” Royal answered. “Olé, my little matador.”

“This is not comforting,” I said.

Cassie giggled.

The music faded. We turned back to the dance floor as people began clearing a space for Headmaster Fiedler. Time for the annual ritual of announcing the Homecoming Court.

“Amber is finally getting the crown to match her attitude.” Royal’s tone was sour. “Don’t ever let them tell you it doesn’t pay to be evil.”

On stage, Fiedler held his hands up for silence. “Coronado Prep, it gives me great pleasure to announce your Homecoming Court! Ally Krect and Parker Webb!”

A spotlight flooded the double-entrance to the gym as Ally and Parker emerged. Ally beamed in the spotlight. She was oblivious to Parker who was squinting in irritation at the glare. They arrived at the stage and Fiedler placed a tiara on Ally’s head. She adjusted it quickly, then her hand shot up in victory. The gym roared with approval.

Fiedler gestured back to the gym entrance. “Missy Jefferson and Dan Buchannan!” More wild cheers as Missy and her date emerged. Missy looked pleased and a little embarrassed by the screaming. She hustled Dan through the crowd and accepted the tiara from Fiedler with a quick smile and wave. Fiedler gestured and the music changed. Everyone turned as a spotlight snapped onto the far gym doors, sparkling with the half-ton of glitter the Dance Committee had covered them in. “And now for your Homecoming Queen and King...”

Royal sighed with distaste. “I hope he trips and breaks his neck.”

“It’s a little early, but I do have a birthday wish coming,” I said.

Royal pretended to consider this idea for a moment before dismissing it. “Mm... Save it for something important.”

The screaming built as Fiedler threw his arm toward the waiting doors. “Amber Jenkins and Derek Hall!”

The glittering doors opened. Amber emerged into the spotlight. Alone.

“Huh. He missed his big entrance.” Cassie wasn’t the only one craning her head for a better look at Amber. Amber forced a smile and headed toward the stage. You could practically feel the fury radiating off of her as she passed.

Royal shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and Amber will skin Derek alive.”

I found myself glancing back at the refreshment table. Something tugged at my conscience, but I brushed it off. I told myself Derek was Derek, and he’d clearly made his choice. Why should I care if it landed him in hot water?

Looking back, I think some part of me sensed things were about to go terribly, terribly wrong.

Monday morning dawned soft and cold, as if the day was as reluctant to wake up as I was. I closed my eyes, burrowing further under the comforting weight of my blankets. Someone knocked on my bedroom door.

“Rise and shine, pumpkin. I’m making breakfast.” Dad could be aggressively chipper in the morning. I pulled a pillow over my head. There was another knock on the door. Chipper and relentless. “You awake in there?”

“Yes,” I said, tossing the pillow aside. “I’m awake.”

“Excellent. See you in ten.”

I yawned and rolled out of bed. My feet found their way into slippers and I headed for my closet. It was a small walk-in, but all of my clothes fit pretty comfortably on one side. I didn’t have Royal’s interest in buying clothes, or Cassie’s talent for making them. I pulled a burgundy skirt and a white button-up shirt off their hangers.

As I got dressed, my eyes strayed to the other half of the closet. It was a history, in objects, of my life to date. Old shin guards from my one season trying soccer. A few pink and white tutus Dad bought for the handful of recitals I danced in. A stack of sheet music I’d learned over seven years of piano lessons. And here it was, sophomore year of high school, and I still hadn’t demonstrated a natural talent for anything. Of course, getting good at anything takes practice and hard work. I knew that. I had just never found anything I was so excited about that it seemed worth the effort it would take to master it.

I grabbed my gray Coronado Prep sweater from a hook and turned off the closet light.

As I ran a brush through my hair, my reflection stared back at me from the little mirror hanging over my dresser. If I had to pick one word to describe myself, I would probably say ‘average.’ Tall and skinny, mousy brown hair, pale skin. I had the kind of nice-but-not-exceptional face that never earned any double takes, unless you saw my eyes. The irises were shot through with colors that ranged from sky to a blue so deep it looked almost purple. My dad had brown eyes and brown hair, so whoever my mother was, these startling eyes must have come from her.

When I was little, maybe three or four, I had this sudden epiphany that other kids had a dad
and
a mom. So I asked Dad where my mom was. He got quiet for a long moment, and then he was explaining how sometimes people have to leave us - even if they don’t want to - and sometimes they can’t come back. When I said I didn’t understand, Dad said I would in time. And that’s all he would say about her. If he had any pictures of her, he wasn’t sharing them. He never said it, but I got the impression that she died giving birth to me. Whenever I brought her up, I could see the pain in his eyes. Over the years, I must have asked thousands of questions about her, but Dad always deflected them. I never stopped wondering who she had been, or if she’d known me long enough to love me.

The acrid scent of burning batter pulled me downstairs. Morning light flooded into the kitchen. Of all the rooms in our house, I loved this one the best. It was open and inviting. From the kitchen you could see through the dining room to the gorgeous picture window taking up most of the far wall. The cabinets were a rich oak wood and the Spanish tile floor was a warm terracotta. There was something comforting about the combination.

Dad stood in the dining room, lost in his own world, absently setting the table. He was an interesting mix of rough and refined. He owned a company that handled security systems for homes and businesses. Although he was a businessman, to me he never seemed entirely at ease in a suit. His short brown hair was speckled through with gray, but he moved with the muscular ease of a guy who looked like he’d be more comfortable in a fight than an office. At forty-two, he kept himself fit, although he was starting to get a little bit of a belly.

Dad’s given name was Alan, but he preferred it when people called him Murphy. I think that might have been a hold over from his soldier days, but he didn’t talk about them much. Whenever I asked about that part of his life he changed the subject. Whatever he’d seen or done, it must have been bad enough that he wanted to protect me from it. He wanted to protect me from all the grim things in this world.

I looked around for the source of the burning smell. A perfect stack of golden pancakes sat on a plate, ready for the table. Next to them, another pair of pancakes smoked on the griddle, forgotten. I grabbed a spatula and quickly flipped the burning pancakes onto an empty plate. “Hey, Iron Chef. I think your pancakes are done.”

Dad looked up, startled. “Oh, no.” He joined me at the griddle, frowning at the ruined pancakes. Pancakes were one of his specialties. “That’s what I get for daydreaming.”

“At least there were only two casualties,” I offered. “The rest look amazing.”

Dad kissed the top of my head and handed me the plate of golden pancakes. “We should eat before they get too cold. Grab the orange juice, would you?”