Unforgiven (13 page)

Ten Days

“G
ood morning, students.”

Cam leaned back in his chair as the principal's voice crackled through the intercom in homeroom the next morning. “Topping today's announcements, the soccer team is having a car wash after school. Please come out and support them. As you know, prom tickets are available in the cafeteria until Friday, and in a moment I will announce the prom court.”

The classroom, which had been buzzing a second earlier, silenced. It had been a while since Cam had seen this sort of undivided attention from a group of teens. They cared about prom. He glanced across the room at Lilith and wondered if there was a deep, hidden part of her that cared about it, too.

When Jean Rah had told Cam yesterday that Lilith had signed up to play at prom, Cam had been so excited he'd pumped his fists and leaped into the air, losing his cool for a whole three seconds.

“Damn, dude,” Jean had said with a laugh. “You do realize you're not in the band, right?”

“Not yet
,
” Cam had said, swiping his hair to the side.

Jean had shrugged amicably. “Take that up with the boss. Revenge is really Lilith's band.”

“Don't mind if I do,” Cam had said.

Today he was going to ask her—not just if he could be in the band, but if she'd go with him to prom. Like a date. Yesterday, in the cafeteria, right after she'd fought with Chloe, Lilith had seemed to soften. She'd let Cam in a little, hadn't shut him down, even when he'd dared to talk a little sweet to her.

He wished she'd meet his eyes now, across homeroom, but she was deep in her black journal.

“The nominees for prom queen are,” Tarkenton said over the intercom, “Chloe King, June Nolton, Teresa Garcia, and Kara Clark.”

Chloe—who was now wearing her hair shaved on the sides—immediately jumped up from her desk. “The Slights strike again.”

Chloe and her bandmates hugged each other, giggling, crying, their pastel minidresses riding up their thighs.

Mrs. Richards crossed the room and pried them apart, urging them to sit back down.

“As for prom king,” Tarkenton said, “the nominees are Dean Miller, Terrence Gable, Sean Hsu, and Cameron Briel.”

Cam winced as a few kids around him whistled and clapped. Lilith, of course, didn't look up. Cam had made no effort to get to know any of the students at Trumbull other than Lilith and Jean. This prom court appointment was clearly Lucifer's doing; he must have bet that Lilith would be disgusted by anyone who bought in to the pomp of prom court.

Tarkenton went on to list some of the prom court responsibilities, and Cam wondered how many dumb meetings he would have to bail on over the next ten days. But then the classroom door swung open and drew his full attention.

Luc, his tablet tucked under his arm, sidled in and over to Mrs. Richards. He whispered something in her ear.

To Cam's dismay but not surprise, the teacher pointed at Lilith. “That's her, in the second row.”

Luc smiled gratefully, then walked toward Lilith as if they were strangers. “Ms. Foscor?”

“Yeah?” Lilith said, startled by the sight of the tall boy standing over her. She covered what she'd been writing in her book.

“This is confirmation that your entry has been received.” Luc dropped the envelope on her desk.

“My entry to what?” As Lilith tore open the envelope, Luc shot Cam a cheesy thumbs-up and disappeared out the classroom door.

Cam leaned forward as she unfolded the contents: a single sheet of paper. He was desperate to read it, to be ready to perform triage for whatever trauma the devil meant to unleash on Lilith. He had leaned so far forward that the girl in front of him glanced over her shoulder, wrinkled her nose, and shoved his desk back a few inches. “As if, pervert.” Cam felt her study his skin, the age spots near his forehead. “Ew. How many times did you fail freshman year—fifteen?”

He ignored her. He watched as Lilith's fingers began to shake, and the blood drained from her cheeks. She rose from her seat, grabbed her things, and bolted out the door.

Cam bolted after her, ignoring Mrs. Richards's threats about suspension, expulsion, a letter to his parents. He caught up with Lilith in the hall and took her by the elbow. “Hey—”

She whipped his hand away. “Back off.”

“What happened?”

“He warned me about you.”

“Who?”

“Luc.” Lilith closed her eyes. “I'm so stupid.”

When she thrust the paper at Cam, he saw it was a printout of his email to Ike Ligon, along with the lyrics to “Somebody's Other Blues.” The only thing that wasn't included was the bio Cam had written, the words that had made him cry.

“You stole my lyrics and entered them in the contest,” Lilith said.

Cam took a deep breath. “It's not that simple.”

“Isn't it?” Lilith asked. “Did you or did you not go through my journal, take my lyrics, and enter them in this contest?”

How could he explain that he had done this to help her? That Lucifer was trying to drive a wedge between them? He watched her face twist with disgust. “I know it was wrong—”

“You're unbelievable!” Lilith shouted. She looked like she might strangle him.

He tried to take her hands. “I did it for you.”

She pushed him off again. “You did not just say that. And
stop
touching me.”

He put his hands up in surrender. “I sent the lyrics in
as
you, not me.”

“What?”

“That song is brilliant,” he said. “And you said yourself you weren't going to enter the contest. It's such a big opportunity to get your music out there, Lilith. I couldn't let you pass it up.”

She stared at the printout. “Luc said—”

“You cannot listen to Luc, okay?” Cam said. “His goal in life is to try to turn you against me.”

Lilith squinted. “And why is that?”

Cam sighed. “It's hard to explain. Look, you have every right to be mad at me, but please, don't let it get in the way of your music. You could win this, Lilith. You
should
win this.”

Cam realized then just how close they were standing. Inches separated their shoulders. He could hear her breathing. Lilith had so much pain in her eyes. He would do anything for her to be the happy, carefree girl he'd once known.

“You promised to back off,” she said.

Cam swallowed. “I will. But please, just think about what I said. You're too talented not to try.”

Lilith blushed and averted her eyes like someone unaccustomed to compliments. He could see all the little things that made up who she was—the ink stains on her hands, the callouses on her fingertips. She was a huge talent, a bright star. Her music was the one thread that connected her to the Lilith he'd fallen in love with so long ago, which was why he had to make her understand that his intentions in entering her lyrics in the contest were good.

“Lilith,” he whispered.

The bell rang.

She took a step backward, and Cam could tell the moment between them had passed. Her body was tense again, and her eyes full of hate. “Why should I take advice from someone who would do something so low?” She snatched the printout from his hand and rushed away as doors opened and students spilled into the hall.

Cam banged his head against a locker. So much for asking her to prom today.

“Ouch,” Luc called as he casually walked past. “And just when I thought she was starting to warm to you. It's almost like there's an invisible force working against you at every turn.” The devil's throaty laughter echoed in Cam's ears long after Luc had disappeared around the corner.

At lunchtime, Cam found out from Jean, who had found out from Kimi, that Lilith had received another note in third period, this time from the office, which mysteriously excused her from class for the rest of the day. Cam was supposed to take some joke of a calculus test in fourth period, but he had no hesitations about skipping.

He cut out the back exit, slid onto the motorcycle he'd picked up the day before, and made for the rough side of town. Soon he was knocking on Lilith's door. In front of the garage was a battered, grape-colored minivan, its back door open.

“What the—” Lilith said when she answered.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“What a dumb question,” she said.

Lilith's body language was shouting at him to stay back. He tried to respect that, but it was hard. He hated to see the rage that flooded her whenever she laid eyes on him.

It especially sucked because in his pocket were the prom tickets he'd bought for the two of them.

“There's something I've been wanting to ask you,” he said.

“You heard about Revenge,” she said. “You came to ask if you could be in the band.”

Cam couldn't let her bluntness throw him off. He would take this nice and easy, even shoot for romantic, like he'd planned. “First of all, I want to say that I'm really glad you signed up to play at prom—”

“Can we please not call it prom?” Lilith said.

“You want to rename prom?” he asked. “It's cool with me, but it might provoke a riot at Trumbull. Those kids are pretty excited. ‘Only ten days to go until the best night of our lives,' and all that crap.”

“They'll kick you off prom court if they catch you mocking it,” Lilith said. “It's high school heresy.”

Cam smiled a little. So she
had
been listening when his name had been announced. “Is that all I have to do to get kicked off prom court?” he said. “Wait, I thought we weren't calling it prom.”

Lilith thought for a moment. “Just so we're clear, I'm going because I want to play music and hear the Four Horsemen, not because I want to wear my dream corsage or a cranberry satin maxidress.”

“I should hope not,” Cam said. “Cranberry is so last season.”

It looked, for an instant, like Lilith was going to smile, but then her eyes went cool again. “If you didn't come about the band, why are you here?”