Unhinged: 2 (40 page)

Jeb scrubs his face with a hand. “Okay. Set aside the fact that he’s done one or two noble things. He dragged you into this, using me to do it. You walked away from that world. You chose our side of your blood. Chose to stay here. But he didn’t respect that choice, and he manipulated you into his plans again. You can’t go back there. You nearly died the first time, masquerading as one of them.”

Everything else Jeb says falls on deaf ears as the word
masquerading
echoes in my head like a gong.

My mosaic.

The creatures weaving through barren trees, some wearing crowns, others beaks or wings. All of them wear masks. It’s a masquerade. The wings and beaks and crowns are part of the costumes. Fairy-tale costumes. The forest is made of props, probably whatever trees they could salvage from the burned-out mess I left behind in the gym. The creatures gliding on magic carpets are people skating.

Underland.

And the senior class’s collection for the orphanage—the perfect cover for an army of undead toys.

My face burns. “We have to get my mom. Now.” I catch Jeb’s hand and force him to stand, towing him to the door.

“Why?”

Queen Grenadine’s ribbon flickers through my thoughts again, along with its odd wording:
Queen Red lives and seeks to destroy
that
which betrayed her.

“
That
which betrayed her,” I say, weighing each word. “Red wants revenge on the life I chose to live over her. In her mind
, that’s
what caused me to betray her. My normal teenage life. She’s planning to attack prom!”

We lost track of time while on the train. Night has already fallen over London when we fly back to the garden mirror beneath the dim glow of starlight. Mom can’t use her wings without ruining her dress, so she and Jeb ride on moths and I carry the backpack. On the way, we make a plan for prom.

To keep Dad home and safe, Mom’s going to slip him some of my sedatives. No one from school has seen my gown except Jen. Once I have my mask on, I should be able to sneak by, and Mom’s already signed up on the chaperone list. Jeb still has a key to Underland from when he worked there last year. He’s going to smuggle us in before the other kids and chaperones arrive. I’m surprised he hasn’t put up
a fight about my part in the plan. Maybe because his sister could be in danger. Whatever the reason, it’s great to have him watching my back without standing in my way.

If we don’t find anything suspicious before the party starts, we’ll just blend into the crowd and guard the mirrors on the dance floor wall. Hopefully we’ll stop Red before she can come through and start a war. If we keep this first mosaic from coming to pass, maybe the other events will never take place. The biggest challenge will be our impaired vision. Underland is strictly glow-in-the-dark.

At the garden mirror, we nibble the neon-glowing mushrooms to return to regular size. I reabsorb my wings, and we plunge through the portal to Mom’s attic mirror. It’s a little after four in the afternoon. Three hours till prom.

We climb down the ladder into the garage. The overhead door is open and Dad’s truck is in the driveway behind Morpheus’s Mercedes. There will be no pretending we’ve been here all along. Even worse, Gizmo is in its spot, so Dad’s been to Butterfly Threads and knows I was there. I don’t know how he got Gizmo home or who helped him. My pulse slams in my neck, wondering what else he’s discovered and how many people are involved.

Wind carrying the scent of moisture slices through the garage, rattling old newspapers gathered in the corner. Storm clouds are rolling in, making it darker than it should be. I shiver.

Jeb takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “It’ll be okay,” he whispers and sets my backpack outside the door.

Mom steps into the living room with Jeb and me trailing behind her.

Dad’s standing at the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. The lamp next to his recliner is on, but he’s outside the
circle of light. Shadows muddle his features as he holds the phone to his ear. When he sees us, he hangs up and comes all the way in, expression somewhere between relief and anger.

“I’ve been looking for you both for almost two hours,” he half shouts. “I was about to call the police. Where have you been?”

Mom rushes to him. “It’s okay. I found Allie next door.” She takes the phone and gives Jeb a pleading look.

“What?” Dad asks. “How’s that even—”

Jeb steps up. “It’s true. Al’s been with me.”

My dad frowns, giving Jeb’s clothes a once-over. “But I came by your house earlier this afternoon. Your mother said you weren’t there.”

Jeb exchanges glances with me. “We just got in a few minutes ago. Before that, we were hiding at the studio.”

“You
hid
my daughter?” Dad gives Jeb a look I’ve never seen him use with him—disappointment with an edge of scorn. It’s even worse than the time we got tattoos. “I left all those calls on your cell. You had to know how worried her mom and I were. I thought you’d grown up, Jeb.”

Jeb studies the floor, jaw clenched.

“So,” Dad continues, “lying, evading. Then there’s the vandalism. What’s next, robbing a bank?”

Though he directs the question to Jeb, I shake my head. “What are you talking about? Jeb had nothing to do with school this morning.”

“I’m talking about Butterfly Threads. Someone broke in through the back door. There was stuff all over the merchandise, the floor, and the ceiling. Like Silly String but more damaging. Persephone found Gizmo in the alley. What do you have to say about that?”
He’s still speaking to Jeb, as if I’m too far gone to answer for myself.

I move into Dad’s line of sight, forcing him to look at me. “I was too shaky to drive. I called Jeb to pick me up there. But he didn’t set foot inside the shop.” It’s not a lie exactly. Morpheus carried him in.

Dad looks like I punched him in the gut. “Why, Allie? Persephone’s been nothing but good to you. She even helped me drive your car home and offered not to call the police. Are we making it too easy for you to act out?” His left eyelid twitches, sure indication he’s at the end of his rope. “You can forget about graduating with your class tomorrow. You’ll get your diploma in the mail. I’m not letting you out of my sight until you talk to a psychiatrist.”

Mom gasps and I clench my teeth.

“Wait, Mr. Gardner …” Jeb tries to intervene, but I catch his elbow and hold him back.

“I think you should go home, Jebediah,” Dad says, his brown eyes cold. “This concerns my family.”

My chest stings. I know Dad’s just lashing out, but those words are like knives. Jeb
is
family. He’s always been treated that way.

“Yes, sir,” Jeb says, his voice hoarse. He starts for the front door. Mom follows to let him out, and they talk quietly on the porch while Dad and I glare at each other.

A growl of thunder shakes the room.

Dad leans against the wall, and the wrinkles around his mouth deepen, as if the artist sketching his face went too heavy on the shading. I’ve learned so much about him today—know him better than I ever did, better than he knows himself—yet he’s looking at me as if I’m a complete stranger.

When I can’t take his accusatory stare any longer, I start for my room.

“Alyssa,” he says quietly, “your makeup is still a mess. And what happened to your shirt?”

I stall next to my mosaics in the hallway, my back to him. Cool air seeps through the wing slits in the shoulders. I shrug.

“Great. Nice answer.” His voice is frayed, and it presses along my heartstrings like an amateur cellist’s bow. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

I clasp the necklaces at my neck. “It’s okay,” I whisper so he can’t possibly hear. “Because I finally do.”

I shut my bedroom door. I don’t bother to turn on the light as I change into my boxers and a lacy camisole, wishing I could shed everything that’s gone wrong along with my clothes.

There’s enough strained daylight coming through my curtains for me to substitute Jen’s straight pins on my prom gown for safety pins and smooth the pleats in place to cover the metal clasps.

Following a knock at my door, Mom peeks inside.

I motion her in. “Where’s Dad?”

“He went to get some dinner. I suggested he go to cool off. When he comes back, I’ll put the sedatives in his drink.”

I nod, not feeling the least bit hungry, considering what we’re about to do. We’re going to knock out my father for no good reason. It’s the same thing my mother lived through for years at the asylum.

I can tell by her tight lips that she’s as uncomfortable as I am with the idea.

We sit together on my bed with my lights off and the aquarium glowing blue. My eels swim gracefully, like angels under water—a serene counterpoint to the emotional uproar in my head. A thrum of distant thunder echoes my unease.

“I’m sorry.” Mom fluffs my gown’s slip to a cloud of periwinkle
netting. “Your father … he’s just out of his mind with worry. Once this is all behind us, he’ll make up with Jeb. I won’t let you go through what I did. He won’t send you to the asylum. Okay?”

I want to believe her, but a soul-deep foreboding is starting to wind through me. “Why can’t we reunite Dad with his memories? He would stop thinking we’re crazy all the time. And we could use his help tonight since Morpheus isn’t here.” My voice falters on Morpheus’s name.

Dad didn’t mention any corpses found wrapped up in the Silly String—large insects or otherwise.

“Sweetie, we can’t bring your dad into this. Those memories would hurt him.”

“More than he’s hurting now?”

Mom looks thoughtful. “I can’t even describe the horrors I saw when I watched his past. Can’t even conceive of what else he must’ve endured.”

I sit quietly, not sure I agree. If he was able to survive the looking-glass world as a child, surely he’s stronger than we’ve ever given him credit for.

I start to point that out, but Mom interrupts me. “Jeb asked to see you. He’s waiting out back under your willow tree.”

My jaw drops. She’s known about our sanctuary all along?

Mom presses her fingertip against my dimple to coax my mouth closed. “Allie, I’m not completely oblivious. I remember what it’s like to be a teenager in love.” She winks, and I smile back. “I’m going to take a shower and get ready. Make sure you don’t get caught in the rain and that you’re inside before Dad gets home.”

I pull on a pair of boots and a hoodie and trek through the garden. The plants and bugs are eerily quiet. The sky swirls overhead—a
frothy gray that makes it look like six o’clock instead of four thirty. Cool wind snatches my hair and whips it around my face. The gusts are so loud I can’t hear the fountain gurgling.

Jeb’s already waiting for me, wearing a tight T-shirt with jeans, as if he couldn’t wait to shed Morpheus’s jacket.

He holds a fluttery curtain of willow leaves open, and I duck inside under the green canopy.

Crouching, I hug him. “I’m sorry. My dad didn’t mean any of it.”

“I know.” He kisses my temple and rakes away some leaves so I can sit. “I’m not here so you can pat my head and make me feel better.”

I attempt a smile. “Aw, c’mon. You’d like that.”

He grins. “I’d like a kiss more.” Hazy light filters through the leaves and hits his dimples and labret—making him appear boyish and playful, even though his voice is filled with tension.

We’re both pretending like everything’s right with the world, when it couldn’t be more wrong. We’re being delusional. Jeb shouldn’t be involved in this at all. If Sister Two could take Morpheus down, what chance does a human have in this battle?

“I don’t think you should go tonight,” I blurt out. “Call Jenara and keep her from going, too.”

“Are you kidding me? I’d be in more danger standing between Jen and prom than fighting resurrected toys.”

“Stop joking. This isn’t a game.”

Jeb frowns. “Just like it wasn’t a game when you hid the truth from me all those months because you were afraid it would hurt me.”

Ouch.
“Or hurt us,” I say.

Grasping my elbows, he drags me closer. He presses our noses
and foreheads together. “We’re stronger than that. And we’re so much better as a team, when our heads are together. It’s when one of us is trying to protect the other by taking everything on ourselves, that’s when we mess up. Don’t you think?”

I sigh. “Yeah,” I answer, reluctant.

“So I won’t stand in your way tonight. You do what you have to do. But don’t ask me to do any less. Deal?”

“But the things we’re facing—”

“Are things I’ve already faced. And like you said, I did pretty good, for a human. And don’t worry about Jen. I’ll get her out if we can’t stop Red from coming through.”

I touch his lips. “This is all so messed up. It’s not what prom should’ve been.”

He kisses my fingertip. “The party might be a bust. But once we send all the creepers running, we can still have our prom night.”

His optimism is contagious, even if it’s a transparent ploy to buoy my spirits when he’s as worried as me.

It doesn’t matter if everything somehow works out and we defeat Red. I still can’t be with Jeb tonight. Not with the vow I made to Morpheus. Maybe it would be easier for me if he really was gone, captured by Sister Two and trapped in her web. But I can’t let myself imagine it might be true. I
want
him to survive.