I had to keep myself from agreeing immediately. I wanted my life as entwined with his as possible, but there was a part of me that held back because of Dominic's warning.
“I want to…but I'm just not there yet.”
“There's no rush, I'm not going anywhere.”
And even as I smiled in reply, I couldn't help the feeling of foreboding that slithered along my skin.
***
The weeks that followed Bastian's move flew by, and before long Halloween had arrived. The school was hosting its annual parade and dance.
Though I had attended these dances every year, I never dressed up for them. This year, my last year, I broke from tradition, but I was keeping my costume a secret. Bastian, learning that I wasn't going to share, decided he wasn't going to share either. Poppy and Sophia tried in vain to guess my costume as we sat in the lunchroom.
“A blue crayon.”
I looked at Sophia like she had horns popping out of the top of her head. “What am I, two?”
“A taco,” Poppy said.
“I don't even like tacos.”
Bastian's long legs stretched out in front of him as he listened, a grin tugging at his mouth.
“Black Widow from the Avengers?” Sophia guessed.
“I could definitely get behind that costume,” Bastian said; my eye roll at him was instinctual.
“You aren't going as something dorky like a water molecule or DNA are you?”
“Sophia, where are you getting these ideas?” Poppy asked.
“They were some of the ideas I had and rejected.”
Chuckling at Sophia's confession, I said, “You'll see it tomorrow night.” I was excited about my costume. The meaning of it would be lost on everyone but Bastian.
The look on Bastian’s face made my stomach flip flop. “And I'm really looking forward to that,” he said.
***
The night of the dance, I had the pleasant surprise of Deena and Carol appearing in my door eager and smiling.
“Can we help you get ready?”
Despite my aunt's behavior toward me, the girls had always been kind, if a bit distant, but since my uncle vowed that things would be different, the girls were also making an effort. Knowing this, it was still unexpected, but welcomed, when they did. “I'd really like that.”
“Are you a mermaid?” Carol asked, while she fingered the light fabric of my costume from its spot hanging on my closet door.
“A siren.”
“Like the ones who lure men to their deaths out at sea?” Deena asked.
“Yeah.”
The girls didn't get it, but Bastian would. My costume was a turquoise halter dress fitted in the mermaid fashion and even flared a bit at the bottom. I found a pair of jeweled sandals from the local Goodwill to wear with it. I wanted to curl my hair and tuck a few silk flowers into it, but I was struggling with the curling iron.
“Let me do that.” Deena took it from me and with the practiced moves of someone far more acquainted than me with the activity, expertly got to work on my hair.
“Turn to your side so I can work on your makeup.” I noticed the frown when Carol saw my unimpressive collection of makeup. I didn't generally wear it, so I didn't see the need to dip into my savings to buy it. “You've got no foundation or liner. Lark, you don't even have lipstick. I'll be right back.”
With the seriousness of her expression when she left the room, you'd think we were discussing food shortages in third world countries.
“Do you have any preference for where these flowers go?”
My eyes found Deena's in the mirror. “No, whatever you think works.”
“Cool.” She looked almost nervous when she added, “This is fun. We should do this more often.”
The feeling of belonging turned my voice a bit hoarse. “I'd really like that.”
My uncle had offered to drive me to the dance, but he was running late. The girls were now doing homework after having spent an hour helping me get ready. It was nice bonding with them, but it also had me reflecting on the kind of relationship my mom and aunt had shared. Had they been close? Did they paint each other's nails and gossip about boys, and if so, why hadn't my aunt noticed the change in my mom? Why hadn't she tried to understand the cause?
Grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter, I was just taking a bite when my aunt walked in. The expression on her face was so similar to the one Jennifer Ross had given Bastian on the night of his birthday dinner that I had absolutely no problem understanding what was going on in her head.
“That's a bit revealing for a school function, don't you think?”
Self-consciously, I glanced down at myself. “No.”
“Once you're labeled a slut, it sticks.”
The apple piece I had been chewing on went down the wrong pipe, and as I coughed to get it out, she stayed rooted to the spot just across the kitchen from me. My throat felt raw by the time I was able to breathe again.
“Are you sleeping with that boy? You must realize that boys don't take girls like you seriously.”
Rage and hurt warred inside me. “And what kind of girl am I?”
She gestured with her hand, “Pretty on the outside and shallow on the inside. You're the girl they play with, not the one they marry; my girls, on the other hand, are prizes. You keep that boy away from them because once he's had his fill of you, he'll set his sights on them. He's nowhere near good enough for them.”
And it was comments like this that drew into question her sanity. Was she serious? The idea that Bastian was only using me, or that he would move from me to the girls, who were so much younger than us, was so ridiculous I couldn't bring myself to be angry about that comment. However, I did object to her opinion of me. “I'm not shallow.”
“That's what your mom said too, and look how that turned out.”
I slapped her hard across the face. Really, I didn’t, but the image in my head was so life-like, it was oddly satisfying, watching her head snap back from the blow. I didn't know if I was more angry at the idea that she could sound so blasé about her sister, or because she compared me to my train-wreck of a mother.
How words passed my lips when I choked on rage was a mystery. “Don't worry, I'll keep Bastian away from the girls.”
Fueled by my anger, I turned, grabbed my coat from the hook, and walked right out the back door. It was cold, but I was so angry I hardly noticed. My feet carried me back and forth across the driveway as my temper stewed. I had half a mind to walk back into the house and slap her for real, but it would only land me in trouble. My uncle pulled up ten minutes later.
“Lark, what are you doing out here, it's cold?”
Oh, how much I would love to dump it on him, but why make his life miserable too? “I was warm.” The lie slipped silkily past my tongue.
“Hop in, you're making me cold.”
On the drive my uncle peppered me with questions about my day and though I answered, my mind was elsewhere. He pulled up in front of the school. “You look beautiful, Lark. Have fun tonight.”
“I will. Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.”
Climbing from the car, I pulled my long coat closed over my costume and hurried inside. I wasn't going to let my aunt ruin my night. It had been her intention after all. Likely she overheard the girls helping me get ready, and the thought of them being kind to me must have really burned her ass. She would not spoil my night and I was surprised at how easily I was able to dismiss her from my thoughts.
My friends had yet to arrive, so I dropped my coat at the coat rack before making my way into the gym. The dance committee had done a really great job of turning the gym into a haunted castle of sorts. The bleachers had been pushed back against the wall and black cloths had been draped over them, hiding the wires of the white fairy lights that shone through the fabric like stars in the night sky. The choir's grand piano had been wheeled in, a cloth draped over it, and an old candelabra, with black taper candles, sat on top of it. Life-size ghouls had been situated around the open space, ghosts hung off the basketball nets, and eerie music pumped in over the speakers. A table, dressed in an orange and black lace cloth, bore ghastly baked goods: bloodshot eye cupcakes, bread sticks in the shape of witch's fingers and skeleton bones, red velvet cake in the shape of a human heart that looked as if it was bleeding where slices had been cut.