“Hurry up, Hart. You don’t want to keep your date waiting!”
“Friend!” I yelled, again.
But I was pretty sure she didn’t hear me.
Sam and I grabbed our purses-hers a rhinestone-studded clutch and mine a silver, satin one-and slowly (so we didn’t trip in our ridonkulously high heels) made our way down the stairs.
The first thing I saw when I rounded the corner was Chase.
And then I almost did trip.
I wasn’t sure what I had expected from him for homecoming, but I’d guessed his outfit would probably involve leather, denim, or black. I was right on only one count: the black. Amazingly, Chase was dressed in a traditional tux, black on white, with a simple black tie. The effect was… nice. Surprising. But nice. Bordering on a hot sort of nice, even. Huh. What do you know? He cleaned up pretty good.
“Dude,” Kyle said, getting an eyeful of Sam. “You look hot!”
She did a little twirl for him. “Thanks. So do you.”
Sam had, as I might have guessed, coordinated matching homecoming outfits for both her and Kyle. Kyle’s shirt was the exact shade of purple as Sam’s dress.
“Hey,” Chase said when he saw me. “You look… nice,” he said, echoing my thoughts.
I cleared my throat, a compliment coming from Chase that was not laced in sarcasm throwing me. “Thanks.” I paused. “You, too.”
He gave me a slow up and down, landing on the mass of sparkles on my head. He grinned.
“One crack about the tiara and you’re a dead man,” I warned him.
He put up his hands in a surrender motion. “I wouldn’t dream of it, princess.”
I shot him a death look, but before I could spit out a scathing reply, Mom shouted, “Boutonnieres!” and emerged from the kitchen with two little plastic boxes.
I took the non-purple one and leaned in to grab Chase’s lapel.
Honestly-I’d never done this before and the huge pin that came with the flower was kinda intimidating. I had a horrible vision of stabbing Chase and getting blood all over the first white shirt I’d ever seen him wear.
My hands shook a little as I slowly stabbed the front of his tux, navigating around the thick rose stem.
“Easy, Featherstone,” I heard Chase whisper.
I looked up. He was grinning at me. He thought this was funny?
“Ouch!”
“Oops. My finger slipped.”
He shot me a look. “I’ll bet.”
“Pictures!” Mom said, appearing beside me with a camera.
“Oh, Mom, we don’t really need pictures,” I pleaded.
“Okay, line up,” she said, totally ignoring me. “Hart, move closer to Chase.”
“Mom, please. I told you I don’t need-”
“Chase, put your arm around your date’s shoulders.”
I rolled my eyes. And Mom accused me of tuning her out.
“That’s it. Move in just a little closer so I can get you all in frame.”
Chase pulled me tight against him, completely invading my personal space. His arm around my shoulders was warm, and I felt myself start to sweat in places that would stain my satin dress.
“Mom-” I pleaded again.
“Smile, Hart,” Chase whispered in my ear, hamming it up as Mom popped off shots.
If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn he was enjoying this.
After Mom had taken at least a dozen pix of us in every position possible, we all escaped out the front door… where Chase’s Camaro sat at the curb.
“Oh, no fluffin’ way.” I shook my head as Sam and Kyle climbed into the tiny backseat. “You guys are kidding me, right?”
Chase looked from me to the car. “What?”
“We’re going in that?” Why had I not taken Mom up on that limo thing?
“Yep.” Chase beamed.
“No way.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d like to arrive at homecoming in one piece.”
Chase rolled his eyes. “You have two choices here, Hart-my car or walking.”
I bit my lip, tasting lipstick. I looked down at my heels. Up at his car. Back at the heels.
“Well?”
“I’m thinking!”
Chase rolled his eyes again, then walked around to the driver’s side.
Without much choice, I hopped in.
On the upside, if I died on the way, at least I’d make a sparkly corpse.
The HHH cafeteria was totally transformed. Gone were the rows of Formica-topped tables, and in their place was a dance floor complete with a shimmering disco ball.
The dance’s theme was Tropical Oasis, meaning potted palms were stuck in every corner, paper fish adorned the walls, and the tables lining the sides of the room were piled high with fruit and nuts, with one serving as a bar, where Pineapple Pleasure and Mango Madness were being served in small glasses complete with little umbrellas.
Several teachers were in attendance as chaperones, as well as some parents. I spotted both Sam’s mom and dad taking spots near the dance floor, keeping a keen eye on Kyle. Luckily, I’d been able to “lose” the email calling for parent volunteers before my mom had read it.
The DJ fired up a Pink song, and we all jumped onto the dance floor. (Kyle made sure he kept at least an arm’s length away from Sam.) I had to admit, it was kinda fun. Okay, a lot of fun. The energy was high, the music was loud, and laughter echoed off the beige walls as we all made fun of one another’s dance moves.
Five songs into it, I could feel my mascara starting to sweat away, and I needed a breather.
“I’m gonna grab a drink,” I said.
“What?” Chase yelled.
“I’m gonna go get a drink!”
“Huh?”
“DRINK!”
Chase nodded. “Right. Cool.”
I threaded my way through the crowd, Chase a step behind me, taking his role as bodyguard seriously as we pushed through the people to the Mango Madness station. I downed my cup in almost a single gulp before getting back in line for seconds.
“Chase?”
I turned to see Chris Fret and the new guy, Michael, hailing him from across the room. “Come check this out.”
Chase shook his head. “Gotta stay with my date.”
“Go. I’m fine,” I said, shooing him.
“No way. I’m sticking to you like glue tonight. That was the deal.”
“Look around, Chase. We’re surrounded by teachers. Nothing’s going to happen to me at the Mango Madness table. I’ll stay right here. I’m fine. Go.”
Chase paused, letting the logic of that sink in. He glanced to our right. Mr. Tipkins was chatting with Ashley Stannic under a plastic palm. To our left, the Kramers were still eyeing the dance floor. Behind us, three more parents mingled with the vice principal. If the killer was going to strike, this was so the wrong moment.
“Okay,” Chase finally said. “But stay here. I’ll be right back. Five minutes.”
I nodded. “Scout’s honor.”
I watched Chase jog toward Chris and Michael, then do some sort of complicated handshake thing, all three of them making fun of one another’s tuxes.
I grabbed another drink, then sat in one of the chairs along the wall. I slipped a heel off, my foot immediately sighing in relief. They were hot shoes, but they were not made for dancing. Or walking. Or standing. Or anything that required my feet to be smashed into them.
I took a moment to look around as I rubbed the bottom of my foot. If I had had to guess, I’d have said at least 70 percent of the school was in attendance. I spotted Connor hanging out under a school of paper fish near the stage. Val Michaels was at his side, though I noticed his eyes were on Jenni, who was dancing with one of the football players. Apparently she’d made good on her promise to ditch Connor and had moved on already.
Just to my right were Drea and her cheerleader friends. They had a Flip cam and were shooting a video of the dance floor. I could hear her narrating the vids for Nicky.
Surprisingly, even Quinn was there, seemingly having gotten a reprieve from her grounding. She was with some guy from the water polo team, dancing near Sam and Kyle.
All our suspects were in one place. Sydney’s killer had to be in this room. The thought gave me chills despite the heat still coursing through me from the aerobic dance workout.