Skylar nodded dreamily, but she didn’t listen. Pulled by unseen forces, she floated after him, pushing aside, then replacing, the metal trash can that blocked the door. It made a squealing noise against the linoleum floor, but no one noticed.
The scene inside was nothing like the romantic ballroom she had anticipated. It was dark and chaotic. The lights were out—and not, apparently, on purpose. There were sputtering wails of feedback coming from the front of the room, where the band and its amplifiers were set up on a makeshift stage. There was a deep, rhythmic thumping coming from the speakers—someone must have been testing the sound system.
Glinting with limited light from the Exit signs and a few flashlights, tall mirrors offered shadowy, distorted reflections that increased the sense of confusion in the room. Through her own fog and that of the swirling artificial mist that surrounded the students, it was like a subterranean maze. The pulsing in her head wouldn’t stop. Is Lucy here? I’m so sorry.
Someone was speaking into the microphone on the stage—an adult—telling the kids to stay calm as the chaperones investigated the lights situation. Flashlight beams swept through the crowd and high-pitched squeals and giggles started to emerge from the corners of the room as boys used the darkness as an opportunity for a quick grope and girls pretended to be appalled. To them, this was a game. A fun twist to their night.
Maybe it was a game.
Skylar was all mixed up. All this noise. I can’t see. I can’t hear.
She took a step backward, back toward the double doors. But she was disoriented now. She couldn’t tell which way she was going. There were mirrors everywhere, and they made it impossible to see straight. People spun by her, leering reflections with bug eyes and pointing fingers. Her breath started to come quicker, and fingers of panic licked at her arms and legs, encircling her, grabbing at her heart.
Where am I? Why am I here? The dance beat sounded increasingly like static. Was the rhythm real, or was that in her head? She took several impulsive steps forward, walking directly into one of the glass mirrors. The impact was enough to make her stumble backward, lose her footing, and fall onto the floor. As she did so her mask flew off, skittering across the waxed floor of the gym. She was uncovered now. No protection.
The drugs had mostly worn off by now, and when she glimpsed herself in the fun-house mirror, she felt like she had been shoved into a nightmare. Her starched pageant dress—Lucy’s dress—was hideous and ill-fitting. Her skin was bloated and discolored—what you could see of it, anyway, beneath the crisscross of bandages and stitches. Her hair was only half there.
Skylar looked like a monster.
The beam of a flashlight swept over her and lingered there, like a spotlight. Then more flashlights, all circling around her, until she was surrounded in a pool of light. A scream, and then another. People calling her name and whispering. Skylar. Skylar. Skylar.
Through another mirror, Skylar saw Gabby, beautiful Gabby, a vision in pink and white with blond curls, comforting a freshman girl who appeared to be on the brink of a panic attack. Skylar watched Gabby soothe the girl and stroke her hair. Not even the distorted mirror could make Gabby appear ugly. No, she looked like a Disney princess, with disproportionately huge blue eyes.
Panic, humiliation, and confusion swept through Skylar. She tried to bring her hands to her face, to cover herself. She struggled to her feet and pushed through the crowd that had formed a ring around her. How could she get out of here? And then, through a different tall mirrored pane, she saw Em across the room. Bent over? Talking to someone? She seemed gigantic and leggy, with the body of a spider like the ones Skylar used to find in webby corners of her garage.
And her face, Em’s face—it looked like someone else’s. Ty’s. Or maybe Ty had become Em? Either way, their features were nearly identical. Their beautiful, defined cheekbones. Their wide foreheads and deep-set brown eyes. Their dark hair. Their thin lips that widened into perfect, toothy smiles. It was like they were the same person.
Was Meg here too? Would Meg help her?
More screams then, and suddenly Skylar realized that people were screaming at her.
The freak. The beast. The monster.
Humiliation and fear boiled together in her belly, a rancid mix that burned and chafed at her insides.