At the same time there was a cracking noise, and then the clattering sound of plastic against the parquet floor. “The punch!” Em heard someone yell right before she saw the red liquid start to stream around her silver flats. Someone must have collided with the beverage table. A river of red was now flowing across the gym floor. When it pooled around the freshly severed wires, sparks started to pop from the frayed copper strands.
Em experienced a few seconds as though they were in slow motion. The sparks burst into the air, their yellow-orange light casting flickering shadows. Then a spark caught on one of the paper streamers. Then another, and another. At first they just smoldered. But then small flames began to rise from the decorations. They leaped and swelled exponentially; Em had the bizarre sensation of watching a story unfold in a flip book. Flip-flip-flip-flip, and with every page the image moves faster, gets bigger, unstoppable.
Within seconds the fire was racing along the streamers, crisscrossing in a grotesque pattern. Soon the flames jumped onto the banners that hung from the gym’s walls and ceiling: 2009 Field Hockey Regional Championships. Go Warriors! Congratulations to All-State Quarterback Chase Singer.
The wooden bleachers would be next.
People were screaming. Smoke was starting to billow through the room. Em heard someone shout, “We’re locked in!”
The door. It was locked, and all these people were inside, and Drea had started a fire. Em scanned the room frantically, looking for a way out, or a solution, or—god, no, please—the Furies. Where were they? This was all their fault. . . . Were they just sitting back now, to watch and enjoy?
“Drea, come on!” Em yelled. “We have to get out of here. People are going to get hurt.”
But Drea stared past her, gaze wide and terrified.
Em turned slowly, just in time to see Ty appear. She wore a short, ruffled skirt and a red top that made her skin look even milkier than usual. Still, it was impossible to look at Ty anymore without seeing the ghastly creature that Em knew was underneath her facade.
“What are you doing here?” Em snarled. The smoke was getting thicker, and she began to cough.
“You’re not the only one who can make new friends,” Ty smirked. “Are you having fun at the dance?” She performed a small twirl. “What do you think of my outfit?”
“I told you to stay away from us!” There was the rage drilling through her again.
Ty just laughed, her lips curling into a wide, patronizing smile. “Don’t be mad at me,” she said. “Drea’s the one you should be worried about. Are you sure she’s on your side?”
Em shook her head, trying to keep her focus. “I won’t listen to you.” She moved toward Ty, who sidestepped her neatly.
Smoke continued to fill the already dark room, and the shouting and banging intensified. Then Ty vanished behind one of the standing mirrors. Em darted after her, quickly becoming more disoriented. The mirrors were playing tricks with her eyes—was that Ty? She lurched forward, hands outstretched, and collided with a mirror; she’d made a lunge at her own reflection. The mirror toppled and shattered. Em screamed and jumped back.
“I’m over here,” she thought she heard Ty whisper. But when she looked, there was nothing but vapor. Em bent down and picked up one of the shards of mirror. She held it in front of her, a weapon.
“Drea!” Em called out. “Help me!”
But Drea either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her. Instead, Em saw her crouched on the gym floor, oblivious to the fast-spreading fire, laying things out on the ground in a circular pattern. As Em leaned forward to see what they were, she felt a force at her back, pushing her from behind. She stumbled forward, landing facedown on the floor. The wind was knocked from her ribs through her throat.
She planted her hands on the ground and pushed up, then rolled over. There was no respite. Ty was there, with one high-heeled foot on top of Em’s chest, pushing down. She leaned down and whispered in Em’s ear, “It’s starting. It’s going to work.”
“Drea . . . ,” Em repeated in a strangled tone.
“I’m almost done, Em,” Drea said urgently. “Hold on. This is going to save you. I promise.”
Em swiped upward, using the shard of mirror as a knife, slicing a small gash into Ty’s leg. They both gasped as a streak of blood oozed from the wound. Ty looked down, pale and suddenly shaken, and then into Em’s eyes. It was the first time Em had ever seen Ty look anything less than completely in control. She took advantage of the moment, wriggling out from under Ty’s weight and struggling to her feet.
And then—whoosh—Ty wavered like a candle flame and vanished in a wisp of smoke. She left a trail of cloudy white where her long legs had been. When her voice sounded through the blackness, it was angry and defiant: “Be careful, Em. Don’t get burned. . . .” Then nothing.
“Come on,” Em gasped at Drea. “We need to get out of here.”