“Why aren’t you taking care of her?”
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, sounding angry. “I watch her every day; what the hell more do you want? This isn’t my problem.”
“We understand that the burden of her safety rests heavily on you,” Mariana said in a reasonable tone, “and that it is the responsibility of us all to see that she remains safe, but it must be you that oversees her well-being. She looks sick, Adrian.”
“You’re blaming me for her immune system?”
I didn’t want to hear anymore, so I hurried upstairs and got another hour’s worth of work done on the dress. Literally falling asleep at the sewing machine, I finally called it a night and used the ridiculously deep bathtub to soak for another hour. I stumbled into my pajamas and collapsed into bed, falling asleep the instant my head hit the pillow.
When I opened my eyes, everything was white. I knew I had a body, but it was so bright I couldn’t see anything. The only other thing I knew for certain was that I was falling. There was absolutely no sound, like I was in space where sound didn’t exist, but I could feel the air rushing past my body, I could feel my hair whipping up behind me, could feel my eyes water as they were buffeted by the wind. And I continued, silently, to fall.
And fall.
And fall.
I woke up when I hit the ground.
When I opened my eyes, Adrian was sitting in a chair next to my bed. I looked at him, feeling as though my entire body were broken, like I actually had hit the ground from a great height. Every muscle was triple-tied into knots. Adrian’s eyes were glowing softly, providing the only light in the dark room.
Turning my back on him, I let the tears slide down my face, too tired to even cry properly.
But a moment later I felt the mattress next to me dip as Adrian sat on it. And then my hair was being brushed aside and he was rubbing my neck and it felt amazing. He didn’t say anything, just started on my shoulders, painfully working out the knots, and I kept crying because there wasn’t anything left to do but cry.
He worked a long time, making his slow and methodical way down my back until every point of tension was deliberately, painfully erased. When he was done, I felt like mush. He pulled back the covers and settled in next to me. Then I was being rolled over until I rested with my face against his shoulder and my arm tucked lifelessly against his chest. I fell asleep instantly.
17
IT COUNTS FOR TWO VOTES IF YOU SAY IT LIKE A PIRATE
“What’s the theme this year?” Meghan asked, popping a cheese puff in her mouth. We were all crammed into Trish’s room for an emergency dance-planning session.
“Winter Neverland,” Stephanie replied. Laura looked less than excited, but Neverland was right up Meghan’s alley.
“Hold the train,” Trish interrupted. “I know who I’m going with, and I know who Caitlin’s going with, but before anybody buys a dress, I need to know who everybody else is going with—that way I can approve purchases based on scandalicity.”
“I don’t suppose Mark will be back in time?” Meghan asked.
“Hell no.”
She sighed. “Too bad. Such a nice body.”
“Tim asked me,” Stephanie broke in.
We all turned to stare at her.
“Tim Tim?” Laura asked at the same time Trish said, “Emo-Punk Emerson?”
Stephanie blushed, smiling. “Yeah.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa; are you two, like, dating?” Meghan demanded, forgetting Mark in the wake of juicy gossip.
Stephanie blushed even further. “Well, I don’t think so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He only asked me to the dance.”
“This explains so much!” Meghan said with a look of epiphany. “He just got a haircut, and I haven’t seen him dye his hair in a month!”
“He said he wanted it to be normal for the pictures,” Stephanie defended him, her cheeks a bright pink.
“Wow,” Meghan said in genuine awe. “He must, like, love you.”
“I don’t think—” Stephanie began, but Laura cut her off with, “Just because a boy lets his hair go back to its natural color doesn’t mean he’s in love. Maybe it was just getting too expensive to dye.”
“Or maybe he’s in love,” Meghan countered, and I could sense a battle on the horizon.
“Who’re you going with, Laura?” I asked.
She blinked at me. “Daniel.”
“Kane?” Meghan asked in pure disbelief.
Laura frowned. “Do you know another?”
“He’s a senior.”
“It’s not unheard of to go with someone outside your own grade.”
“Damn,” Meghan said, “pretty soon there’s gonna be no one left.” She paused with a cheese puff halfway to her mouth. “Who is left?”
“Andrew and Eric are taken,” Laura said, naming senior boys I didn’t know very well. “And Adrian, of course. I think Luke’s available.”
“He’s taken.”
We all looked at the corner where Jenny usually hid.
“You snagged Luke?” Jenny nodded and Meghan groaned. “Great; now who am I going to go with?”