It steals all of my nerve. The apology stops in my throat.
“Better get back on the dance floor, princess.” Declan’s words are full of icy disdain. “Wouldn’t want anyone to catch you slumming with the losers.”
My eyes are burning. This is all going so wrong.
I never should have come here.
I turn around and burst through the emergency-exit doors and run into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
From: The Dark <[email protected]>
To: Cemetery Girl <[email protected]>
Date: Friday, October 4 10:06:47 PM
Subject: You owe me, Cemetery Girl
I hope you’re having a better night than I am.
The cemetery is a well of silence. Thanks to the overcast sky, darkness pools in the valleys between graves. I found my way to my mother’s headstone in the dark an hour ago. It took very little effort—I come here so often I could find my way blindfolded.
At first, I thought I could handle the chill, but I’m freezing. Cool moisture hangs in the air, and rain is a heartbeat away. I’d kill someone for a sweater.
The irony makes me smile, considering I’m in the middle of a cemetery and the only people around me are dead.
Then I lose the smile. It’s not very funny, really.
Most people would be freaked out to be in the cemetery this late at night. There are girls in the senior class who still won’t walk into a dark bathroom because they’re afraid of Bloody Mary.
I’ve spent so much time here that I don’t think anything of it. Nothing is going to come crawling out of the ground—not even bugs, especially not this late in the year. There will probably be frost on the ground in the morning.
If I sit out here much longer, there will be frost on me.
I can’t make myself leave.
I can’t make myself talk to Mom, either. All I have in my purse is my phone, my license, and my keys, so I can’t write her a letter. With a swell of guilt, I realize I haven’t written her a letter in weeks—since I started writing to The Dark.
I tell the guilt to knock it off. It’s not like Mom’s around to be missing my handwriting.
I’m not sure what I’m doing out here. I started driving, and this is where I ended up. I texted Rowan when I got here, because I didn’t want her to worry. A worried Rowan could easily end with parents being notified and cops being called. I told her I wasn’t feeling well and asked if she could get a ride home from Brandon.
When she asked if I was home, I told her yes.
I mean, I’ll get there eventually.
I brush my fingers across the gravestone, tracing the letters of my mother’s name. Zoe Rebecca Thorne. I know her name was important to her, but now that she’s gone, I wish we had even that in common. No one looking at this grave would ever connect her to me.
No one would have connected us in life, either. I felt lucky to catch wisps of her talent.
Sudden pain grips my throat, and I choke for breath. I miss her so much. I would give anything for one more conversation. One more moment.
I think of the email I just read. I hope you’re having a better night than I am.
Well, I’m not sure how The Dark’s night is going, but I’m about to be a sobbing wreck on top of a gravestone in a deserted cemetery. I should offer him the chance to see how his night stacks up.
I suck back the tears and drag my phone out of my purse. I open his email and begin to type.
Raindrops appear on the screen, skewing the letters. More strike my bare shoulders. I shiver again, swipe the phone on my dress, and try again.
Thunder rolls and the sky opens up. Cold pours down from the darkness.
I shriek and run, holding my purse over my head like it’s going to do a darn thing. I fumble my car keys, and they go flying into the grass. Of course. By the time I have them in hand, my dress is soaked through. Hair is plastered to my neck.
Here I thought I was freezing before. I’m shivering so violently that it takes three tries to get the keys into the ignition.
And then the car won’t start.
I think of Declan Murphy telling me to replace the battery, which I never did. I hate that he was right. I hate it. A fresh round of tears burns my eyes. If I call my father and tell him I’m stuck at the cemetery when I’m supposed to be spending the night at Rowan’s house, he might actually have an aneurysm.
He was so happy I was going to the dance. I imagine shattering that.
My breath shudders.
Get it together, Juliet, I tell myself. Think.
Declan turned everything off before jump-starting the engine. Maybe that will help. I flip every dial I see, killing everything. Then I insert the key and give the ignition a try again.
The car gives a pathetic rum-rum-rum sound but then flares to life. Victory!
It causes me physical pain to leave the heat off, but I need the headlights and the windshield wipers, and I don’t want to risk anything else draining the battery. I put the car in gear and turn onto the main road.
The rain must be keeping reasonable people home tonight, because the roads are mostly empty. I turn onto the two-lane highway that cuts through town, accelerating briskly because I need to get a blanket before I shiver myself out of this dress. I keep both hands on the wheel and peer into the darkness.
A loud clunk sounds from beneath the car. The vehicle lurches sideways.
I hit the brakes instinctively. The car begins to spin. The screech of metal on asphalt slices through the silence. All I see is darkness, with my headlights cutting a swath of sparkling raindrops. Somehow I’m moving at light speed, yet time has slowed down.
I can’t think. I can’t think. I can’t think.
Help me, Mom.