Sunny’s freckles seem to darken, that masklike visage apparent even beneath the thick coating of makeup on her face. “Ain’t no way in hell we were gonna let you do this all alone.”
Jax sighs. “She lifted your key when you weren’t looking last night and took a picture of your wristband in your room. She made us replicas with leftover props from last year’s fall performance of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Some of the juniors played mental patients.”
They hold out their right arms, displaying matching wristbands, a similar translucent style to mine. Every written word on the labels mimics the words I’ve already memorized, other than the name. Instead, each bracelet is individualized to them, making it appear they’ve all been tagged like me. Sunny did a masterful job of forging the handwriting.
“So . . . you were onto me?” I direct the question to Sunny’s smug grin. “When I faked throwing it away?” I don’t even give her the chance to answer because everything starts falling into place. “Wait. That’s where you were during dinner last night. When you got stuck in the bathroom for ten minutes with a wardrobe malfunction. You were actually in my room.” Heat blooms in my cheeks. I want to lash out. She violated my privacy. But it was out of concern for me.
“Well, the wardrobe part wasn’t a complete lie,” Sunny corrects, humility softening her voice, proving she knows she crossed a line. “While I was looking for the wristband, I saw the box you carried back after gardening yesterday, so I peeked under the lid. I’m guessing you found that in the chapel, too, along with those dozen roses in that vase on your nightstand. Because we all know those roses aren’t anywhere here at RoseBlood. Am I right?”
I have no answer. At least I’d hidden the Phantom’s note. This girl is way more resourceful and devious than I ever gave her credit for. A burst of affection warms me against the cool air.
How could I have thought leaving home and coming to France would mean never having friends again? Sunny and her crew have had my back from the day I arrived almost six weeks ago. I care about each one of them. Which is why I won’t let them do this.
“You can’t come with me . . .” I attempt.
“Sure we can,” Sunny responds, unfazed. “We got the bracelets and spent half the day getting the clothes, thanks to Jax’s Mastercard. So why can’t we?”
“So many reasons.” The biggest one being I don’t know what kind of monsters might be there. What kind of monster I am, myself. Saint-Germain was definitely not human. “I—I can’t protect you,” I blurt before thinking.
“Protect us?” Quan responds, tugging at the brim of his cowboy hat. “Kind of think that’s mine and Jax’s job, little lady,” he drawls. “Unless you two are scairt now and want to change your minds?” His dark, puppy eyes, exaggerated Texas accent, and slightly off-kilter smile are adorable. I’m not sure how Sunny manages to resist him, though I suspect he wins his fair share, considering how often I’ve caught them making out in the ballet room behind the stage.
Jax snorts. “Fat chance of changing this one’s mind.” He tilts his head toward Sunny. “Audrey was tough enough.” His attention settles on me. “She wanted to come along if we went through with it. Despite what her private trainer said about staying indoors at night to preserve her voice.”
I chew my inner cheek, remembering this morning when I witnessed the end of an argument between Audrey and Sunny just before we left. Audrey had already told us that she’d be going back to the academy early with some of the juniors who had finals and needed to study. She didn’t want to stay out past late afternoon . . . that’s how dedicated she is to landing Renata’s role tomorrow at the audition.
To think she’d planned to sacrifice that for me makes me feel even worse. The muscles in my neck knot with tension.
Sunny glares at Jax. “You wouldn’t have let Audrey come anyway, Mr. Guardian Angel,” she scoffs, adjusting the magenta, orange, and black-checked flannel shirt half covering Quan’s purple tank. A bluish-white angler fish is airbrushed across the dark knit. Neither the over-shirt nor the tank’s designs glow like the rest of our clothes, but they’ll definitely stand out under black lights.
“I don’t own her . . . but I wouldn’t have liked it,” Jax answers Sunny while glaring at me, his bright-blue eyes accusatory. “And I don’t like Rune going, either. Or the rest of us. This is all too weird and risky.”
You don’t know the half of it.
“What is it with you guys?” Sunny snuggles up to Quan, coaxing his arms around her. “Come on, Moonpie. We always wanted to see if this place is real.”