“I’m sure I will!”
“You have to see the inside of the plane. It’s decked out to the absolute max. I’m talking leather seats, wide-screen TVs, the newest gaming consoles, and, best of all, a full bar.” She flings her arm around my shoulders. “Maybe a drink or two will settle those nerves before you meet Juliet? God knows alcohol was probably invented to help hapless Romeos like you. So come on, let’s go!”
I climb up the steps, bouncing up and down, trying to make myself appear almost as giddily excited as Kaylee. I figure it’s what a Nice would do. At the very top, I turn and look back. Craike is staring at me with his arms tight across his chest. His eyes are cold and his mouth is set in a sneer. “Don’t forget what I said, Caden.”
Step out of line and you will die.
“I never will.”
Then I walk through the doorway into the plane.
CHAPTER
FIVE
Kaylee wasn’t kidding, the inside of the plane is stunning. The carpet is the color of cream, and there are only four seats: massive, soft leather things that recline fully. At the back of the plane is a small bar, and behind it is a glass shelf stocked with every type of alcohol imaginable. Alcohol wasn’t allowed at the LIC, but I’ve seen enough TV to know it’s supposed to be delicious. My mouth waters.
Two of the seats are occupied. A prim-and-proper-looking girl with her red hair pulled back in a tight bun sits in one. She catches me looking and her eyebrows furrow, making her square glasses slip down her pointy nose.
In the other is my rival.
But it’s not him anymore.
His eyes are now a shining, emerald green. His face has been restructured so now his jawline is stronger and his nose is slightly bigger and dead straight. His cheekbones are high points beneath his eyes and his teeth have been bleached so that they’re impossibly white. Even the little hairless patch on his cheek is gone, and now the bristle on his cheeks looks almost like a full-on beard. I thought he was handsome before, but now he’s in a whole new league. Like, before he was the lead guitarist of a punk band I’m not cool enough to know about, but now he’s the dreamy lead singer of a mainstream pop-punk band who is going to ride the line between cute and sexy all the way to the bank. It’s just … his eyes are so vibrant, and his hair is so perfectly messy. I can’t look away.
“Judy,” Kaylee says with a stern nod to the prim girl.
Judy moves her head lazily upward and blinks slowly. “Kaylee. It’s so nice to see you. How was the funeral of your last boy? I heard the flowers were beautiful.”
He and I keep looking at each other.
“I need a drink,” I say, and I head toward the bar. I pass him, and as soon as I do I sense movement; he’s slid out of his chair to follow me.
I grab the fanciest bottle of scotch I can find, a squarish bottle with a blue label, and start pouring it into a small square glass. The amber liquid sloshes against the bottom of the cup.
My rival is behind me. “So,” he says. His hands are in his pockets and his shoulders are slightly hunched. “I was given a name. They want me to go by Dylan, but you can call me Dyl, if you’d like. I prefer it. It feels more like my choice, not theirs, you know?”
I turn away from him and spin the lid back onto the bottle. My grip on it tightens, forming a tight seal. Of the two of us, he’s better-looking. By a wide margin. After everything I’ve done to turn myself into the perfect Nice, he could win because of his pretty eyes and stupidly cute smile. It’s bullshit.
He could star in a CW show, for crying out loud! He’s a scruffy Abercrombie model! He’s …
He’s looking at me.
“Dude,” says Dyl. “What’s the deal?”
I place the bottle down and turn to face him. The glass of the bottle clatters against the granite of the bar.
“You’ve changed. A lot.”
His mouth drops open slightly. “Is it bad?”
I shake my head. “No. But you don’t look like a real person anymore. I mean, seriously, who the fuck has bright-green eyes?”
He laughs. “I do, apparently. Now pass me a scotch, Nice guy. I’ve always wanted to try it.”
I pause. Should I do this? The LIC wouldn’t want me to. I peer past him and see that both Kaylee and Judy are distracted by their phones, so I pour a drink and pass it to him. They want me to hate him, and if I can do something that goes against their wishes but doesn’t get me in trouble, I’m absolutely going to do it.
He’s staring at me, grinning like he noticed that I hesitated but poured him the drink anyway. Damn it. He raises his drink to his lips and winces. “This doesn’t smell how I’d imagined.”
I smell my own, which stinks like burning acid. I thought it’d be sweet and woody.
“Well,” he says. “It’s too late to back out now. Cheers!”
Our glasses clink together, then, at the same time, we take big gulps. The liquid sets my mouth on fire. Coughing, I slam the glass back down onto the bar. Through watery eyes I see Dyl. He’s doubled over, spluttering his lungs out. He looks ridiculous.
I laugh. Like, genuinely laugh.
I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.
He starts to laugh too, and somehow, that makes everything better.
I recover and take a deep breath. My mouth and my windpipe are numb and sort of cold. It feels funny yet kind of nice. Is this what being drunk feels like? Dyl straightens up, beaming, his smile showing off those goddamn perfect teeth.
He wipes his eyes. “I owe you, man. Imagine that, Juliet and me at a party, me a Bad, and then I can’t even handle a sip of scotch. I’d be a joke!”
My smile fades as I remember why I’m on this plane. Why I exist. The only thing I should laugh at is one of Juliet’s jokes. Without her around, I don’t matter, so feeling anything when I’m not near her is a waste of energy. Also: I helped Dyl, which is something I can’t afford to do. He’s right, if he’d spluttered like that in front of Juliet it would’ve cracked apart his tough-guy persona. Giving him that drink was a mistake. All I can do now is hope that it wasn’t a big, life-ruining mistake.
Caden, what are you doing? says Kaylee’s voice in my mind. I told you, that boy is dangerous. He’s not your friend. I repeat, he is not your friend. Come back to your seat right now!
I slide past him and make my way back down the aisle. When I reach my seat I sit down and clasp the buckle of the seat belt over my waist.
From the other side of the plane, Kaylee glowers at me. A strand of golden hair has fallen out of place, and now it dangles in front of her eyes, which are brimming with rage. The intensity of her stare shocks me, and I look down at my seat belt.