Beautiful Chaos (49 page)

It wasn’t completely true, and Lena wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t say anything else and neither did I. Between the heat and the bugs, Abraham and the Vexes, John Breed and the Lilum possessing the body of our English teacher, I figured we had enough to worry about.

At least that’s what I told myself.

LET IT SNOW! TIME FOR A CHANGE IN THE
WEATHER! BUY YOUR TICKETS NOW!

The posters were everywhere, as if the fact needed to be advertised. The winter formal was here, and this year the Dance Committee, made up of Savannah Snow and her fan club, decided to call it the Snow Ball. Savannah insisted it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the heat wave, which is why everyone was calling it the Slush Ball. And Lena and I were going.

She didn’t want to go, especially after what happened at the winter formal last year. When I gave her the tickets, she looked like she wanted to set them on fire. “This is a joke, right?”

“It’s not a joke.” I was sitting across from her at the lunch table, stabbing at the ice in my soda with my straw. This wasn’t going to go well.

“Why would you possibly think I want to go to that dance?”

“To dance with me.” I gave her a pathetic look.

“I can dance with you in my bedroom.” She held out her hand. “In fact, come here. I’ll dance with you right now, in the cafeteria.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I’m not going.” Lena was digging in her heels.

“Then I’ll go with someone else,” I said.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Like Amma.”

She shook her head. “Why do you want to go so badly? And don’t say to dance with me.”

“It could be our last chance.” It would be a relief to worry about something as harmless as a disaster at the dance, instead of the destruction of the world. I was almost disappointed Ridley wasn’t around to ruin it with style.

So in the end Lena had caved, even though she was still mad about the whole thing. I didn’t care. I was making her go. With everything going on, I didn’t know if there would ever be another dance at Jackson.

We were sitting on the hot metal bleachers by the field, eating lunch on what should have been a cold December day. Lena and I didn’t want to run into Mrs. English, and Link didn’t want to run into Savannah, so the bleachers had become our hideout.

“You’re still driving tomorrow, right?” I threw the crust of my sandwich at Link. Tomorrow night was the Snow Ball, and between Link and Lena, there was only a fifty-fifty chance we’d get there at all.

“Sure. Just tryin’ to decide whether to wear my hair up or down. Can’t wait till you see my smokin’ new dress.” Link threw the crust back at me.

“Wait until you see mine.” Lena took a rubber band off her wrist, pulling her hair into a ponytail. “I think I’m wearing a raincoat and boots and bringing an umbrella, in case anyone takes the whole Slush Ball thing literally.” She didn’t try to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

It had been like this ever since I convinced them to go. “You guys don’t have to come with me. But this may be the last dance in Gatlin—maybe anywhere. And I’m going.”

“Stop saying that. It won’t be the last dance.” Lena was frustrated.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Link punched my shoulder, a little too hard. “It’ll be awesome. Lena’s gonna fix everything.”

“I am?” Lena smiled a little. “Maybe John bit you harder than we thought.”

“Sure. Don’t you have some kinda Don’t-Let-This-Dance-Suck Cast?” Link had been depressed since Ridley took off. “Oh, wait. You don’t. ’Cause it’s gonna suck no matter what kinda Cast you’ve got.”

“Why don’t you try a Stay-Home-and-Shut-Your-Trap Cast? Since you’re the one taking Savannah Snow to the dance.” I wadded up my sandwich wrapper.

“She asked
me.
”

“She asked
you
to her party after the game, and look how well that turned out.”

Don’t bring it up, Ethan.

Well, it’s true.

Lena raised her eyebrow.

You’ll only make him feel worse.

Trust me, Savannah’s got that down.

Link sighed. “Where do you think she is right now?”

“Who?” I said, though we both knew exactly who he was talking about.

He ignored me. “Probably makin’ trouble somewhere.”

Lena folded her lunch bag into tinier and tinier squares. “Definitely making trouble somewhere.”

The bell rang.

“It’s probably better this way.” Link stood up.

“It’s definitely better this way,” I agreed.

“Coulda been worse, I guess. It wasn’t like I was that hung up on her. Like I was in love with her or somethin’.” I wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, but he jammed his hands into his pockets and took off across the field before I could say anything.

“Yeah. That really would have sucked.” I squeezed Lena’s hand, letting it drop before I got light-headed.

“I feel so bad for him.” She stopped walking and slipped her hands around my waist. I pulled her close, and she rested her head against my chest. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

I smiled. “I know you’d go to a stupid dance for me.”

“I would. And I am.”

I kissed her forehead, letting my lips stay on her skin as long as I could.

She looked up at me. “Maybe we can make tomorrow really fun. Help Link forget about my cousin for a little while.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.”

“I have an idea. Something to fix a broken Linkubus heart.”

The tip of her ponytail began to curl, and I walked across the field wishing there was a Cast for that.

12.12

W
hen Link pulled up in front of my house, Savannah was already in the front seat of the Beater. He got out and met me at the curb, like he had something to tell me. He was wearing a tacky ruffled tux shirt that made him look like he was in a mariachi band, and tux pants with his high-top Vans.

“Nice threads.”

“Thought Savannah would hate it. Thought she wouldn’t get in the car. I swear, I tried everything.” Normally, he would’ve been gloating. Tonight, he sounded miserable.

Rid’s really gotten to him, L.

Just get him up here to the house. I have a plan.

“I thought you were meeting Savannah at the dance. Isn’t she supposed to be there with Emily and the rest of the Dance Committee?” I lowered my voice, but I didn’t have to. I could hear a
Holy Rollers demo track blasting from the stereo, as if Link had been trying to drown Savannah out.

“I tried that. She wanted to take pictures.” He shuddered. “Her mom and my mom. It was a nightmare.” He broke into his standard impression of his mother. “Smile! Wesley, your hair is stickin’ up. Stand up straight. Take the picture!”

I could only imagine. Mrs. Lincoln was fierce with a camera, and there was no way she was going to watch her son take Savannah Snow to the winter formal without documenting it for future generations. Mrs. Lincoln and Mrs. Snow were too much to take when you put them together in the same room. Especially when the room was Link’s living room, where there wasn’t a place to sit or look or even lean your hand against that wasn’t shrink-wrapped in plastic.

“Bet you five bucks Savannah doesn’t set foot in Ravenwood.”

Link finally cracked a smile. “That’s what I’m hopin’.”

From the backseat of the Beater, Savannah looked like she was sitting in a big puddle of pink whipped cream. She tried to talk to me a few times, but it was impossible to hear anything over the music. When we turned at the fork in the road that led to Ravenwood, she started to squirm.

Link turned off the radio. “You sure you’re okay with this, Savannah? You know folks say Ravenwood’s been haunted ever since the War.” He said it like he was telling a ghost story.

Savannah lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid. People say lots a things. Doesn’t mean they’re true.”

“Yeah?”

“You should hear what they say about you and your friends.” She turned back to look at me. “No offense.”

Link blasted the radio, trying to drown her out, as Ravenwood’s gates creaked open.
“This church picnic ain’t no picnic. / You’re my fried chicken. / Holy finger-lickin’…”

Savannah yelled at him over the music. “Are you callin’ me a piece a fried chicken?”