Betwixt (10 page)

She wiped a hand across her face, her cheeks warm from the wine, located what she assumed was the nearest bathroom, and shut
the door.

A light illuminated a recessed mirrored cabinet. A few vitamin bottles, Listerine, eyeliner, mascara, two bars of handmade
soap: nothing interesting. She closed the cabinet, studying her own face. She was pale, despite the wine, and her red lips
looked sultry against her ivory skin. Morgan knew she looked lovely tonight but it gave her little pleasure. She thought about
Neve. Neve was
cute.
So damned cute, with her pigeon toes and her shapely legs, and her always-perfect clothes, whether from Barneys or a thrift
store. What did Neve have that she didn’t? Morgan was prettier, smarter, more popular. She thought of her brother, his smiles
reserved for her, and though she knew it was wrong, she felt a bitterness rise at the thought of those smiles going to Neve.

No.
She shook her head, resting her hands on the marble of the bathroom counter. She felt dizzy and the smooth stone calmed her.
Taking off her black silk blouse, she left just her camisole on. Maybe that would cool her down.

A little bowl of trinkets — earrings, necklaces, a few silver rings — sat next to the sink. Ondine’s bathroom, Morgan reasoned.
Plucking a plain jet strand out, she tried it on, looking sideways in the mirror. It suited her. She unhooked the necklace
and dropped it into her purse.

“Morgan, Morgan!” Neve called from downstairs. “Someone’s here!”

Shaking out her hair, she took one last look in the mirror.

Sometimes you’re a real bitch.

Walking into Ondine’s bedroom, she could see the moon rising
in the big picture windows, the ubiquitous fir trees of Portland below. A single headlight flared and then dimmed. She approached
the window to see who it was. Her eyes adjusted to the light and made out the lean figure of someone taking off his helmet.
He stopped, put the helmet on his seat, and ran his fingers through his hair.

James Motherwell. Morgan’s chest constricted.

He looked up. She was conscious of the fact that she wore only her camisole, but didn’t move. Instead she stared. Moth grinned
slowly and waved. She thought of Ondine and Neve inclining toward each other, laughing, their hands on each other’s arms.

Let them whisper.

She slid her camisole off and stepped closer to the glass. Her nipples stiffened.

Looking up from the driveway, Moth smiled wider.

She waited till the bell rang to put her top back on, then headed down the stairs.

F
ROM THE ONLINE
, IM,
CELL PHONE
, C
RACKBERRY
, and good old-fashioned coffeehouse buzz, you’d have thought Ondine’s was the party of the year. You wouldn’t have known
it from the outside, though. Things were quiet on N.E. Schuyler — a faint
music coming from somewhere — but so hushed that when Nix and K.A. pulled up after getting a few slices —
not
from Jacob’s, Nix noted — and talking more about Nix’s plans for the summer, the boys couldn’t tell whether the famed party
they had heard about was happening. All they saw were a few flickering lights from Ondine’s windows. Everything else was as
silent as a Tuesday night in January.

“You sure it’s tonight, bro?” Nix turned.

“Yeah, yeah. My sis told me for sure. A lot of kids know about it. It was all over MySpace.” K.A. looked at the car clock,
which read 10:27. “I don’t know. Maybe Ondine decided to keep it mellow. She’s the only girl I know who can give Morgan a
run for her money being uptight.”

The two boys walked across the lawn, hands in their pockets. When they got inside, the scene changed. It was dark at Ondine’s,
and though there were at least a hundred people lining the halls, sitting on the stairs, dancing in the sunken living room,
the house seemed full of nothing but thrumming shadows. It was noisy — both could feel it — but it was a noise they could
sense more than they could hear. Music played. People K.A. knew from school danced. Nix waved to a few folks from the squat.
It seemed that all of young Portland was there. Finn and Evelyn; Rainy Alvarez, the twenty-something waitress from Jacob’s;
Li’l Paul, Morgan’s manager from the Krak; tons of kids from McKinley; even a few from Penwick. Despite the awkward
parting that afternoon, Finn waved and Evelyn smiled. Shadows and light undulated. People laughed, music hit Nix and K.A.
low. Yet nothing seemed loud — and everyone seemed happy.

The perfect party, K.A. thought.

It was he who saw Ondine first. He knew her from soccer when they were younger. He’d always liked her and, from one overachiever
to another, admired her. If someone had asked him, K.A. would have said that she was beautiful, but he’d never given it much
thought. That changed tonight. For the first time Ondine’s beauty impressed itself on him. There was something regal about
her in the half-light, a playful smile glinting across her face, something undeniably sexy, too.

“Smokin’.” He whistled under his breath and Nix looked in the same direction. “Her parents left her alone for the year,” K.A.
whispered, surveying the scene. “Seems to have had a good effect.”

Like everyone else at school, he’d heard that Ondine’s parents had gone away on sabbatical, leaving their seventeen-year-old
daughter alone for her senior year, but it seemed to K.A. that Ondine was just now realizing the immense possibilities afforded
by that absence. She seemed — well, she seemed grown-up. Self-confident and aware. Something K.A. yearned to be and didn’t
know anything about. She stood near the kitchen talking to a senior boy he knew, but she was also keeping tabs on her party
— her house, her mother’s art on the walls, the stereo
people were plugging their iPods into. When she saw him she walked over.

“K.A.!” Ondine laughed and did a little twirl. “Pretty tight, huh?”

“Damn, Ondine.” K.A. looked around at the dancing teenagers. “Who, like,
made
this?”

She smiled. “Well, your sister helped.” She looked over her shoulder at Neve, who was standing in a doorway talking to another
girl. “And of course Neve’s here —”

K.A. tried to keep his face cool as he looked over, but he bit his lip. “Neve, huh?”

“ ‘
Neve, huh?
’ ” Ondine laughed. “Yeah, Neve-huh helped. But really, it was Moth. He bought us the booze and spread the word — or so I
gather.” She shook her head and surveyed the scene. “You know Moth?”

He nodded. “James Motherwell? That guy’s still around? I heard he got kicked out of U. of O. a few years ago. Some big dust
thing.” K.A. shrugged. “He made this happen, huh? I guess you never know about folks.” He grinned, putting his arm around
Ondine. “You’re sure running with a fast crowd these days, little Ondine Right Wing.”

She laughed and looked down. “I guess. Moth ran into Morgan and me at the liquor store, and what was supposed to be a chill
thing for a few friends became the party of the year. I swear to god the kegs won’t kick. And people keep coming. If I weren’t
having so much fun, I’d be totally bugging. But no one is complaining and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. I have
Indra collecting keys at the door.”

K.A. nodded, surveyed the pulsating crowd. “I’d say. Where’s Morgue?”

She waved a hand toward the dance floor.

“In Moth’s clutches probably. I think he likes her.”

She smiled then looked over his shoulder at Nix, who’d been quiet the whole time. K.A. followed her gaze, lingering a moment
where Neve stood chatting with two boys he didn’t recognize. He fake-smacked his head.

“Jesus, I’m an asshole. Ondine,” he said, “I want you to meet someone. This is Nix.” Nix offered a hand. “Nix, Ondine. Sorry
guys — just a little preoccupied.” He tipped his head toward Neve. “Now excuse me. I think someone’s in need of a refill.”

“Hey.” Nix smiled. He had never seen a more beautiful girl. Clear brown skin, big eyes, berry-stained lips. Impeccable ’do.
He noted the low-slung dark jeans and a tight black T-shirt that showed just a bit of firm skin between hem and waistline.
Silver rings flashed on her long fingers. She was barefoot and had tied her braids back with a red scarf that matched the
polish on her toes. Nix felt a sudden blush creep into his cheeks.

He looked at his shoes and wished that he owned better ones.

Ondine stared back at the long-haired boy standing in front
of her and grinned. Too many boys had blushed like that in front of her tonight to count, and by now she was just chalking
it up to something in the air, as if Moth had found a way to atomize dust.

“Hey.” She leaned in, aware that she was flirting. “So, you work with K.A.?”

“Yeah,” Nix said. “I mean, no. I mean, I quit tonight.”

He felt peculiar. He never told strangers about his business — he even had a hard time trusting K.A. — but something about
Ondine made him feel safe.
Her eyes,
he thought. They were purple-blue-brown and furry and they made him feel like he could rest.

“You quit? Why? I thought Jacob was cool.”

“Yeah …” Nix trailed off. He thought about the light around Jacob and for the first time since he’d seen it a month ago, felt
something else besides terror. Something like — power? Like maybe he could do something to change it? He didn’t know what
he was thinking altogether yet, or why it had hit him then, there, in the middle of a party where he didn’t know anyone. It
was just an instinct, somewhere low and unformed, but standing there next to Ondine, he felt calmer.

He waved it off. “You know, my accountant. He told me dishwashing’s over; the real money’s in garbage collecting. I’m gonna
join the union Monday.”

Ondine laughed. “Go Teamsters,” she cheered. She could
tell the boy didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering him, but appreciated his attempt at a joke. For some reason
she felt connected to him, though not in a sexual way — well, not quite. She found Nix attractive — with his widely spaced
black eyes; his lean, toned frame — but there were a lot of guys in Portland who affected that look. He felt like something
more. As if she had known him for a long time and was starting to know him again. She put a hand on his arm.

“Tonight is about relaxing.”

He looked at the girl, felt her cool-warm hand on his skin.

Ondine stepped a little closer. “Do you like people watching?”

For a moment Nix imagined a circle of people standing around him and Ondine doing something he hadn’t thought about doing
since the sweetpea girl in Seattle. He thought about how good it would be to feel warm flesh up against his. The salt taste
of sweat, the giggles as hair got in all the wrong places. Whenever he’d been with the sweetpea girl, Nix had always insisted
on absolute darkness, because he wanted to be able to see even the faintest glimmer of light if it came. The thought of him
and Ondine, and people watching, though —
mmm.
The two of them bathed in light, fused, glowing.

Nix felt a burst of desire — and power.

His cheeks caught fire. Ondine, seeing his blush, clapped one hand to her mouth and pointed at him with the other. For a
moment he thought she was repulsed, but her laughter penetrated the deep throb of the music.

“I just meant —” Ondine began, but Nix cut her off.

“I know,” he said, his cheeks still burning. “I mean, I know now.”

Ondine smiled wider. “Well, come on then. Let’s take a look around. Every freak in Portland must be here tonight.”

She took her new friend by his thin arm — thin but muscled, she noted in the part of her brain that, like everyone else’s
tonight, seemed to be tuned to a sexual frequency. It seemed that everywhere they went, the shadows got a little darker, the
air a little hotter.

Inside Ondine’s hand, Nix flexed his bicep as hard as he could, and let her lead him into the fray.

S
OMETHING CHANGED AT MIDNIGHT.

Morgan didn’t know exactly when she realized she was the drunkest she’d ever been in her life, but she knew it was some time
after James Motherwell placed his thigh between her legs on the dance floor. She was sweaty. He was hot.

He was sweaty. She was hot.

Sweaty.

Hot.

Something slipped inside of her.

“Mmm.” She half moaned. That’s about as far as she could get.

“You smell good,” Moth said. His warm lips grazed Morgan’s neck. She pushed against his mouth, willing him to bite.

The room seemed to swell and contract, swell and contract, as if it were breathing. Everything had gotten very loud. Something
pressed against her thigh. Morgan was trying to remember
where she was. Ondine waved at her as she walked by, and then she was gone and Morgan wasn’t sure if she’d been there. Her
eyes focused and she was staring at the side of Neve Clowes’s face. Neve was gazing moonily at K.A. They were sitting on a
couch that had been pushed off to the side of the dance floor. The girl had slipped off one of her shoes and was running her
toes on the bare place between K.A.’s shoe and the bottom of his pants.