Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen) (27 page)

Forever yours,

She

I had just hit send when my cell buzzed.

Mac.

Where were u all day?

I peered at my alarm clock and groaned. I’d meant to text and let him know I wasn’t going to school and would have to miss training, but it had slipped my mind.

Home sick. Not training today.

The three dots that let me know he was typing back lit and disappeared five separate times, and I could feel the sweat collecting under my arms by the time his response flashed on the screen.

Fine.

Fine? My throat was already sore from all the crying, and the lump lodged there now didn’t make it feel any better. I was such an idiot. What had I been hoping for? A declaration of love? A plea to at least come meet him to talk? “Fine” was the best I could have hoped for. He could have bitched me out or said something shitty, and instead, he let me off the hook and somehow that hurt my feelings worse than anything else he could have said. Because at least the others would have meant he cared.

The phone buzzed in my hand again.

Just an FYI, I’m going away for a couple days.

My skin went hot and tight and panic lapped at my insides. I sat with my thumbs paused over the touchscreen for a full minute.
It’s none of your business,
I reminded myself firmly.
It’s none of your bus—

Where?

I hit send before I could think better of it, and again, his response took forever. By the time it came, I was almost dizzy from holding my breath.

To visit my ma.

I’d had to drag the info from him in a training session the week before, but apparently, she also worked within the semi world for the Council in some capacity. I got the impression they weren’t close, but he’d shut the convo down before I could find out why.

I should’ve been happy he was going. That he felt confident that I was far enough along in my training that everything would be okay while he was gone. Instead…I felt like ass. I really was all alone, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise. And even in the best-case scenario, if I rocked those tests like a boss, he’d be leaving soon and that would be that anyway. I already had a giant, gaping, man-shaped hole in my life and I wasn’t on the market for a second one.

I set the phone down and took a steadying breath. This was the perfect opportunity to prepare for a future without him in it. I’d just forget about him. Startinggggg…now.

…

Three days later, and Mac still wasn’t back. I’d gone to school Thursday and Friday, thinking the days would be easier without him there. Instead, all the anticipation of bumping into him was gone, leaving behind a hollow feeling that I hated. It was like I’d been expecting a surprise party only to realize that everyone forgot my birthday altogether. Now it was Saturday, and even worse, Swirl Day, and I still hadn’t heard from him. Was he back? Was he still going to the dance?

My phone buzzed and I shot up from my bed and snagged it with a shaking hand.

Libby. My heart sank.

Can u come overrr?

I looked at the clock. It was after noon on dance day. Jesus, surely she wasn’t texting to ask for
my
help, was she?

Aren’t u going 2 b getting ready soon, getting ur hair done or whatevs?

Just come n hurry up. I want 2 show u somethinggg.

I sighed and set the phone down. Eric’s mom always went on Saturdays in the morning, so it’s not like he wouldn’t have any company today if I went tomorrow. If Libby needed me, even if it was only to tell her she looked beautiful, I wasn’t going to let her down. Besides, the thought of sitting and wallowing all day was even worse than the idea of watching Libby spend five hours picking a nail polish.

After all the guys who had asked her, she finally opted to go with Bink “as friends” once she realized they weren’t going to let me go in casual clothes and sneakers.

By the time I rode my bike over in the freezing cold ten minutes later, she was already standing outside in her robe waiting for me. Her smile was bright enough to blind me, and that’s when I knew I was in trouble.

“Come on in. Wait till you see this!”

She didn’t wait for me, and instead went bounding up the steps to her room before I even cleared the doorjamb. I was supposed to follow her, but frankly, it felt a little like a scene from a horror movie. Like I was sitting on my beanbag chair in my living room, watching my movie self walk into the dark basement. My movie self stared up the staircase, and my beanbag self wanted to scream,
No, you idiot! Turn around, get out of there!

But a promise was a promise.

She peeked around the corner from the top of the stairs and waved me up impatiently.

“God, stop dragging your feet and get your ass up here. We don’t have all day.”

Weird, since actually, we did. Because apparently, getting ready for the dance took even longer than the actual dance itself. I made a mental note to add that to the arm-length list of cons that I’d already racked up for the event.

I trudged up the stairs, stubbornly and literally dragging my feet, until I reached the top and then hung a left to Libby’s room. Her design sensibility always made me laugh because the room looked nothing like her. She was bubbly and fun and her clothes were always colorful, but her room looked like something out of the Puritan era. The bed was pretty big, but no frills. A crisp white down comforter covered it, and there were none of those useless little pillows my mom liked so much strewn all over the bed, which would seem to fall right into fussy Libby’s wheelhouse. Even the walls were painted beige. I’d asked her once about it, and she’d laughed me off.

“When I’m in my room, I just want to take it down a notch and relax.”

Made sense, I guess, but it felt to me like more proof of her parents’ lack of interest in her overall. My mom had gone to more of Libby’s track meets than her own had. That was sucky, so I renewed my vow to take it easy on her. She didn’t really have anyone but me, and being a jerk because I was frustrated with my own life wasn’t the way to treat a friend. Especially one I could be losing soon. Newly resolved, I stepped through the door.

She came at me so fast I nearly karate chopped her on instinct the way Mac taught me. I managed to stop myself, so that was good, but more than that, even in my surprise and being in an emotional state, the urge to blast her never came. That was the first time that had happened since I’d started changing.

Suddenly, I was feeling a lot better about whatever she had to show me. I was making progress, and the rest of this little stuff was just white noise.

She was practically shaking with excitement—like one of those little dogs who waggles their whole bottoms instead of just their tails—and clapped her hands together. “Close your eyes,” she demanded.

I rolled them first, adding an expected and long-suffering sigh for good measure, but then did as she asked. “All right, they’re closed.”

Some rustling, a low, soft-core swear under her breath, and then a breathless laugh. “Okay, open.”

I let my lids flutter open and stared at the back of Libby’s closet door. On it hung a short black tuxedo jacket and a black miniskirt. Underneath the jacket, a silky camisole in the softest of golds peeked out. It was so pretty, like something spun by Thumbelina using unicorn manes or some crap, that I wanted to reach out and stroke it.

Embarrassed by my girly feelz for the outfit, I tried to play it cool. “Uh, dude, what is this?”

Even at that, though, I couldn’t help but step forward to get a better look. I stepped on something and looked down to see gold-painted sneakers. Vans, to be exact.
My Vans
. My throat felt scratchy, and I cleared it loudly.

“Those were my favorite pair,” I murmured, rubbing the soft material of the cami once before letting it fall from my fingers. I turned to face Libby and she snorted, crossing her arms over her ample chest.

“Oh, screw you. Don’t try to pretend you don’t like it, because I know you do.” She couldn’t stay annoyed because she was too frigging excited over the fact that she’d managed to pull one over on me. “I was so pissed when the committee shot my whole ‘Let’s express ourselves’ campaign down and I was sure I was losing this bet. Then, I went to pick up my hair bow and saw the tank top and it all hit me. So I stole your sneaks and spent two days sewing the skirt and tailoring the jacket.” She stood back, proudly admiring her work. “Now come on, thank me like a good girl and try it on.”

It wasn’t froofy, but it was a far cry from casual. She and I both knew she’d stretched the rules to the point that they were squealing for mercy. I could’ve called shenanigans, and I considered that. Fighting it. Fighting her. But the excitement was infectious. And, at that exact moment, with no guarantees of another dance ever, I wanted nothing more than to try on that beautiful, crazy, totally me, kickass outfit and wear it to the Swirl. To walk in, arm in arm, with a cute boy—-my brain went into lockdown mode before coughing up a face or name—for me and said cute boy to drink crappy, too-sweet fruit punch with chunks of rainbow sherbet floating in it and laugh at Bink’s ridiculous dance moves.

Just for one night.

Maybe there would be no cute boy, but Libby would be there, and Bink, and maybe the punch would be the exact right amount of sweet. Surely I could be a normal teenager for just one night?

I might live another two weeks or another eighty years. Hell, semis were notoriously hearty. Maybe even a hundred and eighty if I played my cards right. But this dance was for juniors, and I’d only have one Snowflake Swirl. So what if it was stupid?

I kicked off my shoes and wrestled my T-shirt over my head. “Okay. But we’ve got to do something with my hair, too. You think you could put it in a knot or something?”

You would’ve thought I’d extended her an invitation to Hogwarts by the look on her face. “Absolutely. We only have six hours, so we’re going to need to get to work, stat.” She came at me, beaming and rubbing her hands together, and for a split second, I knew true fear.

Chapter Sixteen

Three hundred and sixty endless minutes later, Libby and I stepped out of her car and onto the damp pavement.

It was still cold, but at least the freezing rain had never materialized. Not that my hair was going anywhere. I patted the crusty croissant and realized grimly that it might be easier just to shave my head than try to get out the flabillion bobby pins Libby had jammed in there.

I was still a little in shock over the whole thing.

You asked her to do your hair
, I reminded myself. And that was a perfect example of being more careful about what I wished for. I made a mental note.

“Did Bink say what time he was getting here?” Libby shot a glance at the pocket watch she plucked from her cleavage. She’d gone all-out Victorian with her look, and it was pretty spectacular. Midnight blue, to the floor satin with corset top and a bustle in the back. She’d added her own spin to it with a tiny top hat featuring a pair of steampunk goggles attached. Legit.

We had arrived at the school twenty minutes early because if I’d sat at her house for another minute, watching her try not to jump out of her skin, I was going to yank one of those bobby pins out of my hair-helmet and kill her with it. My stomach was also tied in knots at seeing Mac with Ella. Dancing together. Touching… I pushed the images aside again, determined not to let his dating choices ruin what could be my last two weeks of normal.

“Probably at seven when everyone else gets here. You know, when the actual dance starts.” I gave her the dead eyes, and she shrugged.

“I don’t care how much you try to pee on my parade. I’m having fun tonight, and so are you.”

I didn’t respond because it didn’t matter. I patted my hair again and pressed my gooey lips together, rubbing them to even out the gloss. My bitching and complaining was like firing a musket into a battalion of tanks. She’d won both the battle and the war, end of story. I was all dressed up like a turkey on Thanksgiving, and I was at the frigging Swirl.

“Hey, is that Anson Burrows with Molly Pescitore? I thought he was gay?”

She scurried off to get the gossip and I straggled behind, wondering if Mac wouldn’t even come tonight. I still hadn’t heard from him and was starting to wonder if maybe he was sick and had decided to skip it, but I couldn’t shake the very real fear that he wasn’t coming back.

Would he really just leave me like that?

Speak of the devil. Not ten seconds later, his silver coupe pulled up, and I bit my lip. He had come back. And, I noted with an evil grin, no limo for Ella. She must be pissed because all the popular girls had gotten them. Neener neener. Then I mentally slowed my roll. No need to be such a bitch. It was a little ridiculous to hate on her, considering that she really hadn’t done anything that wrong to me.

Mac pulled into a spot right next to where I was standing and I turned my back, determined not to care what he was wearing. Determined not to see if Ella looked prettier than I did. Which was ridiculous, because Ella
was
prettier than I was. Even if she’d decided today was the day to throw all those trendy designer clothes to the side and opt for hobo pants and a wife-beater, she would
still
look better than I did.
You don’t even care about being pretty
, I reminded myself. I ignored the pinchy feeling in my heart and started walking, eyes locked on Libby’s quickly retreating, satin-covered back.

“I thought you weren’t coming?” a deep voice said from behind me. Shit.

I turned, pinning a bright smile to my face, and waved. Ella was still getting out of the car, but Mac had rounded to the front and stood in full view, all fancied up in a tux with a long, skinny gray tie. The black material stretched over his wide shoulders and I had the inane urge to smooth my hands over it and squeeze. His hair, which had gotten unruly over the past couple weeks, was back to being trimmed and almost viciously neat again. Everything back in order, and he was all locked up tight. It made me want to run my fingers through and mess it up.