The Form of Things Unknown (19 page)

CHAPTER 26

 

—
A Midsummer Night's Dream
, act 5

 

 

 

I decide not to tell Lucas I'm going to the ball anyway. I want to arrive on my own. Not like in an eighties teen movie grand gesture sort of way, but in a SNEAK-IN-WITHOUT-ANYONE-NOTICING sort of way. Instead of wearing the white chiffon dress Mom and I bought earlier this month, I find the black short dress I wore for homecoming last year, when Andria and I were goth homecoming ninjas.

“You're going to stand out if you aren't wearing white like everyone else,” Grandma says, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. “But black does look good on you.”

“Thanks,” I say. I'm standing at the kitchen counter, taking my medicine.

She hands me the car keys. “I hope you find what you're looking for.”

I take the keys from her, and we both stare at the pewter sand dollar on the key chain. “You did, right?” I ask her. “You found what you were looking for?”

My grandmother never smiles. But her face relaxes and for a moment she seems younger. “Yes. Yes, I did, Natalie.”

I manage to get out the front door with Mom taking only two pictures of me dressed up. “Be careful,” she says, kissing me on the forehead. “And have a good time.”

I start the car, and Grandma's Beatles CD fills the interior. “In My Life.” I turn the music down and drive off down the street toward the ball.

The dance is being held in the Fragrance Garden at Forsyth Park, where white lights and white rose garlands have been draped from each of the pavilions to give it a magical fairyland look. It's a steamy summer night and the air is heavy with the scent of roses.

A quartet is playing classical music right now, but Starla said a DJ would be playing dance music once it gets dark outside.

I don't see Lucas's truck in the parking lot. And I'm not sad. I'm here not for him, but to settle a score with Starla.

I show the doorman my ticket and he glances down at my black dress, but says nothing. I look nothing like the other girls drifting around in their white gowns. I no longer look like a fairy queen either. Maybe a vengeful dark fairy. The forgotten fairy godmother. I smile at the doorman and he looks at me nervously.

“Natalie! You came!” Raine rushes over to me, holding two cups of punch. “We didn't think you'd be here!” Her short white dress is strapless and she still hasn't put the blue streaks back into her black hair.

“I wanted to stop in just for a little while,” I say. “Where is Starla?”

Raine hesitates and looks regretful. “I wish I'd known, Nat. About you.”

“Have you been helping Starla trick me all along?”

“We were just having fun! You were the first one who mentioned the ghost, and we just wanted to see how far we could take it. I never knew you were schizophrenic. I'm so sorry.”

“Did she tell you I had been at Winter Oaks?”

Raine shakes her head. “No. I didn't know. Honest. And I wish I had, because I never would have let you drink. I'm so ashamed, Nat.”

But Starla acted like my best friend too before she turned on me. I still don't know if I can trust Raine or not. “Is she here yet?” I ask.

“I haven't seen her. Peter and I came together.” Her eyes are shining brightly. Her goatee-sporting crush comes up behind her and she hands him a cup of punch. “Lucas didn't come with you?” she asks me.

I shake my head. “My decision to come was sort of last-minute.”

“You should text him. I don't think he was planning to be here since you weren't coming,” Raine says. “But he really needs to see you in that dress.”

“I'd hate to drag him all the way out here when I'm not planning to stay long.”

Raine stares at me. “Did you guys have a fight?”

Before I can answer, Mrs. Green comes up to us, with the mayor of the city. I almost abandon my plans for tonight. “Natalie, how are you feeling?” She doesn't say this like she really cares. She says it like she wants me to leave. How many lies has Starla told her about me?

“Much better, thank you.” I smile at her and ignore the pain I feel. I used to like Mrs. Green. I thought she liked me, too. “I just couldn't miss tonight's ball.” ACTING NORMAL, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.

Mrs. Green glares at me. “Yes, well. Have a good time, all of you. I don't suppose you've seen my nephew?”

Peter drains his cup of punch. “Colton was talking to the DJ a few minutes ago.”

“Thank you. Stay out of trouble, children.” Mrs. Green leads the mayor off toward the music.

Peter puts his hands around Raine's waist and kisses her neck. “Come here, child. I think you are the trouble that woman was warning me about.”

She giggles and lets him lead her off to a rose-covered alcove.

Maizy is standing by the punchbowl with the twins. She is glaring at the string quartet, a dapper group of elderly gentlemen in tuxedos. “They could have hired us to play,” she growls. She looks me up and down. “Nice dress.”

“You play violin?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“In a quartet?” I ask.

“A trio. Three girls. Our band is called Mourning Becomes Electra.”

I stare at her. I haven't heard Maizy say more than two words to anyone all summer. And usually those two words are “fuck off.” She scared Caitlyn and made the twins cry. “Cool,” is all I can think of to say to her.

She's still glaring at the old men playing. I take a cup of punch and slink away from her, searching for Starla. And I wonder if Starla's prank might be one of the reasons that Maizy is such a bitch. Didn't Caitlyn say Starla told her aunt that Maizy was on drugs?

The night Starla locked me in the dressing room, I was terrified. When I realized she'd been deliberately trying to make me think I was crazy, I was furious.

Tonight, I am calm. And focused on revenge.

I find her standing just inside the garden gates, chatting with some of the people from Cast Three. Her white gown is long, edged in gold embroidery, and drapes over one shoulder like a Greek toga. She looks like a Greek goddess.

Her eyes grow wide as she sees me approaching her. I smile. I can tell it unnerves her.

Hunter, the dark-haired life guard from the pool, is standing with her. I almost don't recognize him in the tux, until he says, “Hey, it's the hot chick from the pool. Nice to see you didn't melt or explode or anything.”

I shrug and give him a tiny smile. “You look wonderful, Starla.”

“Score!” Hunter says, spotting a waiter with a plate of appetizers across the courtyard. “Be right back.” He leaves Starla staring at me uncertainly.

“I thought you knew you're supposed to be wearing white.”

I sigh, dramatically. “Don't you think white makes me look like a ghost?”

Starla glances around, not sure what I'm up to. I like that I've set her off balance. I want her to feel as unsettled as she's made me feel.

“Ever since I came to Savannah, I've had trouble figuring out what's real and what's illusion. I wanted to thank you for helping me to gain clarity.”

She frowns, and looks a little confused. “Okay. You're welcome?”

“Starla! You made it!” Raine says, approaching us with Peter. “Where's Hunter?”

Peter is pulling on Raine's hand. “I thought we were going to dance.”

“In a minute!” she says. “I wanted to make sure Natalie was okay.”

“Never been better,” I say, smiling.

Starla is glaring at me now, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “You don't look very stable to me, Nat. Maybe you should go sit down somewhere.”

I shake my head. “I'm not afraid of you anymore.” I think of all of our friends who've been hurt by Starla's lies and tricks. Maizy. Bethany. Lucas. Even Colton.

I could make sure everyone knows what she's been doing behind all of our backs. Without proof though, I might end up sounding even crazier than I did two nights ago.

What if I scared everyone on purpose? I could claim that “voices” are telling me that Starla slept with Ferris. That Starla told Mrs. Green that Maizy was doing drugs. That she tried to get her cousin fired from the Pirate House.

Whether anyone believed in my “voices” or not, it would turn everyone against Starla. But is that what I really want?

I glance at Lucas, who's standing next to Ferris. He looks amazing in his tux. I want nothing more than to be dancing in his arms right now, but I need to finish this. Without ruining anyone else's night. I hope he understands. I don't want to scare him off.

Starla has shaken my ability to trust people. She knew my secret and used it to hurt me. The tears running down my cheeks aren't from acting. “Why?” I ask her. “Why would you trick me? Did you really hope I'd have a psychotic break and end up in the hospital or worse? Why would you lie about me?”

Starla starts crying too. “Because you swept in here and everyone loved you. You got the role I wanted. And you got Lucas.”

“But you had Lucas,” I say. “You gave him up.” Lucas has moved away from Ferris and is now standing next to me. I take that as a sign of support.

Starla wipes her teary mascara-stained cheeks with her hands. “I went to Winter Oaks to tell him I was wrong. To tell him how sorry I was. And he told me it was better for both of us to move on. And then I saw you. And I saw him staring at you.”

I can't help it. I look up at Lucas, shocked. He reaches out and takes my hand, gives it a squeeze.

Raine is still staring at Starla. “You really did lock her up and tell all those lies about her to your aunt? You're the crazy bitch here, Star. Not Natalie.”

Starla rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I'm getting out of here.” She looks around, but Hunter, her date, has disappeared. With a heavy sigh and toss of her head she pushes past Raine and heads toward the garden's exit. She almost runs into Maizy and Mrs. Green.

Starla freezes, her face turning as pale as her dress.

Mrs. Green is frowning at her niece. “Miss Sanders tells me you have something to confess, Starla?”

“Oh hell,” Starla grumbles.

“This could take a while,” Raine whispers to me. “Obviously I suck at being a friend. Can you ever trust me again?”

As Mrs. Green stands at the entrance talking with Starla, her face grows more and more unhappy. Finally, Starla leaves in tears, and Mrs. Green comes over to us.

“Miss Roman, I believe I owe you a tremendous apology. Please forgive me. You are such a talented young lady. Please tell me you'll come back next summer and take part in our teen theater program again. I can promise that my niece will not be bothering you anymore.”

“I'll definitely consider it,” I say. Glancing over at Raine, I add, “If you'll be there next summer?”

Raine grins. “Wouldn't miss it.”

Lucas puts his hand on my waist and leans close. “May I have this dance?” The elderly quartet has left and the DJ is setting up his equipment.

I look up at Lucas and everything in my chest explodes like fireworks. I nod and let him lead me to the center where couples are already gathering.

“Do you think it was wrong of me to talk to Starla like that?” I ask, trying to ignore the way his hands are settled on the curve of my waist. It takes all my strength not to just drag him off to a shady corner.

“You turned your weakness around, Nat. You stood up for yourself. And nothing you said was a lie. Apparently Starla has been hurting a lot of people. It was time everyone found out.”

I lean my head against his shoulder and close my eyes just as the music starts. A little too fast for slow dancing, but Lucas doesn't make any move to pull away. I think I'm in love. I breathe in the scent of him, a mixture of coconut suntan lotion and cinnamon gum.

“Natalicious!”

I look up to see Colton and David headed toward us. “Are you guys ready to get out of here?” my brother asks. “I feel like Chinese food.”

“Hungry?” Lucas asks. When I shrug, he smiles. “You can all ride with me.”

I pull my keys out of my purse. I am smiling and giddy with happiness. “Let me drive.”

 

 

“Heartfelt and emotional.”

—Rebecca Phillips, author of
Faking Perfect

Andria's twin sister, Iris, had adoring friends, a cool boyfriend, a wicked car, and a shelf full of soccer trophies. She had everything, in fact—including a drug problem. Six months after Iris's death, Andria is trying to keep her grades, her friends, and her family from falling apart. But stargazing and books aren't enough to ward off her guilt that she—the freak with the scary illness and all-black wardrobe—is still here when Iris isn't. And then there's Alex Hammond. The boy Andria blames for Iris's death. The boy she's unwittingly started swapping lines of poetry and secrets with, even as she tries to keep hating him.

Heartwrenching, smart, and bold,
Dreaming of Antigone
is a story about the jagged pieces that lie beneath the surface of the most seemingly perfect life . . . and how they can fit together to make something wholly unexpected.