One Past Midnight (4 page)

In either world.

“So . . . ,” Miriam started, her sly tone cutting into my thoughts. “Tonight?”

“No,” I said, casually flicking my hair while my mind screamed—
NO!
I was
not
going to be sex ready by tonight. “I'm thinking graduation night. We'll go to the dinner and I'll have everything arranged. It'll be perfect. And besides, tonight is about a different kind of fun. How are preparations?” I asked, redirecting her focus just as the third of our powerhouse trio joined us.

“Morning, ladies,” Lucy said, a notebook in hand and cunning smile on display. “Did I hear someone ask how preparations were going for this evening's blowout?”

I smiled back, relaxing for the first time all morning. Lucy always helped with that. She didn't bother with annoying questions. She stuck to the fun.

“You sure did. How are we looking?”

“Done, done, and done. The boys have drink arrange-ments in hand. I have the music and decorations taken care of. Invites and RSVPs are all confirmed. The juniors who applied have been assessed and selected for serving.” She ticked off her list, then squealed. “Tonight is going to be legendary!”

“So how many people?” I asked.

“Oh . . . you know,” Lucy said vaguely, looking around the hall.

I stopped mid-step. “Lucy, how many?”

Miriam was standing behind me, but I could feel her cringe.

Lucy bit her lip sheepishly. “Well, most of the senior class, and there might have been a few invites to some of their friends outside of school. You know, I mean, word got out and I didn't want to say no.”

I just stared and put my hands on my hips.

“Eighty to a hundred.”

I kept staring.

“Okay, a hundred and fifty, max!” she said quickly.

My immediate reaction was to freak out. I'd told Mom no more than fifty people! But then I remembered that both Lucas and Ryan had had parties after graduation. Those bashes weren't even combined with their birthdays, and they were both huge—police at the door—affairs. Mom survived those. So instead of losing it, I regrouped and rolled my eyes. “I hope you've arranged for security.”

Lucy nodded, relieved. She tossed back her tight brown curls and smiled brightly, strawberry-glossed lips framing super-white teeth. “Sure have. The boys know they are on duty.”

By “the boys” she meant our respective boyfriends. More specifically Miriam's and mine—Lucy was still flying solo and in a permanent lust-crush with Noah.

We weren't with the football guys or the basketball boys.
Our school, thank God, operated on a more even hierarchy. If you could keep up and you looked good in whatever group you were hanging out with, you could stay. It wasn't a perfect system—if you were a geek who couldn't socialize or work a look, then you were a geek and that was it. But it was better than most high schools.

And actually it was people like Dex who'd made it possible.

He was smart, studious, athletic, and hot—in whatever he wore. Everyone wanted to either be him or date him, and he was nice to everyone. A few years back he'd started having parties, inviting the whole class—not only the cool group—and everyone just started being friends. And then . . . he picked me. We'd been together for the last two years and it made total sense. Our social statuses complemented one another seamlessly.

When the three of us walked into English class, I saw Dex right away, sitting in his usual seat right in the middle back. I immediately smiled and took my place beside him.

“Hey, Sabine,” he said, leaning in to talk close to my ear.

“Hey, Dex.”

He really was a beautiful guy—six-pack, sandy-blond hair, and a dazzling smile that he delivered with such confidence, it made the whole package even more attractive. Only problem . . . when I looked at him I just didn't feel
it
. Whatever
it
was.

Part of it I'd never be able to fix. The fact was, Dex was only eighteen. His life so far had been a smooth ride and the rest of it was turning out to be just as blessed. And I . . . well, if there was only one of me, that would have been fine, but I was eighteen
twice
, and my life was . . . complicated. The bottom line was that even though I was never going to, would never dream of . . . But if
there
were
someone I might one day consider telling about my whacked-out existence, it wouldn't be Dex.

“What's up? Your face is all twisted,” Dex whispered, giving me a curious look.

I forced my forehead to relax and pushed the thoughts aside. Normally I was better at keeping them at bay. “It's nothing. I just remembered that I need to pick up my new shoes from town before tonight.” Lie, lie, lie.

Dex smiled, buying it too easily. For some reason, it made me mad. I turned my attention away from him and pre-tended to concentrate on the lesson to avoid having to talk to him again.

Giving myself all that staring-into-space time wasn't helpful. My mind was on a mission and I found myself prodding at my not-broken wrist. And the questions began . . .

Have the rules changed?

No. This must be a one-off. Was this a one-off?

Will my wrist be broken when I go back to my other life?

Was this a glitch and will it only last for a day?

Maybe my wrist will be broken when I go back and then stay that way when I return so that this day never really happened?

But . . . if the rules
are
changing, what does that mean? Was there a way . . . ? But I won't let myself finish that long-forbidden thought.

My head started to hurt. I tried to distract myself by thinking about the party tonight.

Then I felt sick.

I didn't stay up past midnight often—and never around other people. But everyone had insisted. I was the only one who hadn't had a party this year, and this was my last oppor-tunity. I wasn't going to risk my reputation by not following through, so when a birthday-graduation bash at my place was suggested, I'd smiled brightly and said, “Absolutely!”

I knew I'd have to be awake for the Shift. But after being awake for last night's, I was now dreading tonight's Shift even more. I hadn't been awake for two consecutive Shifts in years. Not to mention how it was ratcheting up my string of awake hours.

Just as I tried to formulate a plan to get myself somewhere private at midnight, the bell rang and Dex was at my side.

“You do realize all the exams are over?” he teased in his deep voice—the one that said he needed me to acknowledge him. He was pretty easy to read sometimes.

I followed him out into the hall, slipped an arm around
his waist, and kissed his cheek. “I know, but with only one week left, I plan to finish on a good note.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You've already received your acceptance to Harvard; what better note could you finish on?”

I shrugged. Truth be told, I was dreading going to Harvard and having to be around Ryan constantly. But when it came time to apply, I just couldn't bring myself to pick colleges farther away from Mom. If I wasn't around to help her, she'd go to pieces.

Out of nowhere, Dex pushed me up against the lockers. I gasped, but let him do it, hoping to feel something . . . more. His hips were dangerously close to mine. “The smart thing really does something for me,” he said huskily.

I smiled and let him kiss me.

I felt like I could've pulled out a notepad and started documenting. At Second Two, he made a movement with his upper lip. At Second Four, his hand tightened around my waist. At Second Seven, he made that sound he does. And at Second Nine, my damn skin crawled and I had to pull away.

“Will I see you at lunch?” I asked, looking hopeful even though I knew the answer.

“No,” he said, staying close to my ear. “I've got track. You could come watch.”

Hmm . . . let me think . . .

“I would, but I have party planning to finalize.”

“Yes. I guess you do.” He kissed me again, this time
finishing at Second Four's hand tightening before releasing me. “I'll see you later.”

I nodded and watched him leave so that when he looked over his shoulder he saw me.

Lucy, who had obviously been waiting for me, rushed to my side, and we walked to calculus together. “You know he is, like, stupidly in love with you, right?”

I laughed, feeling bad that my main feeling was relief he'd only gone as far as the fourth second on the last kiss.

God. How was I going to get through sex? How many seconds would he actually last?

“And so he should be,” I answered teasingly before quickly moving on. “Back to party issues. Can you come over and get ready at my place tonight? I need your help to get Mom out the door.”

Lucy beamed, in her element. She wanted to be an event planner, and viewed all of our parties as valuable work experience. “No problem, leave your mom to me.”

I stared at myself in the mirror as Miriam styled my hair. Thankfully the rest of the day had gone by in its usual predictable way, helping me get on top of things again. Now everything was perfectly on schedule. Even the afternoon thunderstorm had come, thundered, and gone away with barely a trace.

“Honestly, Sabine, if you would just let us put a color through it. I swear your hair would look amazing platinum blond.”

The worst part is, I agreed. I'd love to go either way—to Miriam's beautiful blond or Lucy's gorgeous rich brown. But I just shook my head.

“I like it the way it is,” I said confidently.

“Yes, but a change is as good as a vacation and you could use a serious break!” Miriam persisted.

“No, I really couldn't,” I mumbled. Change was not my friend.

“What?” Miriam asked, pausing with the brush mid-stroke.

“Nothing. You're right. Maybe after graduation or something,” I lied. But at least it stopped the conversation.

When she'd finished, I slipped into my dress and strappy high heels and almost laughed at what the
other me
would think of herself looking like this. I smoothed down the beautiful green silk on the understated but sexy halter-neck dress, which showed off my figure and said to the world:
I'm not a schoolgirl anymore
. Finally. I felt myself smile, knowing that although it had taken twice as long as it had for everyone else, I was at last reaching a landmark moment in my life.

Things would become easier for me as an adult. I wouldn't have to hide as much. Dumb it down. Not have an opinion on issues I shouldn't be concerned with. Things would get better. They had to.

And then I swallowed hard, knowing that out of everyone, I was best at lying to myself.

“Okay,” I said, pulling myself together. “Mission Mother.”

Lucy and Miriam followed me downstairs. Miriam looked amazing in a knee-length cream dress that fit snug to her body and kicked out at the bottom. The intricate beading that snaked its way from the low-cut back, tapering off toward the bottom hem, set off the fabric perfectly. Lucy had
gone for the fresh look with a spaghetti-strap peach dress. Also stunning. Together we were kind of rocking it.

We posed for some photos to satisfy Mom—then a few more after Lyndal, Mom's sister and best friend, arrived. Finally we managed to get them into the car, promising we would behave. In return they promised they would stay away until 2:00 a.m. It was the time we'd settled on over the last three weeks. Mom's midnight suggestion was never really an option if my social standing was to be upheld, and my 4:00 a.m. opening offer was only on the table so we could meet in the middle. Two o'clock was respectable, and it was all I could be bothered with anyway.

When I walked out to the pool area where everyone would gather in the next half hour, I was stunned.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, for once not faking it.

Lucy was jumping up and down. “Legendary. I told you.” She beamed.

“Lucy. Did you . . . ? How . . . ? How did you . . . ?”

“Actually most of it was your mom. She asked me the other day how all the preparations were going, and when I told her some of my grand vision, she offered to help.”

Miriam glided up to one of the three clear plastic Perspex walkways that hovered over our long pool—lit from beneath with sunken balls of light—and lifted her hand to catch a stray bubble floating out from one of the many discreetly placed bubble machines.

“My
mother
did this?”

“Most of it.” Lucy nodded.

“Wow,” I said, taking in the hundreds—no, thousands—of tiny fairy lights scattered all through the gardens: in the tall maple trees and down in the garden beds, lighting pathways and wrapping around the hedges along the pool. The entire backyard was alive with a beautiful, fairylike glow. “It's breathtaking.”

By ten, I was drunk.

The boys had delivered in the drinks department, arriving right on time with two vans full of alcohol. God knows how they managed to get hold of everything, but they had—and they were, as always, manly proud of their efforts. I was surprised they refrained from beating their chests as they unloaded the loot. Champagne, kegs, and vodka punch were set up on the makeshift bar in the pool house. Before long, the entire backyard was flooded with laughing, drinking, dancing eighteen-year-olds. And every time I turned around, Dex was there, looking handsome, with a full glass in hand to exchange for my empty one.