Sirenz Back in Fashion (11 page)

“I saw it first.” Kate tried to tug it away.

“Can I try it after you?” asked the girl who'd just come in.

I heard voices outside; more girls were coming into the bathroom. Forcing my hand into their midst, I clutched the fleece and yanked, but to no avail. Six hands—not including mine—were latched clawlike onto it, and they weren't letting go. The only good thing was that no one could put it on.

A wicked idea came to me. I watched the tug of war for a moment, and then with more glee than I should've taken, I stomped on Alana's foot. She howled and let go of the fleece.

“Why'd you do that?” She turned to Kate and poked her on the shoulder with a perfectly manicured finger.

Kate let go to slap Alana's hand away. “I didn't do anything!”

In shock, the other girl let go.

This was exactly what I needed—a catfight that made everyone in the bathroom forget the fleece. I grasped it with both hands and pulled it to me, only to stagger backwards with its sudden weight—it felt like one of those lead x-ray aprons they put over patients in the dentist's office. Stumbling toward the door with my prize, I rolled it up and tucked it under my jacket before grabbing my bag and bolting out the door.

That was close. Too close!

I ran down the hall, as far away from the cafeteria as I could, and kept moving until I got to a nook that was dark and silent. Stopping, I pulled out the fleece and popped it on top of my books, then slapped the flap of the bag over it. I clicked the straps and pulled them tight. Done. I wanted to kick myself. I'd lost my chance at getting the fleece back to the dorm—why hadn't I just gone straight there? As I hoisted the bag over my shoulder, it felt incredibly light. How could that be? I had my Calc and Social Studies books in there, and the fleece too.

The fleece.

I didn't want to open the bag to check, but I had the sinking feeling I just sent my textbooks to Tartarus. At least Shar could use them to catch up; I'd have to borrow Paulina's and figure out how I was going to pay for replacements. Hades owed me.

Wearily I made my way to Lit—thank God I'd taken that book out to make room for the damned fleece—and finding my chair, sank down into it and put my head on my desk.

I didn't need to look to see if Paulina was sitting next to me; of course she was there. I felt her warm, heavy hand on my shoulder.

Without lifting my head, I rolled it on the desk so that I faced her. She'd taken her glasses off and was looking me square in the face, at close range—the first time she'd ever done that. Her steely gray eyes were wide with concern.

For me.

If she had something to hide I'd be able to see it, I thought. But Paulina's eyes were … kind, yet shrewd.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently, squeezing my arm.

I wanted to cry.

No, I'm not okay. My best friend is stuck in the Underworld and the only I way I can get her back is to send you to take her place. At first you were really annoying and I was ready to do it, so long as I didn't think about it too much, but now …

I shook my head. “I'm just having the world's crappiest day.”

She flashed her lopsided grin. “You're stressed out. I know something that'll fix that.”

I narrowed my eyes at her as she pulled her cell out of her back pocket and started tapping in a text. About a second later the phone blipped and a grin spread over her face as she read the reply.

“Yes!” she hissed, and slid the phone back into her jeans pocket. “We're going to see D'On as soon as school lets out.”

We are?

“Who's D'On? He's not some sort of … dealer, is he?” I whispered before I could stop myself. Not the best thing to say to someone who's brother is MIA and probably mixed up with the “wrong people.” But Paulina just shook her head and laughed.

“Trust me.”

Hadn't I heard that before?

“Who is he?
What
is he?” I demanded, intrigued in spite of myself. Her own private chef? Personal trainer?

“You'll see,” she said mischievously as class started. She promptly opened her book and didn't take her eyes off it until the bell rang.

Paulina magically appeared outside the door of my last class of the day. She refused to answer any of my questions about where we were going. She pulled me through the halls, into the street, and down into the subway. Back up into the street and then across avenue after avenue, I followed like her shadow, almost like she'd followed me right after we first met. After about half an hour, we stood in front of a squat, dingy building on Avenue A. She stepped up to the door and pressed one of the six intercom buttons.

A cheerful voice crackled out, “Come on up, P!”

The door buzzed and she pushed inside. Putting her foot on the first step, she turned to me with a sly grin. “He's on the top floor,” she said, and started bounding up steps two at a time.

Fantastic. A six-floor walk-up with no elevator.
I won't be stressed out when I get to the top, because I'll have passed out!
I clomped up the worn, seemingly endless steep steps. Paulina waited for me at each landing, where I stopped to pant.

“Nearly there,” she encouraged. As I climbed, I wondered how Paulina—who wasn't a city native according to Mr. Elwood—knew about this obscure little place, whatever it was, and this D'On, whoever he was.

When I got to the last step, I doubled over.

“Mmm hhhmm.”

I looked up, and startling violet eyes stared back at me.

“You weren't kiddin', P. This one needs to unhinge.” A man with warm amber skin, a sinewy tall frame, and a mass of dreadlocks thrust out a strong-looking hand. “This way, baby. You spend some time here and you'll feel like a whole new person.”

He pulled me into a brightly lit room. One wall was all windows, like our old Siren apartment. All the others were mirrored. Everywhere I looked, there I was. The tap of our shoes echoed on the pale wood of the highly polished floor.

“It's a dance studio,” I said looking around, trying not to catch my reflection.

D' On threw his head back and laughed. “She is
smart
!”

I turned to Paulina. “You brought me to a dance studio? For what?”

“Whenever things get to be too much, I come here,” she said, shrugging off her jacket. “A couple of hours with D and I'm good to go.”

“You know it, P,” D'On quipped, and handed me a bottle of water, which I nearly snatched out of his hand; I was hot, out of breath, and so thirsty.

“I don't dance,” I protested, taking a swig. And then another. And another. It was cold and had a heady, fruity flavor, probably one of those vitamin-infused things.

“Everyone can dance—you just gotta let go,” D'On crooned, taking the now-empty bottle from my hand and tossing it aside. He hadn't let go of me and he was drawing me farther into the room, walking backwards in sync to music that started from somewhere, or maybe had been playing when we first came in. I was too taken aback and busy trying to catch my breath to remember, but I suddenly realized I wasn't tired anymore, or huffing and puffing.

“See, you doin' it!” he cried.

I looked down at my feet, which were like D'On's, moving in time to the music. A look in the mirror showed that all of me was moving. My body jerked to a stop and I blushed, feeling incredibly silly, until I saw Paulina in the mirror.

She bumped and ground, her legs, arms, torso, and head jerking like badly connected train cars. I stifled a giggle, but as she kept dancing, the moves became smoother, more fluid. She twisted, writhed, and stomped in rhythm.

“That's the way, P!” D'On shouted, letting me go to clap his hands to a new song that started up.

I gasped. In the mirror I saw all three of us doing the same moves in tandem—D'On perfectly, Paulina slightly less so, and me, a bit better than I thought ever possible.

“Yeah, girlfriend, you got it, you got it!” D'On sang along with the music. “Let go!”

Let go let go let go …
… of your inhibitions …
… of Hades …
… of your worries …
… of the fleece …
… of any guilt …

There was just the three of us and the music, the thump of bass, the sparkle of synth and chimes, and endless enticing melodies. Sweat dripped down my forehead as I stood in between D'On and Paulina, all of us stomping, waving arms, shaking.

Song after song played; we danced and danced. I shed most of what I was wearing until I was down to leggings, a tank top and my sneakers. Paulina wore a loose shirt and skinny jeans, her muscular arms and legs working it. As a song wound down and ended abruptly with the crash of cymbals, I lifted my head, ready to slide into the next move. I was facing the wall of windows—it was dark.

Shar!

“Oh my God, what time is it?” I screeched, skidding over to where my bag and clothes lay in a heap by the door. As if in slow motion, I found my pocket watch: it was 6:32.

I looked up, panic-stricken, and frantically gathered up my things. “Thanks so much for this, but I have to go—”

Paulina looked at me, puzzled, and started to move toward me, but D'On stopped her.

“Meet you back at the dorm!” I called, not looking back. I raced down the steps, nearly tripping and killing myself at least twice. Out in the street, the chill air slapped me as I glanced around helplessly; it'd taken us a half an hour to get here, so it would take close to that for me to get to Pandora's. I panted in frustration. Every second I stood there was a second wasted.

I bolted for the subway and practically tumbled down the steps—there was no time to find or buy a metro card. I hopped the stall, not bothering to be subtle, ignoring the indignant shouts behind me. A train pulled into the station and I got on it, not having the luxury of caring about where it was going. Refusing to meet the eyes of anyone in the car, I listened for the announcements. The train was going uptown. It was an express.
Luck! Luck! Luck!
I just might make it.

At 6:55, the car doors whooshed open at 56th, only one street away from Pandora's. Out and up the steps I bounded.
That dance class loosened me up if nothing else
, I thought, reaching the street and taking off down the block.

I got to the corner and started weaving through the people on the street, but stopped when I saw a group standing in front of the window, bigger than the one that had gathered around me last time.

Not waiting for them to move, I pressed on, pushing by people and walking right up to the glass. The display had changed; a gigantic chocolate frog squatting on a chocolate lily pad stared back at me. Chocolate bees buzzed around chocolate flowers.

“There she is!” I heard someone whisper, and then a snap and a flash reflected in the window.
Did someone take my picture?
The window darkened, and suddenly Shar was there in another of those barely there dresses, gazing out the window as if she couldn't see me.

“Here I am!” I yelled.

She started when she saw me. “Oh my God, what happened to you?” she asked, looking me over with concern. “Did you … fight with her or something?”

I caught a fraction of a reflection of myself in the window. I was panting and my hair was damp with sweat. I was still wearing just my tank and leggings; I'd been carrying my coat and bag. I shivered, maybe because being outside with no coat on had finally caught up with me, maybe because along with my own face, there were about a dozen others behind me that I could see in the glass, watching me intently.

“No.” I shook my head and, dropping my load to the ground, tugged out my jacket and wrapped it around myself. “I went … ”

“Where?” she demanded.

“It doesn't matter,” I said.

“It matters to me,” she snipped. “Were you … working out?”

“No!” I said, shaking my head. I lifted my bulging bag up so she could see it and jerked my head at it, hoping she'd get the hint. “I tried to fix it at school, to get you out, but
then—”

Shar crossed her arms over her chest. “Let me guess—
something
came up,” she said coolly. “And it seems that whatever you were doing was far more important than getting me out of here. Or maybe you think I'll be here a while since you sent me some homework!” She brandished my Calc book.

“That was an accident!” I protested, but then I narrowed my eyes at her. What was she insinuating? She
was
right—I'd gotten distracted by Paulina and the dancing. I was angry at myself more than at her, but that didn't mean she could sit back and be a party girl. “Sorry if I'm not playing the knight in shining armor, Princess,” I said, snidely. “I suppose you've been too busy getting ready for the Wonderland Ball or whatever to look into things from
your
end!”

Shar crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. Guiltily.

Had she even tried?

“I found the Eurydice stuff out for you,” I said, forgetting my earlier regret, my tone slightly accusatory. “Why don't you find some info for me? It would be a lot easier to get this done if I—”

“Does that even matter?” Shar blurted. Her lip started to quiver and a tear tracked down her cheek. I unclenched my fists and took a step closer to the window. Hades strolled by in the background, wearing nothing but a very small towel. He gave me a boyish grin and waved.

“What the—” I started, but I heard her watch chime and the glass went black. A second later, I was staring at the frog again.

Taking a deep breath, I banged my head against it. A trickle of moisture ran down the glass.