The Girl and The Raven (30 page)

“We have to have a dance party today!” Brandi says. “We haven’t had one since the last time you were here.”

I turn to her brother. “Are you okay with that, Ethan?”

“Sure.” He shrugs and then he reaches for my hand, tugging. “Hey, I have a new remote control car. Do you want to see it? It’s really cool.”

“Of course I want to see it!” I mimic his excitement. “What color is it? Is it fast?”

Ethan nods. “It’s red and it’s super fast!”

“Daddy got it for him last weekend.” Brandi rolls her eyes. “He plays with it all the time.”

Ethan frowns at her. “Not when I’m at school. Duh!”

“I meant all the time when you’re at home. Duh!”

“Not when I’m sleeping,” he pushes.

This is headed for a full-blown fight, so I nip it in the bud. “Give your mom a hug goodbye.”

They do. Mrs. Douglas pauses on her way out, looking back at the kids, a troubled expression on her face. She hurries through the door when she catches me watching.

A sharp pain shoots through my stomach. I press my arms against my middle until it passes. I’ve got to talk to Jude again, convince him to leave Ethan and Brandi alone. And find a way to keep Dylan safe.

Brandi wants to dance first, and insists she and I pair up for a song. She has the moves down pat—I struggle to keep up. Behind us, Ethan laughs at me. It doesn’t get any better as I flounder through a second song. How in the world will I dance in a gymnasium full of my classmates at Homecoming?

I turn to Ethan. “Okay, buster. It’s your turn. Get up here and dance with me.”

“Okay,” he says. “But if I fall down laughing, it’s your fault.”

“Hmmm.” I stare at him mischievously. “I was thinking we’d make cookies again today. Maybe I’ll pull out the super special recipe, the one with fish eyeballs and worm guts.”

“Ewwwww!!!!” Ethan makes a face. “That’s really gross.”

“Lucy, please…no fish eyeballs and no guts,” Brandi whimpers. “I won’t like them. I know it.”

“She’s kidding, dork.” Ethan frowns at Brandi.

I lean toward him. “Keep picking on my dance moves and you’ll just have to wait and see. You won’t know until you bite into them.”

He grabs the remote to select a song. It’s a hard one.

A third of the way through the song, Brandi starts giggling behind us. I can’t blame her. I’m awful. I double my efforts, mimicking Ethan, wiggling my butt before dipping low. By the time the song is over, I’m sweaty and out of breath.

A chorus of clapping breaks out. I whip around to see Dylan leaning against the doorway, beaming.

“That was priceless.”

My face burns three shades of red. “My humiliation is multiplied by, like, a million,” I accuse Ethan. “I hope you’re happy.”

Ethan jumps over the couch and gives his brother a high five. “How’d you like my moves, Dylan? Am I the bomb or what?”

“Absolutely, little man.” Dylan kneels down, pulling his brother into a hug. “You rock.”

Brandi pouts and gives him a doe-eyed look. “You didn’t get to see me dance.”

Dylan visibly melts.

“Feel free to do it again, Brandi.” I shrug. “Just don’t expect me to do it with you. I heard you laughing behind me. You’re on my doo-doo list.”

She falls into a fit of giggles, her face scrunching up as she laughs. “You said
doo-doo
.”

“Tell you what, Brandi.” Dylan rises to his feet. “You pick a song and I’ll dance with you.”

“Yay!!!” She jumps off the couch and grabs the remote to select a song. “I want this one.”

“Bring it on, pipsqueak.”

Ethan and I watch from the couch. My mortification grows as I witness Dylan’s perfect dance moves. When the song ends, Ethan jumps up to high five his brother again. Dylan lifts Brandi and gives her a hug. When he sets her down, I see the fatigue on his face.

“Why don’t we make cookies now?” I suggest.

“Awesome!” The kids race off.

In the kitchen, Charlene gives Dylan a big hug and murmurs something in his ear. She immediately goes to work on making his favorite breakfast: scrambled eggs with ham, green peppers and onions and an English muffin.

“You’re going to try the cookie thing again?” Charlene asks, the disapproval in her voice loud and clear.

“I won’t let the kids have too many,” I tell her as I pull eggs and butter from the fridge and a mixing bowl from the cabinet.

“Don’t let my stepmother fool you.” Dylan gives us a knowing look. “Her no-sugar rule has more to do with her than with Ethan and Brandi.”

“What do you mean?” Charlene asks.

“She has a sugar addiction. She can’t stop at just one or two cookies. After she binges, she works out like a fiend and lives on broccoli and egg whites for a couple weeks as penance.” Dylan grins and holds a finger to his lips. “I’ve just let you in on a deep, dark family secret.”

It’s good to see him smile, but I can’t help but grit my teeth. It should’ve been Mr. Douglas in that hospital bed, not Dylan.

“Lucy!” Brandi huffs as she climbs onto a stool next to Dylan. “Are you really going to put fish eyeballs and worm guts in the cookies?”

There’s a genuine look of concern on her face. Over her shoulder, Dylan raises an eyebrow while trying to suppress a smile.

“Maybe. Are you going to make fun of me next time we have a dance party?”

She solemnly shakes her head and crosses her heart. “I promise.”

“Well, okay, I guess I can make the regular cookies for you.”

She sighs with relief, then giggles. An impish glint comes into her eyes. “Maybe put the guts just in Ethan’s.”

Dylan clears his throat, trying hard not to laugh.

I’m helping Brandi pick bits of eggshell out of the mixing bowl when I look up and catch Dylan watching me. Our eyes meet and my breath catches. There’s a strange pulling sensation in my belly that confuses me. I’m guessing he feels it, too, by the way he suddenly looks away. I close my eyes for a moment and think of Marcus. Remembering the day he told me he loved me.

When the cookies are done, Ethan and Brandi are allowed one cookie each. Dylan sends the kids to wash their hands and start their reading, with a promise we will join them in a few minutes.

“Hey Tennessee.” Dylan glances at the vacant stool next to him, but I stay on the opposite side of the island. “I want to apologize for Rachel.”

“Thanks, but you shouldn’t be the one apologizing.”

“I know.” He shrugs as he leans back on his stool. “But you’ll never hear it from her.”

I move to the sink to rinse the washcloth under a stream of hot water, biting back my anger before turning around.

“I get that she’s hot, but is that the only reason you date her?” My voice sounds strangled. “I don’t have a lot of experience, so maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, but there’s supposed to be more than that, right?”

Dylan’s gaze lingers too long. “You’re so innocent, Tennessee.”

“Are you saying I’m naive?” I toss the washcloth on the counter and put my hands on my hips.

“Maybe. But not in a bad way.”

The kindness on his face shows he’s telling the truth, not picking on me. This isn’t the same Dylan from the beach. “I guess when it comes to dating, I am.”

He cracks his knuckles, then crosses his arms over his chest. “Can I ask you something?”

His tone makes the back of my neck tingle. The counters are already sparkling clean but I scrub them like a maniac anyway. “Sure.”

“Have you thought about Homecoming?” I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s flushed and fidgeting with his fork.
Uh-oh.

“What I mean is…if you aren’t already going to the dance with someone, maybe you’d think about going with me.”

“What about Rachel?” It’s my turn to get flustered. I can’t believe handsome, rich, popular Dylan is asking me to Homecoming. And what about Ella? If she gets wind of this conversation, I’m dead.

His face contorts into a grimace as he pushes his empty plate away. “I ended it with her. For good.” His gaze meets mine. “The whole time I was in the hospital, she didn’t leave me any messages, except to rag at me. She never called my mom to find out how I was doing, either. And the way she treated you…” He clears his throat. “You left me all those messages…you even lied to get into the hospital to see me.”

“How did you know about that?” A blush races all the way to my hairline.

Dylan grins. “A really nice nurse told me. She thought you were my girlfriend, but when I asked her what my sneaky female visitor looked like, she described you.”

“Oh…” I twist my hair into a ponytail and pull it over my shoulder in an attempt to cool off the back of my neck.

His face grows serious again. “So...Homecoming?”

Oh crap. Why does my whole life revolve around hurting other people?

“I’m so sorry, Dylan…but I’m going with Marcus.”

“The guy from the movie theater?” he asks, his shoulders drooping.

I nod. Why do I feel so bad? Is it because I know how jealous Marcus would be if he knew we’re having this conversation? Because I’m disappointing Dylan? Or because no matter how I feel about Marcus, a tiny part of me is disappointed too?

“Well, if that falls through, just let me know and I’ll take you. Okay?”

Not going to happen
. Marcus said he loves me. He’s not going to bail on me. But I hate the sadness in Dylan’s eyes, so I force a smile.

“It’s a deal.”

* * * *

“I have something for you.” Persephone sits next to me on the couch in her living room. She sets a box—a jewelry box?—on the coffee table.

She pulls out a stone pendant on a silver chain, which she places in my hand.

“What is it?” The thin, black stone is cool to the touch and as I peer closely, I notice hues of green and purple in the stone. 

“Have you ever heard of an amulet?”

I nod vaguely. “I’ve read about them. They’re used for protection or good luck or something.”

Persephone smiles. “Or something.”

“This belonged to your grandmother. And to her mother. Traces of their powers linger in the stone—rainbow obsidian. Henry and I both added protection charms. Lucy...” She takes a deep breath and a blush creeps across her cheeks. “Marcus suggested I put it to you this way. You know how Batman has his special Kevlar bat suit to make him bulletproof? And Superman’s uniform was made from Kryptonian material? Well, you now have an amulet. You’re safe from any magic Seamus or Jude try to use on you.” She leans in. “Wear it every day. Sleep in it. Never take it off.”

I turn the stone over in my hands. I rub my thumb over the smooth face, mesmerized as it catches the light. For something so powerful, I expect a bolt of lightening or at least some kind of zap, like I get from Jude. Or maybe a gentle hum or vibration from the stone. But I feel nothing.

* * * *

When I get home from school on Monday, I find a package sitting on my bed—a large silver box topped with a large red bow. I shake my head. My uncles are too sweet. Should I wait until they get home to open it? They did set it on my bed, knowing I’d see it as soon as I walked into my room, so I take that to mean I
should
open it.

Beneath the lid are layers of tissue paper and a small card. Why would Sheldon and Bernard bother with a card? I slide the glossy note from its envelope, flip it open and gasp.

Lucy,

Darcy helped me pick out a Homecoming dress for you.

I hope you like it.

-Jude

Under the tissue paper lies a mound of delicate fabric the color of silvery, iridescent purple. I told Jude to stop spying on me. Obviously he didn’t listen. How else would he know about Homecoming? Maybe Aiden told him? Giving myself a mental shake, I step away from the box. I nibble my bottom lip and think back to Jude’s response when I asked him to spare Dylan.

If I do this for you, you’ll owe me.

If I accept the dress, will I owe him for this too? Do I still owe him for making Dylan better? Or was that debt paid with my demon initiation? And what about Ethan and Brandi? What will it cost to spare them?

Maybe I’ll call Jude, explain that I can’t accept the dress. But it can’t hurt to just try it on, right? Maybe it won’t fit and then I’ll have an excuse to return it.

I change and race to the bathroom and flip on the light, the dress swishing as I move. I’ve never seen, let alone owned, something so beautiful. So luxurious. I stand taller. If only the girls from Lexington High could see me now. Depending on how the light hits it, the dress shifts from silver to a bluish purple. I keep thinking about Darcy—beautiful, stylish Darcy—picking out this dress for me. My own fashion fairy godmother. My gaze lands on the amulet. It doesn’t really go with the dress. Maybe I could take it off for one night.