Angelfire
Page 65
"Yeah," Wil said. "Something like that."
Kate swayed her way up to him and leaned on Chris's shoulder. "What's the matter? Are you too cool for us?" she demanded sarcastical y.
Wil shrugged. "I don't real y dress up for things."
"Oh, come on," I pleaded. "You have to wear something."
He threw up his hands defensively. "I don't think so."
"You're going to be the only lame person there," I noted.
"I've got a Jason hockey mask in my trunk," Evan offered.
"If you want it."
"No, thanks," Wil said. "I'm not a costume guy."
"You are such a downer," I said, and picked my cel off my dresser to glance at the time. "It's after nine. We should probably get going around ten."
As I applied one last layer of lipstick, one of the boys bumped into me and I dropped the stick onto my white outfit. I swore when I saw the waxy red streak left behind on the neckline of my costume. "Landon!" I growled, and shoved his shoulder.
In the midst of stupid laughter, I caught a "Sorry, El !"
I huffed and stomped out of the room and down the hal toward the bathroom. My dad caught me as he was leaving his bedroom and he gave me the once-over. Awkwardness settled over us both as he stopped, mouth agape, but nothing came out. He shut it and looked up at the ceiling as if he were thinking of what to say.
Embarrassed by the way he looked at me, I said, "Kate looks worse." That would have worked on my mom, or at least put a smile on her face, but since my dad rarely spoke more than two words to me a week, I wasn't sure what my next move would be.
His mouth scrunched and then flattened with indecision. "I shouldn't let you go out like that, should I?"
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Probably not."
"Wel , you look like a--" He cut himself off abruptly. I didn't want him to finish the thought anyway. "I'm just going to the bathroom."
"Cover yourself up some," he suggested, stumbling over his words. "Put some pants on or something."
"Yeah, Dad. Sure thing."
His body locked up and his face twisted for a brief moment. I was about to ask him what was wrong when I heard footsteps behind me.
"El ie," said Wil 's voice.
I turned around to smile at him. "What's up?"
"Just seeing if you needed help," he said. Wil looked at my dad and held out a hand. "Hi. I'm Wil , El ie's friend."
My dad stared at Wil , the corners of his mouth turning down, but he didn't shake Wil 's hand. Catching the hint, Wil withdrew it and stole a glance at me. I knew my dad didn't like my guy friends much, but that was just beyond rude.
"Okay, wel , I'l see you later, Dad." I brushed him off, and Wil fol owed me into the bathroom to help me scrub the lipstick out of my dress.
"He didn't like you much," I said, rubbing a wet tissue into the red stain. Most of it had come out, but a remaining dul stripe looked like it would be permanent.
"He smel ed like blood."
I choked back a laugh. "No shit, Sherlock. Yeah, my dad has blood in him. You say the weirdest things sometimes."
"No, I meant it was on his skin. I could smel it from your room and I thought you were hurt."
"Maybe he had a paper cut," I said, and looked up at him.
"You shouldn't go around sniffing people. Real y."
His lips tightened and his brow furrowed. It was kind of cute when he did that, to be honest.
"The men in my life are the strangest people on the planet," I grumbled, and proceeded to blow dry my dress. "At least I can tolerate you, out of al of them."
"You don't like your dad." It wasn't a question. I imagined my contempt was obvious to him.
"He's a piece of shit. You don't even understand."
He didn't say anything, but he probably understood a lot better than I gave him credit for. His hearing was as incredible as his sense of smel . He'd probably heard many of my fights with my dad. Something weighed my stomach down when I thought of Wil overhearing my crying. It was one thing for him to know that the reapers scared me stil , but there was no reason for me to be afraid of my dad. He'd never hurt me physical y, but on the inside he'd repeatedly ripped me into pieces.
"Look," I said. "Just don't worry about it. It's not your problem."
The rest of the time in the bathroom went by in awkward silence. My dad wasn't a subject I wanted to talk about with Wil or anyone. I avoided his gaze until we were back in my room.
We organized who was driving and cleaned up our costume messes. An hour later, we assembled downstairs in the foyer and piled into Kate's and Evan's cars. Wil , Landon, and I rode with Kate to Josie Newport's house. We pul ed through the iron gates, and Kate flashed an invitation to the man standing there. He let us through, and we passed the carriage house. As we wound up the wooded drive, we could hear--and feel--the powerful bass. I'd be damned if Josie hadn't hired a DJ.
The house itself was sprawling: high peaked roofs, creamy stone, marble columns, and dark accents dazzling beneath ivory lights. We parked at the end of a never-ending line of cars and climbed out. I pul ed my excruciatingly short dress as far down as possible as we strol ed up to the front door. Behind me, Chris asked if I could handle my short skirt and then mumbled about issuing me a citation for "sexy exposure" or something stupid like that. I ignored him. The front steps were lined with jack-o'-lanterns, and plastic skeletons climbed the columns. A tal man in a suit answered the door and we walked inside. The grand entrance was dimly lit with multicolored lights dancing across the white marble floor. Kate led us through the mansion to a massive banquet hal lined with tal windows that offered sweeping views overlooking a lake. As soon as we stepped through the archway, I could see that half the school had already arrived. Strobe lights flashed in al directions from high above; the steady, heavy beat of music shook the floor and the wal s; people in every costume imaginable danced as if it were their last night alive.
Kate swayed her way up to him and leaned on Chris's shoulder. "What's the matter? Are you too cool for us?" she demanded sarcastical y.
Wil shrugged. "I don't real y dress up for things."
"Oh, come on," I pleaded. "You have to wear something."
He threw up his hands defensively. "I don't think so."
"You're going to be the only lame person there," I noted.
"I've got a Jason hockey mask in my trunk," Evan offered.
"If you want it."
"No, thanks," Wil said. "I'm not a costume guy."
"You are such a downer," I said, and picked my cel off my dresser to glance at the time. "It's after nine. We should probably get going around ten."
As I applied one last layer of lipstick, one of the boys bumped into me and I dropped the stick onto my white outfit. I swore when I saw the waxy red streak left behind on the neckline of my costume. "Landon!" I growled, and shoved his shoulder.
In the midst of stupid laughter, I caught a "Sorry, El !"
I huffed and stomped out of the room and down the hal toward the bathroom. My dad caught me as he was leaving his bedroom and he gave me the once-over. Awkwardness settled over us both as he stopped, mouth agape, but nothing came out. He shut it and looked up at the ceiling as if he were thinking of what to say.
Embarrassed by the way he looked at me, I said, "Kate looks worse." That would have worked on my mom, or at least put a smile on her face, but since my dad rarely spoke more than two words to me a week, I wasn't sure what my next move would be.
His mouth scrunched and then flattened with indecision. "I shouldn't let you go out like that, should I?"
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Probably not."
"Wel , you look like a--" He cut himself off abruptly. I didn't want him to finish the thought anyway. "I'm just going to the bathroom."
"Cover yourself up some," he suggested, stumbling over his words. "Put some pants on or something."
"Yeah, Dad. Sure thing."
His body locked up and his face twisted for a brief moment. I was about to ask him what was wrong when I heard footsteps behind me.
"El ie," said Wil 's voice.
I turned around to smile at him. "What's up?"
"Just seeing if you needed help," he said. Wil looked at my dad and held out a hand. "Hi. I'm Wil , El ie's friend."
My dad stared at Wil , the corners of his mouth turning down, but he didn't shake Wil 's hand. Catching the hint, Wil withdrew it and stole a glance at me. I knew my dad didn't like my guy friends much, but that was just beyond rude.
"Okay, wel , I'l see you later, Dad." I brushed him off, and Wil fol owed me into the bathroom to help me scrub the lipstick out of my dress.
"He didn't like you much," I said, rubbing a wet tissue into the red stain. Most of it had come out, but a remaining dul stripe looked like it would be permanent.
"He smel ed like blood."
I choked back a laugh. "No shit, Sherlock. Yeah, my dad has blood in him. You say the weirdest things sometimes."
"No, I meant it was on his skin. I could smel it from your room and I thought you were hurt."
"Maybe he had a paper cut," I said, and looked up at him.
"You shouldn't go around sniffing people. Real y."
His lips tightened and his brow furrowed. It was kind of cute when he did that, to be honest.
"The men in my life are the strangest people on the planet," I grumbled, and proceeded to blow dry my dress. "At least I can tolerate you, out of al of them."
"You don't like your dad." It wasn't a question. I imagined my contempt was obvious to him.
"He's a piece of shit. You don't even understand."
He didn't say anything, but he probably understood a lot better than I gave him credit for. His hearing was as incredible as his sense of smel . He'd probably heard many of my fights with my dad. Something weighed my stomach down when I thought of Wil overhearing my crying. It was one thing for him to know that the reapers scared me stil , but there was no reason for me to be afraid of my dad. He'd never hurt me physical y, but on the inside he'd repeatedly ripped me into pieces.
"Look," I said. "Just don't worry about it. It's not your problem."
The rest of the time in the bathroom went by in awkward silence. My dad wasn't a subject I wanted to talk about with Wil or anyone. I avoided his gaze until we were back in my room.
We organized who was driving and cleaned up our costume messes. An hour later, we assembled downstairs in the foyer and piled into Kate's and Evan's cars. Wil , Landon, and I rode with Kate to Josie Newport's house. We pul ed through the iron gates, and Kate flashed an invitation to the man standing there. He let us through, and we passed the carriage house. As we wound up the wooded drive, we could hear--and feel--the powerful bass. I'd be damned if Josie hadn't hired a DJ.
The house itself was sprawling: high peaked roofs, creamy stone, marble columns, and dark accents dazzling beneath ivory lights. We parked at the end of a never-ending line of cars and climbed out. I pul ed my excruciatingly short dress as far down as possible as we strol ed up to the front door. Behind me, Chris asked if I could handle my short skirt and then mumbled about issuing me a citation for "sexy exposure" or something stupid like that. I ignored him. The front steps were lined with jack-o'-lanterns, and plastic skeletons climbed the columns. A tal man in a suit answered the door and we walked inside. The grand entrance was dimly lit with multicolored lights dancing across the white marble floor. Kate led us through the mansion to a massive banquet hal lined with tal windows that offered sweeping views overlooking a lake. As soon as we stepped through the archway, I could see that half the school had already arrived. Strobe lights flashed in al directions from high above; the steady, heavy beat of music shook the floor and the wal s; people in every costume imaginable danced as if it were their last night alive.
