Glitter, sequins, and plastic gems shimmer from the windowsill to the door while a hot-pink feather boa hangs from the cupid-shaped wall sconce next to her bed. A variety of nail polishes, lip glosses, and face masks cover the surface of Fifi’s desk while a mishmash of lotions, body sprays, and contraband candles decorate her bookcase.
“Oh, there you are!” she shouts to be heard over the music. “Can you pleeeeease help me decide what to wear tonight?”
“I’m not sure I’ll be much help,” I answer as I gingerly pick my way through the chaos to my desk and closet where, thankfully, only the floor is a victim of the bright and shiny carnage.
“Of course you will be!” She holds up a white dress withred cherries all over it. “Should I wear this?” She grabs a pair of jeans and a glittery purple shirt with ruffles off her bed. “Or this?”
“Um—”
She cuts me off before I can formulate an opinion. “I mean, the cherries are total Aphrodite, but they pretty much screamshe’s trying too hard, while the jeans are more low-key, but people might think I’m not trying hard enough if I wear them.”
She collapses on her bed, causing a tsunami of clothes to tumble onto the ground. “Help!”
“Are we still talking about the clothes, or do you need me to rescue you from that pile you just sank into?”
“Both.” She grins up at me.
I sigh. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”
I grab her hand and pull her back to her feet. “What are we supposed to do at this party anyway?”
“I don’t know, that’s the thing. I think we’re just supposed to mingle, but what if there’s a quest or something?”
“A quest?” My brows shoot up. “Is Aphrodite Hall known for having quests?”
“I mean, we’re notnotknown for it.” She shrugs.
I have no idea what that means, and the not knowing causes a ball of anxiety to take up residence right in the center of my chest. Which I ignore, since I can’t do anything about it.
“Wear the jeans.” I cross to my closet, planning to take my own advice. If I have to do some kind of wild Aphrodite rooftop quest, I’m definitelynotdoing it in a dress.
Fifi looks doubtful. “They don’t sayI don’t care?”
“They sayI’m prepared for anything.” I grab a pair of jeans and my favorite long-sleeved navy-blue shirt.
“You say that like it’s a good thing,” she complains. But she ditches the dress on the corner of her bed before heading toward the bathroom.
It takes me about three minutes to get dressed—including my blue slides and pale pink lip gloss—so I take the rest of the time to try to straighten up the room. Normally, I wouldn’t touch my roommate’s things without her permission, but surely Fifi won’t care if I clear a path to the door. I mean, we do have to be able to open the thing if we actually want to leave the room.
Once I get the path cleared, I think about starting on the rest of the floor. But then I catch sight of the gold frame on the wall and remember Fifi’s labors. Part of me thinks I should ask her permission before looking at them, but she did hang them on the wall—in a room we’re going to be sharing, at least until I figure out how to get to Athena Hall where I belong. If she’d wanted them to be private, she would have put them in a drawer or something, right?
But just as I move close enough to see what’s written in those elaborate pink letters, I hear the sound of a door opening behind me.
I whirl around, expecting to have to explain myself to Fifi, only to come face-to-face with a woman dressed head to toe in black leather.
Black leather pants.
Black leather moto jacket.
Black leather corset under the moto jacket.
Black leather boots.
Black leather cord wrapped around her neck.
In fact, the only things on her body I can see that aren’t leather are her black aviator shades and the black travel coffee cup she’s currently clenching in a death grip.
I have one second to wonder what I’ve done that could possibly have led to a visit from one of Hades’s minions when she lowers her glasses just enough for her shining silver eyes to meet mine.
