‘The last time I marched out to my death, I felt better about my outfit,’ I said, gloomy grey clouds assembling on the ceiling of the parlour. Ashley cast her eyes upwards, and pursed her lips, displeased.
‘If you make it rain in here, I’ll kill you. I just got a blowout.’
I looked longingly at my aunt, legs up, book beside her, an icy glass of lemonade on the coffee table next to a plate of freshly baked cookies. A perfect evening ahead of her. Why on earth had I agreed to go to this dance in the first place?
Ashley folded her arms over her tie-dye tank top, an article of clothing Catherine would never have allowed – which I guessed was the point of it – and zeroed in on me with a glare.
‘You look fine, you smell fine and you’re being a fool,’ she said. ‘There is no need to be so anxious. Anyone would think you’ve never been to a party before.’
‘But I haven’t,’ I said, allowing myself a delicate, self-pitying sniff. ‘At least, not a party like this.’
My planned seventeenth birthday celebration had been understandably postponed after the whole disappearing grandmother, Lydia-in-a-coma, me and Wyn nearly dying thing. Before that, I’d been home-schooled my entire teenage life. This was officially my first ever formal dance and I was almost as stressed out about it as I was about the 4 a.m. incident in my room.
‘It feels wrong,’ I said, throwing my arms out wide then letting them flop to my sides.
‘The dress? It should.’
‘Going to a party,’ I corrected her, scowling when she yawned. ‘I ought to be looking for Catherine and figuring out the prophecy, not hanging around at a dumb dance.’
‘You were planning to figure all of that out this evening? Impressive. I guess you’ve been sitting on your ass doing nothing for the last month.’
My lips pulled together in a pout and the hands of the clock ticked forward one more minute.
‘Speaking as someone who physically could not leave this house for eleven years,’ Ashley said, ignoring my sulky expression, ‘locking yourself away in Bell House will not help anyone or anything. What’s the point in saving the world if you’re not out there living in it? And before you start with me, yes, I know, Fido is your soulmate or fated mate or whatever you crazy kids are calling it these days. But you should still be out there, spending time with other people, having the teensiest, tiniest amount of fun. Since hanging around like a bad smell hasn’t improved the situation, why not see if a change of scene will do you some good.’
‘But what if something happens while I’m out? What if the prophecy is supposed to happen tonight? Or I cause another earthquake? Or Wyn’s pack figure out what really happened to Cole? Or—’
Ashley slammed her book shut with a loud and dusty clap.
‘Jeez, are you not capable of doing a single damn thing without overthinking it?’
I paused to consider my answer.
‘I guess not,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Em, I say this with love. You’re young, you’re new in town, you could end the world at any second. Why wouldn’t you want to sample everything it has to offer before you annihilate the city and sentence us all to death?’
Truly, my aunt had a beautiful way with words.
‘And if nothing else, get out from under my damn feet for one blissful evening,’ she muttered as she went back to her book. ‘Watching you mope around with a face like you’ve been sucking farts out of a possum’s butt, it’s enough to drive a woman to drink. More than usual.’
As much as I hated to admit it, even to myself, she had a point. Not about the possum’s butt, perhaps, but I’d been haunting Bell House like I was already dead. Perhaps it was time to start living.
With a reluctant look in the mirror that hung over the fireplace, I adjusted the spaghetti straps of my dress one last time and straightened my shoulders. I could do this. For one night only, I could be a normal girl at a normal party, talking about normal things.
‘You done with your fussing?’ Ashley said, her green eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
‘Yes,’ I replied, fighting the overwhelming urge to tug at my dress again.
‘Good, because your date just walked through the gate and will be knocking on the front door in approximately fifteen seconds,’ she said, making me break out into a cold sweat all over again. ‘I may not agree with all my mother’s rules, regulations and homicidal tendencies, but there is still somethingto be said for good manners. When a lady accepts a date, she does not spend the entire evening looking lower than a bowlegged caterpillar, so find a smile, sunshine.’
Right on cue, the doorbell rang. I glanced up at the storm clouds on the ceiling, chasing them away to leave the parlour walls their pale and proper sky blue. In one languorous movement, Ashley rose from her spot on the sofa while I checked the unchanged contents of my borrowed evening bag just to have something to do with my hands.
‘Now, if you’re done with your hissy fit, I’ll go get the door while you concentrate on not summoning a natural disaster,’ she said. ‘If it’s all the same to you, I would really rather not have my internal organs crushed into tomato paste again.’
‘Can’t a girl accidentally cause an earthquake one time without having it thrown back in her face forever?’ I muttered as she sauntered away into the foyer, the sound of our double doors swinging open and Ashley’s gushing tones echoing through the house.
‘Why, Mr Powell, I do declare,’ I heard her exclaim. ‘You look like quite the gentleman.’
‘Thank you, Miss Ashley, I do try my best. May I say you’re looking radiant this evening.’
