He never has.
Still, I linger there for another moment, scanning the shadows near the arena doors.
Then I shake my head and head toward the bar.
But the thought follows me the whole way.
What the hell is wrong with me?
14
LEONORA
The last game of October ends the same way the last few have ended - the Giants win.
Not easily, and not beautifully, but convincingly enough that by the time the final buzzer cuts through the arena, the crowd is already on its feet. There’s something steadier about us now, something harder to shake loose. We still make mistakes. We still have stretches where the old uncertainty creeps back in. But we recover faster.
By the time I get back to my room later that evening, Blackwood College is already in full Halloween mode.
Orange lights glow in the dorm windows. Fake cobwebs cling to banisters and lampposts. Someone has dragged an enormous inflatable ghost onto the quad, where it sways in the wind like it’s already had too much to drink. Music drifts in from somewhere across campus - bass-heavy and loud.
The college has poured ridiculous money into tonight’s party.
I push open the door to our room and stop, taking in thechaos.
Willow is standing in front of the mirror in a silver dress covered in tiny stars, one eye finished in a wash of glittering blue and the other still bare. Katie is perched cross-legged on the bed in a dark green corset and long black skirt, surrounded by makeup brushes and bobby pins like she’s conducting some kind of very glamorous ritual sacrifice.
A bottle of white wine sits open on the desk between them.
A spooky season playlist blares from Willow’s speaker. There are fake eyelashes on the floor.
“Finally,” Willow says, pointing a mascara wand at me. “Go shower. We have work to do.”
I laugh and drop my bag by the door.
“You make it sound like I’m being prepared for battle.”
“You are.”
Katie lifts her glass. “Social battle.”
“Horrific,” I murmur.
But I’m smiling as I say it. Because I might not like to admit it, but I’ve been looking forward to this party all week.
I spent far too long putting my costume together - hunting down the right jacket, the right boots, the right fishnets, and the perfect denim short shorts. And yes, if I’m honest with myself, there was another reason too.
Harley Quinn gives me cover.
A blonde wig with pink and blue tips. Heavy makeup. Glitter, smeared lipstick, enough artifice to turn my own face into something theatrical and unfamiliar. There’s a freedom in that, especially tonight. I knew there was a chance the team might turn up after the game to celebrate another win, and I’d be lying if I said the disguise aspect hadn’t factored into the decision.
If Zane Blake walks into that party tonight, there’s a decent chance he won’t know it’s me.
That thought should not be as thrilling as it is.
I disappear into the bathroom and when I come back out in a robe with damp hair and bare skin flushed from the shower, Willow claps her hands.
“Oh, we’re going to have so much fun with this.”
