EIGHT
“Whoa.”
I jump at Izzy’s voice in my ear, only just registering that she’s standing behind me. My watch buzzes on my wrist, flashing me a message that saysTime to breathe.
“Jesus, Izzy.” I laugh, and it comes out higher pitched than usual. “You scared me.”
“I’m not surprised.” She walks round me to get a closer look at The Four. “These are…powerful.”
“If that’s what you want to call it,” I mutter, annoyed at how much I’ve let the paintings unsettle me.
I start to tell Izzy my research plan when I hear footsteps and realize the gallery has started to fill up. An elderly woman in an expensive-looking twinset ambles around the partition, her glass of champagne already half empty.
“We should probably go and see if Alessandra needs us yet.”
“Hey, Izzy! Fliss!” A cloud of blond hair and patchouli envelops me as Scarlett rounds the corner and descends on us, wrapping me in an unexpected tight squeeze. Great, another unsolicited hug from a stranger. She’s dressed for the occasionin a pair of slim-fit purple velvet trousers and a sheer black top. She looks lovely, even though that creepy doll’s-head bracelet still adorns her wrist. “This is so cool! Here, smile for my socials!”
She steps back and pulls her phone from a large bag that’s made from scraps of different material, snapping a candid selfie of us next to The Four. Izzy stifles a laugh, and I know what she’s thinking—I assumed Scarlett was the type of person to shun technology, not to have the latest smartphone and be obsessed with documenting her whole life.
“Pretty sweet opening, guys.” Noah trails behind with Ford, and they join us, both holding glasses of champagne. “I mean, I assume it is. I’ve never been to one before, but anywhere with free drinks is good to me.” I look around in panic. I don’t want us to get Dad in trouble on his big night.
Ford catches my eye and winks. “Don’t worry. No one batted an eye.”
“Thank god,” I sigh as Scarlett drifts closer to The Four. “Have you seen the self-portrait yet? It’s near the door on the way in, but it was covered with some bougie velvet curtains.”
“Well, it’s not now, and it’s hideous.” Ford shakes his head. “I’m almost jealous I didn’t paint it. It’s disturbed genius personified.”
“You’re telling me.” I shudder. “I had to sleep under the same roof as it last night after Dad got it appraised.”
“So you’re totally cursed now? Sucks to be you!” Noah laughs and Izzy glares at him. “Sorry,” he says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. “I bet your dad’s gutted he’s not here? I was telling Mom I saw you guys today and she told me shesaw him last week, at a faculty thing. He’s on his honeymoon?” I nod, and he hesitates. “I didn’t know your parents broke up. Sorry, Fliss, that sucks.”
“Yeah,” I say shortly, not willing to discuss one of the more painful parts of my life with a boy who used to trick me into losing at tag, even if he did grow up to be better looking than most people I know. “Come on, Iz, we need to be in the other room.”
“Itissupposed to be cursed, though.” He tries again, following us. Gallery four is busy, and there’s now a throng gathered around the self-portrait. “You must have heard the stories.”
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes at him as Scarlett rejoins us.
“Fliss said her dad mentioned it, but she won’t entertainhocus-pocus,” Izzy says. “You can tell me, though,” she adds, and I shake my head. She hasn’t changed from the kid who would stay up late reading ghost stories only to wake up crying about them. I bet I’ll have to leave the light on for her tonight after all this curse talk.
I look around for Alessandra and quietly panic as Noah launches into a tall tale. Did she say she would let us know when to get the canapés? What if I didn’t understand properly? What if I should be handing out tiny sausage rolls right now instead of listening to Noah Devlin talk rubbish?
“Oh, come on, you don’t really believe all that, do you?” I interrupt as I spot Alessandra heading in our direction. “Everyone knows curses are something white people make up to belittle cultures they don’t understand.” Izzy bursts out laughing at the look on Noah’s face, and I become a little braver. “Anyway, we have togo.”
“The kitchen is ready for you both,” Alessandra says, motioning for us to follow her.
Both Ford and Noah melt at the sight of her, Noah’s eyes widening like he’s a cartoon character in love. I’m annoyed—and horrified—by the sinking feeling I get as I watch him. It seems my crush on Noah was just lying dormant because I wasn’t around him and now that I’m back in his radius it’s like I’m little Fliss again. I hate myself for it. I’m thesensibleone. It’s Izzy who has a weakness for insta-love, not me.
Unless we’re talking about Noah, apparently.
“Sorry.” I run after Alessandra in the direction of the café as Izzy follows. “We invited them to the opening. They’re in our course, and Noah is an old friend. Well, acquaintance, I guess. I haven’t seen him in forever.”
“You do not need to apologize.” Alessandra slows down so I can catch up with her. “Women apologize too much. Besides, everyone is distracted by the self-portrait. Your father has made some of our investors very happy. This painting is going to generate some great press for the gallery, which can only mean more visitors through our doors.” She grins, revealing slightly crooked bottom teeth that I decide I like. They make her a little less perfect and a little more human.
We weave through the tables and chairs in the café, and she pushes open one of two swinging kitchen doors. “Here we are. The caterers have delivered the canapés on trays, so all you have to do is carry them with one hand like this.” She picks up a round silver tray lined with a black napkin and dotted with tiny meat pies. “And take some serviettes in the other hand. Got it?”
“Got it,” I say, accepting the tray as Izzy collects another. She’s waitressed before and makes it look easy, so I copy her. The tray is lighter than I thought it would be, which is a relief.
“Good. Helen will be on hand if you need help, won’t you, Helen?” Alessandra says as the agency girl from the locker room enters with a tray of empty champagne glasses. She puts them down and adjusts her shirt.
