Page 7 of Sinister

His words are kind, and a part of me wants to stay and give them another round of sucker punches straight to their stupid faces. But frankly, I’m just tired by now. This has been a long evening.

“Maybe next time,” I say shortly, hoping that Sin won’t press the topic any further. “Thanks for the birthday wish, Sin. And for not plowing me down under your stomping giant’s feet.”

The comment makes him laugh, but I know he wants to say more. “All right.”

He’s still standing in front of me, unmoving. He’s watching me, his lips spread in a wide smile. There’s something odd about his gaze, something that doesn’t quite sit right with me.

Perhaps it’s just his baby-blue eyes. They’re quite pretty.

Just as the thought enters my head, I shake myself.

Here comes the Wicked Witch of the West, I think, as Daphne gets even closer. I’m not a fool to wait around any longer, so I make a beeline for the nearest door before me, ignoring Sin’s lazy eyebrow lift.

To my luck, the door opens out into the pool area, and it’s that time of the night when most of the party has spilled onto the back patio. The music is in full swing, and I hear a splash every few seconds as people dive and cannonball and trust-fall into the azure depths.

A prickle of awareness travels down my back.

Is Sin following me?

Are Daphne and Lenora and that nauseating François almost at my heels?

I’m too chicken to actually turn around and find out, so I keep trying to push through the pulsing crowds of dancers and drunk jocks.

Looking back, it’s hard to pinpoint when it happened. I am picking my way through the crowd near the pool. We are all sandwiched tight enough that I can’t see beyond the next body in front of me.

Just as the crowd before me seems to thin out, I hear someone say, “And just where do you think you’re going?” I’ll never forget how cold the voice sounds, and when I whip around to see who it is, I feel my foot slip over an edge behind me.

In the next instance, someone shoves me into the pool.

This time, the loud splash from my own fall seems to stop mid-sound as water engulfs me completely.

A shock of cold takes my breath away.

My mouth is half-open in a frozen scream as I drop down fast.

The sounds of the party become a distant, echoing throb, replaced by the gentle, rhythmic lapping of water against my ears.

Everything slows down. In the dim pool, I see legs and feet kicking nearby. The weight of my clothes pulls me down, making it hard to orient myself. My hair fans out around me like a halo. Like I had already drowned.

I open my eyes wider, trying to see through the chlorinated blur.

3

PETRA

Who pushed me?

Glimpses of faces hover at the edge of the pool, some laughing, some looking concerned, but it’s all a murky mix of shapes and forms.

Panic starts to claw at my guts. I kick my legs, struggling to find the surface. My lungs begin to burn as the air supply dwindles to nothing. Just when I think I can’t hold my breath any longer, a strong hand grabs my arm, pulling me upward.

I break the surface, gasping for air and desperately blinking water from my eyes.

The next moment, Sin is floating right beside me, his hair plastered rather amusingly to his forehead.

He looks half-concerned and half-pissed. He’s saying something, but there’s water in my ears. As I try to shake it out, he guides me to the steps leading out of the pool.

Now I can hear him better.