Evermore Read online

  But in the end, I go. Mostly because it's the right thing to do.

  And I'm so focused on gathering my supplies and donning my smock, that at first I don't realize he's not even there. And as the minutes tick by with still no sign of him, I grab my paints and head for my easel.

  Only to find that stupid triangle note balanced on the edge.

  I stare at it, focusing so intensely that everything around me grows dark and out of focus.

  The entire classroom reduced to one single point. My entire world consisting of a triangle shaped letter resting on a thin wooden ledge, the name Stacia scrawled on its front. And even though I've no idea how it got there, even though a quick survey of the room reaffirms Damen's not there, I don't want it anywhere near me. I refuse to participate in this sick little game.

  I grab a paintbrush and flick it as hard as I can, watching as it soars through the air before tumbling to the ground, knowing I'm acting childish, ridiculous, especially when Ms. Machado comes by and swoops it up in her hand.

  "Looks like you dropped something!" she sings, her smile bright and expectant, having no idea that I put it there on purpose.

  "It's not mine," I mumble, rearranging my paints, figuring she can get it to Stacia herself, or better yet, throw it away.

  "So there's another Ever I'm not aware oft" She smiles. What?

  I take the note she dangles before me, Ever clearly scrawled across its front, and written in Damen's unmistakable hand. Having no idea how this happened, no logical explanation. Because I know what I saw.

  My fingers tremble as I begin to unfold it, opening all three corners and smoothing the crease, gasping when a small detailed sketch is unveiled-a small detailed sketch of one beautiful red tulip.

  Eleven

  Halloween is just a few days away and I'm still working on the final touches for my costume.

  Haven's going as a vampire (duh), Miles is going as a pirate-but that's only after I talked him out of going as Madonna in her cone-breast phase, and I'm not telling what I'm going as. But only because my once great idea has morphed into an overly ambitious project I'm quickly losing faith in.

  Though I have to admit I was pretty surprised Sabine even wanted to throw a party to begin with. Partly because she never really seems interested in stuff like that, but mostly because I figured that between the two of us we'd be lucky to come up with five guests max. But apparently Sabine's a lot more popular than I realized, as she quickly filled two and a half columns, while my list was pathetically shorter-consisting of my only two friends and their possible plus ones.

  So while Sabine hired a caterer to handle the food and drink, I put Miles in charge of audio/visual (which means he'll dock his iPod and rent some scary movies), and asked Haven to provide the cupcakes. Which pretty much left Riley and me as the sole members of the decorations committee. And since Sabine handed me a catalog and a credit card with specific instructions to "don't hold back," we've spent the last two afternoons transforming the house from its usual look of semicustom Tuscan track home to spooky, scary, crypt-keeper's castle. And it's been so much fun, reminding me of when we used to decorate our old house for Easter, Thanksgiving; and Christmas. Not to mention how staying busy and focused has really helped curb some of our bickering.

  "You should go as a mermaid," Riley says. "Or as one of those kids from those OC reality shows."

  "Oh jeez, don't tell me you still watch that stuff! I say; balancing precariously on the second to last rung, so I can string up yet another faux spiderweb.

  "Don't blame me, Tivo's got a mind of its own." She shrugs. "You have Tivo?" I turn, desperate for any information I can get since she's always so stingy with the afterlife details.

  But she just laughs. "I swear, you are so gullible-the things you believe!" She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, reaching into a cardboard box and retrieving a string of fairy lights. "Wanna trade?" she offers, unraveling the cord. "I mean, it's ridiculous the way you insist on climbing up and down that ladder when I can just levitate and get the job done."

  I shake my head and frown. Even though it might be easier, I still like to pretend my life is somewhat normal.

  "So what are you going as?"

  "Forget it," I say; attaching the web to the corner, before climbing down the ladder to get a good look. "If you can have secrets, then I can too."

  "No fair." She crosses her arms and pouts in the way that always worked on Dad, but never on Mom.

  "Relax, you'll see it at the party;" I tell her, picking up a glow-in-the-dark skeleton and untangling the limbs.

  "You mean, I'm invited?" she asks, her voice squeaky, eyes wide with excitement.

  "Like I could stop you?" I laugh, propping Mr. Skeleton near the entryway so he can greet all our guests.

  "Is your boyfriend coming too?"

  I roll my eyes and sigh. "You know I don't have a boyfriend," I say, bored with this game before it's even begun.

  "Please. I'm not an idiot." She scowls. "It's not like I've forgotten the great sweatshirt debate.

  Besides, I can't wait to meet him, or I guess I should say; see him, since it's not like you'd ever introduce me. Which is really pretty rude if you think about it. I mean just because he can't see me doesn't mean-'-"

  "Jeez, he's not invited, okay?" I shout, not realizing I've stumbled into her trap until it's too late.

  "Ha!" She looks at me, eyes wide, brows raised, lips curving with delight. "I knew it!" She laughs, tossing the fairy lights and jumping in glee, spinning and thrusting and pointing at me.

  "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" she sings, punching her fists in the air. "Ha! I knew it!" She twirls.

  I close my eyes and sigh, chiding myself for falling into her poorly concealed trap. "You don't know anything." I glare at her and shake my head. "He was never my boyfriend, okay? He-he was just some new kid, who at first I thought was kind of cute, but then, when I realized what a total player he is, well, let's just say that I'm over it. In fact, I don't even think he's cute anymore.

  Seriously, it lasted like ten seconds, but only because I didn't know any better. And it's not like I'm the only one who fell for his game, because Miles and Haven were practically fighting over him. So why don't you just stop with all the air punching and hip thrusts, and get back to work, okay?"

  And the moment I stop, I know I sounded way too defensive to ever be believed. But now that it's out there I can't take it back, so I just try to ignore her as she hovers around the room singing, "Yup! I so so knew it!"

  By Halloween night the house looks amazing. Riley and I taped webs in all of the windows and corners, and stuck huge black widow spiders in their middles. We hung-black rubber bats from the ceiling, scattered bloodied, severed (fake) body parts all around, and set up a crystal ball next to a plug-in raven whose eyes light up and roll around when he says, "You'll be sorry! Squawk!

  You'll be sorry!" We dressed zombies in 'blood" covered rags and placed them where you'd least expect to find them. We put steaming cauldrons of witches' brew (really just dry ice and water) in the entry, and scattered skeletons, mummies, black cats and rats (well, fake ones, but still creepy), gargoyles, coffins, black candles, and skulls pretty much everywhere. We even decorated the backyard with jack-o'-lanterns, floating pool globes, and blinking fairy lights. And oh yeah, we placed a life-sized grim reaper out on the front lawn.

  "How do I look?" Riley asks, gazing down at her purple shellcovered chest and red hair as she swishes her sparkly, metallic, green fish tail around.

  "Like your favorite Disney character," I say, powdering my face until it's very pale, trying to think of a way to get rid of her so I can change into my costume and maybe surprise her for a change.

  "I'll take that as a compliment." She smiles.

  "As you should." I brush my hair back and pin it close to my head, preparing for the big, blond, towering wig I'll wear.

  "So who are you going as?" She gazes at me. "I mean, would you just tell me already, because th
e suspense is really killing me!" She clutches her stomach in a fit of laughter, rocking back and forth, and nearly falling off the bed. She loves making death puns. Thinks they're hysterical. But mostly they just make me cringe.

  Ignoring the joke, I turn to her and say, "Do me a favor? Sneak down the hall and check out Sabine's costume, and let me know if she tries to wear that big rubber nose with the hairy wart on the end. I told her it's a really great witch's costume, but she needs to ditch the nose. Guys don't usually go for that sort of thing."

  "She's got a guy?" Riley asks, clearly surprised.

  "Not if she wears the nose," I say, watching as she slips off the bed and heads across the room, mermaid tail dragging behind her. "But don't make any noise, or do anything to scare her, okay?" I add, cringing as she slinks through my closed bedroom door, not even bothering to open it. I mean, just because I've witnessed that like a gazillion times doesn't mean I've gotten used to it.

  I head into my closet and unzip the bag I've hidden in the back, removing the beautiful black gown with the low square neckline, the sheer three-quarter-length sleeves, and the super tight bodice that swells into shiny, loose folds-just like the one Marie Antoinette wore to the masked ball (well, as portrayed by Kirsten Dunst in the movie).

  And after struggling with the zipper in the back, I slip on my very tall platinum blond wig (because even though I'm already blond, I could never get my hair to go that high), apply some red lipstick, fasten a filmy black mask over my eyes, and insert some long, dangly, rhinestone earrings.

  And when my costume's complete I stand before my mirror twirling and spinning and smiling as my shiny black dress sways all around, and I'm thrilled with how good it turned out.

  The second Riley pops back in she shakes her head and says, "All clear-finally! I mean, first she put the nose on, then she took it off, then she put it back on and turned to check out her profile, only to take it back off again. I swear it took all of my will not to just snatch it off her face and chuck it out the window."

  I freeze, holding my breath, hoping she didn't do any such thing, because with Riley you just never know.

  She plops herself onto my desk chair and uses the tip of her sparkly green fin to propel herself around. "Relax," she says. "Last I saw; she left it in the bathroom, next to the sink. And then some guy called needing directions, and she went on and on about what a great job you did on the house, and how she can hardly believe you handled it all by yourself, and bippidy-blah-blah."

  She shakes her head and frowns. "You must really love that, huh? Taking all the credit for our hard work." She stops spinning and gives me a long, appraising look. "So, Marie Antoinette," she finally says, her eyes taking a tour of my costume. "I never would've guessed. I mean, it's not like you're all that big on cake."

  I roll my eyes. "For your information, she never said that about the cake. It was a vicious tabloid rumor, so don't you believe it," I tell her, unable to stop mirror gazing, as I recheck my makeup and pat my wig, hoping it will all stay where it's supposed to. But when I catch Riley's reflection, something about the way she looks makes me stop and move toward her. "Hey, you okay?"

  She closes her eyes and bites her lip. Then she shakes her head and says, 'Jeez, would you look at us? You're dressed as a tragic teen queen, and I'd do anything just to be a teen."

  I start to reach for her, but my hands fumble at my sides. I guess I'm so used to having her around that I sometimes forget how she's not really here, how she's no longer part of this world, and how she'll never grow any older, never get the chance to be thirteen. And then I remember how it's all my fault to begin with, and I feel a million times worse. "Riley, I-"

  But she just shakes her head and waves her tail around. "No worries." She smiles, floating up from the chair. "Time to greet the guests!"

  Haven came with Evangeline, her codependent donor friend, who, big surprise, is dressed like a vampire too, and Miles brought Eric, some guy he knows from his acting class who looks like he might actually be pretty cute beneath that black satin Zorro mask and cape.

  "I can't believe you didn't invite Damen," Haven says, shaking her head and skipping right past hello. She's been mad at me all week, ever since she learned he didn't make the list.

  I roll my eyes and take a deep breath, tired of defending the obvious, of having to point out yet again how he's clearly ditched us, becoming a permanent fixture not just at Stacia's lunch table but also her desk. Procuring rosebuds from all manner of places, and how his art project, Woman with Yellow Hair is beginning to look suspiciously like her.

  I mean, excuse me for not wanting to dwell on the fact of how despite the red tulips, the mysterious note, and the intimate gaze we once shared, he hasn't spoken to me in almost two weeks.

  "It's not like he would've come anyway," I finally say, hoping she won't notice how my voice just cracked in betrayal. "I'm sure he's out somewhere with Stacia, or the redhead, or-" I shake my head, refusing to continue.

  "Wait-redhead? There's a redhead too?" She squints at me.

  I shrug. Because the truth is, he could be with just about anyone. All I know is that he isn't here with me.

  "You should see him." She turns to Evangeline. "He's amazing. Gorgeous like a movie star sexy like a rock star-he even does illusions." She sighs.

  Evangeline raises her brows. "Sounds like he is an illusion. No one's that perfect."

  "Damen is. Too bad you can't see for yourself." Haven frowns at me again, her fingers fiddling with the black velvet choker she wears around her neck. "But if you do happen to meet him, don't forget that he's mine. I called it way before I knew you."

  I gaze at Evangeline, taking in her dark murky aura, fishnet stockings, tiny black boy shorts, and mesh T-shirt, knowing she has no intention of keeping any such promise.

  "You know I could lend you some fangs and fake blood for your neck and you could be a vampire too," Haven offers looking at me, her mind flip-flopping back and forth, wanting to be my friend, convinced I'm her foe.

  But I just shake my head and steer them to the other side of the room, hoping she'll move on to something else and soon forget about Damen.

  Sabine's talking to her friends, Haven and Evangeline are spiking their dnnks, Miles and Eric are dancing, while Riley plays with the tail of Eric's whip, swinging the fringe up and down and back and forth, then looking around to see if anyone notices. And just as I'm about to give her the signal, the one that means she better cut it out if she wants to stick around, the doorbell rings, and we race each other to get it.

  And even though I beat her to it, when I open the door I forget to gloat, because Damen is there. Flowers in one hand, goldtipped hat in the other, with his hair gathered into a low ponytail, his usual sleek black clothes replaced with a frilly white shirt, a coat with gold buttons, and what can only be described as breeches, tights, and pointy black shoes. And just as I'm thinking how Miles is going to be completely envious of that costume, I realize who he's dressed as, and my heart skips two beats.

  "Count Fersen," I mumble, barely managing the words. "Marie." He smiles, offering a deep, gallant bow:

  "But… it was a secret… and you weren't even invited," I whisper, peering past his shoulder, searching for Stacia, the redhead, anyone at all, knowing he couldn't possibly be here for me.

  But he just smiles and hands me the flowers. "Then it must be a lucky coincidence."

  I swallow hard and turn on my heel, leading him through the entry, past the living and dining rooms, and into the den, my cheeks burning as my heart beats so hard and so fast I fear it might burst through my chest. Wondering how this possibly could've happened, searching for some logical explanation for Damen's showing up at my party dressed as my perfect other half.

  "Omigod, Damen's here!" Haven squeals, arms waving, face all lit up-well, as much as a heavily powdered, fang-wearing, blood-dripping, vampire face can light up. But the moment she sees his costume, realizing he came as Count Axel Fersen, the not so-secret lover of Ma
rie Antoinette, her entire face dims, and her eyes turn to me, glaring accusingly.

  "So, when'd you two arrange it?" she asks, advancing on us, trying to keep her voice light, neutral, but more for Damen's benefit than mine.

  "We didn't," I say, hoping she'll believe it, yet knowing she won't. I mean, it's such a bizarre coincidence I'm beginning to doubt it myself, wondering if I somehow let it slip, even though I know that I didn't.

  "Complete fluke," Damen says, hooking his arm around my waist. And even though he only keeps it there for a moment, it's still long enough to leave my whole body tingling.

  "You've got to be Damen," Evangeline says, slinking up beside him, fingers plucking at the ruffles on his shirt. "I thought for sure Haven was exaggerating, though apparently not!" She laughs. "And who're you dressed as?"

  "Count Fersen," Haven says, voice hard and brittle, eyes narrowed on mine.

  "Whoever." Evangeline shrugs, stealing his hat and perching it on top of her head, smiling seductively from under the brim before grabbing his hand and leading him away.

  The moment they're gone, Haven turns to me and says, "I can't believe you!" Her face is angry, fists clenched, but that's nothing compared to the horrible thoughts that swirl through her head. "You know how much I like him. I confided in you, I trusted you!"

  "Haven, I swear, it wasn't planned. It's just some freaky coincidence. I don't even know what he's doing here, and you know I didn't invite him," I say, wanting to convince her, yet knowing it's useless, she's already made up her mind. "And I don't know if you noticed, but your good friend Evangeline is practically humping his leg over there."

  Haven glances across the room then turns back to me, shrugging when she says, "She does that with everyone, she's hardly a threat. Unlike you."

  I take a deep breath, striving for patience and trying not to laugh as Riley stands beside her, mimicking every word, reenacting every move, mocking her in a way that's definitely funny though not at all kind. "Listen," I finally say. "I don't like him! I mean, how can I convince you of that? Just tell me and I'll do it!"