Prom Nights from Hell Chapter Five

â€Å"Thanks, Sheeb. Back at you.† Jezebel winked once, and then smiled wider until the black of her teeth seemed to envelop her entire face. She evaporated into the night. Sheba lingered in the dirty alley until the alluring scent of brimstone had faded away entirely, and then break time was over. Invigorated by the idea of joining the front lines, Sheba hurried back to her misery. The prom was in full swing, and everything was falling into place. Celeste was scoring high in her malicious game; she awarded herself a point for every girl who cried in a dark corner of the ballroom. Two points for every boy who threw a punch at a rival. All over the room, the seeds Sheba had planted were flowering. Hate was blooming alongside lust and rage and despair. A garden straight from hell. Sheba enjoyed it all from behind a potted palm. No, she couldn't force the humans to do anything. They had their innate free will, and so she could only tempt, could only suggest. Little things-high heels and seams and minor muscle groups-she could manipulate physically, but she could never force their minds. They had to choose to listen. And tonight, they were listening. Sheba was on a roll, and she didn't want any loose ends, so before she turned back to her most ambitious scheme-Cooper was pliant with intoxication now, ready for her direction-she sent her thoughts searching through the crowd for those small, annoying bubbles of happiness. No one was walking away from this prom unscathed. Not while Sheba had a spark in her body. Over there-what was this? Bryan Walker and Clara Hurst were staring dreamily into each other's eyes, totally oblivious to the wrath and despair and bad music surrounding them, just enjoying each other's company. Sheba considered her options and decided to have Celeste interfere. Celeste should enjoy that-nothing was more evilly fun than flaunting your power right in the face of a pure romance. Besides, Celeste listened to every suggestion Sheba fed her, entirely agreeable to any demonic scheme. Sheba continued with her evaluation before acting. Not too far away, Sheba found that she'd dropped the ball in an inexcusable fashion. Was that her own date, Logan, actually enjoying himself? Impossible. So, he'd found his Libby after all and they were both unacceptably happy. Well, that would be easy enough to rectify. She'd go reclaim her partner and send Libby running away in tears. Amateur and crude to intervene bodily†¦ Still, better that than let happiness win even one small battle. Sheba's assessment was almost done. There was just one more tiny pocket of peace-not a couple this time; it was a lone boy wandering into the far end of the room from the hall. That annoying Gabe Christensen. Sheba scowled in his direction. What did he have to be happy about? He was rejected and alone. His date was the scourge of the prom. A normal boy would be full of rage or pain right now. But he insisted on making more work for her! Sheba inspected Gabe's mind more closely. Hmm. Gabe wasn't really happy. In fact, he was worrying intensely at the moment, searching for someone. Celeste was quite clearly in his view, writhing to a slow song with Rob Carlton (Pamela Green watched the display with shocked eyes, despair leaking deliciously into the air around her), but she wasn't the source of Gabe's worry. There was someone else he wanted to find. So he wasn't happy-that wasn't the sensation that had trespassed on Sheba's atmosphere of misery. It was goodness itself that was exuding from this boy. Even worse. Sheba ducked behind the palm and pushed out with her thoughts. Smoke oozed from her nose. â€Å"Gabe.† Gabe shook his head absently and continued with his search. He'd waited half an hour as throngs of girls left the bathroom, drove after drove. Here and there Gabe had felt a weak pull, but nothing at all like that one girl's raging, suffocating need. When three separate groups had all come and gone, Gabe had stopped Jill Stein to ask after the girl. â€Å"Black hair and a red dress? No, I didn't see anyone like that in there. I think the bathroom is empty.† The girl must have slipped past him somehow. Gabe had just returned to the dance floor, brooding over the mystery girl. At least Bryan and Clara and Logan and Libby were having fun. That was good. The rest of the class seemed to be having an exceptionally nasty evening. And then, there it was again. Gabe's head jerked up, feeling the desperation he'd been searching for. Where was she? Sheba hissed in frustration. The boy's mind was entirely sober and singularly closed to her insidious voice. Well, that wasn't going to stop her. She had other tools. â€Å"Celeste.† It was time the evil girl tormented her own date. Sheba leaned lightly on Celeste, suggesting that avenue. After all, Gabe was attractive by human standards. Certainly good enough for Celeste, whose standards were hardly rigorous. Gabe was tall and subtly muscular, with dark hair and symmetrical features. He had pale blue eyes that Sheba personally found a bit repulsive-they were so decidedly un-damned, almost heavenly, ugh! – but that appealed to mortal girls. It was looking into those clear eyes that had made Celeste say yes to this squeaky clean do-gooder's invitation. Do-gooder, indeed. Sheba's eyes narrowed. Gabe had already been on her list before he insisted on disregarding her here at the prom. This was the very boy who had ruined her plans for the lecherous math teacher-just a little bit of pre-prom fun Sheba had arranged in between making sure that everyone asked exactly the wrong person to the big dance. If Gabe hadn't confronted Mr. Reese at a critical moment of temptation†¦ Sheba gritted her teeth and sparks flickered out of her ears. She would have ruined the man and the impossibly innocent girl, too. Not that Mr. Reese had had far to fall, but it would have been a fantastic scandal. And now the math teacher was being especially careful, made wary by those same sky-blue eyes. Feeling guilty, even. Considering counseling for his problem. Ugh! Gabe Christensen owed Sheba some misery. She would get her due. Sheba glared at Celeste, wondering why the girl had made no move toward her date. Celeste was still wrapped around Rob, enjoying Pamela's pain. Enough fun! There was havoc to be wreaked. Sheba whispered suggestions in Celeste's mind, nudging her in Gabe's direction. Celeste shrugged away from Rob and glanced toward Gabe, who was still combing through the crowd with his gaze. Her brown eyes settled on his blue for just a second, and then she moved, cringed actually, back into Rob's arms. Odd. Gabe's light eyes seemed to be almost as repellent to the vicious blonde as they were to Sheba. Sheba leaned again, but Celeste-for once-shook her off, trying to distract herself from thoughts of Gabe with Rob's eager lips. Baffled, Sheba cast around for another avenue to destroy the irritating boy, but she was interrupted by something much more important than one good human. Cooper Silverdale was simply quivering with rage on one side of the dance floor, glowering at Melissa and Tyson. Melissa had her head on Tyson's shoulder and was oblivious to the smug grin Tyson aimed in Cooper's direction. It was time to act. Cooper was considering another glass of punch to drown his pain, and he was much too close to passing out for Sheba to allow that. She focused on him, smoke at her ears, and Cooper realized dully that the green punch was revolting. He couldn't stand any more. He threw his half-empty cup to the floor and turned back to glare at Tyson. She thinks I'm pathetic, said the voice in Cooper's head. No, she doesn't even think of me at all. But I can make it so shell never be able to forget me†¦ His head thick with alcohol, Cooper reached back and stroked his hand along the barrel of the gun under his jacket. Sheba held her breath. Sparks flew from her ears. And then, in that vital second, Sheba was distracted by the knowledge that someone was staring intensely at her own face. Here, in the ballroom, that same sucking need, pulling at him-someone drowning, shrieking for help. It had to be the same girl. Gabe had never felt anything so urgent in his life. His eyes raked desperately over the couples on the floor, but he couldn't see her. He paced the edge of the floor, searching the faces of the people on the sidelines. She wasn't there, either. He saw Celeste with yet another boy, but his eyes didn't pause. If Celeste didn't claim her ride home soon, there wasn't much he could do about it. Someone else needed Gabe more. The need tugged at him again, yanked hard, and for a moment, Gabe wondered if he was going crazy. Maybe he'd only imagined the girl in the fiery dress. Maybe this sense of frenzied need was just the onset of some delusion. At that moment, Gabe's seeking eyes found what they were searching for. Stepping around Heath McKenzie's big sulking form, Gabe's eyes locked on a tiny, but brilliant, red flash. There she was-half-hidden behind a fake tree, her earrings glinting like sparklers again-the girl in the red dress. Her dark eyes, deep as the pool he'd imagined her drowning in, met his. The vibrant need was an aura surrounding her. He didn't have to think about moving toward her. There was probably no way he could have stopped himself if he'd wanted to. He was sure he'd never seen this girl before tonight; she was completely unfamiliar. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes were composed and careful, but at the same time they cried out to him. They were the focus of the need he felt. He could no more resist their plea than he could tell his heart to stop beating. She needed him. Sheba watched with disbelief as Gabe Christensen walked straight toward her. She saw her own face in his head and realized that the person Gabe had been looking for was†¦ Sheba. She allowed the brief distraction-knowing that Cooper was hers for the taking, that a few minutes' time wouldn't save him now-and rejoiced in the delicious irony. So Gabe wanted to be ruined by Sheba personally? Well, she would oblige him. It would make his misery even sweeter knowing that he'd chosen it himself. She straightened up in her hell-hound dress, letting it caress her figure suggestively. She knew what any human male would have to feel when he examined this dress. But the exasperating boy was focused on her eyes. It was dangerous to look straight into the eyes of a demoness. Humans who didn't look away fast enough could get trapped there. And then they were stuck, pining after the demoness forever, burning for her†¦ Biting back a smile, Sheba met his gaze, staring deep into his sky-colored eyes. Silly human. Gabe stopped a few short feet from the girl, close enough that he wouldn't have to shout over the loud music. He knew he was staring too intently-she would think he was rude, or some kind of freak. But she stared back, just as intent, her deep eyes probing his. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, when suddenly the girl's careful expression melted into one of shock. Shock? Or horror? Her pale lips fell apart, and he heard a little gasp escape them. Her stiff posture crumpled, and she began to collapse. Gabe jumped toward her and caught her in his arms before she could fall. Sheba's knees buckled when her fires went out. Her internal flame died, sucked dry, snuffed like a candle in a vacuum. The room was not so cold anymore, and she could smell nothing more than sweat, cologne, and stale, conditioned air. She could no longer taste the delicious misery she'd created. She couldn't taste anything but her own dry mouth. But she could feel the strong arms of Gabe Christensen holding her up. The girl's dress was soft and warm. Maybe that was the problem, Gabe thought as he pulled her toward him. Maybe the heat of the crowded room was too much combined with her heavy dress. Anxiously, Gabe brushed the silky hair away from her face. Her forehead seemed cool enough and her soft skin wasn't clammy with sweat. All the while, her stunned eyes never wavered from his. â€Å"Are you okay? Can you stand? I'm sorry, I don't know your name.† â€Å"I'm fine,† the girl said in a low, purring voice. Despite the purr, her voice was just as stunned as her eyes. â€Å"I†¦ I can stand.† She straightened up, but Gabe didn't let her go. He didn't want to. And she wasn't pulling away. Her small hands had crept up to rest on his shoulders, like they were dancing partners. â€Å"Who are you?† she asked in that throaty voice. â€Å"Gabe-Gabriel Michael Christensen,† he elaborated with a grin. â€Å"And you are?† Prom Nights from Hell Chapter Five What do you think you're doing? she asked herself. Rhetorically, since she was already up the Snow-White-and-the-Seven-Dwarves-Do-Baby-Jesus neighbor's tree and staring into the yard of the house where she'd left Sibby. I can't wait to hear you say to the cops, â€Å"Yes, officer, I know I was trespassing but that woman was very suspicious because she was wearing false eyelashes.† With a full Creepy Cult costume. They just didn't go. Plus she had a hole for a nose piercing. And a French manicure. Maybe she just has really big pores! And a love of dated manicures! She wasn't what she was posing as. Is this about helping someone or having an excuse not to show up at prom and see Will with his face nuzzled in Ariel's huge, soft- Shut up, U-Suck. I was going to say hair. You are so not funny. You are so not brave. There were two guys sitting in the backyard, leaning across a picnic table toward each other with a book between them, both in T-shirts and khakis and Teva sandals, one of them wearing thick black-framed glasses, the other one with a scraggly beard. They looked like two geeky college guys playing Dungeons and Dragons and sounded like it too when the one wearing glasses said, â€Å"That's not how it works. It says in the Book of Rules she can't see for herself, only for other people. You know, like genies with wishes, how they can't grant their own.† Except they each had a large automatic rifle lying on the table next to them and Miranda could see shooting targets set up on the fence. So what? There are armed geeks. Maybe they're Sibby's protection. Go home. Sibby doesn't need you. She's fine. If she's fine, why isn't she out there trying to kiss the two boys? Miranda strained to hear something from inside the house but it was definitely soundproofed. A couple came out of sliding doors onto the patio away from the Geek Guys, a woman smoking a cigarette in short, tense puffs and a man. Miranda almost fell out of the tree when she recognized the woman as the cult lady, only now without the glasses, skirt, or sweater and with her hair down. Which doesn't mean anything. The woman whispered, â€Å"We still need the girl to tell us the location, Byron.† â€Å"She will.† â€Å"She hasn't yet.† â€Å"I told you, even if I can't get her to talk, the Gardener can. He's good at that.† The woman again: â€Å"I don't like that he brought a partner. That wasn't part of the plan. Does she get a cut-â€Å" The man called Byron cut her off. â€Å"Put that out and be quiet, we have company.† He pointed to the Geek Guys scrambling over to join them. The woman crushed her cigarette out under her foot and kicked it away. â€Å"Is She all right?† Bearded Geek asked breathlessly, pronouncing She like it should be capitalized. â€Å"Yes,† the man assured him. â€Å"She's resting after her ordeal.† Oh, they could not be talking about Sibby. Ordeal? No way. â€Å"Has She said anything?† Glasses Geek asked. The man said, â€Å"Just expressed how very grateful She is to be here.† Miranda almost snorted. Bearded Geek said, â€Å"Will we be able to see Her?† â€Å"When the Transition happens.† The geeks wandered off in a blissful daze and Miranda decided this was the weirdest thing she'd ever seen. But it proved that Sibby was in no danger. These people clearly worshipped Her. Which meant it was time- â€Å"Why is he called the Gardener, anyway?† Fake Eyelash woman asked the man. â€Å"I believe because he's good at pulling things out.† â€Å"Things?† â€Å"Teeth, nails. Joints. That's how he gets people to talk.† – time to find Sibby. Miranda dropped out of the tree into the neighbor's yard and found herself looking down the barrel of an automatic rifle. Prom Nights from Hell Chapter Five I shudder. I can't help it. Even though she's not exactly my type, it's not pleasant to think of Lila as some vampire's midnight snack. â€Å"Aren't you worried,† I ask, hoping to change the subject a little, â€Å"that Lila's just going to tell Drake not to show up at the prom since we'll be there waiting?† I say we and not you because there is no way I'm letting Mary go after this guy alone. Which I know Veronica would think is sexist, too. But Veronica's never seen Mary smile. â€Å"Are you kidding me?† Mary asks. She doesn't seem to notice the we. â€Å"I'm counting on her telling him. That way he'll show up for sure.† I stare at her. â€Å"Why would he do that?† â€Å"Because killing the exterminator's daughter will totally raise his crypt cred.† Now I'm blinking at her. â€Å"Crypt cred?† â€Å"You know,† she says, tossing her ponytail. â€Å"It's like street cred. Only among the undead.† â€Å"Oh.† Strangely, this does make sense. As much as anything else I've heard this evening. â€Å"They call your dad the, um, ‘exterminator'?† I'm having a hard time picturing Mary's dad wielding a crossbow the way she did. â€Å"No,† she says, the smile vanishing. â€Å"My mom. At least†¦ she used to be. Not just vampires, either, but evil entities of all kinds-demons, werewolves, poltergeists, ghosts, warlocks, genies, satyrs, loki, shedus, vetelas, titans, leprechauns-â€Å" â€Å"Leprechauns?† I echo in disbelief. But Mary simply shrugs. â€Å"If it was evil, Mom killed it. She just had a gift for it†¦ A gift,† Mary adds softly, â€Å"I really hope I've inherited.† I just sit there for a minute. I have to admit I'm a little stunned by everything that's gone down over the past couple of hours. Crossbows and vampires and exterminators? And what in the world is a vetela? I'm not even sure I want to know. No. Wait. I know I don't want to know. There's a humming noise inside my head that won't stop. The weird thing is, I kind of like it. â€Å"So,† Mary says, lifting her gaze to meet mine. â€Å"Do you believe me now?† â€Å"I believe you,† I say. What I can't believe, actually, is that I do. Believe her, I mean. â€Å"Good,† she says. â€Å"It would probably be better if you didn't tell anybody. Now, if you don't mind, I need to start getting things ready-â€Å" â€Å"Great. Tell me what you need me to do.† Her face clouds with trouble. â€Å"Adam,† she says. And there's something about the way her lips form my name that makes me feel a little crazy†¦ like I want to throw my arms around her and race around the room at the same time. â€Å"I appreciate the offer. I really do. But it's too dangerous. If I kill Drake-â€Å" â€Å"When you kill him,† I correct her. † – chances are, his father is going to show up,† she goes on, â€Å"looking for revenge. Maybe not tonight. And maybe not tomorrow. But soon. And when he does†¦ it isn't going to be pretty. It's going to be awful. A nightmare. It's going to be-â€Å" â€Å"Apocalyptic,† I finish for her, a slight shiver going down my spine as I speak the word. â€Å"Yes. Yes, exactly.† â€Å"Don't worry,† I say, ignoring the shiver. â€Å"I'm all set for that.† â€Å"Adam.† She shakes her head. â€Å"You don't understand. I can't-well, I can't guarantee I'll be able to protect you. And I certainly can't let you risk your life like that. It's different for me, because-well, because of my mom. But you-â€Å" I stop her. â€Å"Just tell me what time I'm picking you up.† She stares at me. â€Å"What?† â€Å"Sorry,† I say. â€Å"But you're not going to the prom by yourself. End of story.† And I must have looked really scary or something as I said it, because even though she opens her mouth to argue, she closes it again when she gets a look at my face, and only says, â€Å"Um. Okay.† Still, she has to add, â€Å"It's your funeral,† just to have the last word. Which is fine with me. She can have the last word. Because I know now that I've found her: my future partner in the inevitable struggle to survive in post-apocalyptic America. Mary The music is pounding in time to my heartbeat. I can feel the bass in my chest-badoom, badoom. It's hard to see across the room of writhing bodies, especially with the flickering light show coming down from the ballroom's ceiling. But I know he's here. I can feel him. And then I see him, moving across the dance floor toward me. He's holding two glasses of bloodred liquid, one in either hand. When he gets close enough, he hands me one of the glasses, then says, â€Å"Don't worry, it's not spiked. I checked.† I don't reply. I just sip the punch, grateful for the liquid-even if it is a little too sweet-because my throat is so dry. The thing is, I know I'm making a mistake. Letting Adam do this, I mean. But†¦ there's something about him. I don't know what it is. Something that sets him apart from all the rest of the dumb jocks in school. Maybe it's the way he saved me back at the club when I lost my nerve, his shooting at Sebastian Drake-progeny of the devil himself-with a ketchup-filled squirt gun. Or maybe it's the way he was so nice about my dad, not cracking any jokes about him being like Doc from the Back to the Future movies and even calling him sir. Or the way he picked up my mom's photo like that and seemed so stunned when I told him the truth about her. Or maybe it's just the way he looked when he showed up at quarter to eight this evening, so impossibly handsome in his tux-and even holding a red rose corsage for me†¦ despite that less than twenty-four hours ago, he hadn't even known he was going to the prom (good thing tickets were available for sale at the door). Oh well. Dad was ecstatic, for once acting like a normal parent, snapping photos-â€Å"For your mother to see, when she's better,† he kept saying-and trying to slip twenty-dollar bills into Adam's hand, telling him to â€Å"treat Mary to an ice cream after the dance.† Which frankly made me decide I like Dad better when he never comes out of the lab. Still. I knew I was making a mistake by not sending Adam packing right away. This is no job for amateurs. This is†¦ this is†¦ †¦ beautiful. I mean, that's how the ballroom looks. I almost gasped when I entered it on Adam's arm. (He insisted. So we'd look like a â€Å"normal couple† if Drake was there already and watching.) The Saint Eligius Prep prom committee really outdid themselves this year. Securing the four-story grand ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria was a feat all on its own, but transforming it into such a sparkling romantic wonderland? Miraculous. I just hope all those rosettes and streamers are fireproof. I'd hate to see them go up in the flames that are bound to appear when Drake's corpse begins to self-conflagrate after I stab him in the chest. â€Å"So,† Adam says, as we stand on the edge of the dance floor, sipping our punch in a silence that's-to be frank-quickly gotten a little uncomfortable. â€Å"How's this going to go down, anyway? I don't see your crossbow anywhere.† â€Å"I'm just going with a stake,† I say, showing him my leg through the slit up the side of my gown. I'd strapped a hand-carved piece of ash there, using Mom's old thigh holster. â€Å"Keeping it sweet and simple.† â€Å"Oh,† Adam says, after choking on his punch a little. â€Å"Okay.† I realize he hasn't looked away from my inner thigh. I hastily lower my skirt. And it occurs to me-for the first time-that Adam might be in this for reasons other than wanting to liberate his best friend's girlfriend from the spell of a bloodsucking fiend. Except†¦ can such a thing even be possible? I mean, he's Adam Blum. And I'm just the new girl. He likes me, sure, but he doesn't like me. He can't. I've probably only got about ten minutes left to live. Unless something radically alters what I'm pretty sure is about to go down. Blushing, I keep my gaze on the gyrating couples in front of us. Mrs. Gregory from U.S. History is one of the chaperones. She's going around, trying to keep girls from grinding on their dates. She might as well try to keep the moon from rising. â€Å"It'd probably be best if you kept Lila busy,† I say, hoping he doesn't notice that my cheeks are now as scarlet as my gown, â€Å"while I'm doing the staking. We don't want her throwing herself in my path just to try to save him.† â€Å"That's what I dragged Ted here for,† Adam says, nodding toward Teddy Hancock, who's sitting slumped at a nearby table, looking out at the dance floor in a bored manner. Like the rest of us, he's just waiting for Lila-and her date-to arrive. â€Å"Still,† I say. â€Å"I don't want you anywhere near me when†¦ you know.† â€Å"I heard you the first nine million times you told me,† Adam mutters. â€Å"I know you can take care of yourself, Mary. You've made that abundantly clear.† I can't help wincing a little. He's not having a good time. I can tell. Well, so what? I didn't ask him to come! He invited himself! This isn't a date, anyway! It's a slaying! He knew that from the outset. He's the one changing the rules, not me. I mean, who am I kidding? I can't date. I have a legacy to fulfill. I'm the exterminator's daughter. I have to- â€Å"Want to dance?† Adam startles me by asking. â€Å"Oh,† I say, with some surprise. â€Å"I'd love to. But I really should-â€Å" â€Å"Great,† he says and takes me into his arms, steering me onto the dance floor. Prom Nights from Hell Chapter Five â€Å"Will died, Frankie,† she said. â€Å"The fall, the way he landed†¦ he didn't make it.† â€Å"I'm sorry†¦ what?† â€Å"Chen is on his way to get you. You'll stay with us, yes? As long as you want.† â€Å"No,† I said. â€Å"I mean†¦ I don't†¦Ã¢â‚¬  The box of waffles fell from my hand. â€Å"Will didn't die. Will couldn't have died?† â€Å"Frankie,† she said, her voice infinitely sad. â€Å"Please don't say that,† I said. â€Å"Please don't sound so†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I didn't understand how to make my mind work. â€Å"I know you loved him. We all did.† â€Å"Just wait† I said. â€Å"Spray painting? Will doesn't spray paint. That's something a pothead would do, not Will.† â€Å"Let's get you to the house. We'll talk about it then.† â€Å"But what was he spray painting? I don't understand!† Mrs. Yomiko didn't answer. â€Å"Let me speak to Yun Sun,† I pleaded. â€Å"Please! Put on Yun Sun!† There was a muffled exchange. Yun Sun came back on. â€Å"I'll tell you,† she said. â€Å"But you don't want to know.† A cold feeling spread over me, and suddenly, I didn't want to know. â€Å"He was spray painting a message. That's what he was up there doing.† She hesitated. â€Å"It said, ‘Frankie, will you go to prom with me? â€Å" I sank to the floor, next to a box of waffles. Why was there a box of waffles on the kitchen floor? â€Å"Frankie?† Yun Sun said. Tinny, faraway sound. â€Å"Frankie, are you there?† I didn't like that tinny sound. I pressed the Off button to make it go away. Will was buried in the Chapel Hill Cemetery. I sat, numb, through the funeral, which was closed-coffin because Will's body was too mangled to be viewed. I wanted to say good-bye, but how did you say good-bye to a box? At the grave site, I watched as Will's mother threw a handful of dirt into the hole where Will lay. It was horrible, but the horror felt distant and unreal. Yun Sun squeezed my hand. I didn't squeeze back. It rained that evening, a gentle spring shower. I imagined the ground, damp and cool around Will's coffin. I thought of Fernando, whose skull Madame Zanzibar had liberated after his coffin shifted in the wet earth. I reminded myself that the east side of the cemetery, where Will was buried, was newer, with tidy landscaping. And of course there were modern ways of digging graves now, more efficient than men with shovels. Will's coffin wouldn't come undug. It was impossible. I stayed with Yun Sun for nearly two weeks. My parents were called, and they offered to return from Botswana. I told them no. What good would it do? Their presence wouldn't bring Will back. At school, for the first few days, kids talked in hushed tones and stared at me as I passed. Some thought it was romantic, what Will did. Others thought it was stupid. â€Å"A tragedy† was the phrase most often used, spoken in mournful tones. As for me, I haunted the halls like the living dead. I would have ditched, but then I'd have been corralled by the counselor and forced to talk about my feelings. Which wasn't going to happen. My grief was my own, a skeleton that would rattle forever within me. One week after Will's death, and exactly one week before prom, kids started talking less about Will and more about dresses and dinner reservations and limos. A sallow girl from Will's chemistry class got upset and said prom should be canceled, but others argued no, prom must go on. It's what Will would have wanted. Yun Sun and I were consulted, since we were his best friends. (And since I, though they didn't say it, was the girl he died for.) Yun Sun's eyes welled with tears, but after a shaky moment, she said it would be wrong to ruin everyone's plans, that sitting home and mourning wouldn't do anyone any good. â€Å"Life goes on,† she said. Her boyfriend, Jeremy, nodded. He put his arm around her and drew her close. Lucy, president of the prom committee, placed her hand over her heart. â€Å"So true,† she said. She turned to me with an overly solicitous expression. â€Å"What about you, Frankie? Do you think you could get behind it?† I shrugged. â€Å"Whatever.† She embraced me, and I staggered. â€Å"Okay, guys, we're on!† she called, bounding across the commons. â€Å"Trixie, back to work on the cherry blossoms. Jocelyn, tell the Paper Affair lady we need a hundred blue streamers and don't take no for an answer!† On the afternoon of the dance, two hours before Jeremy was due to pick up Yun Sun, I crammed my stuff in my duffel bag and told her I was going home. â€Å"What?† she said. â€Å"No!† She put down a hot roller. Her makeup lay in front of her on her vanity, her Babycakes body glitter and Dewberry lip gloss, and her dress hung over the hook of her open bathroom door. It was lilac, with a sweetheart neckline. It was gorgeous. â€Å"It's time,† I said. â€Å"Thank you for letting me stay so long†¦ but it's time.† Her mouth turned down. She wanted to argue, but she knew it was true. I wasn't happy here. That in itself wasn't the issue-I wasn't going to be happy anywhere-but moping around the Komikos' house was making me feel trapped and making Yun Sun feel helpless and guilty. â€Å"But it's prom,† Yun Sun said. â€Å"Won't that be weird, being alone in your house on the night of prom?† She came over to me. â€Å"Stay till tomorrow. I'll be quiet when I come in, I swear. And I promise not to go on and on about†¦ you know. The after-parties and who hooked up and who passed out in the girls' bathroom.† â€Å"You should get to go on about that stuff, though,† I said. â€Å"You should stay out as late as you want and come in as loudly as you want and be giddy and spazzy and all that.† Unexpectedly, my eyes filled with tears. â€Å"You should, Yun Sun.† She touched my arm. I pulled away, but in what I hoped was an unobvious manner. â€Å"So should you, Frankie,† she said. â€Å"Yeah†¦ well.† I heaved my bag over my shoulder. â€Å"Call me any time,† she said. â€Å"I'll keep my cell on, even at the dance.† â€Å"Okay.† â€Å"And if you change your mind, if you decide you want to stay-â€Å" â€Å"Thanks.† â€Å"Or even if you decide to come to prom! We all want you there-you know that, right? It doesn't matter that you don't have a date.† I winced. She didn't mean it the way it sounded, but it most certainly did matter that I didn't have a date, because that date would have been Will. And I didn't have him not because he liked another girl or was suffering from a terrible case of the flu, but because he was dead. Because of me. â€Å"Oh God,† Yun Sun said. â€Å"Frankie†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I waved her off. I didn't want any more touching. â€Å"It's all right.† We stood in a bubble of awkwardness. â€Å"I miss him, too, you know,† she said. I nodded. Then I left. I returned to my empty house to find that the electricity was out. Perfect. This happened more often than it should have: Afternoon thunderstorms threw tree branches into the transformers, and entire neighborhoods lost power for several hours. Or the power would go out for no reason. Maybe too many people had their air conditioners on and the circuits overloaded, that was my theory. Will's theory was ghosts, ha ha ha. â€Å"They've come to spoil your milk,† he'd say in a spooky voice. Will. My throat tightened. I tried not to think about him, but it was impossible, so I let him exist there with me in my mind. I fixed myself a peanut butter sandwich, which I didn't eat. I went upstairs and lay on my bed without turning down the covers. Shadows deepened. An owl hooted. I stared at my ceiling until I could no longer make out the spider-web cracks. In the dark, my thoughts went places they shouldn't. Fernando. Madame Zanzibar. You're just like all the rest, aren't you? Desperate for a heart-stopping romance? It was that very desperation that gave birth to my stupid Madame Zanzibar plan and even stupider wish. That's what prodded Will into action. If only I'd never taken the damn corsage! I bolted upright. Oh my God-the damn corsage! I grabbed my cell and held down the â€Å"three,† Yun Sun's speed dial. ?One? was for Mom and Dad; ?two? was for Will. I still hadn't deleted his name, and now I wouldn't have to. â€Å"Yun Sun!† I cried when she answered. â€Å"Frankie?† she said. â€Å"S.O.S.† by Rihanna blared in the background. â€Å"Are you okay?† â€Å"I'm fine,† I said. â€Å"Better than fine! I mean, the power's out, it's pitch-black, and I'm all alone, but whatever. I won't be for long.† I giggled and fumbled my way into the hall. â€Å"Huh?† Yun Sun said. More noise. People laughing. â€Å"Frankie, I can hardly hear you.† â€Å"The corsage. I've got two wishes left!† I jogged downstairs, zinging with glee. â€Å"Frankie, what are you-â€Å" â€Å"I can bring him back, don't you get it? Everything will be good again. We can even go to prom!†