Chapter 24 – Life After
Vamped
Previously, Misty spends time alone coming to terms with what has happened to her over the years. When she’s ready, she looks for Mark, finding him with Ashton and Amber. They convince her to go to the Sadie Hawkins, against her better judgement.
Saturday
“What we really need to ask ourselves is this: What kind of style is Misty?” Amber stood pensively in front of her chic California closet, pondering the view with a fingertip poised on her lips. On the racks were hangers of full outfits – dresses and skirt sets paired with real gold necklaces, bangles, shrugs, and other trimmings I couldn't name.
“I think the question we should be asking is, 'Will any of those fit Misty?'” I said. Ash snorted, but winked at me, clearly not concerned with the size difference between my curves and Amber's. The boys had flanked me on the bed once we had gotten into the room, but were clearly here for the show more than moral support.
Amber narrowed her eyes at me. “I thought you were going to be a team player about this.”
I fell back onto the bed. “Your question doesn't even make sense,” I whined.
Ash poked me in the gut. “I think she means, 'What kind of impression do you want to give people?'”
“I thought were weren't doing this for them,” I shot to Amber.
Mark pulled me back up into a sitting position. “What kind of impression do you want to give yourself? If you were trying to impress Misty, what would you wear? What would you like to fit into?”
I glanced over at the dresses again. She had narrowed it down to half a dozen. I still couldn't believe the code monkey behind the yearbook software had the time or inclination to fill her wardrobe with so many stand-alone outfits. “Do I have to wear a dress?”
“That's a good questions. Ash, weren't you saying on the car ride over something about khakis and a sweater?” Mark quipped. Ashton grinned and Amber glowered.
“She has to wear a dress.” But then she perked up. “You can keep whatever you use,” she said, as if this sweetened the deal.
“Won't you miss any of them?” I looked again at the dresses. They looked glamourous. And expensive-looking.
She waved her hand at me. “You were right about the whole 'wearing it once' thing. I don't even think I've touched any of this jewelry recently.”
“I don't know, Amber. I really appreciate you going through all this trouble, but I don't know if…” She nodded encouragingly at me, clearly not sensing the impending offense of finishing my sentence. “I don't think I want to dress like you.”
She looked shocked for a moment, and I was worried I really had upset her this time. But then she scoffed. “Of course not! These are just how I store them, to save time later. You can mix and match. Hell, you can layer the dresses for all I care. Just pick something you like, for goodness sake.” She grabbed the hangers and started stripping the dresses and shawls and bangles from them, throwing them haphazardly into piles on her floor. “Here, let's start from zero, if that's what you want. The boys can help you pick something that feels like you.”
I turned to Ashton and Mark, remembering how she wouldn't even let them test underwear for her. Amber caught my gaze and lifted herself to her full, impish height. “I'm sure they understand the magnitude of this situation and the consequence of you placing your trust in them. Right, boys?”
Mark met my eyes with his, which were gentle and honest. I knew he was promising me in his head that he wouldn't push me too far.
Ash just huffed at Amber. “Yeah, sure, we promise we won't make her look too hot. Can she get naked now?”
Amber's lips tightened, but she started digging dresses out of the biggest pile, holding them each against my skin before mumbling to herself and tossing them one way or another. I was sure it was far more subdued in reality, but in the moment, with my nerves on edge and slowly regretting agreeing to this – even to please Mark – it felt like a blizzard of fabric and metal and jewels. I was close to calling the whole thing off, when I heard Mark's voice cut through the din.
“Oh, damn. Try that one.” It was a few seconds before I realized he was speaking to me, and that Amber wasn't going to complete her duties as my fairy godmother by magicking it onto me.
I looked over and saw a dress that didn't look terrible. “I really think you'll enjoy dancing in this one,” she said, in a sing-song voice. She was biting her lip in a way that implied there was more to be said about it, but I couldn't figure out what she was hiding. I held it up to me and looked into her mirror.
Honestly, it looked like something I might wear regularly, if I wore dresses at all. The neckline went straight across the top, so I wouldn't have to worry about cleavage – or lack thereof. It was thick, black, and formfitting, but not in a desperate way. Mom had some like it she called 'sheaths'. Not because you would conceal a knife under the skirt – although you totally could – but because they sheathed your body like one. Her hips didn't try to push out the way they would in tight clothes. As I looked closer, I saw that it wasn't pure black. There were thin cream lines going across horizontally.
“I like this one,” I said simply.
The boys hooted and hollered as if I had just announced that I won the lottery. “We've found a match!” Amber said, lifting the dress to the ceiling, then tossing it on my lap. “Now for the accessories.” I groaned, and she gave me a pitying look. “This is the easy part, hon. We just have to pick something that flatters it, and then we'll be done.”
She looted around the shawls and jackets and scarves for a moment, then pulled out two options for me. “I would recommend going for something more structured with your thin frame,” she wiggled an acid-washed denim jacket in one hand. “But this will go well, too, if you want a security blanket.” She held up a cream cardigan in the other. It hung limp, but I wouldn't look so bad if I wanted to hide in that all night.
I chose to be a little adventurous, and her face gleamed. “Wonderful. I'll pick out some jewelry for you to wear. Go change.”
It took a few minutes to slide into the snug dress, and I wasn't able to twist my arms around and pull the zipper up. I eventually gave up and met Mark, Ash, and Amber downstairs, where she had scattered several pairs of shoes across her kitchen counter. She raised an eyebrow when I came in. “Huh, I thought that would fit you better,” she said, looking down to my waist, where the fabric billowed out. I turned around and showed her my flexibility problem. She gave an ahh of understanding and zipped me right up.
“I don't think we'll have to do anything with your hair. What your mom did this morning looks really nice,” she said, patting the zipper down.
“I think Misty did that,” Mark said quietly. One side of his lips turned up at the corner. Amber and Ash smiled too.
“Uh, yeah. I've been doing my own hair for the last couple weeks. It's easier than it looks, I guess.” I avoided blushing by turning away to poke at those shoes on her countertop. I was pretty satisfied with my bun. Now that Mom was going to work normal hours, I wouldn't be able to rely on her to get me ready each morning, and keeping my appearance consistent before the transition had almost been a point of pride. The double bun softened my sharp face and pulled the skin around my eyes and ears tight just slightly, making me look less bored and caustic.
Amber had me sit down on a stool. “I didn't know your size, so I raided all the closets. I'm a six, Mom's a ten, and my sisters are staggered in the middle. We should find something close, even if it's a little loose or snug.” She started pulling shoes down to my feet until one fit. “How about ballet flats?”
“Can you run in those?” I asked.
“No, Misty, you cannot run in dress shoes.” If this night somehow ended up in a bloodbath, I'd be limping away like Cinderella.
I slid the shoes on and Amber had me walk around in them for a minute, but the lack of arch was bugging me. She shook her head and pulled me back to the stool.
“Oooh, what about kitten heels?”
I walked around in those, too, but the tiny heel made me feel like I was marching. Amber rolled her eyes and pointed back to my stool, where I waited for the next pair to fit.
“Pumps,” she said, almost like a question, but also as if she was expecting another solid 'no'. I saw Ash check the clock on the mantle and give Mark a meaningful glance.
I tried these on and were surprised by how stable they felt. I still had to be careful not to roll my ankle, but I could have jogged in them if I needed to.
“You would,” she said, not unkindly. “Jade used to ride her bike to the high school in these. Says they helped her feet stay on the pedals.” She laughed. “When she's ready to get rid of these, I'll bring them over.”
Finally, we were on to the finishing touches. “I know you hate wearing makeup, so we won't bother with that. This dress won't wash you out anyway, thanks to the stripes.” She went around behind me and began fastening long, silver chain necklaces of varying thicknesses and lengths around my neck. “I figure it's a casual dance, so no one will give you shit for wearing costume jewelry. Plus, it really does look nice on you,” she said, fingering the longest one before resting it gently against the base of my rib cage. “Doesn't she look lovely, Mark?”
We both turned to him, but he was staring at my neckline. He lifted his hand and softly brushed my collarbone, before catching himself. “What?” he said stupidly. I blushed, Amber awwed, and Ashton chuckled under his breath. I knew my skin was soft and a little pink from the sugar scrub earlier, but I didn't expect it to be so obvious to him.
“Well, I think that's as good as any answer you'll get,” Amber laughed again. She rounded us up and grabbed a purse, trying to push one on me. I kept refusing and she eventually let it go. Then we were out the door, in her car, and on the way to my very first dance.
That's when the worst thought hit me. The reason my mom never pushed me into dances in the first place. I turned to Mark and whispered, not that it would keep anyone from hearing me, “What if I have trouble?”
Ash glanced back at me, then Mark, from the passenger seat. Mark answered quietly, but firmly, “We'll be with you the whole time. And I'll leave with you when you're ready.” He leaned in so that only I could hear him. “And remember: with all that booze in their systems, they'll taste really gross.”
I snorted and it was like the thrall had been broken. I could picture myself with all the hot, sweaty bodies, rubbing against each other, and not feel compelled to quench my thirst. They just didn't seem appetizing anymore. Who would want to consume someone you didn't like or respect?
The parking lot was packed when we pulled into the school. Amber offered to drop us off and park along the street, but made us promise to wait at the door so she could share our 'entrance.' When she jogged up to us, we all pretended to check our watches. Amber punched Mark in the shoulder when she realized he was humming the tune to Jeopardy!
“If that's how you're going to be, next time I'll make you walk all that way with me,” she huffed, then stuck out her tongue.
Mark grabbed my hand and took a deep breath next to me, waiting to let it out until I copied him. Then he did, very slowly, and I joined in. I felt calmer, more grounded, and ready to try enjoying this night.
“You guys all set?” Amber was almost to excited for words.
“Am, we're literally the last ones here. No ones going to be watching us come in,” Ashton insisted.
“We're not just late,” she said, winking. “We're fashionably late. Everyone will be looking.”
Ash shook his head and Mark rolled his eyes. We walked through the double doors together, then down the main hall until we reached the gym. Ahem, the Auditorium.
Amber bought me a ticket while the boys handed over theirs to the teacher sitting at a table outside. Then she opened the door for the three of us and filed in after, practically vibrating. We did get several glances. Some waved to Amber or the boys. Others just looked over and back at their own groups again. What an entrance.
The dance itself was incredibly overwhelming. There were special lights set up, so that we wouldn't be dancing under the usual fluorescent lights high above the basketball court. But the decorations were mostly white. White balloons, white tablecloths, white party favors. Even the streamers were white … It was kind of depressing. I couldn't tell if the theme was wedding or thrifty. Or virginal. I snuck a nervous glance at Mark, glad he wasn't one of those guys who would pressure his date to put out at the end of the night.
Amber was bouncing on the balls of her shoes. “Oh, good, it hasn't started yet.”
“Uh, yeah it has,” Ash said, looking at her like she was stupid. She grinned mischievously and shook her head at him. “What hasn't?”
“You'll see…” She sauntered off toward a group of girls.
He turned back to Mark and I, pointing to Amber. “A bunch of her friends are on the dance committee. They must have spilled some dirty secret to her.” Amber waved and winked from her posse. “Let's find somewhere to sit for a bit. Will you need to eat while we're here?” he asked me.
I nodded. “It would be a good idea. I haven't had anything more than snacks since lunch and Mom says I get cranky when I forget to eat.” We squeezed our way over to some buffet tables lined with pre-packaged snacks. I looked down the table, hoping to see real food. A woman asked me if she could get me anything to drink. I saw signs for water, punch, and sodas. “Where's all the actual food?”
Mark laughed. “They don't serve it anymore. A couple years ago there was a problem with some food poisoning, so now it's all wrapped for our safety. And they don't like to mention it, but somebody always spiked the punch within an hour.” The woman pursed her lips at Mark, as if telling the truth was a sin.
I looked down at the table again, not recognizing anything. “I've never had junk food before.”
Ashton and Mark traded glances, then looked back to me. “Never?” Ash asked. I shook my head. “Well then here's your chance. Just grab what looks good in the commercials.”
I shook my head again. “We don't watch TV.”
Ashton threw an incredulous look to Mark. “Where did you find this girl?”
“We just read a lot of medical journals in our free time,” I explained, shrugging to show it was no big deal. “Mom's trying to find a solution for my, uh, condition.”
“Good grief,” he breathed. “Okay, well you'll definitely want one of these.” He grabbed me a blue and white package that featured a long, golden tube with a creamy white center.
I opened it up and bit off half. “It doesn't taste baked,” I said, examining the dark brown bottom.
“They do that with chemicals, Misty. Just assume nothing here has seen an oven,” Mark replied. “Or the outside of a factory before now.”
They continued to pull out more snacks for me, mostly filled with creams and 'cheeze' fillings. “I don't know if it's a good idea to fill her up with this shit if she's never had it before,” Ash said as we were walking away, my arms heaped with a meal's worth of sugar, carbs, and unpronounceable chemicals. “What if she hurls?”
“She just needs calories, man. I'll get her a feeding once it's over.”
About ten minutes later, I could feel my gums running circles around the inside of my mouth and suddenly felt really good. “I wanna dance!” I shouted at Mark over the music. He looked like he wasn't quite sure he had heard me right. I nodded hard.
“Okay,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “Let's dance!” He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the dance floor with half the school. Even with the bleachers pushed back, there was hardly room for us all. I felt something hard and cold push up against my back and swung around. A guy was holding a bottle of dark brown liquid low enough to hide it from the chaperones.
“What the hell, man?” I yelled, even though he had passed us and couldn't hear me over the music. “You smuggle that in here, but you can't bring me a burger?”
Mark was laughing hoarsely. “Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend? It's like you're drunk!”
“Will that stuff work on us?” I turned, curious why he, Ash, and Jeff never joined their friends when beer was passed around.
He nodded. “Too much. Thinning our blood is a great way to pass out. We completely skip the buzz and go straight to the floor.”
I grimaced. We bobbed in place for a bit, since I wasn't too sure what to do with my limbs now that I had the energy and inclination to move them. Suddenly, the lights flashed, and people started to scream and whoop. “Here comes the surprise, I think,” Mark yelled over the din. In seconds, every one of the special, colored lights had gone out, and the gym went dark. Then, in sequence, dozens of black lights flicked on, illuminating the crisp, white decorations in a ghostly, underwater glow. The screaming intensified.
I looked down at my dress. “Ah. Now I get it.”
“What's that?” Mark leaned in to hear me.
“Now I understand why my mom wants me to stop wearing so much black.” I gestured to my outfit. The blue denim glowed a little, as did the thin white bands across my dress. But for the most part, I was a black hole. Mark laughed and looked around. Everyone else's accents were glowing bright blue. Bracelets, neckties, hair highlights, shoelaces. Even Mark had a neon-bleached undershirt beneath his sweater that was peaking out around his collar.
“Let's find Amber and show off her work.” Again he pulled me through the crowd, creating a gap for me to squeeze between. Amber was still excited by the surprise when we caught up to her.
“Well, what do you think?” Her tone implied that the answer had to be yes.
Mark pushed me forward. “I think I lost Misty in the dark.”
Amber's smile widened and she clapped her hands. “I know, isn't it great! Ash said awhile back that you feel more comfortable when you can disappear, so I thought this would make your first dance more bearable.”
Mark and I locked eyes and I could tell that he also felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and other warm, cuddly feelings. “Thank you, Amber,” I said. “It's perfect.” She clapped again and gave me a hug. Then she was off through the crowd.
Mark leaned into my ear. “Speaking of disappear, I know for a fact we can still squeeze into our cave when the bleachers are locked back.” I looked up, eager, and nodded. We wound our way in between tall classmates, ducking to avoid the glances of the chaperones lining the walls. Mark went through the slots of metal first, hurrying me on.
“It's fine,” I reassured. “They can't see me.” I had taken off the jacket and wadded it up near my belly. Between the dark dress and shoes, I was black against a dark hole in the wall. No need for my 'special skill' even.
We carefully tiptoed along the wall, trying not to trip on the metal rungs that criss-crossed together tightly along the floor. When we got to the blocked-off hole, Mark wedged open one side of the bungee-corded plywood slab and let me slide through. He followed closely behind, then pulled on the chain above me to dimly light up the small space.
“Didn't I tell you I'd kidnap you again?” he growled in my ear. I thought of how things had changed between us since the pep rally.
“What'll you do with me this time, generous captor?”
He smirked at the return of our old pretense, this time used for play rather than avoiding intimacy. “Oh, I recall you offering me your firstborn.” His grin was wide and sharp. “We could start practicing for that.”
I gasped at the thought of his proposition and the implication that we'd eventually have a child together. I tried to compose myself, looking around the room. “You think I want to lay with you here, in the dust and grime?”
He slowly looked around, then, “Doesn't this do it for you?” he whispered. I shook my head, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Hmmm, pity,” he purred, leaning toward my ear, roughly kicking one of the chairs from last time aside. “I guess you're just too human after all.”
I pushed at his chest and threw myself at him, determined to prove him wrong. He leaned up against the wall and pulled my legs up to his waist so that he could lick my collarbone. I grabbed his short hair and pulled his head back so our mouths could meet, clacking our teeth together and trying to form my lips around his tongue.
I guess snarky bluffs do it for me.
Mark, for his part, let me lead for once. When I brought my mouth down to his throat, he lifted his head so I could run my canines along his vein until he shivered. I grabbed onto his shoulders, which had enraptured me at the practices lately. I had never expected them to be something that would draw my attention, but the large ripples like stones in a creek bed mesmerized me. I pushed my fingers into them as I ran my tongue up his neck, trying to work out how the muscles had gotten so prominent and what I could do to make them stretch and flex the way they did on the field.
He cinched his hands around my waist then, tightly holding on as he pulled me closer into his chest, forcing my posture to straighten. I moved my mouth to his ear, trying to illicit another shiver, so that he could experience the chills and electricity I feel under my flesh each time he lightly brushed his fingers over my skin.
I wanted to find a way to do that to him also, but I was so lost. He didn't have the little nooks along his waistline that I did, or the sensitive spot right above my cleavage. How could I make someone so solid and sturdy tremble at my touch?
I settled for evoking that primal part of him I knew hadn't been fully accessed for years. I took his hand and placed it at the base of my head, curling his fingers around my lower bun. Then I brought my neck up to his mouth and leaned my head back, pushing my chin up to the air. I knew he liked the profile of my jawline, and saw the sharp edge of it in the shadow on his face as his gaze was drawn down to it. Then his mouth.
I gave a breathy gasp as his teeth sank into my jaw. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tell me that he was holding back. He wrapped one arm around the other behind my back and let his nails dig in, sharp even over the dress. I felt my chest compressing, collapsing beneath his strength and passion. There was a moment where I wasn't sure he remembered that I wasn't going to taste good.
Then he swung me around him and pressed my own back against the wall, smacking the air from my lungs before he picked my legs up and wrapped them around his waist. His hands slid the dress up my thighs and grabbed my cheeks tightly before he started swaying into me.
“You've got to tell me when to stop, because I could go right to the edge with you,” he whispered into my neck. I let myself imagine how it would be, here, if the dust and dirt disappeared and we could be more comfortable than leaned up against a wall next to a door of particle board and bungee cords. I held onto that image for awhile as he continued to push himself against me, never getting closer than his khakis and my underwear would allow.
Then I let it go, saving it for a time when we could be together, and alone, and really savor the moment. “Okay,” I whispered in his ear, and his body shuddered to a stop, dropping me slowly and gently back onto my feet. Mark gave me one last kiss, hot and tense and desperate, before stamping the moment with a chaste peck on my forehead. “Thank you,” I said. I hoped it didn't sound cheesy, but I was really grateful for what we had just put each other through. The roughness lent itself to a level of intimacy I hadn't anticipated enjoying.
“Until next time,” he replied, voice hoarse and still full of restraint. He moved his hands to my hips, holding me in a more affectionate way, and I leaned back into him. His breath stirred the loose hairs near my ear and I soaked in his presence as he slowed his heart rate down. It was nice to know we never had to take things that far. Our lust could wane, simmering on the surface.
Mark started moving his hips into mine and I swayed in time to his rhythm. Soon we were spinning, his arms holding me tight again, my head back in the crook of his neck. There was nothing sexual about how we held each other this time, but I felt closer to him than I ever had.
The music suddenly died down, and we both looked up. “Is the dance over already?” I asked. How long did these things normally go?
“It might be a slow song,” he said, letting go of me and sliding the wood panel aside a few inches. Sure enough, there was a soft, swooping melody playing where the sporadic bass and hooks had been earlier. The music wound into a smooth, sweet cover of Some Enchanted Evening. Mark moved back toward me, backlit by the eery, soft light and stirring dust motes. “May I?” he asked, like a fool.
I nodded and he took my hand in one of his and placed his other delicately on my lower back. He hummed to the lyrics and brought me in close again.
This is what a high school dance should feel like, I thought. I understood the purpose of the low lighting and packed room. It was like that first party with the soccer team. Each couple surrounded by others, yet having their own private moment. But this was even better, because we were almost truly alone, swaying in our own little cave. I breathed in the must and the chill of my surroundings and felt that carnal lust become sedated for a moment. There was no need to hunt when you were home, safe.
And then our swath of musty light became larger, and blinding. Mark held his forearm up over our eyes and I made out two shadows squeezing into the storage room with us. He brought his arm down as my eyes adjusted. Then I heard a clatter of metal, followed by a high, sharp giggle.
“Shhh … Don't let anyone see us.” It was Arabelle.
“There aren't any chaperones on this wall, I checked.” And Cameron.
Perfect.
“That's not who I –” She cut off suddenly as they saw us in the dim light. Immediately her posture changed. Hand on one hip, fingers running through her hair. “Oh. You're here.”
Mark's voice was casual, but held a hint of ice he couldn't entirely conceal. “We'd be happy to give you two some privacy, Ara. Cam.” I knew he'd never gotten over his disappointment in Cameron for continuing to pursue her. I had never expected anything more from the guy, and was therefore unsurprised to see him so willing to hide away with her. Wouldn't want to ruin her reputation before soccer season began. No one would forget her hooking up with the second-string defenseman she'd been refusing all year. I couldn't believe she had said yes.
Then I remembered. This was the Sadie Hawkins. I let out a chortle, which distracted both Arabelle and Mark from their glaring, and Cameron from his pouting. “Let's go, Mark. We should let her have some alone time with her date.” Arabelle fumed in the dull crepuscular while Cameron's face turned into a smug smirk. I was reminded again how unattractive they really were.
Cameron was wearing a wrinkled dress shirt and jeans. There was a tie shoved in one of his front pockets and multiple condoms piled into the other. I was wondering if he truly believed she'd want to screw him in this dusty, grimy room. Or at all.
Arabelle had put more effort into her outfit, but it was spoiled by the sour look she was giving us. She had managed to find the most revealing dress that wouldn't get her sent away or threatened with a sweater and pilgrim skirt. She was wearing what was clearly a lingerie teddy that hugged close to her neck and all the way down to the webs of her fingers. The black lacy mesh was see-through, even in this light, and spread her tits apart so there would be no cleavage to send her home for. Over that was a black halter top that plunged down, hinting at the full breasts, but showing nothing that Cameron would be satisfied with. It blended into a loose, white skirt that showed through to a pair of pure white leggings stretching down into her white, heeled ankle boots. The whole thing was slick and shiny, but entirely dedicated to making others want to see what was beneath. The dress itself had no personality, just the promise of something worth seeing later. Which, to be fair, was Arabelle to a tee. She seemed to string guys along, leading them to hope for more. It only worked because the body under the clothes was so stereotypically and classically sensual that her trashy outfit, uneven center part, and thickly applied makeup couldn't fully detract from the inherent hotness underneath.
I couldn't help but feel disgusted by the thought of draining her, and all her clones that I had tasted over the years. I looked over to Mark, whose face had transformed into a grimace, and knew he was feeling the same way about the extent of their past relationship. He grabbed my hand as we slowly walked around them to the plywood door.
“You know it won't last, Misty,” Arabelle snapped before we could make our way out of the storage room, the sanctity and homeyness of our cave lost. “He'll get bored of you, and then you'll be nothing again.” She puckered her lips and turned to Mark, daring him to defend us. Mark turned to me instead, and this time I understood how important it was for him to let me fight my own battles.
“I don't need it to last, Arabelle. That's the difference between you and me. I'm still someone, even without a partner to drag around like a new purse. If Mark dumps me tonight, I'll be alright.” And because I couldn't stop myself, I finished, “I believe in life after love.”
As I turned back to the hole, I saw Mark grin and Arabelle huff and roll her eyes. I knew it was a cheesy thing to say. And later Mark and I would come up with other lines to throw at her instead. But as they say, don't cast your pearls before swine. Come Monday, she'll be mocking anything I say to her, no matter how clever.
We exited through the bungee-corded panel and waded through the metal rungs of the closed bleachers until we were back in the throng of students still swaying in the remaining music. The DJ was playing one slow song after another, and I could tell the dance was coming to an end after all.
I called Mom on the way home, asking if she would be willing to host our after-party. She was surprised when I turned up with only three other people.
“Well, I hope you're hungry, because I reheated half the fridge,” she said, as she met us at the door. The kitchen smelled amazing – warm and inviting. Mark and Ashton made a show of declining a meal in front of Amber, insisting they had had enough to eat at the dance. Mom winked at them and told them to come get her if they needed anything. Then she left us alone to enjoy what was left of the night.
The boys leaned against the island, looking effortlessly hot in their rumpled dance clothes. Amber and I hopped up onto the counter, where the food was. She spread her legs a bit for Ash, then pushed my knees away from each other when Mark nodded down to mine expectantly. She and I grabbed plates of food and rested them in our laps while we ate. It turned out Amber was so busy socializing and checking in with the dance committee members that she had completely forgotten to scope out the buffet.
“You weren't missing much,” I said, scooping an extra helping of Mom's braised rabbit and mushrooms onto my plate.
In the end, the night was nothing too special. It was never going to be, no matter what the posters around the school halls claimed. Just another party; just another chance to eat, socialize, and makeout under the illusion of privacy. The dance itself didn't even determine anything between Mark and I. Or just me. It was merely where all of our previous decisions led, to be played out and acknowledged, to gain closure. I didn't feel any better knowing I had had my own little showdown with Arabelle, but I did feel a sense of conclusion. Things would end here, for the most part. There would still be snide comments made in Newcastle's class, as always. But she would find some other guy to obsess over, and some other female to rival with. That seemed like her perpetual prison. Her self-made purgatory.
And Mark and I? Well, I meant what I said to Arabelle. If things end between us tonight, I'll still have myself. And others. My mom, my friends, even the coven, I think. I don't believe he would try to take that from me. He's not that guy. And I'm not the kind of girl who would isolate or lose herself in another guy after a breakup. Or one who would remake herself with a new social circle, to convince him that she had 'finally found herself' the moment he was out of the picture. I'm not that girl at all.
I'm like all those other girls.
THE END