chapter seventeen

Sixth period was cancelled so all the students could attend the pep rally. I’d never imagined a group of kids could be so psyched about a game. Girls ran into the bathroom before heading to the gym—then came out with their faces painted with navy blue and silver slashes.

Boys ran down the hall with streamers flying over their heads chanting, “Death to Deacons!”—Deacons being Deacon’s School for Boys, St. Mary’s biggest rival and our opponent in tonight’s game. Or so Miri told me.

Miri pulled me along behind her when I would’ve liked to just skip out early. I thought she’d want that too, but instead her eyes shone with excitement as she yanked me into an uncomfortable seat on the gym bleachers. Miri said this was the perfect way to get to know Mary’s—to see them at their best. And somehow, she seemed to mean it.

“What gives?” I asked, leaning into her so we could hear each other over the noise.

Miri’s cheeks flushed and she flopped her hands on her lap in this embarrassed-seeming gesture. “I don’t know,” she said, looking around, looking at anything but me. “It’s just . . . sometimes, when I’m here and everyone’s like . . .” she waved over the crowd, “well, like this, happy, and stuff. It just makes me feel . . .” She finally looked at me, and her eyes begged me to understand. “Normal.”

With a jolt I Remembered Aaron. A time at lunch when we’d snuck into the gym and ate our meal of vending-machine chips and chocolate bars and shared a bottle of Coke. “You make me feel human, D. Like, normal, or something,” he’d said. I’d choked on the Coke and it burned my nose. He’d laughed, but I didn’t. How could he feel so human around me, when I was the farthest thing from it?

And now I sat staring at Miri, who looked back with her eyes wide and not understanding. So much like Aaron’s.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, resting her hand on my forearm. I just looked at it, her frail, pale hand, cool but not freezing, trying to give comfort to me, a demon. To a Shadow that had taken a life just two days before. My gaze travelled up Miri’s arm, to her face. I opened my mouth to say something—the truth, I think, from the way it burned as it made its way up my throat.

“Miri, I—”

“Hey, mind if I sit with you guys?” Michael asked, cutting me off and saving me—or rather, saving Miri—from what I was about to say. “I don’t really know anyone.” He smiled, and I felt Miri sigh.

And me? I pretty much felt like I did that night when Aaron showed up at Daniel’s front door. Like I’d been caught. Trapped. And a trapped animal is a desperate one.

Michael sat beside me.

Warmth pressed in on both sides, from Miri, from Michael, and I sat like a frozen statue between them. I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe, and my thoughts tumbled around in an endless, meaningless jumble.

I watched the raucous crowd as a helpless teacher stood in the middle of the gym trying to get everyone’s attention.

A group of girls came running onto the floor, their cheery yells and clapping effectively quieting the noisy crowd. One girl, beyond gorgeous, stepped up to the floundering teacher who smiled gratefully and left the floor, taking the mic with him.

The cheerleaders lined up and clapped twice in unison. Everything was quiet for the span of two heartbeats. Then the beautiful girl who stood in the middle, nodded once and loud music blared from the speakers above my head.

The girls moved through a routine that was more dance than cheer, but by the end they had the whole crowd on their feet cheering to the beat of the music.

Stacie, the quarterback’s girlfriend, flew through the air in a complicated acrobatic move, her blonde ponytail streaming behind her. But my gaze kept sliding to the girl at the center of it all.

When we sat down I leaned over to Miri and tried to whisper, but the noise was so great I ended up having to yell. “Who’s that girl?” I tried to point her out, but it seemed I didn’t need to—Miri knew exactly who I meant.

She spoke into my ear and said, “That’s Mandy Shaw, the captain.”

“Wow,” was I all I could say.

“Yeah, and would you believe it? She’s been asked out by every jock in school—even Josh asked her out—and she always says no. But for some reason she’s just started going out with Marcus.” Miri rolled her eyes when I stared at her with a blank look on my face.

“You know? Marcus from homeroom?” She pointed to the tall, skinny guy standing on the floor by the band. The guy with his own personal Shadow groupies.

“He’s the band leader, and so not the athlete. Mandy’s his complete opposite. Then again, opposites attract, right?” She jabbed me with her elbow, laughing at her bad joke.

“Huh,” I managed. It made sense to me now—people sold their souls for worse things than love.

I glanced at Michael and found his warm brown eyes staring right back at me, like he’d been waiting for me to meet his gaze. Everything fell away, the noise, the crowd, even Miri. It felt like nothing in the world stood between us. Miri said opposites attract but . . . I doubted that applied to angels and demons.

I forced my eyes away and felt a piece of my heart break. I was pathetic—so much like the sinners in Hell who pined away for what they could never have. I loathed everything about them, the way they let want define them, rule them, consume them. Yet here I sat, letting myself get taken in by Michael’s familiar eyes, his smell, his touch.

I stood, planning to take off, just at the same moment the crowd roared and lunged to their feet—and I was trapped.

After the rally, the crowd surged out of the gym and hurried to their lockers before jetting out the doors, heading for a brief respite at home before the game later on.

“Hey, you guys going to the game tonight?” Michael asked, his hands deep in his pockets as he waited for me to answer.

“No—”

Miri bounced on her toes. “Yes! We wouldn’t miss it for anything.” She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and squeezed. I hadn’t missed that she’d said we. “You coming?” And stupid, stupid me actually held my breath as I waited for Michael’s answer.

Rather than look at him, I glanced at Miri, her blue eyes sparkling. Not for the first time I wondered how she could ever think or feel that she wasn’t important. She was completely important. Completely likeable. Completely unlike me.

Before he committed, Michael said, “So you’re coming?”

“Oh. No. I don’t think so.” I needed a break from all this torture, this press of people, this belonging I shouldn’t feel. No way did I want to go through it again tonight.

“Come on,” he insisted, putting his arm around my shoulder and shaking me a little. “It’ll be fun!” I concentrated on breathing—and on stopping the pleasant sizzle Michael’s touch brought to my skin.

I looked from Miri to Michael, trying to make up my mind—trying to figure out how to get out of it, when Michael said, “I’ll pick you up around 6:30, ’kay?” Then he asked Miri, “How ’bout we swing by and get you right after?”

“Um. You don’t know where I live so . . . ” I tried. But Michael wiggled his eyebrows at me.

“The invitations, ’member?” I felt heat creep into my face.

“Okay,” I finally caved.

“’Kay,” Michael said, before bopping his head and walking away.

“Ohmigosh! He totally likes you! This is going to be awesome!”

“Yeah,” I said, shoving my locker door closed. “Awesome.”