whispered—their special way of saying good-bye—before slipping out of the jacket and handing it back to Gabby. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Em, keep it,” Gabby pleaded. But Em was already in the car.
• • •
The rain dissipated on her ride home, leaving misty pockets where her headlights shone. She had wiped off the inside of her windshield, practically frantic, but still she thought she could make out the ghostly silhouettes of the letters there: Who’s the fairest of them all?
She couldn’t wait to be back at her house, out of this car, in her own bed. She didn’t even want to turn on the radio; she was too jumpy. She tapped the steering wheel and bit her lip.
Her eyes flicked to her rearview mirror for a second. A face was smiling back at her.
Em screamed, nearly skidding off the road.
It was Ali’s face. Ali with the white-blond hair, Ali with the bloodred lips. Ali who’d given her her first orchid.
Em hit the brakes, swinging her head around. Nothing. Her heart pounded heavily. Nothing but a few textbooks, an ice scraper, and a knit hat. No Ali.
She was shaking. She threw the car into park and swung open her door, getting out and into the backseat to wipe away, with ferocity, the words in the window. She banged her fist against the seat. Her cold fingers stung.
Back in the front seat, still not moving, the minutes on the car’s digital clock getting ever closer to ten o’clock, she let her head fall back against the headrest. What did they want? What did it mean, to be bound to them? She knew it was worth it, to save JD’s life. To save the life of the one she loved. But what had she actually agreed to? Had she agreed to be driven insane?
She couldn’t stop the tears from coming. She swiped an arm across her face. “Quit it, Em. Shut up,” she muttered. With eyes cloudy from crying, she looked into the rearview mirror and saw herself—paler than she’d ever been, with the circlesunder her eyes only adding to her ghostly appearance.
What the hell is happening to me?
She slammed her palm against the steering wheel and shoved her way out of the car. “I know you’re out there somewhere!” she shouted. But there was no response, no movement. She spun around in the middle of the road, the wind blowing through her wild dark hair, her skin feeling like it was on fire. “If you have something to say to me, say it!” she screamed. Again, no response, just the sleet hammering against her face.
“Fine, then,” she intoned, getting back into her car and slamming the door. She was starting to feel like this was war. She was up for the battle. The Furies were not going to fuck with her head anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Skylar’s second week at school flew by, filled with party prep and obsessing over her new crush. She was splitting her free time mostly between Meg and Gabby, and Aunt Nora was thrilled that Skylar was adjusting so seamlessly. “You’ll have to bring your friends over so I can meet them,” she said, bustling about in the kitchen one morning. Skylar nodded and looked down at her cereal. She’d been trying to avoid that, actually—she didn’t want to risk bursting the lie bubble that she’d created about her former life. It would be just like Nora to overshare and somehow let the ugly facts slip.
Skylar wasn’t lying only to her new friends; she was spreading her deceptions. She’d told her aunt that she was going to a party at Gabby’s tonight (conveniently not mentioning the coedpajama part), but she hadn’t divulged that she was throwing a party the following weekend in the Haunted Woods.
Skylar was excited for Gabby’s party, but she was more psyched for her own. Everyone was coming. Skylar knew that people loved any excuse to drink, but she liked thinking that all those kids were coming to the party for her . According to Gabby’s mom, it was even supposed to be unseasonably warm.
It was like the fates were smiling down on her. She’d been
“Em, keep it,” Gabby pleaded. But Em was already in the car.
• • •
The rain dissipated on her ride home, leaving misty pockets where her headlights shone. She had wiped off the inside of her windshield, practically frantic, but still she thought she could make out the ghostly silhouettes of the letters there: Who’s the fairest of them all?
She couldn’t wait to be back at her house, out of this car, in her own bed. She didn’t even want to turn on the radio; she was too jumpy. She tapped the steering wheel and bit her lip.
Her eyes flicked to her rearview mirror for a second. A face was smiling back at her.
Em screamed, nearly skidding off the road.
It was Ali’s face. Ali with the white-blond hair, Ali with the bloodred lips. Ali who’d given her her first orchid.
Em hit the brakes, swinging her head around. Nothing. Her heart pounded heavily. Nothing but a few textbooks, an ice scraper, and a knit hat. No Ali.
She was shaking. She threw the car into park and swung open her door, getting out and into the backseat to wipe away, with ferocity, the words in the window. She banged her fist against the seat. Her cold fingers stung.
Back in the front seat, still not moving, the minutes on the car’s digital clock getting ever closer to ten o’clock, she let her head fall back against the headrest. What did they want? What did it mean, to be bound to them? She knew it was worth it, to save JD’s life. To save the life of the one she loved. But what had she actually agreed to? Had she agreed to be driven insane?
She couldn’t stop the tears from coming. She swiped an arm across her face. “Quit it, Em. Shut up,” she muttered. With eyes cloudy from crying, she looked into the rearview mirror and saw herself—paler than she’d ever been, with the circlesunder her eyes only adding to her ghostly appearance.
What the hell is happening to me?
She slammed her palm against the steering wheel and shoved her way out of the car. “I know you’re out there somewhere!” she shouted. But there was no response, no movement. She spun around in the middle of the road, the wind blowing through her wild dark hair, her skin feeling like it was on fire. “If you have something to say to me, say it!” she screamed. Again, no response, just the sleet hammering against her face.
“Fine, then,” she intoned, getting back into her car and slamming the door. She was starting to feel like this was war. She was up for the battle. The Furies were not going to fuck with her head anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Skylar’s second week at school flew by, filled with party prep and obsessing over her new crush. She was splitting her free time mostly between Meg and Gabby, and Aunt Nora was thrilled that Skylar was adjusting so seamlessly. “You’ll have to bring your friends over so I can meet them,” she said, bustling about in the kitchen one morning. Skylar nodded and looked down at her cereal. She’d been trying to avoid that, actually—she didn’t want to risk bursting the lie bubble that she’d created about her former life. It would be just like Nora to overshare and somehow let the ugly facts slip.
Skylar wasn’t lying only to her new friends; she was spreading her deceptions. She’d told her aunt that she was going to a party at Gabby’s tonight (conveniently not mentioning the coedpajama part), but she hadn’t divulged that she was throwing a party the following weekend in the Haunted Woods.
Skylar was excited for Gabby’s party, but she was more psyched for her own. Everyone was coming. Skylar knew that people loved any excuse to drink, but she liked thinking that all those kids were coming to the party for her . According to Gabby’s mom, it was even supposed to be unseasonably warm.
It was like the fates were smiling down on her. She’d been
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