Prom Nights from Hell Chapter One

Hell on Earth Stephenie Meyer Gabe stared across the dance floor and frowned. He wasn't sure why he'd asked Celeste to the prom, and it was another mystery why she'd said yes. Even more mysterious now, watching her grip Heath McKenzie around the neck so tightly that Heath was probably having trouble breathing. Their bodies flattened into an indivisible mass as they swayed against the beat, ignoring the rhythm of the song thudding through the room. Heath's hands roamed over Celeste's glistening white dress in an intimate way. â€Å"Tough luck, Gabe.† Gabe looked away from the spectacle his date was making to his approaching friend. â€Å"Hey, Bry. Having a nice night?† â€Å"Better than you, man, better than you,† Bryan answered, grinning. He lifted his cup of bilious green punch as if for a toast. Gabe touched his bottled water to Bryan's cup and sighed. â€Å"I had no idea Celeste had a thing for Heath. What is he, her ex or something?† Bryan took a gulp of the sinister-looking drink, made a face, and shook his head. â€Å"Not that I know of. I've never seen them even speak to each other before tonight.† Both of them stared at Celeste, who had apparently lost something she needed deep inside Heath's mouth. â€Å"Huh,† Gabe said. â€Å"It's probably just the punch,† Bryan said in an attempt to be encouraging. â€Å"I don't know how many people spiked it, but ouch. She might not even know that's not you out there.† Bryan took another swig and made another face. â€Å"Why are you drinking that?† Gabe wondered aloud. Bryan shrugged. â€Å"I don't know. Maybe the music will start to sound a little less pathetic after I force a glass of this down.† Gabe nodded. â€Å"My ears may never forgive me. I should have brought my iPod.† â€Å"I wonder where Clara is. Is there some kind of girl-law that demands they spend a certain percentage of every event in the bathroom together?† â€Å"Yes. Stiff penalties for girls who don't meet the quota.† Bryan laughed once, but then his smile faded and he fiddled with his bow tie for a moment. â€Å"About Clara†¦Ã¢â‚¬  he began. â€Å"You don't have to say anything,† Gabe assured him. â€Å"She's an amazing girl. And you two are perfect for each other. I would've had to be blind not to see that.† â€Å"You really don't mind?† â€Å"I told you to ask her to the prom, didn't I?† â€Å"Yeah, you did. Sir Galahad makes another match. Seriously, man, do you ever think about yourself?† â€Å"Sure, every hour on the hour. And hey, speaking of Clara†¦ she better have a great time tonight or I'm going to break your nose.† Gabe grinned a wide grin. â€Å"She and I are still good friends-don't think I won't call her to check.† Bryan rolled his eyes, but suddenly found it a little difficult to swallow. If Gabe Christensen wanted to break his nose, he wouldn't have much of a problem doing it-Gabe didn't mind getting his knuckles bruised or his permanent record blemished if it meant righting something that was wrong in his eyes. â€Å"I'll take care of Clara,† Bryan said, wishing that the words didn't sound so much like a vow. There was something about Gabe and his piercing blue eyes that made you feel that way-like doing the best you could at any given task. It got irritating sometimes. With a grimace, Bryan dumped the rest of his punch into the dead moss at the base of a fake ficus tree. â€Å"If she ever leaves the bathroom.† â€Å"Good man,† Gabe said approvingly, but his smile twisted down on one side. Celeste and Heath had disappeared into the crowd. Gabe wasn't sure what the protocol was when you got dumped at the prom. How was he supposed to make sure she got home safe? Was that Heath's job now? Gabe wondered again why he'd asked Celeste to this dance. She was a very pretty girl-pageant pretty. Perfect blond hair-so full it was fluffy-wide-spaced brown eyes, and curvy lips always painted a flattering shade of pink. Her lips weren't the only things that were curvy. She'd all but shut his brain down with the thin, clingy dress she'd worn tonight. Her looks weren't the reason he'd noticed her, though. That reason was something else entirely. It was stupid and embarrassing, really. Gabe would never, ever tell anyone else about this, but every now and then, he got this weird sense that someone needed help. Needed him. He'd gotten that inexplicable pull from Celeste, as if the shapely blonde was hiding a damsel in distress somewhere behind her flawless makeup. Very stupid. And obviously wrong. Celeste didn't seem interested in any help from Gabe right now. He scanned the dance floor again but couldn't pick her golden hair out of the crowd. He sighed. â€Å"Hey, Bry, did you miss me?† Clara, her dark curly hair full of glitter, bounced free from a herd of females and joined them against the wall. The rest of the herd dispersed. â€Å"Hey, Gabe. Where's Celeste?† Bryan put his arm around her shoulders. â€Å"I thought you left. Guess I'll have to cancel the hot plans I just made with-â€Å" Clara's elbow caught Bryan in the solar plexus. â€Å"Mrs. Finkle,† Bryan continued, gasping the words and nodding toward the vice principal glaring from the corner of the room farthest away from the speakers. â€Å"We were going to sort failure notices by candlelight.† â€Å"Well, I wouldn't want you to miss that! I think I saw Coach Lauder by the cookies. Maybe I could talk him into some extra-credit pull-ups.† â€Å"Or maybe we could just dance,† Bryan suggested. â€Å"Sure, I can settle for that.† Laughing, they pressed their way toward the dance floor, Bryan's hands winding around Clara's waist. Gabe was glad Clara hadn't waited for an answer to her question. It was a little embarrassing that he didn't have one. â€Å"Hey, Gabe, where's Celeste?† Gabe grimaced and turned to the sound of Logan's voice. Logan was also solo for the moment. Perhaps it was his date's turn to exhibit girl-herding behavior. â€Å"I couldn't say,† Gabe admitted. â€Å"Have you seen her?† Logan pursed his full lips for a minute, as if debating whether or not to say something. He ran a hand nervously across his springy black hair. â€Å"Well, I thought I did. I'm not exactly sure, though†¦ She's wearing a white dress, right?† â€Å"Yeah-where is she?† â€Å"I think I saw her in the lobby. Can't be positive. Her face was sort of hard to see†¦ David Alvarado's face was all over it†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"David Alvarado?† Gabe repeated in surprise. â€Å"Not Heath McKenzie?† â€Å"Heath? Naw. It was definitely David.† Heath was a linebacker, blond and fair. David barely cleared five feet; his coloring was olive and his hair was black. No way to confuse the two. Logan shook his head sadly. â€Å"Sorry, Gabe. That sucks.† â€Å"Don't worry about it.† â€Å"At least you're not in the stag boat alone,† Logan said forlornly. â€Å"Really? What happened to your date?† Logan shrugged. â€Å"She's around here somewhere, glowering at everyone. She doesn't want to dance, she doesn't want to talk, she doesn't want punch, she doesn't want to take pictures, and she doesn't want my company.† He ticked each negative off on his fingers. â€Å"I don't know why she asked me in the first place. Probably just wanted to show off her dress-it is hot, I'll give her that. But she doesn't seem to care about showing anything now†¦ Wish I'd asked someone else.† Logan's eyes lingered wistfully on a group of girls fast dancing in a male-free circle. Gabe thought he saw Logan focus on one girl in particular. â€Å"Why didn't you ask Libby?† Logan sighed. â€Å"I don't know. I think†¦ I think she would have liked it if I'd asked her, though. Oh well.† â€Å"Who's your date?† â€Å"That new girl, Sheba. She's a little intense but really gorgeous, kinda exotic. I was too shocked to say anything but yes when she asked me to go with her. I thought that she, well, that she might be†¦ fun†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Logan finished lamely. What he'd really thought when Sheba had all but commanded him to take her to prom didn't seem entirely appropriate to be spoken aloud, especially to Gabe; lots of things seemed inappropriate around Gabe. It was just the opposite with Sheba. When he'd gotten a look at her mind-blowing red leather dress, his head had been full of ideas that somehow didn't feel in the least bit inappropriate while her deep, dark eyes had been focused on him. â€Å"I don't think I've met her,† Gabe said, interrupting Logan's brief fantasy. â€Å"You'd remember if you had.† Although Sheba had forgotten Logan quickly enough once they were in the door, hadn't she? â€Å"Hey, do you think maybe Libby came alone? I didn't hear about anyone asking her†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Er, she came with Dylan.† â€Å"Oh,† Logan said, crestfallen. Then he half-smiled. â€Å"Night's bad enough without getting tortured on top of everything else-weren't they supposed to have a band? This DJ†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"I know. It's as if we're being punished for our sins,† Gabe said with a laugh. â€Å"Sins? Like you have any, Galahad the Pure.† Prom Nights from Hell Chapter One Kiss and Tell Michele Jaffe Chapter One â€Å"Sorry this wasn't more of a storybook ending,† the man with his hands around her throat said, smiling, holding her eyes with his own as he choked her. â€Å"If you're going to kill me, can't you just get on with it? This is kind of uncomfortable.† â€Å"What, my hands? Or the feeling that you're a failure-â€Å" â€Å"I'm not a failure.† † – again.† She spit in his face. â€Å"Still got some fire. I really admire that about you. I think you and I could have gotten along nicely. Unfortunately, there just isn't time.† She gave one last fight, clawing at his hands around her throat, his forearms, anything, but he didn't even flinch. Her fists fell hopelessly to her sides. He leaned in so close to her face that she could feel him exhale. â€Å"Any last words?† â€Å"Three: Listerine breath strips. You really need them.† He laughed and tightened the hands around her neck until they overlapped. â€Å"Good-bye.† For a second, his eyes burned into hers. Then she heard a sharp crack and felt herself fall to the floor as everything went black. Prom Nights from Hell Chapter One The Corsage Lauren Myracle Readers, beware! The following story was inspired by â€Å"The Monkey's Paw,† first published in 1902 by W. W. Jacobs, which scared the dickens out of me when I was a teenager. Be careful what you wish for, indeed! – LAUREN MYRACLE Outside, the wind whipped around Madame Zanzibar's house, making a loose rain-pipe thump against the siding. The sky was dark, though it was only four o'clock. But within the garishly decorated waiting room, three table lamps shone brightly, each draped with a jewel-toned scarf. Ruby hues lit Yun Sun's round face, while bluish-purple hues gave Will the mottled look of someone freshly dead. â€Å"You look like you've risen from the grave,† I told him. â€Å"Frankie,† Yun Sun scolded. She did a head jerk toward Madame Z's closed office, worried, I suppose, that she might hear and be offended. A red plastic monkey hung from the office doorknob, indicating that Madame Z was with a client. We were up next. Will made his eyes go vacant. â€Å"I am a pod person,† he moaned. He stretched his arms out toward us. â€Å"Please to give me all your hearts and livers.† â€Å"Oh no! The pod person has taken over our beloved Will!† I clutched Yun Sun's arm. â€Å"Quick, give him your hearts and livers, so he'll leave mine alone!† Yun Sun shook free. â€Å"Not amused,† she said in a tone both singsongy and threatening. â€Å"And if you're not nice to me, I will leave.† â€Å"Stop being such a pooter,† I said. â€Å"I will take my thunder thighs and I will march right out of here. Just watch.† Yun Sun was on a my-legs-are-too-fat kick, just because her superslinky prom dress needed a little letting out. At least she had a prom dress. And a for-sure chance to wear it. â€Å"Bleh,† I said. Her grouchiness was endangering our plan, which was the whole reason we were here. The night of the prom was getting dangerously close, and I was not going to be the sad shell of a girl who sat home alone while everyone else went crazy with glitter dust and danced ironically in spectacular three-inch heels. I refused, especially since I knew in my heart of hearts that Will wanted to ask me. He just needed a little encouragement. I lowered my voice, all the while smiling at Will like la la la, just girl talk, nothing important! â€Å"It was both of our idea to do this, Yun Sun. Remember?† â€Å"No, Frankie, it was your idea,† she said. And she did not keep her voice down. â€Å"I've already got my date, even though he's going to be squished to death by my thighs. You're the one hoping for a last-minute miracle.† â€Å"Yun Sun!† I glanced at Will, who turned red. Bad Yun Sun, throwing it out in the open like that. Bad, bad, naughty girl! â€Å"Ow!† she yelped. Because I'd whacked her. â€Å"I am very mad at you,† I said. â€Å"Enough with the coyness. You do want him to ask you, don't you?† â€Å"Ow!† â€Å"Um, you guys?† Will said. He was doing that adorable thing he did when he was nervous, when his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Although, huh. That was kind of an icky image. It made me think of bobbing for apples, which was only one step away from bobbing for Adam's apples. But. Will was indeed possessed of an Adam's apple, and when it moved up and down in his throat, it was indeed adorable. It made him look so vulnerable. â€Å"She hit me,† Yun Sun tattled. â€Å"She deserved it,† I countered. But I didn't want it to go further, this line of conversation that was already too revealing. So I patted Yun Sun's totally unfat leg and said, â€Å"However, I forgive you. Now shut up.† What Yun Sun failed to get-or more likely, what she totally got and yet failed to appreciate-was that not all things needed to be said aloud. Yes, I wanted Will to ask me to prom, and I wanted him to do it soon, because â€Å"Springtime Is for Lovers† was only two weeks away. And fine, the name of the dance was dorky, but springtime was for lovers. It was an indisputable truth. Just as it was an indisputable truth that Will was my forever boy, if only he could get past his enduring bashfulness and make a frickin' move. Enough chummy shoulder slugs and giggling, snorting tickle wars! Enough clutching each other and shrieking, blaming it on our Netflix copies of The Body Snatchers or They Come from the Hills! Couldn't Will see that I was his for the taking? He'd almost popped the question last weekend, I was ninety-nine-point-five percent sure. We'd been watching Pretty Woman, an overblown romance which never failed to amuse. Yun Sun had disappeared into the kitchen for snacks, leaving the two of us alone. â€Å"Um, Frankie?† Will had said. His foot tap-tap-tapped against the floor, and his fingers flexed on his jeans. â€Å"Can I ask you something?† Any fool would have known what was coming, because if he'd just wanted me to turn up the volume, he'd simply have said, â€Å"Hey, Franks, turn up the volume.† Casual. Straightforward. No need for any preparatory remarks. But since there were preparatory remarks†¦ well, what could he possibly have wanted to ask me besides â€Å"Will you go to prom?† Eternal delight was right there, only seconds away. And then I'd blown it. His palpable nervousness triggered a spaz-out of my own, and instead of letting the moment play out, I'd skittishly changed the subject. BECAUSE I WAS A FREAK. â€Å"Now see, that's the way it's done!† I said, pointing at the TV. Richard Gere was galloping on his white steed, which was really a limo, to Julia Roberts's castle, which was really a crappy third-story apartment. As we watched, Richard Gere climbed out of the sun roof and scaled the fire escape, all to win the affections of his beloved. â€Å"None of this namby-pamby ‘I think you're kinda cute' baloney,† I went on. I was blathering, and I knew it. â€Å"We're talking action, baby. We're talking grand gesture of love.† Will gulped. And said, â€Å"Oh.† And blinked at Richard Gere in a startled-teddy-bear way, thinking, I'm sure, that he could never, ever compare. I stared at the TV, knowing I'd sabotaged my prom night happiness through my own stupidity. I didn't care about â€Å"grand gestures of love†; I just cared about Will. But brilliant me, I'd gone and scared him off. Because in actual real reality, I was an even bigger wimp than he was. But no more-which was why we were here at Madame Zanzibar's. She would tell us our futures, and unless she was a total hack, she would state the obvious as an impartial observer: Will and I were meant for each other. Hearing it spoken so plainly would give Will the guts to try again. He'd ask me to prom, and this time I'd let him, even if it killed me. The plastic monkey twitched on the office doorknob. â€Å"Look, it's moving,† I whispered. â€Å"Oooo,† Will said. A black man with snow-white hair shuffled out of the office. He had no teeth, which made the lower half of his face look puckered, like a prune. â€Å"Children,† he said, tipping his hat. Will stood up and opened the front door, because that's the kind of guy he was. A gust of wind nearly toppled the old man, and Will steadied him. â€Å"Whoa,† Will said. â€Å"Thank you, son,† the old man replied. His words came out mushy, because of the no-teeth thing. â€Å"Reckon I best skedaddle before the storm blows in.† â€Å"I think it already has,† Will said. Past the driveway, tree branches thrashed and creaked. â€Å"This weensy old wind?† the old man said. â€Å"Aw, now, this is just a baby waking up and wanting to be fed. It'll be worse before the night is over, mark my words.† He peered at us. â€Å"In fact, shouldn't you children be home, safe and sound?† It was hard to take offense when a toothless old-timer called you â€Å"children.† But come on, this was the second time in twenty seconds. â€Å"We're juniors in high school,† I said. â€Å"We can take care of ourselves.† His laugh made me think of dead leaves. â€Å"All right, then,† he said. â€Å"I'm sure you know best.† He small-stepped onto the porch, and Will gave a half wave and shut the door. â€Å"Crazy coot,† came a voice from behind us. We turned to see Madame Zanzibar in the office doorway. She wore hot pink Juicy Couture sweatpants with a matching hot pink top, unzipped to her clavicle. Her breasts were round and firm and amazingly perky, given that she didn't seem to be wearing a bra. Her lipstick was bright orange, to match her nails, and so was the end of the cigarette she held between two fingers. â€Å"So, are we coming in or are we staying out here?† she asked the three of us. â€Å"Unveiling life's mysteries or leaving well enough alone?† I rose from my chair and pulled Yun Sun with me. Will followed. Madame Z ushered us into her office, and the three of us scrunched together in an overstuffed armchair. Will realized it was never going to work and lowered himself to the floor. I wiggled to make Yun Sun give me more room. â€Å"See? They're sausages,† she said, referring to her thighs. â€Å"Scooch,† I commanded. â€Å"Now,† Madame Z said, crossing in front of us and sitting behind a table. She puffed on her cigarette. â€Å"What's your business?† I bit my lip. How to put it? â€Å"Well, you're a psychic, right?† Madame Z exhaled a cloud of smoke. â€Å"Gee, Sherlock, the ad in the Yellow Pages tip you off?† I blushed, while at the same time bristling. My question had been a conversation opener. Did she have a problem with conversation openers? Anyway, if she really was a psychic, shouldn't she already know why I was here? â€Å"Uh†¦ okay. Sure, whatever. So I guess I was wondering†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Yeah? Out with it.† I gathered my courage. â€Å"Well†¦ I was wondering if a certain special person was going to ask me a certain special question.† I purposefully didn't look at Will, but I heard his spurt of surprise. He hadn't seen this coming. Madame Z pressed two fingers to her forehead and let her eyes go blank. â€Å"Ahem,† she said. â€Å"Hmm, hmm. What I'm getting here is muzzy. There is passion, yes†- Yun Sun giggled; Will swallowed audibly-â€Å"but there are also†¦ how do I say? Complicating factors.† Prom Nights from Hell Chapter One Madison Avery and the Dim Reaper Kim Harrison Chapter One If British general, a damsel in a dress, and a pirate walk into a gym, I thought as I gazed over the bodies moving in a mind-numbing chaos of pent-up, inexperienced, teenage lust. Leave it to Covington High to turn prom into a joke. Not to mention my seventeenth birthday. What was I doing here? Prom was supposed to be real dresses with a live band, not rented costumes with canned music and streamers. And my birthday was supposed to be†¦ anything but this. â€Å"You sure you don't want to dance?† Josh yelled in my ear, sending his sugary breath over me. I tried not to grimace, keeping my gaze fixed on the clock beside the gym's Scoreboard and wondering if an hour was long enough to stay and not get the third degree from my dad. The music was dull-the same rhythmic thump over, and over, and over. Nothing new in the last forty minutes. And the bass was way too loud. â€Å"Yep,† I said, edging away in time with the music when his hand tried to creep to my waist. â€Å"Still don't want to dance.† â€Å"Something to drink?† he tried again, and I cocked my hip, crossing my arms to hide my cleavage. I was still waiting for the boob fairy to show up, but the dress's corset shoved everything up and together to make it look like I had more than I did, making me self-conscious. â€Å"No, thanks,† I said with a sigh. He probably didn't hear me, but he got the gist, seeing as he looked away, watching everyone move. Long ballroom gowns and skimpy barmaid costumes mixed with swashbuckling pirates and sailors. That was the theme of the prom. Pirates. God! I had worked for two months on the prom committee at my old school. It was going to have been freaking fantastic, with a moonlit barge and a real band, but no-o-o-o. Mom had said Dad needed to spend time with me. That he was going through a midlife crisis and had to reconnect with something from his past that didn't involve arguing. I think she just got scared when she caught me sneaking out for a late cappuccino and shipped me back to Dad and Dullsville USA knowing I listened to him more than her. Okay, so it had been after midnight. And I might have been after more than caffeine. And yeah, I'd already been grounded from staying out too late the previous weekend, but that's why I had to sneak out. Running the stiff lace of my colonial dress between my fingers, I wondered if any of these people had a clue what a real party looked like. Maybe they didn't care. Josh was standing a little in front of me, bobbing his head in time with the music and clearly wanting to dance. Nearby at the food table was the guy who had skulked in after us. He was looking my way, and I gave him a stare, wondering if he was after me or Josh. Seeing my attention on him, the guy turned away. My gaze fell back on Josh, who had begun to almost dance halfway between me and the moving people. Actually, I mused as he shifted and bobbed his head to the music, his costume made his thin, awkward height work for him-a traditional British general's red and white, complete with fake sword and epaulets. His father's idea, probably, since he was the VIP of VIPs at the research facility that had kept everyone employed when the military base moved to Arizona, but it did go with the overdone lace-and-corset thing I had on. â€Å"Come on. Everyone else is dancing,† he coaxed when he saw me look at him, and I shook my head, almost feeling sorry for him. He reminded me of the guys in the photography club pretending the darkroom door had locked to try to get a little action. It just wasn't fair. I had spent three years learning how to fit in with the cool chicks, and now I was right back with the nice but unpopular guys, mowing down cupcakes in the gym. And on my birthday, too. â€Å"No,† I said flatly. Translation: Sorry, I'm not interested. You may as well give up. Even thick-headed, awkward, broken-glasses Josh got that one, and he stopped his almost-dancing to fix his blue eyes on me. â€Å"Jesus, you're a bitch, you know that? I only asked you out because my dad made me. If you want to dance, I'll be over there.† My breath caught, and I gaped at him as if he had punched me in the gut. He cockily raised his eyebrows and walked away with his hands in his pockets and his chin raised. Two girls parted so he could walk between them, and they hunched into each other in his wake, gossiping as they glanced at me. Oh my God. I'm a pity date. Blinking fast, I held my breath as I fought to keep the room from going blurry. Crap, not only was I the new girl, but I was a freaking pity date! My dad had made nice to his boss, and he made his son ask me out. â€Å"Son of a dead puppy,† I whispered, wondering if everyone was looking at me or if it was just my imagination. I tucked my short blond hair behind my ear and backed to the wall. Leaning against it with my arms crossed, I tried to pretend Josh had gone to get some pop. Inside, I was dying. I had been dumped. No, I had been dumped by a geek. â€Å"Way to go, Madison,† I said sourly, just imagining the gossip on Monday. I spotted Josh at the food table, pretending to ignore me without being obvious about it. The guy in the sailor outfit who had followed us in was talking to him. I still didn't think he was one of Josh's friends, even though he was jostling his elbow and pointing at the girls dancing in dresses cut too low for the gyrating they were doing. That I didn't recognize him wasn't surprising since I'd been avoiding everyone for the simple reason I wasn't happy being here and I didn't mind anyone knowing it. I wasn't a jock or a nerd-though I had belonged to the photography club back home. Despite my efforts, I apparently didn't fit with the Barbie dolls. And I wasn't a goth, brain, druggie, or one of the kids who wanted to play scientist like their mommies or daddies at the research facility. I didn't fit anywhere. Correction, I thought as Josh and the sailor laughed. I fit with the bitches. The guy followed Josh's attention to another group of girls, who were now giggling at something Josh had said. His brown hair was frizzed out under his sailor's cap, and his crisp white outfit made him look like all the other guys who'd chosen sailor over pirate. He was tall, and there was a smooth grace to his movements that said he'd quit growing. He looked older than me, but he couldn't be too much older. It was the prom. And I don't have to be here, I thought suddenly, shoving myself away from the wall with my elbows. Josh was my ride home, but my dad would pick me up if I called. My motion to weave through the crowd to the double doors slowed in worry. He'd ask why Josh wasn't bringing me home. It would all come out. The lecture to be nice and fit in I could deal with, but the embarrassment†¦ Josh was watching me when I glanced up. The guy with him was trying to get his attention, but Josh's eyes were on mine. Mocking me. That did it. No way was I going to call my dad. And I wasn't getting into a car with Josh, either. I'd walk it. All five miles. In heels. And a long cotton dress. On a damp April night. With my boobs scrunched together. What was the worst that could happen? A runaway cow incident? Crap, I really missed my car. â€Å"Way to go, girl,† I muttered, gathering my resolution along with my dress, head down as my shoulders bumped into dancers on my way to the door. I was so out of here. People were talking, but I didn't care. I didn't need friends. Friends were overrated. The music melted into something fast, and I brought my attention up when the crowd seemed to shift, awkwardly changing rhythm. I jerked to a stop when I realized I was a step away from running into someone. â€Å"Sorry!† I shouted over the music, then froze, staring. Holy crap, Mr. Sexy Pirate Captain. Where had he been the last three weeks, and were there more where he came from? I'd never seen him before. Not in the entire time I'd been stuck in this town. I would have remembered. Maybe exerted myself a little more. Flushing, I dropped my skirt to move my hand to cover my cleavage. God, I felt like a British tart with everything shoved up like that. The guy was dressed in a clingy black pirate costume, a pendant of gray stone lying on his chest. I could see it where the collar parted. A Zorro-style mask hid his upper face. The wide silk tails of it trailed down his back to mix with his luscious wavy black hair. He stood taller than me by about five inches, and as I ran my gaze over his tight figure, I wondered where he'd been keeping himself. Certainly not the band room or Mrs. Fairel's U.S. Government class, I thought as the spinning lights played over him. â€Å"My apologies,† he said, taking my hand, and my breath caught, not because he was touching me, but because his accent wasn't Midwestern. Sort of a slow, soft exhalation laced with a crisp preciseness that told of taste and sophistication. I could almost hear the clink of crystal and soft laughter in it, the comforting sounds that more often than not had lulled me to sleep as the waves pushed on the beach. â€Å"You aren't from around here,† I blurted as I leaned to hear him better. A smile grew, his dusky skin and dark hair almost a balm, so familiar amid the pale faces and light hair of the Midwestern prison I was in. â€Å"I'm here temporarily,† he said. â€Å"An exchange student, in a manner of speaking. Same as you.† He glanced disdainfully at the people moving around us with little rhythm and even less originality. â€Å"There are too many cows here, don't you think?† I laughed, praying I didn't sound like a brainless flake. â€Å"Yes!† I almost shouted, pulling him down to talk into his ear over the noise. â€Å"But I'm not an exchange student. I moved here from Florida. My mom lives out there on the inner coastal, but now I'm stuck here with my dad. I agree. You're right, it's awful. At least you get to go home.† And where is home, Mr. Sexy Pirate? A hint of low tide and canal water drifted to me, rising from him like a memory. And though some might find it unpleasant, tears pricked at my eyes. I missed my old school. I missed my car. I missed my friends. Why had Mom gone so ballistic? â€Å"Home, yes,† he said, and an intoxicating smile showed a hint of tongue when he licked his lips and straightened. â€Å"We should leave the floor. We're in the way of their†¦ dancing.† My heart pounded harder. I didn't want to move. He might go away, or worse, someone might slip their arm into his, claiming him. â€Å"Do you want to dance?† I said, nervous. â€Å"It's not what I'm used to, but it has a good beat.† His smile widened, and relief sent my pulse faster. Oh God. I think he likes me. Letting go of my hand, he nodded, and then dropped back a step and started to move. For a moment, I forgot to follow and just watched him. He wasn't flamboyant. No, he went the other way-his slow movements making far more of an impact than if he had cleared the floor by spinning me around it. Seeing me watching, he smiled from behind his mysterious mask and blue-gray eyes as he held out a hand for me to join him. I took a breath, my fingers slipping into his warm ones, and let him pull me into motion. The music was the framework he moved within, and I lost myself trying to match the pattern of it. Almost swaying, we shifted at every second beat. I let myself relax and just dance, finding it easier if I didn't think about it. I could feel every shift of my hips and roll of my shoulders-and a thrill of something began to grow inside me. While everyone around us continued with sharp, fast motions, we danced slow, the space between us narrowing, our gazes fixing more and more on each other as I became increasingly sure of myself. I let him guide me as the music pulsed and my heart pounded with it. â€Å"Most everyone here calls me Seth,† he said, almost ruining the moment, but then his hand curved lightly about my waist, and I leaned into him. Oh yeah. This was better. â€Å"Madison,† I said, liking how I felt, dancing slower than everyone else. But the music was fast, thumping to make my blood race. The two extremes made it seem all the more daring. â€Å"I haven't seen you around. Are you a senior?† Seth's fingers tightened on the light cotton of my dress, or perhaps he was just drawing me closer. â€Å"I'm top of my class,† he said, leaning so he wouldn't have to shout. The colored lights played upon him, and I felt airy. Josh could suck an egg for all I cared. This was what my prom should be. â€Å"That would explain it,† I said, tilting my head to see his eyes and try to place him. â€Å"I'm a junior.† He smiled with his lips closed, and I felt small and protected. My own smile grew. I could feel people starting to watch us, their dancing slowing as they turned. I hoped Josh was getting a good look. Call me a bitch, would he? I lifted my chin, daring to reach out and pull Seth near, our bodies touching, then moving apart. My heart hammered at what I was doing, but I wanted to hurt Josh. I wanted the gossip tomorrow to be what an idiot he had been to walk away from me. I wanted†¦ something. Seth's hands slid smoothly at my waist, neither imprisoning nor demanding, freeing me to dance as I wanted, and I let myself go, motions turning more sultry than these backwoods bumpkins had seen anywhere but on their TV. My lips twitched when I saw Josh and that sailor kid he'd been talking with all this time. Josh's face was white with anger, and I simpered back. â€Å"You want him to know you aren't with him?† Seth said wistfully, and my gaze jerked to his. â€Å"He hurt you,† Seth said, and his dark hand left tingles where it touched my chin. â€Å"You should show him what he lost.† The moment balanced, and though I knew it was spiteful, I found myself nodding. Seth eased to a halt, pulling me into him with a smooth, unbroken gesture. He was going to kiss me. I knew it. It was in every motion he made. My pulse hammered, and I tilted my head up to meet his lips with my own, feeling my knees lock. Around us, people slowed to watch, some laughing, some envious. My eyes closed, and I shifted my weight so that we were still dancing as we kissed. It was everything I wanted. Heat washed into me where we touched, spilling down through me like layers, each flaring up as his touch grew closer. Never had I been kissed like this, and I couldn't breathe, afraid I'd ruin it. My hands were at his waist, and they held him tighter as he cupped my jaw, holding me as if I might break. He tasted like wood smoke. I wanted more-but boy, did I know better. A low sound lifted from him, softer than distant thunder. His hands tightened, and adrenaline spiked through me. The kiss had shifted. Alarmed, I jerked back, breathless but feeling bright-eyed and exhilarated. Seth's moody eyes were fixed on mine with a light amusement that I had pulled away. â€Å"It's only a game,† he said. â€Å"He's wiser, now. So are you. He's not worth pain.† I blinked as the lights spun madly and the music continued, loud and untouched by our kiss. Everything was different, but only I had changed. I tore my gaze from Seth, my hand still on his waist for balance. There were spots of color on Josh's cheeks, and he looked angry. I raised my eyebrows at him. â€Å"Let's go,† I said, linking my arm with Seth's. I didn't think anyone would show up to challenge my position. Not after that kiss. Confident, I stepped forward with Seth beside me. A path opened, and I felt like a queen. Though the music thumped and blared, everyone watched us make our way unimpeded to the double doors with their brown-paper wrappings decorated to look like the oak doors of a castle. Plebeians, I thought when Seth pushed open the door and the cooler air of the hallway hit me. The door closed behind us, and the music dulled. I slowed to a stop, low heels scuffing on the tile. There was a paper-cloth-covered table against the wall with a tired-looking woman checking tickets. Farther down the hall three kids loitered at the main door. The memory of our kiss rose back through me, making me suddenly nervous. This guy was gorgeous. Why was he with me? â€Å"Thank you,† I mumbled, glancing up and away, then warmed as I wondered if he might think I was talking about the kiss. â€Å"I mean, for getting me out of there with my pride intact,† I added, flushing deeper. â€Å"I saw what he did.† Seth rocked us into motion down the hallway away from everyone and to the parking lot. â€Å"It was either that or you dumping punch on his clothes. And you†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He hesitated until I looked at him. â€Å"You want your revenge more subtle than that.† A sloppy grin came over me, but I couldn't help it. â€Å"You think?† He inclined his head, acting far older than he should. â€Å"Do you have a ride home?† I jerked to a stop, and he continued a step before turning, his blue-gray eyes wide in alarm. It was cool out here, and I told myself that was why I had a sudden chill. â€Å"I'm†¦ sorry,† he said, blinking and holding himself still. â€Å"I didn't mean†¦ I'll stay with you while you arrange for someone to come. You don't know me from Adam.† â€Å"No, it's not that,† I rushed, embarrassed for my sudden mistrust. I glanced back at the woman by the gym door who was watching us with an idle interest. â€Å"I should call my dad, is all. Let him know what's going on.† Seth smiled, his white teeth showing strongly. â€Å"Of course.† I fumbled for the purse that this dress had come with. He moved away a few feet as I dug out my phone and fidgeted, trying to remember the house's number. There was no answer, and we both turned at the noise of the gym door opening. Josh came out, and my jaw tightened. The answering machine picked up, and in a rush, I blurted, â€Å"Hi, Dad. It's Madison.† Duh. â€Å"I'm getting a ride home with Seth†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I looked at him in question for a last name. â€Å"Adamson,† he said softly, his eyes behind his mask fixed on Josh. Damn, he had beautiful eyes. And long, luscious eyelashes. â€Å"Seth Adamson,† I said. â€Å"Josh turned out to be a jerk. I'll be home in a few minutes, okay?† But since no one was really there, there wasn't much my dad could say. I waited as if listening for a moment, then added, â€Å"I'm fi-i-i-ine. He was a jerk, is all. I'll see you in a minute.† Satisfied, I closed the phone and tucked it away, linking my arm through Seth's and turning us to the back doors as Josh caught up, his dress shoes clacking on the tile. â€Å"Madison†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He was annoyed, and my satisfaction grew. â€Å"Hi, Josh!† I said brightly, my tension rising as he fell into step on my other side. I didn't look at him, and I felt myself go hot. â€Å"I got a ride home. Thanks.† For nothing, I added in my thoughts, still mad at him. Or my dad, maybe, for setting this up. â€Å"Madison, wait.† He caught my elbow, and I spun to a halt. Josh froze, pulling back and letting go. â€Å"You're a jerk,† I said, eyeing his costume and thinking it looked lame now. â€Å"And I'm no one's pity date. You can just†¦ flip off,† I adlibbed, not wanting Seth to think I swore like a sailor. Reaching, Josh grabbed my wrist and yanked me away. â€Å"Listen to me,† he said, and the fear in his eyes stopped my protest. â€Å"I've never seen this guy before. Don't be stupid. Let me take you home. You can tell your friends whatever you want. I'll go along with it.† I tried to take an insulted breath, but the corset wouldn't let me, so I lifted my chin instead. He knew I didn't have any friends. â€Å"I called my dad. I'll be fine,† I said, glancing over his shoulder to the tall kid in that sailor outfit who had followed Josh out. Still Josh wouldn't let go. Ticked, I twisted my arm, and when I reached to grab his wrist in a self-defense hold, he let go as if knowing it. Eyes wide, he backed up a step. â€Å"I'm going to follow you home then,† he said, eyes flicking to Seth. â€Å"Whatever,† I said as I tossed my hair, secretly glad and wondering if maybe Josh wasn't so bad after all. â€Å"Seth, are you in the back lot?† Seth came forward, a softly moving figure of grace and refinement next to Josh's commonality. â€Å"This way, Madison.† I thought I saw a hint of victory in his eyes as his arm slipped through mine. No wonder. He'd obviously come to the prom by himself, and now Josh would be the one leaving alone. I made sure my heels snapped smartly in a show of confident femininity as we went down the hall to the far set of doors. The dress made me feel elegant, and Seth looked fantastic. Josh and his silent buddy trailed behind like extras in a Hollywood film. Seth held the door open for me, leaving the two guys to handle the swinging door by themselves. The air was chilly, and I wished I'd begged for an extra fifty from my dad to get the matching shawl for this outfit. I wondered if Seth would offer me his coat if I complained. The moon was a hazy smear behind the clouds, and as Seth escorted me down the stairs, I could hear Josh behind me, talking softly to his friend in a low, derisive tone. My jaw clenched, and I followed Seth to a sleek black car parked illegally at the curb. It was a convertible, its top open to the cloudy skies, and I couldn't help but smile even wider. Maybe we could go for a drive before he took me home. Cold or not, I wanted to be seen in this car, sitting next to Seth, the wind in my hair and the music cranked. I bet he had great taste in music. â€Å"Madison†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Seth said in invitation, opening the door for me. Feeling awkward and special all at the same time, I eased into the low front seat, my dress sliding on smooth leather. Seth waited while I got the rest of the skirt inside before gently shutting the door. I put on my belt as he crossed behind the car. The black paint glistened in the low glow of the security lights, and I ran my fingers over the smoothness, smug when I saw Josh jogging to his car. Seth startled me when he slid in behind the wheel; I hadn't even heard the door open. He cranked the engine, and I liked the solid rumble of it. The stereo came on with something aggressive. The vocals weren't English, but that only added to it all. Josh's car's lights flashed on, and we pulled forward, Seth driving with one hand. My pulse quickened as I looked at him across the dull light. The cool air felt thick against my skin, and as we picked up speed, the wind worked its way through my hair. â€Å"I live to the south,† I said when we reached the main road, and he turned the proper way. Josh's headlamps swung in behind us, and I settled myself in the seat, wishing Seth had offered me his coat. But he hadn't said a word or looked at me since I'd gotten in the car. Earlier, he'd been all sly confidence. Now it was†¦ anticipation? And though I didn't know why, a slow feeling of alarm took root. As if sensing it, Seth turned, driving the black road without looking. â€Å"Too late,† he said softly, and I felt my face blank. â€Å"Easy. I told them it would be easy when you were young and stupid. Almost not worth the effort. Certainly not any enjoyment.† My mouth went dry. â€Å"Excuse me?† Seth glanced at the road and back at me. The car started to go faster, and I gripped the door handle, pressing away from him. â€Å"Nothing personal, Madison. You're a name on a list. Or should I say, a soul to be culled. An important name, but a name nonetheless. They said it couldn't be done, and now, you'll be my admission to a higher court, you and your little life that will now not happen.† What the hell? â€Å"Josh,† I said, turning to the lights going distant as Seth picked up speed. â€Å"He's following. My dad knows where I am.† Seth smiled, and I shivered at the moonlight glinting on his teeth. Everything else was lost in hazy moon shadow and the shriek of the wind. â€Å"Like that will make a difference?† Oh my God. I was deep in it. My gut tightened. â€Å"Stop the car,† I said forcefully, one hand on the door, the other holding my whipping hair out of my eyes. â€Å"Stop the car and let me out. You can't do this. People know where I am! Stop the car!† â€Å"Stop the car?† he said, smirking. â€Å"I'll stop the car.† Seth shifted his leg, stomping on the brake and turning the wheel. I screamed, grabbing anything. The world spun. My breath left me in a shriek as the odd feeling of too much noise mixed with the cessation of jostling. We had left the road. Gravity pulled from the wrong way. Panic struck when I realized the car was flipping over. Shit. I was in a convertible. I ducked, hands clasped over the back of my neck, praying. A hard thump shook me and everything went black. My breath was crushed from me by the force of the hit. I think I was upside down. Then I was yanked another way. The sky brightened to gray, and I sucked in the air when the car flipped once more as it rolled down the embankment. Again, the sky went black and the top of the car hit the ground. â€Å"No!† I shrieked, helpless, then groaned when the car slammed to a stop, upright. I was flung against the seat belt, agony stabbing through my back as I was thrown forward. It was quiet. Breathing hurt. Oh God, I hurt all over, and I stared at the shattered windshield as I panted. The new edges of the window glinted dully in the moonlight, and I followed the broken line down the dash to find Seth gone. My insides hurt. I didn't see blood, but I think I broke something inside. I was alive? â€Å"Madison!† came distant over my rasping breath. â€Å"Madison!† It was Josh, and I forced my eyes up to the twin balls of light at the top of the embankment. A shadowy figure was sliding down. Josh. I took a breath to call to him, groaning when someone took my head and turned me away. â€Å"Seth?† I whispered. He looked untouched, standing outside the ruined car at my door in his costume of black pirate silk. The moon caught his eyes and pendant, giving them both a gray sheen. â€Å"Still alive,† he said flatly, and tears started to slip from me. I couldn't move, but everything was a massive ache so I didn't think I was paralyzed. Damn it, this was a sucky birthday. Dad was going to kill me. â€Å"I hurt,† I said, my voice small, then thought, What a stupid thing to say. â€Å"I don't have time for this,† Seth said, clearly bothered. My eyes widened, but I didn't move when he pulled from the folds of his costume a short blade. I tried to cry out, but my breath left me when he pulled his arm back as if to strike me. Moonlight glinted on the blade, red with someone else's blood. Fantabulous. He's a psycho. I left the prom with a knife-wielding psycho. Can I pick 'em, or what? â€Å"No!† I shrieked, managing to get my arms up, but the blade was a whisper of ice passing through me, leaving me unhurt. I stared at my middle, not believing I was uncut. My dress wasn't torn and blood wasn't flowing, but I knew that blade had gone through me. It had gone through me and the car both. Not understanding, I gaped up at Seth, now standing with the blade at rest and watching me. â€Å"What†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I tried to say when I realized nothing hurt anymore. But my voice was utterly absent. He arched his eyebrows in a show of scorn. My expression left me when I felt the first brush of utter nothing, both new and familiar, like a memory long lost. The terrifying absence of everything crept through me, stilling each thought it rolled over. Soft and muzzy, a blanket of nothing started at the edges of my world and moved inward, taking first the moon, then the night, then my body, and finally the car. Josh's cries were swallowed up in a low hush of a thrum, leaving only Seth's silver eyes. And then Seth turned and walked away. â€Å"Madison!† I heard faintly, followed by the briefest touch on my cheek. Then even that melted and there was nothing. Prom Nights from Hell Chapter One The Exterminator's Daughter Meg Cabot 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 fog from the dry ice, and the flickering light show coming down from the club's industrial ceiling overhead. But I know he's here. I can feel him. Which is why I'm grateful for the bodies grinding against one another all around me. They're keeping me hidden from his view-and from his senses. Otherwise he'd have smelled me coming by now. They can detect the scent of fear from yards away. Not that I'm scared. Because I'm not. Well. Maybe a little. But I have my Excalibur Vixen crossbow 285 FPS with me, with a twenty-inch-long Easton XX75 (the tip, formerly gold, now replaced with hand-carved ash) already cocked and ready to be released at the merest pressure from my finger. He'll never know what hit him. And, hopefully, neither will she. The important thing is to get a clean shot-which won't be easy in this crowd-and to make it count. I'll probably only get one chance to shoot. Either I'll hit the target†¦ or he'll hit me. â€Å"Always aim for the chest,† Mom used to say. â€Å"It's the largest part of the body, and the spot you're least likely to miss. Of course, you're more likely to kill than wound if you aim for the chest rather than the thigh or arm†¦ but what do you want to wound for, anyway? The point is to take 'em down.† Which is what I'm here to do tonight. Take ‘im down. Lila will hate me, of course, if she figures out what really happened†¦ and that it was me who did it. But what does she expect? She can't think that I'm just going to sit idly by and watch her throw her life away. â€Å"I met this guy,† she'd gushed at lunch today, while we were standing in line for the salad bar. â€Å"Oh my God, Mary, you wouldn't believe how cute he is. His name's Sebastian. He's got the bluest eyes you've ever seen.† The thing about Lila that a lot of people don't get is that beneath that-let's face it-slutty exterior beats the heart of a truly loyal friend. Unlike the rest of the girls at Saint Eligius, Lila's never pulled an attitude with me about the fact that my dad's not a CEO or plastic surgeon. And yeah, okay, I have to tune out about three-fourths of what she says because most of it is stuff that I have no interest in-like how much she paid for her Prada tote at the end-of-season clearance sale at Saks, and what kind of tramp stamp she's thinking about getting next time she's in Cancn. But this caught my attention. â€Å"Lila,† I said. â€Å"What about Ted?† Because Ted's all Lila has talked about for the past year, ever since he finally got up the guts to ask her out. Well, I mean, all she's talked about besides the Prada sales and back tattoos. â€Å"Oh, that's over,† Lila said, reaching for the lettuce tongs. â€Å"Sebastian's taking me clubbing tonight-at Swig. He says he can get us in-he's on the VIP list.† It wasn't the fact that this guy, whoever he was, claimed to be on the VIP list of the newest and most exclusive club in downtown Manhattan that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. Don't get me wrong-Lila's beautiful. If anyone is going to be approached by a random stranger who happens to be on the most sought-after VIP list in town, it would be Lila. It was the thing about Ted that got to me. Because Lila adores Ted. They're the quintessentially perfect high school couple. She's gorgeous, he's a star athlete†¦ it's a match made in teen heaven. Which is why what she was telling me did not compute. â€Å"Lila, how can you say it's over between you and Ted?† I demanded. â€Å"You two have been going out forever†-or at least since I arrived at Saint Eligius Prep in September, where Lila was the first (and, to date, pretty much the only) girl in any of my classes to actually speak to me-â€Å"and it's the prom this weekend.† â€Å"I know,† Lila said, with a happy sigh. â€Å"Sebastian's taking me.† â€Å"Seb-â€Å" That's when I knew. I mean, really knew. â€Å"Lila,† I said. â€Å"Look at me.† Lila looked down at me-I'm small. But, as Mom used to say, I'm fast-and I saw it at once. What I should have seen from the beginning, that ever-so-slightly glazed expression-the dull eyes†¦ the soft lips-that I've come to know so well over the years. I couldn't believe it. He'd gotten to my best friend. My only friend. Well. What was I supposed to do? Sit back and let him take her? Not this time. You'd think seeing a girl with a crossbow on the dance floor of Manhattan's hottest new club would maybe generate a comment or two. But it is Manhattan, after all. Besides, everyone is having too good a time to notice me. Even- Oh God. It's him. I can't believe I'm finally seeing him in the flesh†¦ Well, his son, anyway. He's more handsome than I ever imagined. Golden-haired and blue-eyed, with movie star-perfect lips and shoulders a mile wide. He's tall, too-although most guys are tall-compared with me. Still, if he is anything like his father, well, then, I get it. I finally get it. I guess. I still don't- Oh God. He's sensed my gaze. He's turning this way- It's now or never. I raise my bow: Good-bye, Sebastian Drake. Good-bye forever. But just as I have the bright white triangle of his shirt front in my scope, something unbelievable happens: A bright bloom of cherry red appears exactly where I've been aiming. Except I haven't pulled the trigger. And his kind doesn't bleed. â€Å"What's that, Sebastian?† Lila shimmies up to him to ask. â€Å"Dammit! Somebody†-and I see Sebastian raise his stunned cerulean gaze from the scarlet stain on his shirt to Lila's face-â€Å"shot me.† It's true. Someone has shot him. Only it wasn't me. And that's not all that doesn't make sense. He's bleeding. Except that's not possible. Not knowing what else to do, I duck behind a nearby pillar, pressing the Vixen to my chest. I need to regroup, figure out my next move. Because none of this can really be happening. I couldn't have been wrong about him. I did the research. It all makes sense†¦ the fact that he's here in Manhattan†¦ the fact that he went after my best friend, of all people†¦ Lila's dazed expression†¦ everything. Everything except what just happened. And I had just stood there, staring. I had had a perfect shot, and I'd blown it. Or had I? If he's bleeding, then that must mean he's human. Doesn't it? Except if he's human, and he's just been shot in the chest, why is he still standing? Oh God. The worst of it is†¦ he saw me. I'm almost sure I felt that reptilian gaze pass over me. What will he do now? Will he come after me? If he does, it's all my own fault. Mom told me never to do this. She always said a hunter never goes out alone. Why didn't I listen? What was I thinking? That's the problem, of course. I hadn't been thinking at all. I'd let my emotions get the better of me. I couldn't let what happened to Mom happen to Lila. And now I'm going to pay for it. Just like Mom. Crouching in agony, I try not to imagine what Dad's going to do when the New York City police ring our doorbell at four in the morning and ask him to come to the morgue to ID his only daughter's body. My throat will be gouged open, and who knows what other atrocities will be done to my broken body. All because I didn't stay home tonight to work on my paper for Mrs. Gregory's fourth-period U.S. History class (topic: the temperance movement in antebellum Civil War America, two thousand words, double-spaced, due Monday), like I was supposed to. The music changes. I hear Lila squeal, â€Å"Where are you going?† Oh God. He's coming.