“Scarlett, wait.” He started after her.
She raised a hand to ward him off, stopping him with her magic. “Please. I . . .” Shit. She was going to start crying, right here. “Later,” she managed, practically flinging herself into the party.
She needed to get out of here. Now. Before she really lost it, before she brought this party crashing down around them.
She pushed her way through the crowd on the dance floor, shoving people aside with her elbows and her mind. The party throbbed around her, everyone shrieking with laughter, dancing, kissing, staring up at the décor in wonder. For everyone else, everyone but Scarlett, this was just another amazing night at Westerly.
The exit was finally in view when her mother and Eugenie stepped into her line of sight. Shit. She could not handle them right now. Not at her most vulnerable. She couldn’t stomach her mom’s disappointment, her sister’s ill-disguised glee. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how she’d break the news to her mother. She was stumbling back through the party, looking for another exit, when someone grabbed her arm.
Jackson. Oh God. She just couldn’t. “Jackson, can you please yell at me another time?” she said, angrily brushing away a tear that had escaped down her cheek.
Jackson’s expression shifted instantly, losing its usual sharp edges. He looked at her with something bordering on understanding, like he knew what it was like to lose your shit in the worst possible place. Of course, given that Harper was his stepsister, he probably did. Scarlett’s heart gave a painful squeeze that had nothing to do with Mason.
Until a few days ago, she’d had no idea that Jackson was Harper’s stepbrother. She’d always liked Harper, but they’d never been that close. After she died, Scarlett never let herself think about Harper’s family or all the people she left behind. The collateral damage of what happened reached so much further than she’d ever imagined.
Now Jackson took her by the elbow and steered her through the crowds toward a side exit she hadn’t noticed before. It led to a path that wove through darkened woods, running parallel to the front walk.
“It dead-ends half a block from the main entrance,” he said. “Last I checked, there was a whole row of cabs waiting; I’m sure one will take you wherever you want to go.”
For a moment, she just stared. “Why are you helping me?”
He shrugged, looking as uncomfortable as she felt. “Like you said, I can yell at you another time. Go home and get some sleep.”
Scarlett took a few steps down the path and then turned to thank him. But he was already gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Vivi
Having now attended a grand total of three parties, Vivi could confidently say that Homecoming was the best one of her life. It wasn’t just the lively, romantic music of the jazz band, the festive mood of the glamorous crowd, or the way the warm, late September air caressed her skin as she twirled on the dance floor with Ariana. It was the feeling of knowing that she could go anywhere and find someone who’d be happy to talk to her, from her new sisters to their countless admirers.
It felt like the entire school had shown up tonight. A few kids from her art history class were gossiping at the bar. A pretty redhead she’d chatted with once in the cafeteria was dancing by herself under a lemon tree. Etta swayed with an androgynous-looking person with razor-sharp cheekbones and a heart-melting smile. Juliet and Jess were kissing under the twinkling lights, and Tiffany was swaying with a handsome guy Vivi recognized from the PiKa mixer. Even Professor Barnum was there, sucking down a whiskey by himself in the corner. The only person she hadn’t seen was Scarlett, but no doubt she was somewhere in the throng of people, judging the partygoers with the imperious gaze that scared Vivi a little less now that she’d seen the softer side of her Big.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Vivi shouted to Ariana in the middle of the sweaty crowd moving to the beat of the band. “I still haven’t learned the spell that keeps you from needing to pee every thirty minutes when you’re drinking.”
She pushed through to the edge of the crowd and made her way to the bathroom. The line was long, but Vivi struck up a conversation with an anthropology major who’d recently returned from a year abroad in Peru. Just a few weeks ago, Vivi would’ve been far too intimidated to make small talk with upperclassmen, let alone a poised older girl who’d just received a grant from National Geographic, but becoming a full-fledged Raven had tempered her fear of embarrassment and rejection. What did it matter if someone didn’t like her? She had a whole houseful of friends waiting for her.
Vivi had finally made it to the front of the line when Tiffany sauntered toward her holding a drink in each hand. She looked just a tad unbalanced but somehow still impossibly elegant in her golden cocktail dress. “Do you want one of these?” she asked Vivi. “The bartender insisted on giving me an extra one ‘for good luck,’ whatever that means.”
“I’m fine,” Vivi said with a smile. “If I have one more sip, I might not make it.”
“We wouldn’t want that.” Tiffany giggled. “Can’t have our new superstar peeing her pants.”
“Superstar?” Vivi repeated. “Hardly.”
“No, listen to me, Vivi.” Tiffany stepped forward until her face was right next to Vivi’s. “I felt your power during the ceremony. And I know what happened in the tomb. I want you to know that it’s okay. It’s okay to be powerful. Do you understand me?”
“Um, yeah. I understand you,” Vivi said, pulling back slightly.
Tiffany’s expression turned serious. “You should never apologize for being powerful.”
“I won’t . . . I promise.”
“Okay, good. Because we need witches like you. Everyone will want you to learn to control your power, but don’t ever lose that feeling you had the other night. That’s real magic.”
With that, Tiffany spun on her heel, tilted to the side as her shoe sank into the grass, righted herself, and sauntered off.
“Go drink some water!” Vivi called after her.
By the time Vivi left the bathroom, her feet were smarting from the hours she’d spent standing in high heels. She scanned the grounds and spotted a few wood benches scattered at the far perimeter of the festivities, near a large pond. Vivi eased off her shoes and, enjoying the feel of the cool grass underfoot, made her way to one of the benches. The music thrummed in the distance, the lights twinkling like fireflies. She didn’t know how anyone could look at all this and not see magic.
She still couldn’t believe this was her life. Just that morning, she’d moved into a sweet little bedroom on the fourth floor of Kappa House. It had cheerful rose wallpaper and gilded furniture, including a desk that looked like it belonged in a palace in France and a twin bed with golden posts, a little black crystal ball topping each one. Dahlia had said she could redecorate the room however she liked, but Vivi thought it was already perfect. For once, everything in her life was perfect. She had friends. She had sisters. And she had power. If my mom could only see me now . . .
Someone coughed and a dark shadow shifted on the bench several feet over. Vivi started, surprised to realize she wasn’t alone. “Hello?” she called, her voice wavering slightly. You’re a witch, she reminded herself. The things that go bump in the night should be afraid of you now.