“Is everything okay?” I ask, my thoughts going straight to Allie.
“Uh, yeah. Everything’s fine.” His usually disheveled, wavy hair is even more of a mess. His eyes are bloodshot like he hasn’t slept. “I wanted to let you know I won’t be at the Ball tonight. I was planning to go with Arden, so I could help with the whole Vic thing, but Lincoln’s going instead.”
“Lincoln? Does he know what’s going on?” I ask, my mind unable to keep up with the onslaught of plot twists.
“He was there the night at The Point. He’s known about Allie and has seen her a few times with me over the summer. I didn’t tell him everything, but he knows enough. Let him help. He wants to make things right.”
I nod, recollecting how fired up he was in the car that night after Vic and I returned from the convenience store. “Why is he in Kingston anyway?”
“He’s attending Printz-Lee this year on a scholarship,” Joey explains.
Now that he’s said it, I kinda-sorta remember Lincoln telling me about receiving a scholarship during one of our French classes together. I wasn’t paying attention to the details, but I remember thinking that if anyone deserved a free pass out of hell, Lincoln did.
“Where will you be tonight?”
“Sherling,” Joey answers, twisting his hands anxiously. “Mrs. Pixley said Allie can receive visitors, and I want to be there.”
I watch him fidget for a second. I ask, “Are you nervous?”
“Uh, yeah. A little,” Joey says, rubbing his neck. “I know it’s weird because I’ve never really met her. She doesn’t even know my name. But after talking to her friends and relatives over the last couple months, I feel like I know her. And, well, I want to see her.”
“You care about her,” I conclude warmly. He nods, pressing his lips together. “She’s going to be so happy to see you even if she doesn’t remember you. She’ll know you. You’ve been by her bedside so much, she has to.”
“So you don’t think it’s weird that I’m doing this? Considering I basically lied to her family about who I am? She could totally call me out on it, and they could end up hating me.”
I step to him. “Never.” I open my arms, and he lets me hug him. “You’re a good guy, Joey. And she deserves for you to be there with her.” I look up at him. “Will you let me know how she is? Maybe … I can come visit when it’s not too overwhelming.”
“Definitely,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. When he steps back, he examines me curiously. “I don’t … feel it anymore. That electric thing between us,” he says it like he’s not sure if it’s a good thing.
“I know. Me either,” I assure him with a comforting smile. “It’s because we’re not supposed to be together. It was … chemistry—literally.” He laughs. “But how much you care about Allie, that’s real. So go see our girl. Send me a picture if she’ll let you?”
He nods, his eyes shining.
“I’ll get your brother,” I tell him, turning to leave.
“Lana.”
I pause at the door.
“Be careful tonight. I don’t want anything to happen to you because … I do love you, just in a different sort of way.”
“Like a sister?” I tease.
He makes a disturbed face. “Not quite like that. But … as a friend. A really good friend.”
“Same.” I smile.
“I got it,” Lance murmurs in my ear as I pass him, leaving the room. He pulls out the edge of a folded map with a wink.
Lesson learned. Never underestimate Lance.
Lance leaves me at the front steps of the girls’ dorm. Before I enter, I hear a very familiar voice nearing the corner of the building. But Dr. Kendall doesn’t sound anything like her false jubilant self.
“I hear your concerns, Mr. Harrison. But I cannot deny access to a high-profile guest because you’re worried he might do something that you cannot substantiate. Our security team has carefully vetted each guest. You’ll just have to trust—”
Dr. Kendall comes into view and notices me on the steps. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I will take it under advisement.” She ends the call and approaches me.
I don’t even pretend that I didn’t overhear the conversation.
“Ms. Peri, just the person I was looking for. Apparently, there’s a guest attending tonight with whom you may have shared an unsettling history. Is there anything you’d like me to know concerning Victor Thorne?”
I hesitate. If I tell her, what are the odds she’ll believe me? She just blew Niall off without much consideration. It’s evident Vic’s powerful family is important to her. More important than me. Besides, if they do keep him out, it only means we won’t know when he’ll appear again. This may be our only chance of having the upper hand—as slight as that is.
“No,” I answer plainly. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Wonderful,” Dr. Kendall responds, looking pleased. “It’s going to be an exciting night.”
Oh, she has no idea.
The afternoon passes in a whirlwind of blow-dryers, false lashes and nail polish. Dressing for the Met Gala of private schools is much more intensive than I ever could’ve imagined. And the girls’ excitement is contagious.
By the time we’re done with the hair and makeup transformation, I honestly can’t help but be won over. Maybe I dismissed the idea of this Ball too quickly. Probably because I didn’t understand its significance. I’ve never been to a dance before. School functions were never my thing in Sherling. School was barely my thing. And although Nina, Tori and I appreciated dressing up and becoming someone else behind our makeup and fake IDs, this is completely different.
Music blasts through the halls, a different song in every room, while stylists and their teams bustle around, catering to the groups of girls singing and laughing. Ashton invited Sophia to join us, but apparently, she has her own team downstairs. I wonder who her other friends are now that everyone’s returned. I hope they’re with her. I hate the idea of her prepping for tonight alone.
Arden delivers us drinks, using people from her squad of beauty professionals, who are themselves an explosion of colorful personalities. And they share the funniest stories. I get scolded several times by Braxton for laughing while she’s applying my lash extensions.
“Are you going to tell Grant you’ve been drinking?” Ashton asks after I take a sip of the raspberry-flavored concoction in my hand.
“I told Arden to make mine without alcohol. She put some sort of calming elixir in it instead,” I explain. “I want to be alert anyway.”
“True,” Ashton agrees, finishing her drink. “This is my last one. Just enough to make me bubbly.”
“You are most certainly that, darlin’,” Yvette tells her, admiring the glitter dusted in Ashton’s teased hair. “Lana, honey, you are all set for your wardrobe fitting. Ashton will meet you in your room in a minute.”
I peek in the open doors as I pass, in awe of the girls in different stages of primping. The designs are so intricate and abstract; it’s hard to believe they’re all inspired by fairytales. Or maybe that’s what makes them so fascinating … the interpretations of stories I’ve grown up reading and others I can’t quite decipher, held in place by pins and glitter.