“Is that you, Megan?”
“No, I’m a new commuter student.” I don’t know who Megan is, and I don’t care. I need this girl away from me as soon as possible. “Susie.” I pick a name I hate.
“Level 6 with Ivanov? I’ve never seen you in class.”
“Level 5.” I try to soften my voice and act like I’m fourteen and in ninth grade. She pets my shoulder like I’m a charity case and starts telling me the ins and outs of the conservatory. Her name’s Piper. Figures. Another stupid name. She’s one of those people who talks too much and tells too much of their personal business because she never learned the rule that no one really cares.
I step away from Piper midsentence, tired of playing nice.
I hear her laugh before I can see her.
Cassie.
I look to the left. An unlit cigarette hangs from Henri’s lip and he drapes an arm around her shoulder. She’s Ariel from The Little Mermaid, complete with the coconut bra. She shouts out for Gigi, and then Gigi drags Alec over. Alec has an arm wrapped around Gigi, and for a strange instant, they seem like they’re all on a double date. Alec leans forward and yanks the cigarette out of Henri’s mouth and I wonder when they became friends. If Cassie forced them to get along now that she’s back. The very sight of Henri sends shivers through me, and I remember the cold, merciless look in his eyes that night Gigi nearly died. Now, here she is, laughing at his jokes. If I didn’t hate her so much in this instant, I would warn her. She should know. Alec should know, too. I wonder what he’d think of his new friend if he knew the way Henri touched me last year, the things he manipulated me into doing.
But instead Alec’s hanging on his words, laughing as they mock fight, basking as he watches Gigi share a knowing look with Cassie. Sweet Cassie. Of course they’re friends. They’re meant to be BFFs, both sappy idiots who ooze charisma, who steal the show without even trying, who were “victims.” They deserve each other. As good as Cassie looks, Gigi’s the standout in that little foursome, with her skin aglow—from the lights, from inside, whatever—and the tinkle of that head-thrown-back laugh. From the way she leans, casual, comfortable, against Alec, from the way she kicks up those endless legs, you’d never know anything happened to her at all. She’s flawless. It’s infuriating.
“Who’s drinking?” Alec calls out, and Gigi gives him a dreamy look: sleepy eyes, blinking lashes, her lips soft and ready. I want all that back.
Alec pulls out a few water bottles that must be filled with liquor, handing them out, trying not to trip over the sword to his costume, which dangles awkwardly off his belt. Level 6 sophomores pass by, leaving a trail of girly giggles in their wake, no doubt in love with them both, Alec and Henri.
That’s when I notice Will. He hangs near the very edge of the little foursome, talking to some girl dressed as a sexy maid, and staring over her head into their conversation. He seems desperate to be included, but relegated to the outside. I try to keep from smiling and fail.
Alec looks around for the RAs, then takes a big gulp of his drink, as if to show everyone how it should be done. I want to march over there and reveal myself, tell them I’m coming back, that I was wrongly accused. I’ll have proof soon. I want to shove my hand in Alec’s and feel the calluses on his palm from lifting tiny ballerinas. I want to feel the steadiness that he brings, the reminders of when everything was right.
I take a step in their direction. Clever phrases play in my head. I freeze as more girls cut in front of me. The hairs on my arms lift with a little fear, a little excitement, a little anticipation.
Gigi’s body is wrapped around Alec’s. But up close he is stiff, upright, and not grabbing her back, in spite of what I assume is a good amount of vodka in his system. He pokes Henri in his chest with his water bottle and slurs out, “I used to think you loooooved Gigi.”
Cassie leans forward and her lips purse. She never was good at hiding her emotions. Henri stops laughing. Gigi tries to say something, but drunk Alec keeps talking. “The way you used to look at her. That’s why I didn’t like you at first.”
Henri stiffens even more, tightening the few muscles that weren’t already flexed. Alec’s accusing him of something dangerous, and I don’t really know why. Maybe it is the Halloween spirits, if you believe in such things, making him crueler, turning them all into troublemakers, bringing out emotions.
“You looked at Bette like that, too,” he slurs out, which makes me blush. He does think of me. Deep down he still cares.
“Why would you bring her up? You’re too drunk, Alec,” Gigi says, grabbing the water bottle from his hands. And I agree with her, because that is what alcohol does: erases that pause between thoughts and words said aloud.
“What are you talking about, Alec?” Cassie’s eyes turn to slits, lost in eyeliner and glitter, the blue of them no longer visible. She’s in his face now, searching for answers about how her doting boyfriend behaved while she was cooped up recovering. Was he not a perfect angel?
The DJ lets the room know that this will be the last song, so I turn to leave and do what I came here to. I slip out of the room and into the dimly lit hall.
In the office corridor on my way to the elevators, I hear familiar laughter. Eleanor’s.
I want to reveal myself, to show her how clever I am. I want her to remember all the fun things we did together.
Then there’s more laughter. I follow her voice toward the stair doors. There she is, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood in a tight bodice, flowing skirt, and hooded cape, the deep red making her look as pale as snow. Her skin is luminescent with shimmer, a glow so soft and deep and inviting, you want to touch her. And someone is. A tall, masked figure leans in close, whispering in her ear, serving as the cause of that ringing laughter. I can’t see his face.
They hear me scuffle as I tumble forward, a bit wobbly in these heels. Then they disappear into the stairwell, and Eleanor’s gone.
Who was she with? If this were last year, I would’ve known everything about that mystery boy before she’d built up the nerves to talk to him. I’d know what he liked to eat for dinner and how many siblings he had, and every nauseating detail about the way he danced. There’s a squeeze in my chest and I feel like I’ve missed so much by being at home. That the space I used to occupy in this building, in this world, in her life, is disappearing.
I go up to the twelfth floor. The RAs have decorated the bulletin boards and doors with spiders, witches, and ghosts; and little pumpkins sit outside every girl’s room. I wiggle all the handles of the rooms on the right side of the hall. My side, if I were here. They all turn easily and it seems the open-door tradition of the school is still in effect, regardless of what happened last year. I get to Gigi’s room. Maybe it’s just the magic of the night, but her door opens, too.
When I flip the lights, Gigi’s room comes alive. Her butterflies are gone, but a large glass terrarium full of strange-looking plants sits on the windowsill. Halloween cutouts of ghosts and witches are taped up around the room, and a bowl of orange-wrapped chocolate pumpkins sits in a candy dish. She’s got some physical therapy stuff stashed in front of the closet in the corner, and a few of Alec’s old sweatshirts are tossed on the spare bed. A ballet barre crowds the middle of the space.