Unhinged (Splintered, #2)(106)
It’s time to blend and search.
We fit right into the ultraviolet scene. The people milling around appear just as wild as Morpheus and me. Some of my classmates even have antennae and two sets of wings like dragonflies—made of wire, cheesecloth, and fluorescent spray paint.
The trees Jeb told us about really do look real, and they are at least three times the size of the ones we made in art class—fat trunks and long branches that stick up from the top like serpentine hair. They’ve been painted white and, against the black lights, add a phantasmal element.
I shiver.
Mom pulls me aside and leans close to my ear. “I know something’s going on with you and Jeb, but don’t get distracted. The only way to make it through this is to remove yourself from your emotions. Be cutthroat and cunning. Think like a netherling queen. Okay?”
I nod. She kisses my temple, leaving the scent of her perfume wafting over me as she splits off from our group to sign in at the chaperone table. Her dress and mask appear to float through the darkness, radiant pink swirling around a shadowy blue silhouette. The student volunteer at the table hands her a fluorescent name tag and complimentary tiara of cardboard, paint, and tinsel. She puts them in place, then walks to a box of donations a few feet away. She turns her back, and the radio in my bodice comes alive with her voice.
“I’ll check this one. Look for the other. Over.” Then there’s static, barely noticeable under the eighties monster ballad blaring out of the speakers above.
“We’re on it,” Jeb tells me from behind. “Get to the dance floor. You should find a spot now, before everyone else shows up.”
“Right,” I mumble.
Morpheus drags a velvet fingertip from my shoulder to my elbow as he passes. “Keep your head about you, Alyssa. I won’t stand for you losing it.” The Wonderland implication behind his words winds a knife through my gut. Then he’s off toward the miniature-golf course.
Jeb shifts his stance behind me, as if he’s leaving, but pauses as a crackle bursts through the overhead speakers, shutting off the music.
“Five minutes till we open the door!” a bubbly teenage girl says over the intercom. “Chaperones, man your stations, and student council members, make your way to the entrance to welcome our fairy-tale guests and take donations!”
Jeb and I wait for the crowd to thin out. I’m concerned that we haven’t found the spirit-filled toys yet. I’d hoped we could do this without Jenara and Corbin and the other students being present. I fidget, and my wing brushes Jeb’s abdomen, causing my face to flush.
He leans in, breath hot on my neck. “You got this, skater girl,” he whispers softly and touches my wing tip, sending warm shimmers through my whole body.
His faith in me, in the face of what I put him through, is so unexpected, I turn to thank him. But he’s already walking away, his back barely visible in the darkness. My wing’s membranes ache from his touch.
Jaw clenched, I head for my post, ducking around busy classmates in reflective costumes. I keep my sights on the phantasmal trees. Once I get inside the forest, my own dress, hair, and wings will blend with their glaring white trunks and branches. From a few yards away, some of the trunks look as if they’re frowning—an odd anomaly formed by the wood grains. The sight triggers a distantly familiar discomfort.
Mom’s voice comes through my radio. She verifies she couldn’t find anything out of place in the box of toys and that Morpheus didn’t find anything in the other box. People stare at my talking chest from behind beaked or glittery masks, their purplish blue silhouettes as unrecognizable to me as I am to them. I ignore them and keep moving toward the dance floor and mirrored wall.
Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Jeb in the distance, his silhouette dark against the citrusy orange skating bowl rising up behind him. A temporary metal partition has been placed on the shallow end—painted the same shade as the bowl and half as tall—to keep amorous couples from stealing inside for make-out sessions.
A shadowy princess stands beside Jeb in a red sequined dress and monarch wings that flare from her shoulders, as incandescent as flames. She places a hand on his lapel, caressing the fabric. I’d know that body language anywhere. Taelor has discovered Jeb, and she’s thrilled he came without me.
Remembering Mom’s words and Morpheus’s warning, I shake off the jealousy and continue toward my assigned destination. As I pass the arcade—a few feet from the white forest—I hear a rustle, like plastic flapping in the wind.
I backtrack and duck my head into the arcade. The dark room’s alive with bouncy music, eerie sound effects, and animated lights. The plastic crinkle continues and draws me in. I pass a line of arcade game machines. Bright colors and graphics streak in my peripheral vision as I focus on the rattle. It’s coming from the Skee-Ball section, where fifty or so prizes, wrapped in cellophane bags, hang from a Peg-Board on the back wall.
Minute movement inflates and deflates the bags, as if something’s breathing inside them. My pulse pummels underneath my jawbone as I creep closer, the prizes becoming visible through their plastic covering: teddy bears and stuffed animals, vinyl clowns and porcelain dolls—all moth-eaten or eyeless, with stuffing oozing from their necks, under their arms, and out of empty sockets.
The restless souls …
“Sneaky,” I whisper and pull out my walkie-talkie with trembling hands. Backing up, I trip over my train and drop the radio. It busts apart on the stone floor.