Unhinged (Splintered, #2)(62)
I push Taelor aside.
She pushes back. “A little late for that.”
The students who earlier thinned out gather around again, though they keep a safe distance.
“You didn’t volunteer to help,” Taelor snarls. “So what were you doing hiding in the locker room? Looking for some way to ruin prom again?”
“What are you talking about?” My eyes feel hot and dry and my heart pulls toward Jeb. “I don’t have time for your prom fantasies.”
“Fantasies?” Her face flushes, making her even prettier, if not for the hate in her eyes. “Aren’t fantasies supposed to be happy? There’s nothing happy about being crowned queen of prom when your king has left the dance so he can be with another girl. Bet you loved hearing how I stood onstage by myself.” Her jaw clenches tight. “The one time I got my dad to chaperone something, and all he saw was me looking like a total loser.”
I shift my feet, an uncomfortable heat rising along my neck. “Jeb knows he didn’t handle things well, and he’s sorry. He’s tried to apologize.”
She huffs. “I don’t need his pity.”
“Get over it already, Taelor,” Jenara intervenes. “It was just a stupid dance.”
“To you, maybe. Not when your family—” Taelor’s lips press tight, as if reshaping her words. “I just want to make one more good memory before I leave this place forever. So stay out of it this time! Don’t ruin my life again!”
Her words hang in the air. When she sees everyone’s widened gazes, she covers her reddening face and darts toward the locker room. For one second, her perfect mask cracked. I’m used to being under scrutiny at school, but this is new for her.
My heartbeat hammers as I remember that Rabid is waiting inside the locker room, a sitting duck. I’m torn between him and searching for Jeb, but I choose what’s closest at hand and start toward the locker room and Taelor.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Twyla grabs me from behind.
Jenara intervenes. A shoving match breaks out between them. Some students head for the door, while others pick sides and shout encouragement.
Things are escalating too fast. My head throbs as I sprint to catch up to Taelor. I snag her elbow and spin her around a few feet from the partition entrance.
Her eyes are watery. She’s vulnerable, like the kid I used to play with in elementary school. I’m struggling to find the right words to keep her out of the bathroom when someone’s shrill scream pierces my eardrums.
I glance around to check on Jen. Everyone’s attention, including hers and Twyla’s, is on something over my shoulder.
“What is that?” one student shouts, pointing.
Fearing the worst—that Rabid is standing there with all of his netherling creepitude hanging out—I follow their gazes.
“Ants!” someone else yells as a rush of black and red races across the threshold toward us.
My throat cinches tight. It can’t be. I closed the mirror portal.
Scrambling, our classmates stampede out the entrance, leaving only me and Taelor. We back up simultaneously. The invasion swirls around us, trapping us.
“Al!” Jen shouts from the doorway.
“Stay out!” I yell.
“I’m getting help!” she screams back and disappears down the breezeway.
The ants are chanting, but I can’t hear them over Taelor’s yelps. She stomps her feet, killing and maiming several.
I plug my ears against their agonized screams.
They retaliate, circling us tighter.
“Back off!” I yell at them. “She was just scared … she won’t do it again.”
“Who are you talking to?” Taelor shouts, lifting her leg to stomp some more.
“Don’t.” I put a hand on her thigh, then pick up a garland of lanterns. By shuffling the globes through the infringing army, I’m able to brush the bugs aside without hurting them. Once a path is cleared, I seize Taelor’s arm and clamber onto the banquet table, forcing her up alongside me.
She breaks out of my hold once she’s standing on top. “You planted them. That’s why you were in the locker room.”
“What?”
“You’ve always been a bug freak! This is a prank. You were going to release them tonight, weren’t you?”
“No! I …” My tongue can’t complete the denial, because what would it offer as an explanation? The truth?
“Look,” Taelor snarls. “I’m sorry I told everyone your Liddell secret! How long are you going to hold the grudge?”
“Shut up!” I shout, dropping the string of lanterns on the table between us. “I need to hear them!”
She stares at me, eyes boggling. I glare back while listening to the ants:
Run … run … run! The rabbit hole’s undone!
They weren’t running toward us, they were running from something, until Taelor started attacking. A faint scraping sound jerks my attention back to the locker room. Five spindly fingers wind around the entrance. They’re shadows, but at the same time they’re not—all black and drizzly as if made of thick liquid.
The droplets trickle down the wall to form puddles on the floor, dark and shimmery like oil. Nails the size of talons erupt from each fingertip, spreading to birth more drippy fingers. In seconds, a blanket of hands clamps the entire length of the threshold. They grip and pull, as if they can’t get through, as if a huge weight holds them back on the other end.