Miss Mayhem (Rebel Belle #2)(61)

“Pres, about last night—”

“If you say you’re sorry,” I interrupted, “I’ll murder you. Not that I can, of course, but I could try.”

This time, his smile was genuine, but there was something sad in it. “I wasn’t going to. I was going to say . . . Look, it’s not like I can say it didn’t change things, exactly, but . . .”

My chest hurt, but it had nothing to do with any Paladin powers.

“But it’s still easier when we’re not together,” I finished, and David sighed, his eyes searching the horizon.

“It’s not easier,” he said, and I heard the slight catch in his voice. “But it’s still the best thing we can do.”

He turned to look at me then, and I wasn’t sure if it was the sun on his glasses or that glow that still wasn’t going anywhere. “I meant everything I said last night. Every word. But—”

“We need to stay Paladin/Oracle and lose the whole boyfie/girlfie thing,” I said, and David’s lips twitched.

“Still the worst word.”

I smiled at him even though nothing in me felt all that smiley. He was right, I knew that. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

And then he turned to me, taking my hands in his and searching my face. “Even if the Peirasmos is over, that doesn’t suddenly make things right, you know? There could still be people wanting to take me, you’d still have to deal with Bee and her Paladin powers, I could turn into . . . Pres, look into my eyes.”

I knew he didn’t mean that in a romantic way, and sure enough when I looked closer, I could see the dots of light there in his pupils.

“That’s not going away,” he told me. “And I have a feeling that every time I have a vision, they’re going to get bigger and brighter. You keep saying you don’t want me to go with Alexander because he’ll turn me into a ‘thing,’ but . . . Harper, I think that’s going to happen anyway.”

“It’s not,” I said, shaking my head. “I know that if we—we work at it, and try to—”

“Harper.” He squeezed my fingers tighter. “It’s going to happen.”

Stupid as it was, I heard myself blurt out, “You can’t know that.”

But of course he could. Of course he did.

I stepped back, letting my hands fall from his. “That’s what you saw, isn’t it? Last night at the golf course.”

“Part of what I saw, yeah,” David said, turning away and heading down the porch steps.

I stood where I was, and despite the warmth of the late spring afternoon, I suddenly felt very cold. “What was the rest?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.





Chapter 31


THE NIGHT of the pageant was hot and muggy. Mom and Dad still didn’t quite get why I even wanted to do it, but they came anyway. “I missed Cotillion,” Mom had said as she’d carried my baton out to the car, my costume in a garment bag draped over one arm. “I won’t miss this.”

Without Ryan’s powers, there was no way to keep my parents from coming, although, trust me, I’d been trying to find an excuse. Of course, now I guessed that didn’t matter so much. Alexander had said that the Peirasmos were over, but you couldn’t blame me for not trusting the guy. He’d looked plenty freaked out the last time I’d seen him, and I’d thought he’d sounded sincere. But then I remembered Cotillion and the Ephors’ flair for the dramatic. It would be just like them to make me lower my guard, only to attack when I was unprepared.

That wasn’t going to happen.

So by the time we got to the rec center, I was already pretty tense.

So was Sara Plumley. Granted, she wasn’t worrying about the boy she loved possibly turning into a mystical being, but from the way she was running around shrieking, you would think something a lot more dire had happened than one girl running a little late.

“Harper!” she barked at me as soon as I walked backstage. “I thought you weren’t coming!”

“It isn’t that big of a deal,” Bee said, walking in behind me. “She was—”

“What if she hadn’t been here?” Sara near-shrieked. “One girl missing creates a hole in the choreography!”

With that, she stomped off, clipboard in hand, heels clacking, and as soon as she was gone, Bee and I burst into giggles.

“Maybe we should have told Sara about Cotillion,” I said, hanging up my talent costume. “It might have put things in perspective.”

I’d meant to make Bee laugh, but instead, she frowned. And when she reached out to take my hand, I realized she was shaking.

“Hey, are you all right?” I asked, stepping closer.

Bee smiled brightly, and something in my stomach twisted. I knew that smile. I’d made that smile before. That was the smile of a girl desperately trying to fake it.

“What—” I started, but then the lights blinked twice, signaling that it was almost time for the pageant to start.

“That’s our cue!” Bee chirped, and then she was out of the dressing room, leaving me to trail in her wake, confused.

We gathered in a straight line toward the back of the stage, and as the curtain went up, music blared from the sound system. I was between Bee and Rebecca Shaw, which made me feel about three feet tall, but that was actually okay. The fewer people noticed me as we launched into our supremely cheesy dance routine (one that involved smiling too hard, thrusting our arms out, and the occasional pivot) the happier I was.