Mafiosa (Blood for Blood #3)(46)



‘And what exactly is a Crispin?’ Luca sounded like he could taste the word in his mouth and didn’t like it one bit.

I rolled my eyes. ‘A Crispin is a person, Luca. He’s Millie’s boyfriend. And the dance is being supervised in the gym. It’s perfectly safe. It’s the same as going to school.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘Yeah, well.’ I shrugged my bag on to my shoulder. ‘Whatever.’

‘You’re not going, Sophie. I’m serious.’

‘We’ll see.’ I shut the door and flounced up the steps, feeling his glare on the back of my neck.

My phone buzzed.



It’s not happening.



I rolled my eyes. It was so happening. Otherwise Donata Marino would have to get in line behind Millie for my head on a plate. There was no logic in Luca keeping me from the school dance if he was prepared to make me go to school every day. The two were basically the same thing, and it’s not like Donata had the timetable for Cedar Hill High’s social events. Still. Best not cause an all-out civil war with Luca over it. A well-placed emoji should smooth things over. A giggling monkey? No. Too frivolous. Dancing Se?orita lady? A definite contender, but perhaps a bit too taunt-y. Something that says ‘I’m not going to listen to you in this instance, but let’s just move on and not be mad about it, OK?’



I don’t respect your authority, remember? ?



I made my way along the deserted corridors. I was definitely late. Another ping back.



You are such a brat.



Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. I stalled outside my biology class and sent back one more text.



Try and stop me.



I shuffled inside, made my hasty apologies and slid into my seat, glancing surreptitiously at my phone one last time.



Watch me.



At lunchtime, Millie and I convened with sandwich wraps and smoothies outside on the bleachers. I had pushed the argument with Luca right to the back of my mind – into the filing cabinet with all the other ones.

‘Why do we have to do this here?’ I asked Millie, rubbing my arms through my coat. ‘I’m going to freeze.’

‘Well, at least don’t freeze with that frown on your face, cranky-pants. I don’t want anyone else to see these dresses. It would be a huge spoiler.’ She took a swig of her smoothie and nearly spat it out. ‘I hate kale so much. Why do I do this to myself?’

Mine was berry. And it was de-lic-ious. I gulped it down. ‘Because you’re trying to be healthy?’

‘It’s not worth drinking grass over. And my wrap is just feta and lettuce,’ she lamented.

‘At least it won’t get stuck in your braces,’ I pointed out. Millie had just gotten her braces off and we were taking every opportunity to point out how bling-tastic her teeth were now that they weren’t hidden. Millie was beautiful already, but her new smile was an explosion of loveliness. It suited her. Pearly white, straight teeth to go with her long dark hair, a smattering of freckles over porcelain skin, and those shiny blue eyes.

She gnashed her teeth at me, scrunching her nose at the same time. ‘At least I can now eat things in an orderly and timely fashion.’

‘And look amazing all the while,’ I said, ‘not that you weren’t a vision before.’

She slapped my arm playfully. ‘You flatterer, you.’

We sat down and she pulled out two floor-length dresses from her bag and laid them in front of us, side by side.

My eyes grew, and something hitched up in my chest.

Something small and slumbering awoke inside me. A new sensation – or at least one so long forgotten that it felt new. It was a feeling of anticipation … of wanting. I was used to frequent pinches, feelings of anxiety, of fear … but this, this was unexpected. I thought that excitable, girly, teenager part of me was dead and buried, but here was a sliver of it, getting geared up for the Masquerade Ball. Suddenly, I really really wanted to go to the dance.

‘Royal blue or emerald green?’ Millie asked. She was still fluffing them out, showing their shape.

‘They’re amazing.’ I fingered the delicate green material, lifting it up and letting it flow between my fingers. ‘Are you sure? Won’t your mom mind?’

‘No way,’ she said, grinning. ‘She’d give you the moon right now if she could. Pick whichever one you want. I’m wearing a black fishtail one so you can have either of these. They’re pretty tight, but you’re outrageously hot, so it’s fine.’

I slapped her arm playfully. ‘Now who’s the flatterer?’ A smile caught in my cheeks. I stroked the material, loving the softness beneath my fingertips. And to think, just this morning I was as enthusiastic about the gun in my lap. What was wrong with me?

Which Sophie was I?

‘Hmmm.’ I lifted up both so I could see how they fell.

‘I think the blue one would bring out your eyes,’ Millie pointed out. I swished it around, admiring how the material tumbled like a waterfall. It was Grecian in style, with delicate straps that criss-crossed near the bodice. It was tight around the waist and flowed to the ground in tumbling waves.

‘The material slits halfway up the side so it swishes when you walk.’ Millie made a swish-swish sound and moved her hands in front of me in squiggling lines to demonstrate.

Catherine Doyle's Books