Code(79)

Jason was standing right beside me. Worse, he and Ben had locked eyes.

“Stop it.” I planted myself between them. “Not here. Not tonight. You two are going to get along.”

I gave Ben my “get your head right” look. “It’s very important we work together. That we focus on our goal.”

Ben reddened, then nodded tightly. To the surprise of everyone, he turned and stuck out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Jason grasped and shook it. Shelton and Hi expelled sighs of relief.

“Absolutely.” Jason was oblivious. “Neither of us would spoil your debut. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Good. Now let’s do a lap before we commit to a location.”

Debs had gathered into bunches to compare dresses and swap gossip. Everyone was talking about the hurricane. While Katelyn was expected to miss Charleston, the margins were pretty fine.

Many classmates greeted us as we passed. I even received a few compliments on my dress. I was starting to feel a bit of swagger before remembering that Jason was with me. Insanely popular, he was likely the reason for the warm reception.

Shelton paced nervously at my side. Beside him, Hi strutted, tipping his top hat to anyone who looked his way. Though a few rolled their eyes, most chuckled and returned the gesture. Hi grinned either way.

We were halfway around the room when I spotted two prongs of the Tripod. Ashley and Courtney were holding court at a corner table, looking stunning, surrounded by a crowd of escorts. Spotting me, Ashley covered her mouth and whispered. The group exploded in laughter.

My ears burned. My cheeks.

Yes. These skanks could still sting me.

Ben shot a scowl, but I caught his elbow. “It doesn’t matter. We have more pressing issues.”

“Ignore them.” Jason nodded to a table across the room. “Let’s set up camp there. It’s time to stuff our faces.”

Working through a Vera Wang–Dior bottleneck, I found myself shoulder to shoulder with Madison, so deeply tanned she looked like a photo negative in her snow-white frock. Her shimmering diamond necklace out-valued my college fund. Times ten.

Not again.

If my presence had spooked Madison before, it now clearly petrified her.

Eyes bulging, she backpedaled into Chance, slipped sideways around him, and rabbited out the main doors.

Her flight did not go unnoticed.

Hushed conversations spread. About the Boat Girl. The brainiac grade-skipper who blew up at the yacht club. The sophomore with some weird hold over Madison.

Classmates watched. Some amused, some confused. Some angry.

“Can we keep moving?” Shelton spoke out the side of his mouth. “My social anxiety disorder is kicking in big time.”

“Just smile and wave, like you’re prom queen.” Hi took his own advice as he and Shelton crossed to join Jason at the open table.

As I moved to follow, Chance blocked my path. “A moment?”

I nodded toward Crab Cake Corner. Ben regarded us a moment before following the others.

“You always make an entrance.” Chance had forgone a tuxedo in favor of a sharp black suit. He looked like a movie star, dark and handsome.

I shrugged, tried to play it cool. “I can’t help if Madison freaks every time she sees me.”

“True. She thinks you’re a witch or something.”

My mouth opened.

“I know, I know.” Chance’s hand rose to cut me off. “But she’s convinced you tried to possess her at school the other day. During lunch, which is bizarre, since we were alone at the time. Madison told me you’re trying to steal her soul.”

I went stone still.

Madison felt me! I really did make contact!

Chance was watching me from the corner of his eye. Hoping for a reaction?

Careful.

“That’s completely insane,” I said, forcing a laugh.

He shrugged. “As her marshal, I should probably have kept that to myself.”

“Well I’m not going to spread it around.”

“Good idea.” Chance changed the subject. “Are you coming to my post-ball soiree? It’s going to be epic. A-list only.”

My head tilted. “I don’t think so.” Not on your life.

“Pity. You’ll be missed.”

Suddenly, the conversation felt surreal.

A psychopath was jerking me around. I was supposed to be hunting a freaking bomb. We could all be dead in minutes if my friends and I didn’t win The Game.

Yet there I was, chatting with Chance Claybourne.

Why? Was Chance putting me at ease for reasons of his own? Reasons I wouldn’t like?

Remember. He suspects.

Chance covered a yawn. “These events are such a drag. Be thankful you’re leading off. You won’t have to wait in that tedious line.”

“What?” Mild panic. “Why? Because I’m youngest?”

“No, Miss Brennan.” Chance was adjusting his black silk tie. “In this case the alphabet was the culprit. Ashley begged off going first for some reason.”

Great. I’d never seen this absurdity done before, yet had to open the show. My luck is consistent, I’ll say that much. And I was instantly suspicious of why Ashley changed spots.

I was about to pepper Chance with a million questions—I should’ve paid more attention in cotillion—when something caught my eye.