Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals, #1)(64)

“I was hoping you would come with me,” Caleb says. “It’s still too early for the Christmas vibe, but…”

“Can I go?” I ask Robert.

“After that spiel? How can I say no?”

I run upstairs, changing into nicer clothes. We’re going to the city. It’s luxurious and daunting all at once. I’ve heard horror stories about people getting mugged, pickpockets, insane taxis. But over all of that is the shiny appeal of Times Square. Central Park. Horse-drawn carriages and big floppy slices of pizza.

Caleb comes upstairs before I can start putting makeup on.

He intercepts me on the way to the bathroom, taking my makeup bag out of my hand. “You don’t need this. Not today.”

I scowl. “I want to feel pretty.”

“You can feel pretty without it.”

I try to snatch it back, but he raises it over his head.

“Caleb,” I snap.

“Stop.”

I jump for it.

“Goddamn it, Margo,” he snarls, shoving me back against the wall. “Just—stop.”

His hand stays on my chest. His fingers are dangerously close to my throat, splayed over my collarbone, and his thumb brushes my nipple.

I suck in a breath. I’m an idiot. My face gets hot.

“In the car,” he orders. He puts my small makeup case in his jacket pocket and strides away.

I wave goodbye to Robert and Lenora, who has returned home just in time to see us leave.

Robert stops me, handing me a few folded bills. “Have fun.”

“Thank you!” I wasn’t planning on spending more than I could afford—which wouldn’t have been much at all. I tuck the money in my wallet and race after Caleb.

I climb into the car, and we’re on the road in a flash. There’s a mischievous look in his eye that I can’t place. I bite my lip instead of asking about it, and soon enough we’re on the highway.

Up, up, and away.

“Why is makeup so important to you?” he asks. “You don’t think you’re pretty?”

“It’s hard to have self-confidence when everyone is trying to bring you down.” I rub my hands together. Halloween is approaching.

I stop. “Is the masquerade ball on Halloween?”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” I repeat. “Great.”

He shoots me a glance. “What’s wrong with that?”

I refuse to meet his eyes. “Bad things happen on Halloween.” I can’t believe I’ve been back at Emery-Rose for less than two months.

“Like what?”

There are skyscrapers in the distance.

“Getting chased by a foster brother with a machete. He threatened to cut off my hair.” I grimace. “Being locked in a closet for trying to take a piece of candy meant for the other kids.”

He keeps glancing at me.

“Having my costume ripped the morning of Halloween by a foster family’s kid. She didn’t like that I got to be a unicorn.”

“How old were you?” His voice is dark.

“Something happened almost every year.”

“And the last two? With your supposed good family?”

I shrug. “Hanna ate a Snickers, and her throat swelled shut. We spent the night in the ER. And then the next year, our foster mom let us all go, but she took our candy when we came back. Said she didn’t trust us not to eat it all in one night.”

“I thought you liked her.”

“They were strict.” I shrug. “Everyone is strict at first. Except—”

“The Jenkinses,” he guesses. “You like them.”

I hope they keep me.

I almost say it out loud.

But wishes and hopes are dangerous. They inflate us, make us buoyant. And in the end, it just makes a harder fall.

I know better.

“We can find complementary masks,” he says. “Something fit for…”

I raise my eyebrows.

“A king and queen.”

He can’t be serious.

“We aren’t royalty,” I sputter. “This isn’t—”

“My word is law. Eli, Theo, Liam, me… we’re it. We rose up in the school.” He chuckles. “It may not seem like it now, but come spring, everyone will be reminded.”

“Lacrosse,” I mutter.

“People like their football, but lacrosse rules around here.”

“And you rule the game.”

He cracks a smile. “Yes.”

“The school… people treat you differently in the spring?”

“We remind the students why we’re the best in the league.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “There’s a good costume shop off of Times Square.”

“What’s the errand you have to run?”

He shrugs. “Just have to sign some papers.”

“And you decided to take me along?”

“You haven’t been to the city. Besides, this type of conversation can’t be had with just myself.”

I roll my eyes. “Right.”

He glances over. “You don’t believe me.”

Not really.

“The teachers don’t ever yell at me, give me detention, call me out for being late or skipping.” He puts his hand on my thigh.