Текст книги "Just Me"
Автор книги: L.A. Fiore
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
His mother did look beautiful with sable brown hair and indigo blue eyes. Dressed in a sapphire-blue silk sheath that hugged her perfect figure, she didn't seem old enough to have two grown sons. Unlike her husband, her attention was fixed on her son, but I didn't see love in her expression, only censure as if she was checking him over for flaws.
His brother, Dominic, looked so much like Bastian it was a bit scary. He wasn't as tall or solidly built as Bastian, but love and humor shone from his greenish-blue eyes. At least Bastian had that.
We reached the table as Dominic and the father stood; Bastian made the introductions. “Mom, Dad, Dom, this is my girlfriend, Larkspur. Lark, my mom and dad, Jennifer and Sinclair Ross, and my brother, Dom.”
“Hello, Larkspur, we are so glad you could join us this evening. Please sit,” Jennifer said as she gestured to my chair.
Bastian helped me to my seat before taking the seat next to me.
“Thank you, I’m really happy to be here,” I said just as the waiter handed us our menus. The tension in the air was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. I had never felt so uncomfortable. The conversation remained forced and very impersonal and then quite suddenly the focus turned to me.
“Larkspur, tell us about your family,” his dad asked.
“My mom died when I was eight, so I live with my uncle and aunt. He's an attorney and my aunt stays home with the kids.” I saw the disgust in Sinclair's expression and assumed that was due to my aunt staying home with the kids instead of having a nanny doing so. I couldn't help but think that was strike one.
“Are they members here?” He asked.
“No.” Strike two.
“What about your dad?” He pressed.
“I never knew him.”
Strike three.
“Do you have any idea what you want to do next year?” I had already struck out with the man, who clearly found me lacking, so I held his stare and replied, “I'm going to Columbia to study art.”
“An artist. What's your medium?” Jennifer asked.
“Charcoal and oils mostly.”
“You see, Sebastian, even your girlfriend knows what she wants to do next year. You need to stop dragging your feet. It's time for you to come into the office and learn the ropes,” Sinclair chided.
I just stared, because it was so inappropriate to be having this discussion not only in public, but in front of me. For all the breeding they claimed to have, Sinclair and Jennifer Ross had no class.
I looked over at Bastian and expected to see him react in some way to his father's bad manners, but instead he smiled at his brother, undisturbed. Was he like me, so accustomed to his mistreatment, that it didn't come as a surprise to him?
“You can't spend your life living as carelessly as you do.” His father was on a roll. “I can't tell you how embarrassing it is for me to have to explain to my friends why my son has a part-time job to begin with…but being a mechanic of all things. You may be comfortable interacting with the middle class, but we are not middle class. Aim higher, Sebastian, you're a Ross.”
Why I had the feeling his last comment of aiming higher was about me, I couldn't say. The two of them were a tag team with the goal of breaking Bastian down. I now understood why he had the tattoos—a daily visual reminder to never give up; to fight for what he wanted.
His mom said, “I was disappointed that Kira couldn't make it this evening. She is such a lovely girl and so accomplished. Did you know she and Sebastian have been friends since they were in kindergarten? Her parents are in agreement with us, have been since the children were very little, that they should marry. I understand Sebastian is young and needs to sow his oats, but in the end like calls to like. You understand my meaning, don't you, dear?”
Did she just say that? Insufferable bitch. My attention shifted to Bastian, since I felt the change in him in response to his mother's baiting: every muscle tensed and the smile faded from his face.
“Kira's a self-absorbed snob and nothing like me, but, regardless, my girlfriend is sitting at the table and you will not disrespect her again.”
I covered his fisted hand with my own. It was official. I hated his parents as much as they disapproved of me. I didn't want Bastian's evening ruined, so I tried to offer him comfort, but his mother wasn't done.
“Larkspur seems like a lovely young woman, but she isn't someone a man like you marries. She just doesn't mingle in your social circles. Surely, Larkspur agrees with me.”
Suddenly all eyes were on me, which wasn't good, since I was fairly sure I was giving Jennifer the evil eye. Her implication that I wasn't good enough for her son was bad enough, though expected, however the fact that she could show such disrespect for her own son, in front of his guest, was what had my temper spiking. Reaching for my glass, I took a sip in an attempt to calm down. A glance at Bastian confirmed that he looked about ready to explode too. I touched his face to turn his gaze to mine.
“It's okay; I understand what your mom is saying.”
He looked at me in confusion. Apoplectic would be a better word. My attention turned to Jennifer. She gave me a pleasant smile, but I didn't miss the spite just behind her eyes. Having grown up with my aunt, I was used to hostility aimed at me, but the Rosses behavior was over the top. They didn't know me well enough to have such a strong reaction to me which only reinforced what I had already feared. His parents had a plan for Bastian and I didn't fit into that plan. And it was their blatant disregard for Bastian and what he wanted that caused me to snap.
I leaned back in my chair. “I don't suppose Bastian and I do move in the same circles, but now that I've got my hooks into him, I'm not about to let go. With Bastian, I'll be able to aspire to something higher than a double-wide and six kids all with different fathers. Now that, to me, is living the dream.”
“There's no call for sarcasm.” This criticism came from Sinclair, but since he was too busy looking around the room to see whether anyone watched us, I couldn't be sure he was actually speaking to me. Jennifer did not bother to hide her contempt. “In our social circles, young lady, the young respect their elders and defer to their life experience.”
I was the one feeling apoplectic now and I was frankly surprised my head didn't lift off my shoulders and spin around in true Exorcism fashion. I may not have blood relations who cared about me, but I knew from watching the Wrights what loving families were all about.
Leaning closer to Jennifer, I held her glare with one of my own. “And in my social circle, family always has your back. Private matters are discussed in private, not among outsiders, and respect is earned. Insulting a dinner guest is hardly respect-worthy. As far as deferring to your judgment, I can't do that, because when you look at your son, you see someone lacking and when I look at him, I see an honorable, courageous and beautiful man inside and out. So you will have to forgive me, but we are going to have to agree to disagree.”
Jennifer stood so abruptly she almost overturned her chair. “I've suddenly lost my appetite.” And without another word, she turned in a wave of sapphire silk and swept from the room. It was an Academy Award-winning exit.
Sinclair stood and took a moment to look around the room again before turning his attention on Bastian. “Your girlfriend is just another example of your downward spiral.”
Bastian leaped out of his chair in a flash. His hands were balled into fists, but it was Sinclair's reaction that surprised me, because despite his air of indifference, there was fear in his eyes.
I hardly recognized Bastian's voice when he hissed, “You don't want to keep your wife waiting.”
In response, Sinclair shrugged his shoulders and strolled away.
“I'm sorry, Bastian.”
The coldness in his eyes surprised me. “Don't apologize, Lark.” I watched as the coldness was replaced with an intensity that had my heart rate doubling. His voice softened, “I've never been more in awe of someone in my life.”
“You aren't mad?” I asked as nerves had my stomach twisting into a knot.
“Mad? Hell no! To see my parents get it back as good as they give it was awesome.”
Dominic's eyes sparkled, “You can say that again. You're a lucky guy, Bastian.”
Bastian took his seat, but his eyes never left mine. “You don't have to tell me that, bro, I already know. Let's order, I'm starving.”
After dinner we said our goodbyes to Dominic, but not before I got his phone number. As Bastian and I headed back to Poppy's, my thoughts lingered on the disastrous encounter with his parents. Looking in Bastian's direction was impossible because I was embarrassed at how I had behaved: like a girl who had been raised by wolves. Bastian claimed that he was okay with how I had spoken to his parents, but they were his parents and I had been exceedingly rude. I heard the words coming from my mouth before I even realized I intended to say them. “I'm really sorry I spoke to your parents the way I did. They were being insufferable, but that doesn't make my behavior right.”
His knuckles brushed against my cheek. “Stop thinking about it. I would have torn into them harder if you hadn't beaten me to it. Dinner turned out to be really fun after they left, so please stop being so hard on yourself.” His eyes met mine and I saw the humor, “Aspire to more than a double-wide and six kids with different fathers.” He laughed out loud. “That was fucking priceless. I don't think I will ever forget the look on my mom's face when you said that.”
I couldn't help the grin, because as appalled as I was with my behavior, there was a small part of me that had really enjoyed provoking them. My smiled faded though when I thought of Bastian and Dominic growing up under the thumb of those people.
“How did you and your brother manage to stay so down to earth?”
“I honestly don't know.”
“I always thought being invisible was the worse way to grow up, but I think maybe being oppressed is.”
“I'm moving out; I already found an apartment,” he said.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I'm 19 and I make good money at the garage. Besides I've spent most of the past year crashing at Dom's.”
My heart ached hearing that he had spent much of the last year at his brother's because it only reinforced how bad his life at home must have been.
“What are you thinking?” He asked.
“I'm thinking I'm happy for you.”
“Maybe you could help me decorate my place?”
“I'd love to.”
We rode in silence for a bit before I asked, “I don't believe that you don't know what you want to do with your life, because you're too together for that. What is it you want to do?”
He smiled as he continued to watch the road, so I took a moment to study the beautiful lines of his profile. “See, you know me better than anyone. I want to be an architect with a focus on restoration.” He looked at me and added, “Columbia has an excellent program.”
“Did you apply?” I couldn't help my excitement at the idea of us going to Columbia together.
“Yes.”
“And?” I wanted to smack him for keeping me in suspense.
“I was accepted.”
“Are you kidding? You're seriously considering going to Columbia?”
“I already was before I even met you, but now that I know it's where you're going to be, I'm absolutely going to Columbia.”
“How will you pay for it? I can't imagine your parents will help, especially knowing that I'll be there.”
“My parents set up a trust for me when I was younger. I suspect they only did so because it was the thing to do and they are all about image. In this case, their vanity worked in my favor, because I gained access to the funds when I turned eighteen.”
I couldn't help the smile I gave him, it matched the one he was giving me.
“Why didn't you tell your parents what you want to do next year?”
“They aren't interested in knowing what will make me happy. They're only concerned about how what I do will affect them, so fuck them.”
I understood what he was feeling. Maybe it was because we were both broken souls, we connected to each other as quickly and as powerfully as we had.
“You don't mind, do you, that I'm following you to Columbia?” He asked almost nervously.
“No!”
He chuckled at my adamant answer.
“I realize we're young, but I don't see my feelings for you ever changing; it's different with you,” I said.
“It is different. I feel it too.”
“Are you free on Tuesday?” I asked.
“On my birthday, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“I am,” he said with a wink.
“Can you come to Alfonso's? I have to work, but I have something I would like to give you.”
“A present?” He asked with excitement.
“Yes.”
“Sweet. What time?”
“About six,” I suggested.
“I'll be there.”
***
I had a few days to pull it all together. I called Caden and asked him to tell the others at the garage the day and the time, texted Dominic, Brad and Jim, asking Jim to pass on the word to Bastian's soccer teammates. I even contacted Mr. Carter and invited him and his wife, Marnie.
Mr. Alfonso ended up being really cool about it, and not only reserved a section of the restaurant for the party, but also said he'd provide the pizzas, fries and sodas free of charge. I tried to pay him, but he said I was family and he wouldn't hear of it.
Sophia, Shawn and Poppy were currently crepe-papering our section so it looked like a clown had thrown up, but I couldn't deny that it did look very festive. I even made the cake, a big chocolate cake, from scratch. I sneaked a little and it was really good.
A few minutes before six, we heard the sound of Bastian's bike and we all took our places. He pulled the door open just as everyone screamed, “Surprise.”
His focus zeroed in on me and all of his friends standing behind me. A smile spread over his face.
“Happy birthday, Bastian.”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed me: quick but full of meaning. “A party?”
“More like hanging with pizza, soda and cake, a big chocolate cake that I made.”
“From scratch?”
“Yep.”
He responded by kissing me again.
The party was a success—Bastian had a smile on his face all night.
At one point I stood back watching as Bastian and his teammates laughed and joked with one another. I didn't notice that Dominic had come up next to me until he spoke my name.
“This was really great, Lark. I like seeing my brother so happy. He told me he's going to Columbia next year. I'm happy for both of you.”
Studying Dominic, I noticed tension creep into his expression and the hard set of his jaw.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
“I just want you to watch your backs, because I don't think you've heard the last from my parents. Besides being snobs, they are also vindictive.”
My heart lodged into my throat in response to his warning. What had I done? Dom clearly had no trouble reading my thoughts, “I don't want to scare you, but I don't want you to be blindsided either. My parents are nothing if not predictable.”
“Their interest in Bastian's future isn't really about Bastian, is it?”
“No. They never paid him any attention when he was younger, but now it's all about money and more than the money, image. Both sons refuse to follow in their old man's footsteps. What will people think?”
“Working for your father isn't what Bastian wants to do with his life, either.”
“It doesn't matter to my parents. They never bothered to get to know their son, so they think if they apply just the right amount of pressure, they can bend him to their will.”
“He won't bend.”
“Not willingly. They'll come at you, because to them you are the reason Bastian isn't falling in with their wishes.”
Ominous and exactly what I feared.
“I've never seen my brother so happy and I think he makes you just as happy. Remember that, and remember that my parents only have power if you give it to them.”
“Thanks, Dom.” I watched as he joined Bastian and I was thankful for his words of warning, but I couldn't help the overwhelming belief that his parents held power whether I gave it to them or not.
Later in the night after everyone went home, Bastian and I sat in Alfonso's after we broke down the party.
“This was the best birthday that I've ever had.” Tenderness rang in his voice.
“I still have to give you your present.”
“I thought the party was the present.”
“Only part of the present,” I said.
“You didn't have to get me anything, Lark.”
“I know.” Resting against the back wall was a large rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper. Retrieving it, I offered it to him. “Happy birthday.”
“You really didn't need to do this.”
“I know, but you must admit it's fun to have something to open.”
He grinned. “Ab so-fuckin'-lutely.”
He unwrapped the package to reveal my painting, Mainstream, which I had had framed. He stared at it for so long I worried that maybe I had been wrong about his reaction to the painting that day in the art room. I tried to explain the reasoning behind the gift.
“I thought it could be another visual reminder for you to hold fast to your dreams.”
He moved so fast, lifting from his chair and pulling me into his arms. He buried his face in my hair.
He didn't say anything at first, seemingly lost in his thoughts, but then his head lifted and our gazes lock. The rawness of his voice spoke to the emotions burning through him. “I've never been given anything so incredible.”
“It fits you,” I said.
He touched a lock of my hair and a grin tugged at his mouth, “A little bird told me your birthday is coming up. November 7th, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good to know.”
“You don't have to do anything. Hanging with you and the gang is enough for me.”
“I'll take that under advisement.”
“Why do I get the sense that you are already plotting?”
He framed my face with his hands, “Because you know me so well. Thank you for tonight and for your painting. I really do love it.”
“Happy birthday.”
He responded by kissing me.
***
The smell of oatmeal raisin cookies drew me into the kitchen to find Deena and Carol making a huge mess. Lucky for me, they were just pulling a tray from the oven. I adored their oatmeal raisin cookies.
Carol saw me first and smiled in greeting. “Hey, Lark. You're just in time.”
“What's the occasion?” I asked while settling on a stool at the kitchen island.
“Cheerleading social,” Deena said.
“Where's Aunt Kim?”
“My uniform's a little too big, so she's taking it in for me.”
Not sure why that hurt, but it did. “Oh.”
“There's plenty of cookies, do you want some?”
“Please.”
As I was reaching for a cookie, Carol asked, “Is that boy who picks you up in the morning your boyfriend?”
My face grew warm at the joy of sharing such a girl moment with my cousins. “Yes, he's my boyfriend.”
“Oh, Lark. He's so beautiful,” Deena said dreamily. “What's his name?”
“Bastian.”
“And he drives a motorcycle, that's so sexy.” Carol climbed onto the stool next to me and added, “Are those tattoos on his arms real?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, I bet that hurt.” Deena took a bite from her cookie. “What's he like?”
“He plays soccer and likes to work on cars. He's smart and funny. Kind, like down-to-the-bone kind.” A glance at the girls made it clear they wanted more. “He makes my knees weak and my heart pound. When he kisses me, I never want him to stop.”
“Oh, man.” Deena sounded dangerously close to whining. “You're in love with him.”
“I really am.”
“And him?” Carol asked.
“Fell just as hard.”
“You're so lucky,” they said in unison and Carol added, “I wish I had a boy like that. Mom would never approve.”
An icy chill worked down my spine and I glanced behind me to see Aunt Kim standing in the doorway. She clutched Deena's uniform so tightly her knuckles were turning white.
“Lark, you must have homework to do. Go do it. Girls, let's clean this up so we can start dinner.”
My attention turned back to the girls, “Thanks for the cookie. Those are my fave.”
“Anytime, Lark,” Carol said, but I was already halfway out of the room.
The look my aunt gave me as I passed had the hair on my arms standing on end. Not sure what it was I did this time, but I felt her glare until I was out of sight.
Chapter Eight
The following weekend I helped Bastian move into his apartment. His landlord had been reluctant at first to rent to a teenager—feared the noise and potential trouble Bastian may cause in their quiet building. His attitude shifted though when Bastian handed him the first and last months’ rent plus security deposit in cash. It was unclear if the landlord's change of heart was due to learning Bastian held a job that paid enough for him to afford the apartment, or if it was just that the payment was in cash. Having a trust fund certainly came in handy.
His new place was both close to school and the garage where he worked. The second floor, two-bedroom-one-bath unit seemed really cozy. He even had a fireplace and I couldn't wait for winter to curl up with him in front of it. A pang of sadness shot through me that his parents couldn't see the gift that they had in him. Never knowing my dad and losing my mom when I was so young, to see parents willingly and intentionally neglecting their child was both inconceivable and heartbreaking. Today was a good day for him, so I turned my thoughts to pleasant ones.
He had ordered a sofa, a bed and a television, so the day we were unpacking his boxes, the delivery trucks came one after another. Once we had most of his stuff unpacked, he ordered a pizza. After we ate, we relaxed on his new sofa.
“There's one more thing I want to do,” he said rather cryptically before he moved from the sofa and disappeared into the second bedroom. He came back into the living room holding my painting, a hammer and a picture hook. “I want to put it on that wall so I can see it when I'm sitting here.”
I was overwhelmed at the sight of him doing something so commonplace. He wasn't just hanging my painting. He was moving me into his apartment too. He confirmed this when he said, “You're turning eighteen. The door's open any time you want to move in.”
My blood actually sizzled in my veins just thinking about moving in with him and where that would lead. The most wickedly sexy look flashed over Bastian's face. Clearly he was thinking the same thing. “I absolutely want you in my bed but until you're ready, there is a second bedroom.”
I had to keep myself from agreeing immediately. I wanted my life as entwined with his as possible, but there was a part of me that held back because of Dominic's warning.
“I want to…but I'm just not there yet.”
“There's no rush, I'm not going anywhere.”
And even as I smiled in reply, I couldn't help the feeling of foreboding that slithered along my skin.
***
The weeks that followed Bastian's move flew by, and before long Halloween had arrived. The school was hosting its annual parade and dance.
Though I had attended these dances every year, I never dressed up for them. This year, my last year, I broke from tradition, but I was keeping my costume a secret. Bastian, learning that I wasn't going to share, decided he wasn't going to share either. Poppy and Sophia tried in vain to guess my costume as we sat in the lunchroom.
“A blue crayon.”
I looked at Sophia like she had horns popping out of the top of her head. “What am I, two?”
“A taco,” Poppy said.
“I don't even like tacos.”
Bastian's long legs stretched out in front of him as he listened, a grin tugging at his mouth.
“Black Widow from the Avengers?” Sophia guessed.
“I could definitely get behind that costume,” Bastian said; my eye roll at him was instinctual.
“You aren't going as something dorky like a water molecule or DNA are you?”
“Sophia, where are you getting these ideas?” Poppy asked.
“They were some of the ideas I had and rejected.”
Chuckling at Sophia's confession, I said, “You'll see it tomorrow night.” I was excited about my costume. The meaning of it would be lost on everyone but Bastian.
The look on Bastian’s face made my stomach flip flop. “And I'm really looking forward to that,” he said.
***
The night of the dance, I had the pleasant surprise of Deena and Carol appearing in my door eager and smiling.
“Can we help you get ready?”
Despite my aunt's behavior toward me, the girls had always been kind, if a bit distant, but since my uncle vowed that things would be different, the girls were also making an effort. Knowing this, it was still unexpected, but welcomed, when they did. “I'd really like that.”
“Are you a mermaid?” Carol asked, while she fingered the light fabric of my costume from its spot hanging on my closet door.
“A siren.”
“Like the ones who lure men to their deaths out at sea?” Deena asked.
“Yeah.”
The girls didn't get it, but Bastian would. My costume was a turquoise halter dress fitted in the mermaid fashion and even flared a bit at the bottom. I found a pair of jeweled sandals from the local Goodwill to wear with it. I wanted to curl my hair and tuck a few silk flowers into it, but I was struggling with the curling iron.
“Let me do that.” Deena took it from me and with the practiced moves of someone far more acquainted than me with the activity, expertly got to work on my hair.
“Turn to your side so I can work on your makeup.” I noticed the frown when Carol saw my unimpressive collection of makeup. I didn't generally wear it, so I didn't see the need to dip into my savings to buy it. “You've got no foundation or liner. Lark, you don't even have lipstick. I'll be right back.”
With the seriousness of her expression when she left the room, you'd think we were discussing food shortages in third world countries.
“Do you have any preference for where these flowers go?”
My eyes found Deena's in the mirror. “No, whatever you think works.”
“Cool.” She looked almost nervous when she added, “This is fun. We should do this more often.”
The feeling of belonging turned my voice a bit hoarse. “I'd really like that.”
My uncle had offered to drive me to the dance, but he was running late. The girls were now doing homework after having spent an hour helping me get ready. It was nice bonding with them, but it also had me reflecting on the kind of relationship my mom and aunt had shared. Had they been close? Did they paint each other's nails and gossip about boys, and if so, why hadn't my aunt noticed the change in my mom? Why hadn't she tried to understand the cause?
Grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter, I was just taking a bite when my aunt walked in. The expression on her face was so similar to the one Jennifer Ross had given Bastian on the night of his birthday dinner that I had absolutely no problem understanding what was going on in her head.
“That's a bit revealing for a school function, don't you think?”
Self-consciously, I glanced down at myself. “No.”
“Once you're labeled a slut, it sticks.”
The apple piece I had been chewing on went down the wrong pipe, and as I coughed to get it out, she stayed rooted to the spot just across the kitchen from me. My throat felt raw by the time I was able to breathe again.
“Are you sleeping with that boy? You must realize that boys don't take girls like you seriously.”
Rage and hurt warred inside me. “And what kind of girl am I?”
She gestured with her hand, “Pretty on the outside and shallow on the inside. You're the girl they play with, not the one they marry; my girls, on the other hand, are prizes. You keep that boy away from them because once he's had his fill of you, he'll set his sights on them. He's nowhere near good enough for them.”
And it was comments like this that drew into question her sanity. Was she serious? The idea that Bastian was only using me, or that he would move from me to the girls, who were so much younger than us, was so ridiculous I couldn't bring myself to be angry about that comment. However, I did object to her opinion of me. “I'm not shallow.”
“That's what your mom said too, and look how that turned out.”
I slapped her hard across the face. Really, I didn’t, but the image in my head was so life-like, it was oddly satisfying, watching her head snap back from the blow. I didn't know if I was more angry at the idea that she could sound so blasé about her sister, or because she compared me to my train-wreck of a mother.
How words passed my lips when I choked on rage was a mystery. “Don't worry, I'll keep Bastian away from the girls.”
Fueled by my anger, I turned, grabbed my coat from the hook, and walked right out the back door. It was cold, but I was so angry I hardly noticed. My feet carried me back and forth across the driveway as my temper stewed. I had half a mind to walk back into the house and slap her for real, but it would only land me in trouble. My uncle pulled up ten minutes later.
“Lark, what are you doing out here, it's cold?”
Oh, how much I would love to dump it on him, but why make his life miserable too? “I was warm.” The lie slipped silkily past my tongue.
“Hop in, you're making me cold.”
On the drive my uncle peppered me with questions about my day and though I answered, my mind was elsewhere. He pulled up in front of the school. “You look beautiful, Lark. Have fun tonight.”
“I will. Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.”
Climbing from the car, I pulled my long coat closed over my costume and hurried inside. I wasn't going to let my aunt ruin my night. It had been her intention after all. Likely she overheard the girls helping me get ready, and the thought of them being kind to me must have really burned her ass. She would not spoil my night and I was surprised at how easily I was able to dismiss her from my thoughts.
My friends had yet to arrive, so I dropped my coat at the coat rack before making my way into the gym. The dance committee had done a really great job of turning the gym into a haunted castle of sorts. The bleachers had been pushed back against the wall and black cloths had been draped over them, hiding the wires of the white fairy lights that shone through the fabric like stars in the night sky. The choir's grand piano had been wheeled in, a cloth draped over it, and an old candelabra, with black taper candles, sat on top of it. Life-size ghouls had been situated around the open space, ghosts hung off the basketball nets, and eerie music pumped in over the speakers. A table, dressed in an orange and black lace cloth, bore ghastly baked goods: bloodshot eye cupcakes, bread sticks in the shape of witch's fingers and skeleton bones, red velvet cake in the shape of a human heart that looked as if it was bleeding where slices had been cut.
