Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [7]
When Cherie walked in, I was quick to change the music to a more neutral station. She grumbled under her breath about my lack of musical taste as she picked out her outfit. Once she was dressed, she spritzed herself with her favorite perfume, a mixture of rose and iris that she had worn since middle school. Cherie called it her signature scent. And truly it was. I swear, even from the grave I’d smell it and know it was her. After passing each other’s inspection, Cherie and I headed toward the dance.
Cherie did most of the talking as we walked, which was good, because I could barely pay enough attention to respond with the appropriate uh-huhs. Already on edge, I kept feeling like I was being watched, maybe even followed. There were no sounds of footsteps, no movement around me that didn’t belong, at least not that I could see. And yet the prickling on my neck made me paranoid. I kept checking over my shoulder and knew I wasn’t imagining the way the light bent and darkened on the path behind me.
The wind carried the smell of chlorine past me and I froze, grabbing Cherie’s hand for support. “Do you smell that?”
“What?” Cherie asked, sniffing the air.
“Chlorine?”
Cherie shook her head and I dropped her hand, not sure if I was relieved or worried.
The Victorian lamppost above poured light around us and I reached out my hand, letting my fingers bump across its ribbed post.
I tried to sound casual as I asked, “Do you feel like we’re being followed?”
She glanced behind her. “No. Do you?”
I resisted the urge to lie. “Yeah . . . maybe.”
“I don’t see anything.” Cherie shifted her weight and began tapping her foot. “I know something’s up. What is it?”
“Would you still be my friend if I turned into my grandma?” I bit my lip, not able to look at her. I tried to picture myself living like Vovó, walking through forests scouring for herbs, speaking with spirits no one else could see, delivering messages from beyond the grave. I shuddered.
Cherie’s eyes sparkled as she stepped closer to me. “What happened?”
Not ready to have this discussion, I backpedaled. “Nothing happened. I was just wondering.”
Cherie snorted. “I’m letting this slide for now. But I’m warning you, we are finishing this conversation.”
“Okay,” I agreed, knowing I really didn’t have a choice.
* * * *
As we passed under a banner welcoming us to the Back to School Dance, a spinning globe of flashing colored lights drew our eyes upward to the ceiling covered with blue and white balloons.
“Great turn out,” I yelled over the music as we pushed our way through the throngs of people.
“I know,” Cherie said, practically shouting. She grabbed my hand and led me into the middle of the fray. A sort of frantic, contagious energy was pulsing from the dance floor and Cherie and I were swept up in it.
When the pace of the music slowed, I almost groaned in protest before heading to the back wall, or as I called it, “Loser Row.” But Cherie nudged me, and my head shot up, following her nod toward the entrance. Brent was weaving his way across the dance floor toward us. His brown eyes were focused on me and shining in what I hoped was anticipation.
“Wanna dance?” He asked.
“I guess you’ll do. All the cute guys are already taken,” I answered with a grin.
“You wound me with your callousness,” he sighed dramatically, taking me in his arms.
“I do have a black belt in demolishing overstuffed egos.”
He laughed as he tugged me closer, his hands firm on my waist.
I fought back a smile, my fingers playing with the hair curled at the base of his neck. “So how did you end up at Pendrell?”
“Family school. Grandpa, my dad, my brother all went here.”
“Any of your siblings at school now?”
Brent’s body was suddenly tense. “No, it’s just me now. Do you have any siblings?”
“I have an older sister, Melanie, in college. And an older brother, Kevin, who died about two years ago.” I took a deep breath. “Although, technically, I’m now older than he ever was.”
I waited for the obligatory apology but Brent didn’t offer one. Instead he locked eyes with me and said,