Haunted

Flashing Lights

Cassie turned to me, doing a twirl. "What do you think?"

"You look gorgeous, obviously," I say. And I'm not lying. Cassie's blue silk dress clung in all the right places, her hair piled up on her head in a messy up-do.

"You're not so bad yourself," she says, wiggling her eyebrows. "But you need some more paint on your face."

"No, don't you dare!" I scream, putting my arms up to shield myself from her. "I don't need any more makeup."

"Aw c'mon, just some blush at least? I love you, but you look that a vampire. And that scares me."

I relent with a sigh, throwing myself back against her bed. "Fine, just don't make me look like a stripper. I have a reputation to uphold."

Cassie cocks an eyebrow at me. "If you looked like a stripper you'd get more dates."

"Cassie!"

She laughs softly to herself. "Okay, okay, I get it. Pretty and subtle. I can do that."

I sit up again, watching Cassie with suspicion as she laid out various tubs and brushes in front of me. Blush? Check. Eyeshadow? Check. Lipstick that I would inevitably get on my teeth, clothes and everything I ate? Check.

"While I have you here as my prisoner, I'm also going to fix your hair," Cassie says, speaking slowly as she traces a wing of eyeliner along my lash line.

I groan. "This was your plan all along, wasn't it?"

Cassie shook her head. "No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die."

"That's not even the right quote!"

"My house, my quotes. Now scoot forward, I'm doing your hair."

It took Cassie 40 minutes to tame my mane, which hung down to my waist by the time it was properly calmed. I gave her a high-five, which she gladly accepted, while we stood side by side in the mirror.

I put on my knee-length dress with the chiffon skirt and carefully embroidered top. I'd found it in a vintage store last year, and it'd been hanging in my closet ever since, waiting to be debuted. I put on a pair chunky ankle boots and decided I looked sort of, kind of, okay.

"All right, we need to go. Places to be, guys to wow, you know the drill," Cassie says, fishing around in her clutch for her car keys.

We get into Cassie's Jeep just as the rain starts, its delicate patter on the roof the backdrop to our drive.

Cassie barely stopped talking on the way to school. She was going on about Kyle and the music and adding a special ingredient to the punch, but I barely heard her. I picked at the fabric of my skirt, suddenly feeling like an alien in this elegant dress.

The hall seemed to be pulsating from the outside, scores of people milling around in the parking lot or filing through the double doors. I scanned the crowd for Ryan and, thankfully, didn't see him. I felt Cassie's hand close around mine, and suddenly she was tugging me out of the car and into the biting night air.

Inside, the dance was a blur of limbs, of flashing neon lights and pounding music. As long as I kept my eyes on the floor, I might not have to face Ryan. I could pretend he wasn't even there, almost.

Cassie wraps her arms around my shoulders, swaying to the music. "See anyone you like?" she half-says, half-yells into my ear.

I shrug her off, making a gagging motion. "Tell me if you see Channing Tatum walk in, but first I'm getting some punch."