Dead Girl Dancing (9 page)

But the action on the beach was the opposite of calm. Sand stretched as far as I could see, congested like a highway but jam-packed with bodies rather than cars. People littered the beach with blankets, chairs, coolers and shady umbrellas. It wasn’t a hot day—the temperature was only in the mid-70s—yet a lot of sunbathers were wearing bikinis. They were stretched out on blankets, playing volleyball and chasing waves. I could taste salty air mingling with the scent of coconut suntan lotion.

“Now this is more like it,” Mauve said with a satisfied sigh. Sadie and I nodded in agreement as we looked around the beach.

We hadn’t bothered to change our clothes, so we were still wearing T-shirts and jeans. I found a blanket in the car trunk and spread it out on the sand. But I was the only one who sat down. Immediately, I found out we had different definitions of beach fun.

“I spy cute volleyball players,” Mauve said with the same wicked light I’d seen in her eyes right before she’d traded herself into Alonzo’s car. “Anyone up for some volleyball?”

“Not me,” Sadie said. “I want to check out the boutiques.”

“Boutiques?” Mauve grimaced at the tacky tourist stores and wild assortment of street performers that lined the narrow road beyond the bike path. “Aren’t you ever too tired for shopping?”

“Me? Never!” Sadie said with a laugh.

Both invited me to go with them, but having no idea if the real Sharayah would choose shopping or volleyball, I stayed on the beach. Intoxicated by the peaceful lull of ocean, I just wanted to soak in the sun and surf. Tomorrow I’d figure out a way to get to the
Voice Choice
audition—but for now, this beach was my heaven.

I sank down on the blanket, kicking off my shoes and dangling my toes into the sand: gritty and dry on top, but cool and damp down deeper. Closing my eyes, I luxuriated in the feeling of soft wind and sunshine. The sounds of voices drifted away and I felt myself drifting, too, mesmerized by the steady beat of the ocean’s force, the rise and fall of waves lulling me into sleep.

And I dreamed of Gabe.

“We’re almost there,” said a rugged-looking guy with a long face, a wild tuft of night-black hair, and dark green eyes. He held out his tanned hand to Sharayah. “This step is cracked, so you better hold onto me.”

Me-as-Sharayah reached up, smiling, a bursting-with-happiness expression I’d never seen before on her face. But I recognized that look and knew what it meant.

Sharayah was in love.

We were by the ocean, but not the pristine, people-cluttered beaches of southern California. The air was crisper, dangerously darkened by storm clouds and rich with wild winds that swirled up my thick dark hair, whipping its long tendrils against my cheeks. It was strange how even though I was inside Sharayah’s body, I was outside, too, watching my fingers curl into the green-eyed guy’s strong hands as he helped me up wooden steps that were set into a grassy hill of sand.

And as we crested the hill, a horizon of clumps of wild grass stopped at a sharp cliff overlooking jagged rocks that dropped down into a violent, spitting sea. The bluffs reminded me of the high seats in a movie theater, where you see everything from far away, straddling so close to the edge that it seems you could tumble down into the drama. I knew this guy had to be Gabe—the mysterious passionate love of Sharayah’s life. With him, at the top of their world, she was insanely happy.

“When are you going to tell me the surprise?” she asked playfully, breathing a little hard after the climb.

“Isn’t this surprise enough?” He gestured beyond the wild green grasses to the churning, gray-green sea that stretched into a curved horizon.

“But I thought … well, you hinted that today was special.” And she was thinking how she hoped he had a ring hidden in his pocket, anticipating the many romantic ways he would ask her the Big Question and how she would throw her arms around him, kissing the answer,
yes
.

Of course, her family would be outraged when they found out she was getting engaged to an older guy she’d only known a few months. If they had their way, she’d stay in a protected bubble and never experience anything. But screw them, she thought angrily. So what if they didn’t approve? Eli was the worst of all, acting like he was her big brother rather than four years younger. What did he know? What did any of them know? If they gave Gabe a chance, got to know him, they’d love him, too. And she’d show him how much she loved him on their wedding night, taking off the silver
Promise Me
ring she’d worn since she was seventeen, the one she’d put on when she’d made the chastity vow to wait until marriage. Old-fashioned it may seem to others, but to her it was the best way to make sure everything was perfect.

So, for the first time since meeting her soul mate, she tasted the word “yes” on her lips; excited, eager and finally ready to commit; as if everything up until now was a rehearsal for her real life.

They stood atop the bluff, fingers entwined, buffeted by the increasing winds. She pulled her jacket tighter with her free hand, wishing it were summer with blue skies and gentle waves, not the ferocious pounding of a threatening storm. Yet in a way the weather was romantic with its wild intensity, so very unlike all the everyday, neat, planned moments of her LBG.

Life Before Gabe.

“So what’s the surprise?” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the wind. In just the short time they’d climbed up, the clouds had rolled in closer, ominously dark, gathering like heavy fists.

“Are you ready?” He breathed his words so close to her mouth they were almost a kiss.

“I’ve been ready for you my whole life.”

“It’s been far longer for me,” he said with a wry twist to his lips.

Sharayah smiled at him. “There must have been others.”

“Only one.” He tipped her chin up with his finger. “Only you.”

“Exactly as it should be,” she teased, trying to sound calm and not like her heart was practically pounding out of her chest. But I could feel her excitement, mingled with fear, and knew the fears she’d worked so hard to hide. She was terrified that she wasn’t good enough for Gabe, that she was too young and inexperienced, that he would be disappointed.

He’d confided in her about his travels around the world, the tragedy of losing his family—details he couldn’t bring himself to talk about—and how that loneliness drove him out of the country, searching for a place to belong. He’d suffered and experienced so much while she’d lived her whole life in a bubble of the same place, same people, and same daily everythings. She’d had the same best friend since childhood and hadn’t even changed the style of her hair, experiencing no more drama than the semester worry of maintaining a 4.0.

Until now.

High on a stormy bluff with the man she loved, she was finally ready to remove her precious silver ring and replace it with another ring, one representing vows to love, honor and cherish forever.

She eyed his pocket. “How long do I have to wait for my surprise?”

“Not much longer.”

“Is it a gift?”

“Yes.” His green eyes swirled deep with secrets.

“What is it?”

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

She nodded.

The wind howled around them and he opened his jacket, drawing her into his warmth. “Do you trust me?” he whispered.

“How can you even ask?”

“I have to know for sure.”

“Of course I trust you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Anything?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something round and gray that I thought might be a wrapped box. But when he lifted it up, I saw a roll of duct tape. “Will you show me how much you trust me?”

Sharayah’s heart beat faster, wilder, overwhelmed with her feelings for Gabe. She didn’t understand this game he was playing, but she was his; mind and soul.

“Yes, Gabe. Anything,” she told him again.

“Hold out your hands.”

She felt a twinge of uncertainty, but reminded herself that this was her wonderful Gabe. She could trust him with her life. So she held out her hands.

“Thank you, my sweet love,” he murmured as he brushed his lips across hers.

Then he brought the tape to his lips, bit off a long strip and wrapped it around her wrists.

“Gabe?” Her voice warbled. “What are you doing?”

“Trust comes without questions.”

“But why wrap my hands?” The tape bit tight into her skin, hurting. “Please take it off.”

“That’s not how this goes.” A storm swept across his eyes and the loving softness of his voice tightened like the twine. “Do you still trust me?”

“Gabe, untape me now.”

“Do you still trust me?” he demanded.

“I … I … yes, I do.” She nodded, tears stinging down her windblown cheeks.

“Then you’re a fool.”

And through blurry eyes she saw him reel back with his hand as if to strike her, so she bent her head forward and butted against him. His feet slipped on the wet grass, the duct tape flew out of his hands and he slipped out of sight, over the cliff.

“Sharayah! Stop screaming! Wake up!”

“Huh?” I jerked up on the blanket, blinking bright sunshine on a crowded beach where voices blended with the gentle rushing ocean waves. Standing before me was Mauve, her pink hair dripping with salty water and sand. The cliffs, the storm and Gabe were gone.

“The ocean dream?” Mauve guessed sympathetically.

I nodded, still shaky. “It was so real.”

“It’s time you got over your fear of the ocean. Look around at everyone having fun. See, nothing terrible is happening. I won’t force you into the water, but you can at least have fun on the beach. Come on!” Mauve urged, tugging on my hand. “I met some of the cutest guys—”

“No!” I stared at her, still swept up in the horror of Gabe. “You can’t trust them! They can lie and deceive you.”

She gave me a tender look, a towel draped like beach jewelry around her slightly burned shoulders. She’d changed out of her jeans and was wearing a skimpy, neon-blue bikini under a sheer white T-shirt. “Rayah,” she said in a softer, compassion-laced tone, “it’s just a dream and it’s logical you’d have it here. But a dream can’t hurt you and doesn’t mean anything.”

“It has to mean something,” I said, feeling off-balance and a little desperate. I found myself looking down at my wrists, remembering the burn of tape but seeing only smooth, somewhat sunburned skin. “What do you know about Gabe?”

“Gabe?” She wrinkled her brow. “Who’s that?”

“You’re my roommate—don’t you know? I must have told you about him.”

Mauve’s brows spiked curiously as she shook her pink head. “You’ve talked about lots of guys, but no Gabe. Is he an old boyfriend?”

I hesitated, shivering. “You could say that.”

“If he’s old news, why do you care?”

“I don’t—it’s just he was in my dream. Are you sure you haven’t met him? Maybe I didn’t say his name. He’s older, maybe thirty, with a rugged face, thick black hair and green eyes.”

“Sounds hot, but not like anyone I know. If he shows up, introduce me … I’d love to meet him.”

“I thought you had something going with Alonzo?” I asked curiously.

“Could be. But our vacation only just started so I’m keeping my options open. I mean, just look around.” Mauve pointed down the beach to where a huge crowd was gathered. “There’s dancing and music, crazy beach games and lots of hot guys. The party won’t wait for us—so let’s go find it.”

She tugged me to my feet and this time I didn’t resist, relieved to be led away from nightmares. The brittle edges of the dream images clung to me, leaving me with a sense of fear. Something bad had happened between Sharayah and Gabe. But since Sharayah was alive without any scars, it couldn’t have been that dangerous. My subconscious must have jumbled the facts to create that horrible dream. I mean, what kind of monster would tape the hands of a girl after telling her he loved her? What was he planning to do?

That was just sick.

A lingering sense of dread dragged my mood down like a swift undertow. But I tried to shake it off. Here I was—an ordinary high school girl—getting a chance to party like a college girl. Was I going to let a stupid dream ruin everything? No way! When I returned to my real life, I’d have so much to tell Alyce. What I had to share would blow her away.

I took a deep breath of ocean air, then blew out everything negative. This seemed to center me and I felt calmer, the dream fading like fog on a sunny day.

“Rayah! Over there!” Mauve had to shout and lean close to my ear to be heard over the insane noise level. She gestured me to join her as she hurried to join a frenzied group of spring breakers partying by a beach stage.

A DJ ripped out dance music from the stage, and the crowd swayed with hands held high, some of them balancing red plastic cups. I lifted my arms too and sailed on a party wave into a throng of gyrating bodies. It was all so surreal that when some guy in a Speedo offered me a drink, I mouthed the words “thank you” and took the red cup. No one knew (or cared) that underneath this body I was underage. I sipped, puckering at the bitter taste, holding the cup like it was a prop.

As everyone danced, music seeped into my soul and I danced, too. Drinks seemed to magically refill. I sipped away my anxiety, swaying with abandon until all the bad dreams were far from my mind. I couldn’t even remember what I’d been stressing about. Something about the ocean—which was ridiculous because I loved the surf, sand, music, partiers, and cute little red cups.