Platinum (14 page)

Interlude. I mulled over the word. It sounded so scandalous.

And speaking of scandal, I spent the rest of my morning putting the finishing touches on my Fuchsia sabotage. There wasn’t really that much to do. People like to talk, especially when they’ve got my permission to gossip about someone who, quite honestly, has never been very nice to anyone. Ever. In the past three hours, Norman Fitzhugh had become a god among loser guys, and he’d recovered from whatever initial confusion he might have felt and was now relishing the position. Once the rumors started, I didn’t even need Katie and Elle to do my dirty work—good old Norman was doing it for me.

My only remaining problem was finding a replacement. Three is a magical number, and if I really wanted Fuchsia to squirm, I was going to have to pick a new second-in-command. There were a few viable contestants. I needed someone who was ready and willing to have my back, not because she thought I needed her, but because she wanted me to need her. There were about four or five girls who seemed like potentially good choices, and I ultimately decided to try a few on for size before I made my final decision.

“Hey, Bridget. I love that skirt. It’s so you.”

Bridget Stone scored high on all my important criteria. She was hot. She had an impeccable sense of fashion, she was scared of me, and there was a distinct chance that with a little help from me, she could land Jackson Hare. Perfect.

“Lilah,” Bridget said, her eyes lighting up. “Hi!”

I tossed my hair over my shoulder. “Listen,” I said. “Tracy and I were talking, and…” I leaned in for the kill. “Would you like to eat lunch with us today?”

And that’s how Fuchsia found us at lunchtime. Bridget, Tracy, and I were deeply involved in a conversation about Tate’s upcoming party, and the boys were throwing wadded-up napkins at each other. I had my hand in Brock’s hair, and Bridget was expertly playing footsie with Jackson under the table.

There were no extra chairs.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had,” Fuchsia huffed.

Tracy, Bridget, and I continued talking.

“Lilah,” Fuchsia hissed. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m talking to you.” She turned to Bridget. “And hello! You’re in my seat, sweetie. Move along.”

“Why don’t you go sit with loverboy over there?” Bridget asked, gesturing toward the Non side of the cafeteria, where Pits Ewww was doing what could only be described as a rendition of “Who da man? I’m the man!”

I had to give it to Bridget. She was good.

“Lilah,” Fuchsia said, gritting her teeth. “Why is she in my seat?”

I smiled at her. “Because I asked her to sit with us.” I turned from Fuchsia to Jackson. “You’re coming to Tate’s tomorrow, right?” I asked.

Jackson nodded.

“Bridget’s car broke down. Can you give her a ride?”

Bridget played along like a pro, leaning over to reveal more of her cleavage.

“Sure,” Jackson said easily.

Bridget twirled her hair.

Fuchsia glared at me, and then, without another word, she stomped off to sit with Katie, Elle, and a handful of other second-tier Goldens. Within minutes, she’d be regaling them with stories about what a horrible friend I was and how I was spreading lies about her because she’d hooked up with Brock, and they’d tell her that I was the only one who had stood up for her that morning. Once she left, they’d talk about how sad it was that she was still claiming to have hooked up with my boyfriend, when I was clearly the only real friend she had left.

On some level, I realized that in a perfect world, I would probably be using my powers for good rather than evil, but…

“And the princess defeated the wicked witch, and they all lived happily ever after.”
With a slight ripple of the air, Cade appeared at my side and leaned against the table directly in between Brock and me.
“Isn’t that how the story goes, Princess?”

Just seeing him made my heart beat faster, harder.

“There’s more at stake here than popularity.”

The fluttering in my chest was rapidly replaced with a strong feeling of complete and utter annoyance.

Who was he to make me feel guilty for spending one morning getting my life back on track? He was the one who’d wanted me to fight back. He was the reason I felt strong enough to do it. And now, he was criticizing me for it. He didn’t want me to be a victim, and he didn’t want me to be a bitch.

Then what, pray tell,
did
he want?

“Lilah.”

His use of my real name started the fluttering right back up again. I tried to remember that I was annoyed with him, that I was supposed to be in charge here, and that nobody told Lilah Covington what to do.

Flutter. Flutter. Flutter.

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to hurt him, but if you don’t take your hand out of his hair, it’s going to happen…right…now.”

I raised a single eyebrow in a silent question. It was all I could manage without the people around me figuring out that I was seeing and hearing things that they weren’t, but I knew Cade would understand what I was asking:
what
was going to happen right now?

“I don’t know how it happens, or why,”
Cade said.
“All I know is that sooner or later, the two of us…”
He gestured to Brock with his eyes.
“…are going to fight, and when we do, I’m going to win, and he’s going to die, and I’ll have to live with that until the next one comes around.”

I withdrew my hand from Brock’s hair. Under the table, I let my fingers graze Cade’s legs. He was a ghost, but I could see him. I could feel him.

Flutter-flutter.

“We can’t do this, Lilah,”
he said softly.
“This is how it starts.”

His lips on mine. That was how it had started. The memory played out on the air in front of me. My head held high, my cheeks pink with outrage, his lips closing over mine for the briefest second before he disappeared back to the past.

Back to the bodies, cold and dead and motionless.

I brought my eyes up to meet his once more, searching for the answers to my bazillion questions.

“I wish I could, Princess,”
he said, and his body started flickering in and out, chopping up his words.
“But I can’t.”

Flutter.

I set my lips and concentrated on bringing him back. I was tired of this crap. He’d leave when I said he could leave, and not a second earlier. No guy—dead or alive—was going to walk out on me. Not today. Not after everything else.

Blue. Purple. Pink.

The colors invaded the static that only I could see.

Three girls holding hands. Fresh dirt on an open grave.

Not this, I thought firmly. Not now. Show me Cade. Cade-Cade-Cade.

With a flash of bright light, I saw him, but this time, he didn’t see me. He was in a cafeteria—this cafeteria, but things were different. The walls were white, not faded yellow. The tables were new.

He leaned against one of them, the same way he’d leaned against my table the moment before. His dark hair was in his eyes; the expression on his face was nothing short of dangerous. I followed his smoldering gaze across the cafeteria. In reality, Fuchsia was sitting over there, shooting darts at me with her eyes. In the vision, offset a few feet from reality, a girl with bright blond hair pulled into a high ponytail worked a poodle skirt for all it was worth. She played with the white ribbon in her hair, and next to her, a guy roughly the size and build of a buffalo put his arm protectively around her shoulder.

And from afar, Cade watched.

Don’t look at her, I told him silently. Look at me.

The scene jumped, but as much as the movement jarred me, I didn’t show any visible signs of what I was seeing. Vision Girl…who? Me?

“You called, Princess?”

I smiled at Cade’s dry, incredulous voice and said nothing. He was here, and he was now, and he was looking at me. All was right with the world.

“Lilah, I need to talk to you.”

The words broke my concentration, and Cade faded away again. I turned to the person who had interrupted my little ghostly rendezvous, half expecting it to be Fuchsia, back for another round. The moment I saw Lissy James, I groaned internally. This lunch period was crucial. It was the Lilah Show, wherein everyone realized that I was still
the
definitive Golden Girl. Vacating my seat for a one-on-one with Lissy would give Fuchsia an opportunity, albeit a small one, to make her next move, and talking to Lissy in public so wasn’t in my script.

“No offense, but I’m kind of busy right now,” I said, reaching again for Brock’s hair and hoping she’d get the point. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to her. Strangely enough, I kind of did, but that didn’t matter. I couldn’t talk to her. Not now. I couldn’t even bring Cade back or venture into his world again, as much as part of me wanted to. I had to be here and now and perfect.

“Lilah—”

“Look, sweetie,” Bridget said, adopting the tone of voice Fuchsia had used with her almost exactly. “She said she’s busy, so why don’t you run along and play with your little Non friends and leave the big kids alone, okay?”

I’d wanted a sidekick who’d back me up. So why did I feel like smacking Bridget upside her ponytailed head?

“Give us a second,” I told Bridget, and she wisely shut her mouth.

“I can’t do this right now,” I told Lissy. I really, really couldn’t. She didn’t leave, and I waited for her to understand.

Without a word, she took a step back, and I understood that she didn’t.

“Lissy—” I said her name, but she cut me off.

“Lexie said you needed my help. I guess she was wrong.”

I felt several pairs of eyes on me. I wasn’t about to give Fuchsia any grounds on which to mock me and stage a comeback, and so I said the only thing there was left to say. “I guess she was.”

The silence between us was thick, and I could feel the air trembling with the history Lissy and I shared. I so wasn’t in the mood to see any of it, and I forced the memories to stay back, out of sight.

Lissy turned to leave, and I’d no sooner breathed a silent sigh of relief than she turned around and stalked back to our table. If Bridget opened fire again, I thought, Lissy was on her own.

Yeah, right.

“I promised Audra I’d ask,” Lissy said, her voice brusque as she arrived back at my table. “Did Fuchsia really hook up with Norman Fitzhugh?”

At that question, the tension that had been building in me since Cade had disappeared melted out of my body in a single moment of great satisfaction. If Lissy and Audra had gotten the memo, the rumor had been thoroughly spread.

“I don’t know,” I said innocently. “Why don’t you ask Norman?”

15

Information

It’s not what you know.

It’s not who you know.

It’s what you know about who you know.

I’d like to go on the record as saying it totally wasn’t my fault that I fell asleep in sixth period. Soul-stealing calculus teachers aside, nothing interesting ever happens in math class, and let’s face it, taking down someone like Fuchsia Reynolds and keeping my conscience at bay while doing it was hard work. Plus, it wasn’t like I’d actually gotten a good night’s sleep since well before the engagement, and my daily dose of caffeine and sugar just wasn’t doing it for me.

I looked down at my notebook and let my dark hair fall gently into my face. In the background, someone droned on and on about factorials, but all I heard was a mix of “blah, blah, blah” and the sound that teachers always make in those Charlie Brown movies that no self-respecting teenager would ever admit to having seen.

I breathed in and out, and for once my brain remained remarkably clear. No colors burning themselves into my mind, no memories oozing from the air and into my head. There weren’t even any contingency plans floating around on the Fuchsia front, just the teacher’s monotonous droning and a sense that for just a few minutes, I could let my guard down.

I should have known better.

“So young.”

The voice was pure, and I felt it in my bones as much as I heard it. Somewhere in the back of my head, I realized I’d fallen asleep, but here, in this place, I couldn’t do anything about it. All I could do was listen and watch.

“You were both so young.” She paused. “Are so young.”

“Both?” I asked, giving her a steely look from beneath my high ponytail. “What both?”

“Never mind that, child. You will see, sooner or later.”

“Tell you what, how about we go with sooner, party of one, because patience—it isn’t really my strong suit.”

“You need each other. Your gifts, they’re part of a whole.” She drew circles in the air with her fingers, familiar circles: rings of color on a silver shield.

Pink.

Purple.

Blue.

“And once whole…,” she continued as the rings shined so brightly that it should have hurt my eyes, but didn’t. “…may no mortal hands tear them apart.”

“Hallelujah, amen, whatever,” I said. I further protected myself from her weird and cryptic nature by clapping sarcastically, but the dark-haired woman wasn’t moved by my display. Instead, she leaned forward and gently touched my cheek.