Ephemeral (The Countenance) Read online

  A lavender sky ignites with shades of fuchsia and apricot just before sunset. A neat row of bonfires dot the sand all the way down the bleached shore. Carter and I lounge in front of the smallest one off to the side.

  I’m not sure if anyone saw Wes and I holding one another out in the water, but judging by the way Kresley keeps luring him off so they can “talk” makes me pretty sure she suspects something of a sexual nature is about to erupt between the two of us. I can’t blame her since the lust-driven energy expels from our bodies like fumes.

  “We get our classes tomorrow,” Carter announces, staring off at the hard line of the horizon. Her hair has frizzed out into a giant ball of ringlets that nest above her head. “We’re both juniors, so we should be in at least a few of the same classes.”

  “What about seniors? We have any classes with them?” I try to sound casual, watching Wes and his psychotic ex-girlfriend press against the horizon like cutout silhouettes.

  “You mean Wesley? Boy, you’re not even going to hide the fact you’re into him.” She wipes the sand off her thighs like it was no big deal to begin with.

  “I think he broke up with her last night.”

  “Really?” She braces herself against the chair as if she’s just heard the best gossip ever. “Keep away from him until it’s official. That kind of bull doesn’t go over so well around here.”

  Ironic, considering the source.

  “Right.” It doesn’t go over so well where I’m from either. I shoot a look in their direction. “So, what’s up with you and Fletch?”

  “Fletcher?” She says it like as if she needed to confirm we were talking about the same person, as if the shortened version of his name sounded too foreign to be accurate. “I’m working on Fletcher and me—bringing it home. Just like you.”

  “Well I have news for you.” I don’t take my eyes off of Wes. “I am bringing it home.” I roll over and face her. “Hey, Carter? What did I do at Rycroft that was so bad they had to kick me out?”

  Her eyes widen, the flames dance over her face hypnotic and smooth.

  “Get out.” She nudges sand at me by way of her foot. “You’re a freaking riot, you know that?”

  “No, I mean it. I can’t remember.” I point to my head. “That whole tree house thing.”

  “Oh right.” She leans back as if my memory lapse made complete sense. “You know…” She bears into me. “Rather than me telling you, maybe you should ask Wesley to show you. I bet you’d appreciate a demonstration right about now.”

  I’m sort of liking the salacious prospect of it all.

  “I bet I would.” I melt into a smile.

  She hops up as if she’s about to retrieve him for the spontaneous presentation, then stops dead in her tracks.

  I look past the curve of her shin and catch him with Kresley—the two of them locked in an embrace. She pecks a kiss on his lips, and he nods into her.

  It wipes the smile right off my face.

  The roaring fire keeps me company as the long purple and blue tongues lick at the air, gasping for breath just to survive. The fire is hungry, and I’ve made it my responsibility to feed the flames, ignoring the good time had by all taking place around me.

  Wes and Fletch sit with a group of guys on the opposite end of the blaze. I haven’t seen Kresley since she managed to pee a circle around Wes. I think she and Casper left early, something about getting the kitchen ready for tomorrow. I’m not sure what they did to amass the killjoy that is kitchen duty, but I’m glad for the punishment—I hope it lingers.

  “Hey.” Wes lands next to me in a chair. The velvet night expands around him as the starry hosts honor him with their sparkling tendrils. “You looked like you needed this.” He holds out a stick with two marshmallows spiked over the tip. His face glimmers with brilliant flashes of light from the fire. Just the pleasure of having his feet on the same soil should be enough for me. I should be happy as long as he’s content with whoever he wants to be with, but I’m not that altruistic. It kills me that someone like Kresley may have stolen Wes from underneath me while I was busy grieving his mortal soul.

  “Thank you,” I say, taking the stick and jabbing it into the fire until the marshmallows glow a marmalade orange.

  “Tell me more about this other life of yours.” Wes bears into me with something more than a pressing curiosity. I can feel him wanting to touch me, wanting to pick up my hand as natural as breathing.

  “Ours,” I correct. “Our life. We’re from Kansas.” Then I spill everything. I tell him about the farm, the field we used to lay in all day until the stars broke through, how we spent hours in the summer just walking around the lake—holding hands, our first kiss.

  He gives a somber nod while losing his gaze in the flames. The light from the fire flickers against his skin in sunburst hues of yellow and tangerine.

  Wes gives a reluctant smile born of pain, exposing the sharpened points of his canines. I don’t remember them bolting down into perfect spears like that before, but then again, everything about him is just ever so slightly different.

  “You think I’m insane.” I can hardly push the words out.

  “No.” He’s quick to answer. He shakes his head long after he says it. “Laken, I think you hit your head, and while you were out, you had some very convincing dreams.” He lays his hand over mine. “I’m flattered to have played such a starring role.”

  I slide down in my seat—toss the branch into the fire and watch the fire cradle it with its white-hot affection then cool to a timid blue.

  I find it ironic Wes thinks I’ve lost my mind—that I dreamed everything about us that was ever true and pure. Casper was right, I shouldn’t have said anything, especially not to Wes—Wesley Paxton, whoever the hell he’s become.

  “I’m interested though.” He produces another stick and attaches two more marshmallows from a bag nearby before handing it to me. “It sounds fascinating.” Wes holds my gaze with the slight look of concern. “I think you really believe these things—that the feelings you have are real. I’m touched that you thought of me. I care about you, Laken, and I care about where your heart is.”

  “Like a sister? Is that how you care about me?” I challenge him with the words, trying to stave off the strong pull of tears. I’d rather argue with Wes than bawl like a baby. “I’m like family. I get it.” A part of me wants to strangle Wes, kill him myself for not believing a thing I’ve said. I’m not going to recount any more stories of our life on the farm. I just hope to God he won’t have a good laugh about it later with Kresley while they indulge in some pornographic makeup session.

  “Did you sleep with her?” I take in a breath at the thought. Maybe that’s what I’m up against. He’s far too immersed in her because they’ve already connected on so many psychological and physical levels.

  His head tips back a notch as though it came from left field.

  “Oh my God.” I mouth the words. “You did.” I had no idea. “That’s okay.” I try to compose myself, to hone in on the stabby bitch who lives somewhere deep inside me. It was her strength that helped me survive when he died and I desperately need her caustic superpowers now.

  “In this little dream world of mine, you drowned in a lake with Fletch.” I spit it out like I willed it to happen. “About nine months later, I hooked up with Tucker Donavan, the guy that took over your position as quarterback.” I don’t tell him I pretended he was Wes both times we were together. I get up and spear my stick into the fire like a javelin and watch as the marshmallows turn as black as our love.

  “Don’t worry, he made sure I had a very good time in your absence.” I leave out the part about Tucker turning out to be the man-whore of Cider Plains—that he fashioned a knife out of the volleyball team and bludgeoned my heart with it. I speed down toward the beach and let the damp breeze wash over me, wet as a blanket.

  The sea foam glows a splendid shade of white under the pale stone moon that lounges up above. I let the ice water flow over the tops of
my feet and stand still a moment to take in the burn. I like the pain, appreciate how very hard it tries to remind me that I’m real, that this very situation is happening, that it’s not some dream or depraved fantasy I can escape from.

  Maybe it’s Casper who’s insane. Maybe I did fall out of a crappy old tree house, and now I’m spouting all kinds of demented things trying to convince the world I’m right.

  “Want some company?”

  My heart gives an unsettled lurch as I turn around.

  It’s just Flynn—probably here to inaugurate me into his unholy harem.

  “Sure.” I continue a slow plod down shore.

  “Try not to sound so enthused.” His hair shines like silver under the illuminated fog. He wears an impish smile as if acknowledging on some level he’s cuttingly attractive. I can see why the girls are quick to fall to their knees.

  “Sorry. I’m not exactly the life of the party tonight.”

  “No, I get it. I hate when I’m into someone and the feeling’s not reciprocated.”

  A pang of embarrassment rips through me.

  Am I really that obvious? I dart a glance back at the crowd and see Wes on the chair next to Fletch again.

  “From what I hear, that would be an anomaly for you.” I try to play it off. “Everyone worships at your altar.” I’m beginning to think it’s no coincidence the only boy drawn to me is Ephemeral’s resident vagina jockey. I seem to attract them wherever I go. And if Casper’s right, the powers that be likely placed him here. If they would have paired me with Wes—given me Mom and Lacey, Jen too, I would have happily gone along with whatever universe they wanted. Ephemeral doesn’t really seem that bad.

  The forest blinks through my mind, the zombie, the boy with a face of a god, and I retract the thought.

  “I get shot down.” He pushes his shoulder into mine playfully. “In fact, I think it’s happening now. You’re deflecting my efforts.”

  God, he even sounds like Tucker, and I mean that in the worst possible way. There must be some man-tramp law that stipulates you make every girl feel like she belongs on a pedestal.

  “Yes, as in you,” he confirms, picking up my hand. “You’re openly rejecting me.”

  “That’s because I hear you’re on a mission to bed every girl on campus.”

  “Rumors.” His teeth flash when he says it. “Kiss—I’m on a mission to kiss every girl on campus.”

  I look back at the bonfire. Both Fletch and Wes are fixed in this direction, probably watching to see if I’ll reprise my Rycroft ways.

  Flynn glances back. “I’m not opposed to riling someone up with jealousy either,” he says, pulling me in by the waist.

  “Yes, but will you hate me in the morning?” I bite down a laugh.

  There are probably more egregious sins than kissing Flynn Masterson beneath a star-laden sky. At least he’s a willing participant, unlike Wes, and I doubt Flynn finds any sisterly qualities in me, at least not at the moment.

  “I’ll recover quickly.” He darts a smile before diving in.

  Flynn’s kiss is alive with the unabashed lust he doles out for girls by the bowlful.

  It makes me realize how strong Wesley’s feelings are for me.

  The kiss we shared last night was layered with a passion far more viral than this display of empty animalistic craving.

  Wesley’s kiss held strong to the residue of our love, and it proved every bit of him a liar.

  7

  To Die For

  The damp morning fog presses against the window, washing the backdrop of Ephemeral out of existence as I stare glassy-eyed from my room. The school itself is the only visible structure, the towers spear into the air like a castle in the sky. They point upward as if praising God, succumbing to his glory while holding all of its secrets from us like a poker hand.

  It’s as though all of this, the mist, the fairytale setting of the forest, and the gothic relic of the school proper is trying to tell us something, affirm the fact there’s more going on than we can see or believe.

  “Everything looks like a dream,” I say, sitting on the fat ledge of the windowsill.

  “Get used to it.” Casper runs her fingers through her short hair, spiking it up before patting it back down into submission. “Fall hits hard around here, then, winter. Don’t get me started on the snow. It’s like being buried alive in a freezer for months.” She comes over and sighs into the window, traces a heart into the glass then erases it as if she were disappointed in all the world had to offer.

  “We didn’t get much snow in Cider Plains. I’d love to see more of it.” Not that I’ll stick around. Once I convince Wes and Fletch who they really are, I’m sure we’ll catch the first flight back home. I feel horrible looking forward to something like snow when I know Lacey and Mom are probably grieving my absence. “You ever miss your family?”

  “I hardly remember them.” She picks up the brush and sweeps it through her shorn locks. “Isn’t that terrible?”

  “You have Flynn, though.”

  “He’s not my real brother. He was assigned.” She grabs a gold barrette off the vanity and clips it by her temple.

  I cringe when she says “assigned.” It sounds completely insane.

  “Anytime something doesn’t sit right with you, get it on paper. I have a ton of notes—theories I’ve jotted down over the years. But make sure you hide them. You can’t trust anybody. I wouldn’t put it past them to riffle through our things when we’re not here.”

  Riffle through our stuff? Shit. She’s beyond psychotic. This is exactly what I was afraid of. I was way too eager to follow her down the psycho path, and now Wes thinks I’m in need of mental repair. Of course, he might be right, but I’ll never admit it.

  I give a dull smile into her paranoia.

  “I sleep with earplugs.” She points up at the speakers overhead. “That’s how they brainwash us,” she whispers before bursting into a deranged laugh.

  Oh my, God—this is all a joke. I’ve spilled my guts and now the entire school is going to flog me with my insanity.

  Obviously I’ve hit my head. Obviously I’m Laken Anderson, not Laken Stewart. There is no Cider Plains, no other family other than Fletch and ditzy Jen.

  A sharp pang of grief rips through me as I try to dissolve Lacey out of existence.

  “Hey, it’s okay.” She comes over and wraps her arm over my shoulders, enwreathing me with the clean scent of her perfume. “Get yourself together and I’ll meet you at Ridley Hall. It’s to the right of the English building. They’re passing out schedules, and they’ll probably try to get you to sign up for fifty stupid things to keep you busy until graduation. I’ve got kitchen duty, so I gotta run.”

  “What’s with the kitchen duty?”

  She gives a hard sigh. “I let Kresley talk me into some seriously stupid shit and landed myself as the scullery maid to the tune of seventeen weeks. Miss a day, add two,” she sings sarcastically.

  “What was so scullery maid worthy?” I say it low like trying to lure a tiger into a steel jaw trap.

  “Let’s just say Kres and I were on a little male expedition at Melville and ran into Ms. Paxton.”

  “I thought Wes lived at Henderson.”

  “He does.” Casper sways her hip with a devilish grin. “I gotta go. I have a quick errand to run before I start sloshing oatmeal.” Her eyes enlarge with anticipation. “I might just crack the case, of the not-so-grim reaper, wide open.” She bears into me with a wild grimace that suggests her sanity has long since left the building. “It’s all happening. I swear I’m going to prove to everyone that this whole place is made of pure bullshit. We’re lucid, and in a few short hours, everyone else will be, too.”

  Something tells me I may not want to pair myself socially with Casper just yet. Right about now her track record of lucidity could go either way. Personally, I’m rooting for her sanity to win out, so waiting a few short hours may prove to be treacherous.

  “Tell me what you know,” I dem
and. I’m not in the mood to shit around.

  “Not yet.” She snatches her purse off the bed. “Later, maybe if you’re good. Keep pissing off Kres—you’re impressing the hell out of me.”

  “She mention anything last night? You know, about her and Wes?”

  “As in the status of their relationship?” She presses her feet in a pair of shoes that remind me of the wedges my mother wore to the diner. She would let me borrow them if I was on the schedule without her. It felt like walking on marshmallows, warm and secure in her well-worn shoes. Just the memory of Mom brings back her sodden temper, her weak will to keep away from the liquor cabinet. I’m not sure what I miss more at this point, Mom or her shoes.

  “He wants a break.” She averts her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m guessing he didn’t have the balls to officially end it with her. I could see why though—it’s like giving a cat a bath, you have to do it slowly, or you might lose both your eyes in the process.”

  “The break was probably her idea.” I’d like to think Wes wants nothing more to do with her. I’d like to think it’s impossible that’d he’d even consider extending their relationship, but then again, he did let her touch him last night, indulge in a peck on the lips.

  She shakes her head. “That’s one thing about Kresley, she’s a straight shooter. She might be a royal bitch, but she tells the truth just like a bullet. See you down there.” She shuts the door then pokes back in. “Ridley,” she shouts before slamming the door with finality.

  Kresley may know how to tell the truth, but so did that kiss Wesley seared over my lips.

  It occurs to me after she takes off that I forgot to mention the creature I encountered in the forest, more importantly the mysterious boy who saved me.

  I do a quick change and try to follow Casper out the door, but she’s already shot through the main hall and onto the brick road that unfurls in ten different directions.

  The wind picks up, tosses my hair into the sticky lip gloss I made the mistake of applying, and holds it there as punishment for committing the magenta-based beauty offense.