Evanescent - By Addison Moore Page 0,49

God I wish it were all true—the two of us having simpler lives to escape to. I’d give anything for it to not be so damn complicated.

Homecoming.

Friday afternoon, the sky unleashes an outburst of aggression, driving down its fury in vats right over Ephemeral’s football field. We’re playing our crosstown rivals, Rycroft. In a way, I’m glad it wasn’t anyone from Rycroft who beat Wesley to a pulp. I’d hate to be responsible for anyone hurting him—nearly killing him. Although, I’m not entirely sure I’m absolved of causing the disaster either. I have no idea what he meant by people from the future. It all sounded a little too sci-fi to me. Coop seems to think it has to do with his blood sucking side-hobby. And, injuries be damned, Wes swore he’d still be my date for homecoming. Although, wisely he decided to ditch the action on the grid—rain started during halftime and never let up.

The game goes on through the downpour. The field turns into soupy terrain while the rest of the cheerleaders and I hop around with clear plastic ponchos. It’s the last few moments of the final quarter. Jen says they would have canceled if the game started out this way, but there’s no point in turning back now.

“Miles is looking at you.” Carter hooks her elbow into mine and spins me in a circle. She jumps in a huge puddle, sending a wall of water up my skirt, and my numb legs flinch at the glacial surprise.

“Who cares. I bet he looks at all the girls. He’s a biological malfunction with a permanent hard-on in his jeans.” I say, scouring the crowd for Pearl. I told her she could watch the game, but she needed to stay put. Jen was less than impressed that “a defector from Alcott” was seeking shelter in my room. I think she’d be even less impressed if she knew how long ago she defected, or more to the point, was plucked off campus by the body snatchers. But I don’t see any sign of Pearl. It’s nothing but a sea of black umbrellas.

The rain lets up just enough as the final whistle sounds. Fourteen to eight, Ephemeral takes the victory.

The football team streamlines in our direction. It’s wall-to-wall shoulder pads as people make their way to the gym.

Warm fingers touch down over mine, low by my thigh, and I clasp around them.

Good game. Looks like you’re the hero tonight. I give an impish grin as I look away.

I wasn’t really paying attention to the game. Cooper cinches our fingers. They should outlaw your moves, Laken. I nearly got taken out twice because of those hips. He gives a firm squeeze as the crowd starts to dwindle. I talked to my dad about some of these bizarre coincidences. He seems to think we should look closer at Hattie. Can you get some hair and tissue samples? He’ll run a panel, and hopefully we’ll get to the bottom of what she’s made of.

I’ll do my best. I start to walk away. I’ll see you tonight.

Hey, Laken? I just want you to know that if I could have asked you to the dance, I would’ve.

I look over at him, and our eyes lock. A sea of people pass between us as my fingers return to my side.

I mouth a simple thank you before heading to the gym.

It’s time to get ready for homecoming—for Wes.

“Laken.” My name echoes from the field. I glance through the hazy drizzle, but nothing catches my eye.

“Laken.” A sharp voice hisses from behind, and I pivot on my heels.

The crowd moves every which way like an army of disorganized ants.

Strange. I don’t see anybody.

I glance back toward the field, and a scream gets bottled in my throat.

The Tobias sisters flash like holograms before me, their sickly thin frames, their severely balding scalps scratch against the dismal backdrop, vying for my attention. The one on the right grasps onto her sister’s hair, engaging in violent tugs, twisting and jerking. She labors until her sister’s head spins unnaturally before popping right off as if she extracted a plant from the ground, nothing but bloody roots dangling below.

I clap my hand over my chest and take a step back.

“Shit.”

“Laken!” Hattie blinks forward until she’s in front of me with her emaciated features, her stained teeth. “Pearl Montagne lives.” She hisses it in my face as if it were the vilest truth. “Find my family. You have seven days”—she shoves the decapitated cranium in