Tormen - By Lauren Kate Page 0,115

When she settled back into her seat, her ngers did brush against Miles's, and he gave them a squeeze. It was only for a moment, but it was long enough to let Luce know that, at least as far as Thanksgiving weekend was concerned, things were going to be okay.
Chapter Seventeen
TWO DAYS

Luce woke to the scrape of a hanger dragging across the bar in her closet.

Before she could see who was responsible for the noise, a mound of clothes bombarded her. She sat up in bed, pushing her way out from under the pile of jeans, T-shirts, and sweaters. She plucked an argyle sock o her forehead.

"Arriane?"

"Do you like the red one? Or the black?" Arriane was holding two of Luce's dresses up against her tiny frame, swaying as she modeled each one.

Arriane's arms were bare of the awful tracking wristband she'd had to wear at Sword & Cross. Luce hadn't noticed until now, and she shuddered to remember the cruel voltage sent coursing through Arriane whenever she stepped out of line. Every day in California, Luce's memories of Sword & Cross grew hazier, until a moment like this one jolted her back into the turmoil of her stay there.

"Elizabeth Taylor says only certain women can wear red," Arriane continued. "It's all about cleavage and coloring. Luckily, you've got both." She freed the red dress from its hanger and tossed it on the pile.

"What are you doing here?" Luce asked.

Arriane put her tiny hands on her hips. "Helping you pack, silly. You're going home."

"Wh-What home? What do you mean?" Luce stammered.

Arriane laughed, stepping forward to take one of Luce's hands and tug her out of bed. "Georgia, my peach." She patted Luce's cheek. "With good old Harry and Doreen. And apparently some friend of yours is also ying in."

Callie. She was actually going to get to see Callie? And her parents? Luce wobbled where she stood, suddenly speechless.

"Don't you want to spend Thanksgiving with your fam?"

Luce was waiting for the catch. "What about--"

"Don't worry." Arriane tweaked Luce's nose. "It was Mr. Cole's idea. We've got to keep up the ruse that you're still just down the road from your parents. This seemed the simplest and most fun way to go about it."

"But when he texted me yesterday, all he said was--"

"He didn't want to get your hopes up until he had every little thing taken care of, including"--Arriane curtseyed--"the perfect escort. One of them, anyway. Roland should be here any second."

A knock on the door.

"He's so good." Arriane pointed to the red dress still in Luce's hand. "Throw that baby on."

Luce quickly shimmied into the dress, then ducked into the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair. Arriane had presented her with one of those rare Jump!--How high? situations. You didn't bother with questions. You just leaped.

She emerged from the bathroom, expecting to see Roland and Arriane doing something Roland-and-Arriane-esque, like one of them standing on top of her suitcase while the other tried to zip it up.

But it wasn't Roland who had knocked.

It was Steven and Francesca.

Shit.

The words I can explain formed on the tip of Luce's tongue. Only, she had no idea how to talk herself out of this situation. She looked to Arriane for help. Arriane was still tossing Luce's sneakers into the suitcase. Didn't she know the kind of major trouble they were about to be in?

When Francesca stepped forward, Luce braced herself. But then the wide bell sleeves of Francesca's crimson turtleneck engulfed Luce in an unexpected hug. "We came to wish you well."

"Of course, we'll miss you tomorrow at what we with tongue in cheek refer to as the Dinner for the Displaced," Steven said, taking Francesca's hand and prying her away from Luce. "But it's always best for a student to be with family."

"I don't understand," Luce said. "You knew about this? I thought I was grounded until further notice."

"We spoke with Mr. Cole this morning," Francesca said.

"And you weren't grounded as punishment, Luce," Steven explained. "It was the only way we could ensure you'd be safe under our charge. But you're in good hands with Arriane."

Never one to overstay her welcome, Francesca was already steering Steven toward the door. "We hear your parents are anxious to see you. Something about your mother lling up a freezer with pies." She winked at Luce, and both she and Steven waved, and then they were gone.

Luce's heart swelled at the prospect of getting home to her family.

But not before it went out to Miles and