Evanescent - By Addison Moore Page 0,52

two weeks of sleeping on the floor, maybe its time to reconsider the mattress.

Hours bleed by as I watch Laken with her arms wrapped around Wesley in a way that can only be defined as genuine affection.

Crap.

I crumple the napkin I’ve been choking the junk out of for the better half of the night and toss it onto the table.

“Whatcha doing?” Flynn lands next to me, lying over two chairs as he fans himself with a place card. His face is beet red with sweat trickling down the sides. He’s been in charge of what looks like a flash mob the last few hours, with at least a dozen different girls feeling him up at once.

“Hiding out?” I ask.

“You or me?”

“Both.”

“Pearl seems to be having a good time.” He sits up, and we watch amused as she ropes Miles in on another hopping session.

“Yup. She’s been dry humping the bastard all night.” Swear to God if I see him molest Laken with his eyes, one more time, I might accidentally knock his ass all the way back to Rycroft.

“I’ve got a crowd of Spectators for you, dude.” Flynn shakes his head, and beads of sweat drip onto his dress shirt. “They’re ready and willing, man.” He socks me in the arm. “Let’s get this thing done, bro. I need to see Casper’s ugly mug before Christmas. My mom’s losing it.”

“I hear you.” I nod. I’m losing it. Laken is losing it—not to mention other things she’s thinking about giving away to Wes, like herself.

A violent hum surges from the dance floor. Both Flynn and I bolt over to see what’s holding everyone’s attention captive.

Pearl.

She’s strutting her stuff in a manic display so animated it looks damn straight demonic.

“Shit,” I whisper as I take in the strange sight. The crowd keeps a safe distance, creating a clearing for her hyperactive antics. Her limbs gyrate. Her back bends unnaturally. Her head rotates so fast you can hear the bones snap in her neck like the cracking of a tree branch.

“Holy shit.” Flynn slaps me in the stomach never taking his eyes off the display.

Her dress shimmies up past her hips, inspiring Ms. Paxton to blow her whistle like she’s trying to break up a fight.

Pearl pumps her fist in the air while her body twitches to the music in an unnatural show of flexion. She falls to the floor and spazzes out over the hardwood like she’s bouncing on a trampoline. Her body bucks and kicks until it becomes apparent she’s unable to control herself.

I rush over to Laken and ignore the fact Wes is securely holding her at the waist.

“She’s seizing,” I shout over the music.

Newfound screams of horror emit as the crowd comes to the same conclusion. I glance back down, and her face is sprayed with blood, her tongue hangs out like a strip of raw steak.

Laken latches onto my shirt and shakes me. “Do something!”

Pearl vomits a vat of blue liquid in a three-foot circumference, and the crowd groans and shrieks in disgust. Her body slows to a crawl, her limbs jerk in sharp, staccato increments.

“Pearl!” Laken tries to run over, but I catch her and hold her a moment before releasing her back to Wes.

Pearl ceases all movement.

The music stops.

The houselights spray over the vicinity with their harsh, intrusive glow.

It looks like the resurrection turned to shit pretty quickly.

Back to square one.

An electrical snap emits from Pearl. Her body hisses and smokes as her skin, her hair, her flesh offers the students of Ephemeral a lesson in biodegrading they will never forget.

Pearl is a Spectator once again.

Albeit a dead one.

Wesley

After the untimely death of a virtual stranger, who Laken personally invited to the dance, a few of the dorms offer to host the remainder of homecoming.

Jen was generous enough to open the doors to Austen House, so, of course, we head there. On the entire way over, I grill the holy shit out of Laken who insists she thought Pearl was a bona fide student at Ephemeral, but something about the answers she gives don’t add up. Besides, Laken is the last person to spontaneously trust someone.

I shake my head as we step into Austen.

“Hey”—I pull her in and brush my lips over hers—“you know I love you, right?” She’s so achingly beautiful tonight I can’t help but shake when I look at her.

“Then please stop making me feel bad for inviting Pearl to homecoming. I feel horrible about what happened.” She lowers her lashes a moment.