Mikhail strides toward us, having completed a perimeter check, and holds out a hand to Adrienne. Flushing from head to toe, she accepts it, and the two of them join the couples currently gliding over the center of the floor.
Across the room, Daddy is grinning as he talks to the Speaker of the House. He looks like the cat that ate the canary. Anger curdles in my stomach, like milk forming chunks once it’s gone bad in Cal’s mini fridge.
Screw it. I’m having another glass of bubbles.
Downing the last of the champagne in my glass, I lurch toward the nearest member of the wait staff, but my knees falter.
Adrienne spots it from the dance floor. “Are you okay?” she mouths to me.
“I’m fine,” I mouth back. Fine, fine, fine. Honestly, that girl doesn’t miss much when it comes to the people she cares about. She just wants us all to be okay. Too bad I don’t want to be just okay. I want to be great.
The flute in my hand dings as I set it down somewhat sloppily on the nearest, white-cloth draped table, and meander toward Cal, who’s slouching in his seat at our now-empty table.
“Hey, can I have your keys? I want some fresh air.”
Cal’s eyes move over me, and his hand stills over his pocket. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He leans closer. Sniffs. “Have you been drinking?”
I glare at him. “Don’t go all big brother on me. I only had one glass. And I just want to sit in the car with the heat going. It’s stifling in here.”
“All right.” He hands me the keys. “Bring them back in a few minutes. I want to get out of here as soon as I get this over with.”
I glance over my shoulder, wondering what Cal is gesturing at.
Daddy is making his way over to us, and he’s got a supreme court justice in his wake. Oh. Judge Hastings. She illustrates children’s books in her spare time. Daddy probably thinks she’ll persuade Cal that he can be an artist and pursue another career.
Glancing between Daddy’s practiced smile and Cal, whose slumping further down in the seat as if it’ll make him invisible, I can’t help but shake my head. Daddy’s plan has about as much chance of working as the time Mom put the entire family on the keto diet for a month to curb my penchant for sneaking sweets. As in, zero.
Car keys in hand, I hurry outside before Daddy sees my hot, flushed face, and am blasted by the cold night air. Goosebumps rise on my skin, making me wish I didn’t leave my faux fur jacket in the limo. Oh well.
The parking lot is well lit, and I feel powerful walking through the night by myself. No sister. No bodyguard. Only me. Sparks well up in my chest, making my entire being buoyant and invincible. I can handle anything. If this is what drinking does, I may have to break my rule again sometime.
Lightning flashes in the distance, catching my eye. The storm clouds are darker even than the night sky, and the scent of promised rain fills the air. “Hurry up, Char,” I tell myself as I march toward Cal’s car.
Climbing into the driver’s seat is bliss. I haven’t driven in so long. Not because I can’t, but because it’s simply easier to use our driver. Or Mikhail.
I strap in and adjust the mirrors so I can see everything.
Lightning cuts through the sky, much closer this time. The air hangs heavy with moisture. If it isn’t raining by the time I get back to school, I’ll be shocked.
I’ve only had one drink, but just in case, I touch one fingertip to my nose, then switch hands, like I’ve seen people do on television. I can do it perfectly, so I suppose I’m safe to drive.
The radio is blasting and I’m singing at the top of my lungs. It feels amazing, cruising through the clear city streets, alone. I’m almost to the school when something lowers right in front of my face, making me rear back against my seat.
Eeek! A huge, ugly spider hangs from my sun visor.
Biting back another shriek, I reach for the event program I threw down in the passenger seat. Clutching it in one hand, I roll down the window with the other. Icy air whooshes in the window, biting my skin.
With as much force as I can muster, I swipe at the leggy