From Bad to Cursed

And all because I was smiling.

When we were finished, Farrin pointed to the corner of one of the shelves. “You can just set the timer right up there.”

When I reached up, something stabbed my finger, and I yelped and jerked away.

“Oh, dear. What happened?” Farrin asked. “Are you bleeding?”

In the low red light, my finger looked like it was dripping chocolate sauce. “I guess so,” I said. “There was something sharp.”

I blinked furiously to suppress the tears that came snapping up behind my eyes. Finally, the sting went away, and the danger had passed.

“How strange,” Farrin said, leading me to a sink, where I washed the wound, a deceptively deep little scrape. “I take a lot of care to make sure the broken bulbs get thrown away safely, but sometimes the assistants get careless.”

“Do you think it needs stitches?” I asked.

“No,” she said, handing me a piece of gauze to press against it. “I’m sure it doesn’t.”

While she taped the gauze to my finger, I watched her face, lit richly red. Her eyes were black dots rimmed by thick black lashes. Her lips were washed out, almost skin color.

But there was no reason for there to be a broken lightbulb on that shelf. And—what was more—I’d never said that was what had cut me.

It was almost like Farrin had known there was something up there. Something dangerous.

Was this a test? To see if I’d cry?

I jerked my eyes away just as she looked up at me. According to the clock, it was almost ten.

“I should go,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

“I’ll walk you out,” she said.

“No, that’s fine,” I said. “Thanks again. Tonight was an honor. Once-in-a-lifetime.”

“Well, that’s silly. It doesn’t have to be. I’m at your disposal,” she said, nodding in a way that was almost a bow. “You’ll call me in the morning and let me know how your finger is, won’t you?”

Good morning, Farrin. My finger is slightly less bloody today. I knew I wouldn’t call her, but I tried to smile, and said I would.

* * *

When I awoke the next day, my promise to Farrin was the first thing that popped into my head. Still groggy from sleep, I unpeeled the bandage from my finger.

Nothing. Not a cut, not a scratch, not a mark.

I sat up, checking my other fingers, thinking that maybe Farrin had somehow wrapped up the wrong finger.

But there was nothing wrong with my fingers—any of them.

I called Farrin.

“You see?” she said, sounding pleased with herself. “We are a very healthy bunch.”

We.

I hung up and stared at my now-uninjured finger for a long time.

All that week, Carter was chivalry personified; he even sat with me at lunch. He seemed a little zoned out—but then, who wouldn’t be, in the middle of sixteen chattering girls?

He’s trying to save our relationship, I told myself. It certainly had nothing to do with the lines dictated to me in my head, whole conversations that I got through by parroting that sweet, cajoling voice.

Tashi told me to give myself credit for Carter’s change of heart. She compared it to pouring water on a neglected plant so it can bloom and thrive.

There was certainly no denying that he’d undergone a transformation. Gone were the pointed remarks about the Sunshine Club; gone were any hints of sarcasm or cynicism.

Totally and completely gone was Zoe.

After school Tuesday, he drove Kasey, Lydia, and me to our house. My sister and Lydia went inside, and I stayed in the car.

“Call me later?” he said.

I tilted my head. “I might not have time.”

“Then I’ll call you,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, taken aback. “If you want to.”

As I reached for the door handle, he leaned over and took my hand.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, gazing into my eyes. “Have I told you that yet today?”

“Yes,” I said, pulling gently on my hand. “Three times.”

But he didn’t let go right away. He got in a little more gazing first.

I looked away. There was something about the adoring stare that made me uneasy. I mean, yes, I wanted things to work out with Carter and me. Yes, he was being the ideal boyfriend.

But to be completely honest—I could see it getting a little dull.

“I really have to go,” I said, snaking my hand away and hopping out of the car. “Thanks for the ride. Talk to you later, maybe.”

For a second, he looked confused, and then that dreamy, veiled look overtook his face again. “I’ll miss you.”

I went inside without waving good-bye.

Lydia and Kasey were in the kitchen, their voices echoing in a start-and-stop conversation. No denying that Kasey was making a real effort to show her devotion to Aralt. But it was obvious to me that where everyone else was cheerful and confident, she was stressed and anxious. She tried too hard, and the things she tried to add to our conversations rang just a little off to my ear.

As I walked by, Lydia looked up. “You guys are so cute together,” she said. “I should get a boyfriend.”

“Go for it,” I said.

“There’s nobody I really like,” she said. “But Nicholas Freeman is cute.”

“I think he’s dating someone,” I said.

“So?” She gave me an amused look, her pink lips smiling mischievously against her creamy skin.

“Good point,” I said. If she decided to pull them apart, the other girl stood zero chance. Lydia was as tiny and perfect as a little porcelain doll.

And possibly just as dangerous.

* * *

Wednesday afternoon, Megan had cheerleading practice before the Sunshine Club meeting. I waited for her on the bleachers, browsing the fashion magazines we traded at lunch.

Carter was really amping up the chivalry—trying to carry my bag, meeting me outside my classes, even when they were nowhere near his own. He came to my locker after school and offered to drive me home, but I didn’t mind watching Megan at cheer practice. It was like being allowed into a secret world that had been forbidden to me for the first sixteen years of my life.

Kasey walked home and said she’d walk to the meeting. No one questioned her—they just assumed she had homework. She was carving out an identity as our little academic poster child. And she’d bought another few days of approval with her revamped hair.

But everyone knew there was something off about a Sunshine Club girl who didn’t want to spend as much time as possible with her sisters. Secretly I suspected that, even with her new hair, she still wasn’t truly committed to Aralt. Not that I was worried. At some point she would need to rearrange her priorities, that was all. Or have them rearranged for her.

As the practice should have been winding down, I heard a cry of pain.

Megan hurried across the gym toward a clump of cheerleaders all gathered around someone on the floor. After a few seconds, a girl got to her feet and hopped away, leaning on the shoulders of the coach and a spotter.

Megan walked over to me, eyes clouded with worry. “We’re going to run long tonight. I might have to miss the meeting. Sydney just ate it on a basket toss, and we have to rework the whole routine.” She looked around helplessly. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. She and Jessica are the only ones who can do the halftime tumbling sequence.”

I watched her searching the other girls, trying to figure out who could fill in for Sydney. She was biting her lip, and I knew she was remembering that it used to be her tumbling sequence.

I glanced down at my finger. At the flawless skin where there used to be a gash.

“Megan,” I said, “how’s your knee feeling?”

She stared at me for a second, trying to digest what I was suggesting. “No way.” She spoke in a hushed voice. “Lex, after that fall at your house—I can’t afford to take any chances.”

“But that didn’t actually hurt you, did it?” I said. “You haven’t been limping. Have you had any pain at all?”