“Having fun?” Noelle shouted, twirling over and throwing her arms around my neck. She moved against me, completely sure, completely un-?self-?conscious. I did my best to mimic her movement, her confidence.
“Definitely.”
“Good. You need this,” Noelle said.
“What?” I asked. I had heard her, but had no idea what she meant.
'You need this!“ she repeated, looking me in the eye. ”Enjoy it!"
I missed a beat and bumped her hip. She smiled, turned, and shimmied back to Dash. Was it just me, or did her “enjoy it” have a “while you can” implied?
Oh, God. They were angry with me for giving in to Natasha's blackmail. They were going to let me fry. Tonight was some kind of
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mercy mission. Some kind of last hurrah. They were letting me see into the very core of their privileged world, into the Legacy, just so that it would be that much more painful when they snatched it all away.
I turned around, feeling suddenly ill, and looked around for a window, a balcony, any place where I might be able to find some air. And that was when I saw him and the entire room tilted beneath me.
Thomas.
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DOUBLE MINDFREAK
“Reed! Reed! Where're you going!?” Taylor shouted after me.
I didn't respond. Couldn't. There was no time. I elbowed my way through the gyrating bodies on the dance floor, stepping on toes and earning shoves and curses along the way. Strobe lights flashed, arms distorted my view, but I kept my eyes trained on him like a sniper on a hostile target. He was standing right there, sipping a drink, with one hand in his pocket. If he turned just slightly to the left, he would be looking right at me.
If he saw me, would he run? Would he approach? Why wouldn't he look my way?
“Thomas!” I screamed.
I was just arriving at the edge of the dance floor when he turned, lifted one of the dark curtains, and disappeared behind it. I grabbed up my skirt and ran, sidestepping a couple who was making out near one of the bars, ducking as an acrobat came dangerously close to impaling herself on one of my bobby pins. Gasping for breath, I whipped the curtain aside and there he was,
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standing with his back to me. I grabbed his shoulder and whipped him around.
“Thomas!” I gasped, barely audible.
It wasn't Thomas at all. The guy turned his startled brown eyes on me and quickly ducked out of the alcove as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He was too tall, his hair too long. He looked nothing like Thomas. How could I have ever mistaken him?
My heart pounded in my chest. I looked up from the floor--my eyes bleary and confused--and instantly all the air whooshed out of my lungs. For the first time I noticed that I was not alone. I noticed the reason the Thomas look-?alike had bolted so quickly in obvious guilt.
There, in the corner, with her leg wrapped over another girl's lap, her hands entangled in another girl's blond hair, her tongue searching another girl's mouth, was none other than Natasha Crenshaw.
“Oh, my God,” I said loudly.
Natasha turned around, heaving for breath, and for the first time I saw clearly the face of the girl beneath her--the chubby cheeks, the heavy makeup, the kiss-?bruised lips of Leanne Shore.
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BLACKMAIL BOOMERANG
“Oh, this is just perfect,” Leanne said sourly.
Yep. Just as pleasant as I remembered her.