Days passed before Morgan saw the guy from the park again.
She was in the middle of a card reading for Alecia Emerick when she noticed him, again beside the swing set. For a moment, Morgan found she was so flustered that she forgot what she was doing. Though his eyes again weren’t on her, he was watching her––she could feel it.
“Um… Morgan?” Alecia asked, calling Morgan’s attention back to the matter at hand.
Morgan focused on Alecia. “What’s new?”
“Not much,” Alecia said with a sigh. “I mean, Alec and I, of course, have been spending a lot of time together…”
Morgan allowed her mind to drift as Alecia prattled on about her recent activities with Alec Draper, her sort-of boyfriend. When the two got together at the end of the school year, all of her friends thought it was meant to be––Alec’s name was, of course, the same as the first four letters of Alecia’s name––but Alecia was starting to have her doubts.
As Morgan listened, she started understanding things. Subtext. The things that were unsaid clarified in her mind. Alec wasn’t quite as popular as Alecia and the rest of her crew. She was worried about what sort of impact that could have on her social standing senior year. And, there was another certain someone she thought might like her. What Morgan gathered was that Alecia wanted Morgan to confirm that this mystery boy liked her so she could dump Alec and have another guy all lined up.
Morgan loved these kind of readings.
With one final glance at her own mystery guy, Morgan dealt the cards in front of Alecia. And then the show began.
“Ooh,” Morgan said quietly, her tone hinting at foreboding. Then she waited for Alecia to take the bait. She didn’t wait long.
“What?” Alecia demanded. “Is something wrong?”
“Well, I see some…” Morgan searched for the right word. Drama was the one that sprang immediately to mind, but she didn’t feel Alecia would find it nearly as appropriate as Morgan did. “…Struggle. Yes, I see struggle coming your way. An internal conflict. Two… arenas will struggle for your attentions.”
Ris, who was walking back from the garbage can, glanced over, eyebrow raised, and mouthed, “Arenas?”
Alecia, however, seemed captivated. “Which one will win?”
Morgan closed her eyes, feigning deep thought. “It is unclear at the moment––ultimately the decision is yours alone.” She opened her eyes.
Alecia seemed displeased with this answer. “But… I came here so you could tell me what to do!”
Morgan just smiled. “The decision isn’t mine to make. But,” she paused dramatically and Alecia sat up a little taller, “I do see some things with clarity. The path you are on now is a bright one. It’s illuminated. The path you’re considering is…” Morgan searched her mind for a phrase ethereal enough to fit, “…lovely, dark, and deep––which sounds exciting, but with darkness comes uncertainty and often danger.” Morgan paused and drew in a breath. “My advice,” she said evenly, “is to stay on the path you’re currently traveling. But the choice is ultimately up to you.”
“Thank you,” Alecia said unsurely as she stood a moment later.
“Any time,” Morgan responded, her fingers moving toward the money bag on the table top. As Alecia turned and walked away, Morgan placed Alecia’s payment in the bag.
Before Morgan could close the drawstring bag, Ris was seated across from her. “That was the last one for the day. You ready to go?”
Morgan glanced up but wasn’t looking at Ris; instead, she was looking past Ris. The guy was still there, leaning, as he had been the first time, against the pole of the swing set. “Don’t look,” Morgan said quietly, her attention on the picnic table as she collected her cards, “but that guy’s back.”
Ris was quiet and Morgan hazarded a glance at her. Ris’s eyes were narrowed in confusion, but then, suddenly, she smiled. “Han Solo?”
Morgan nodded. “Haven’t you noticed him? He was standing by the swing set the whole time Alecia was here—maybe longer.”
Ris shrugged and held up her phone. “I was reading a book.”
Morgan slipped her cards into their velvet pouch and cast another furtive glance over Ris’s shoulder. “He’s still there.”
Ris grinned—a smile so wide that on any other face it might be too much. On Ris, though, it just made Morgan want to smile, too. “Think it’s time for a casual walk-by?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He’s creepy, remember?”
Ris gave her the really face—Really, you don’t want to do this? Really, you’re going to be a puss?—and snatched Morgan’s money pouch off the table. “You’ll have to follow me to get it,” she said, just loud enough for Morgan’s ears, as she turned on her heel and started walking toward the path that wound its way right past the swing set.
Morgan knew Ris wouldn’t really steal her money, but the act was enough. With an exasperated sigh, Morgan jogged to catch up to her friend.
As they approached him, Morgan’s apprehension grew. She’d been replaying their last conversation in her mind, wondering what she might say or do if he showed up again. But now that he was here, she found she wasn’t sure she even wanted to talk to him again.
He was still leaning up against the pole, staring off at treetops, perhaps, but definitely not looking in Morgan’s direction. He was still a way off—his swing set was rather far from Morgan’s pavilion. And though Morgan didn’t want to stare—didn’t want to appear to be a giggling middle school girl or anything—she found her eyes kept being drawn to him. He was in dark blue jeans again today, but his top was a burgundy tee that fit his body closely.
As they walked, Ris kept up a monologue to fill the air, so Morgan didn’t realize right away what was happening when Ris’s voice got louder. It wasn’t until she repeated herself that Morgan caught the words: “I said, why are you standing there?”
Morgan looked at Ris, but Ris was looking at the guy, who was now mere yards from their position on the path. Morgan followed her gaze and saw that he was no longer looking at the treetops, he was looking at them.
“Ah, ladies. A pleasure to see you again.” He offered a smile and started toward them.
Panic flared in Morgan. What were they doing? They had no idea what this guy wanted. They could have just walked into a trap. She glanced at Ris, whose face showed none of these concerns.
“So, what’s the deal?” Ris asked easily. “You weren’t impressed with your last reading?”
“To the contrary,” he said, passing his gaze from one girl to the other. “I’m quite impressed with Morgan’s abilities.”
Morgan wondered what he meant, seeing as she hadn’t actually done a reading for him yet. But she couldn’t dwell on it long because Ris was talking.
“Then when are you coming back?” Ris asked.
“When are you open for business again?”
“Monday morning. Want me to put you on the list?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Pencil me in.”
Ris had her phone out in a flash. “Okay, what’s your name?”
“What, can’t Morgan divine it or something?” He smiled. It was a nice smile.
Morgan managed to roll her eyes, wanting to seem nonchalant. “My powers aren’t attuned to things that banal.”
He laughed. “Banal, huh?” He paused for a moment, regarding her. “Kellen,” he said at last.
“Kellen.” Morgan tested out the name.
“Kellen,” Ris repeated, thumbs working quickly on the phone’s keyboard. “Okay. You’re on the list for nine-ish.”
Kellen chuckled. “Nine-ish it is, then.” He nodded at them and then started walking down the path in the direction Morgan and Ris had come from. Morgan tugged on Ris’s elbow and the two continued through the park in the direction they had been heading.
Morgan waited until they were safely outside of the park before turning to Ris. “What the hell were you thinking, you psycho?”
Ris just laughed, but the sound was thin. She kept walking. ??
?I was just taking a chance.”
Morgan sighed, following her. “We looked like fools.”
“But we got a client out of it,” Ris said, waving away Morgan’s concerns with her hand. “Besides, we’ve learned much.”
Morgan groaned. “Are you kidding me? What’ve we learned here? Besides the fact that I can’t be seen with you in public?”
Ris began ticking things off on her fingers. “We learned his name, we learned he believes in your abilities—so the reading you said was eh the other day must’ve been pretty good. I think he’s fascinated by you.”
“I think that’s overstating things a bit.”
Ris shrugged. “Come on. He was totally in the park today hoping for an interaction like this. He showed up at the end of the day, stood in your line of sight. He’s intrigued. And now he’ll be back on Monday. That’s pretty cool, you have to admit.”
“And awkward.”
“But think of how it’ll expand our clientele!” Ris said. She led the way up the driveway toward her house.
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Of course, that’s what you’d be thinking.”
Ris pushed open the front door, led the way into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. Morgan took a seat at the table.
“Okay, I’ll think about something else then. Like tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Ris closed the refrigerator door and turned to Morgan, a look of exasperation on her face. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Morgan sighed. “Not buying it?”
Ris sat down at the table too. “Not at all. You promised. We’re going.”
“But… I think I may be coming down with something,” Morgan said. She gave two pitiful coughs.
Ris groaned. “You promised.”
Morgan stood. “Truth? I thought you’d either forget or chicken out.”
Ris just raised her eyebrows.
Morgan sighed. “It’s just… parties aren’t really my thing.”
“How do you know? You’ve never been to one.”
“I don’t have to swim in a pool of acid to know it’s gonna suck,” Morgan muttered.
Ris sprang to her feet and held her hand out to Morgan. Morgan took it reluctantly and Ris pulled her through the house toward her bedroom. “We’re almost seniors,” Ris said as they went. “Just a year left of our high school career. And I don’t want to regret anything. This is one of those things I want to check off my list of ‘things to do in high school,’ and you’re coming with me.” Ris opened her bedroom door and shoved Morgan in ahead of her.
“Or what?” Morgan asked, taking a spot at the end of Ris’s bed.
“Or I kill you.”
“I’ll take what’s behind door number two.”
Ris didn’t dignify the comment with a response. Instead, she went to her closet and began considering garments.
Morgan groaned. “The party’s not for hours. You don’t have to start getting dressed yet.”
Ris just smiled. “Perfection, my friend, takes time.”
The afternoon passed in much the same way: Morgan tried to come up with excuses not to go to the party while Ris ignored her and threw clothes to her to try on.
In the end, Ris decided on a soft green tunic with a thick, shiny black belt; black leggings; and black wedge sandals. Her blond pixie-cut hair was artfully spiked and mussed. Her makeup was understated, but her eye makeup had a mysterious, smoky quality to it, making her brown eyes appear to smolder.
Morgan wore a simple black shift that was too short for her liking. She requested leggings, but Ris just shook her head as though resigned to the fact that her best friend was a fashion disaster waiting to happen. After putting up a fight, Morgan allowed Ris to bind her feet in strappy black heels. Ris also insisted on a chunky blue necklace “for a little pop.” Ris took the time to work Morgan’s usually pin-straight red hair into loose waves. To Morgan’s lips, Ris applied a lipstick shades darker than anything Morgan would have chosen on her own. Morgan made a mental note to find a napkin as soon as they arrived at the party to wipe off the lipstick. Ris’s final touch was just a dab of mascara and a little bit of eyeliner. “Your eyes really don’t need any help,” Ris said.
And as Morgan stood in front of the mirror, she had to admit they really didn’t. Morgan always thought that her eyes were her most striking feature: dark, dark blue—so dark, in fact, that she often thought she saw hints of silver in their depths.
Though Morgan would never admit it to anyone, even to Ris, by the time they were done, she thought that the whole process had been kind of fun. And as the two of them took turns standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of Ris’s bedroom door, she also had to admit that the time they spent was worth it.
“Okay,” Ris said, “ready go to?”
“No,” Morgan muttered.
Ris ignored her. She opened the bedroom door and led the way into the living room. Ms Perry sat on the couch, her attention on what was undoubtedly a Sudoku puzzle in her hands. Ris cleared her throat so that her mother looked up as she and Morgan made their entrance.
Ms Perry studied both girls thoroughly before giving them each approving smiles. “You two will knock ’em dead. You look fabulous.”
Ris smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Now,” Ms Perry continued, “remember, always get your own drinks. And don’t leave your drink unattended; you never know what someone might put in it. And make sure you have your cell.”
“I know, Mom,” Ris said with a sigh. “Don’t let someone drug me. And I have my phone. Morgan’s got her phone, too.”
Ms Perry just nodded. “And, if something happens and neither of you is able to drive home—”
“Mom,” protested Ris.
“—just call me and I’ll come get you. No questions. No punishment.” She glanced at Morgan. “No parental involvement.”
“Mom, don’t be so dramatic,” Ris said, starting toward the front door. “It’s a party, not a crack den.”
“You say that as though they’re mutually exclusive,” Morgan said.
Ris glanced over her shoulder to shoot Morgan the not helping face. Morgan just shrugged.
“Have fun!” Ms Perry called as the girls stepped out the door.
“Gah, can you believe how embarrassing she is?” Ris asked as she followed Morgan to the street where Morgan’s car was parked.
Morgan was so busy concentrating on keeping her balance in the high heels that she didn’t bother to comment until they were both safely in her car. “I don’t know. She actually seemed pretty cool about us going out to a party that is almost certainly unsupervised and at which there will likely be all manner of suspicious foods, beverages, and behaviors.”
Ris sighed. “That’s just it. It was like she was trying to be cool about it. All that business about just calling if neither of us can drive home—there might not be punishment right away, but only because she’ll want me sober enough to quake in fear.”
Morgan considered this for a moment as she navigated onto the main road. “I wonder how my mom would react to something like this.”
Ris didn’t comment and Morgan immediately felt guilty. The mom topic was weird even with Ris.
Morgan cleared her throat. “So, where are we turning?”
Ris gave a little sigh and began giving directions to their destination.
When they arrived, Morgan parked in the first available spot she saw—a block and a half away. They got out of the car and began walking down the sidewalk.
“I assume,” Morgan said, indicated with her hand, “that’s the place?”
“Yep,” Ris confirmed.
“Ay caramba,” Morgan muttered. The house was massive. The grass was so green and uniform it looked like Astroturf, and the yard was decorated with flowers and little ornamental trees. Music and light spilled out into the yard, the street. It struck Morgan then that she didn’t have a clue whose house this was—she hadn’t cared
enough to ask. And now she didn’t want to know. Wealthy people made Morgan irrationally angry.
Ris and Morgan made their way up to the front door and stood there for a moment—should they knock?—before Ris pushed the door open and entered the house.
The music was oppressively loud, and Morgan felt almost as though she had to physically fight past it to enter the house. But then she was in and the music was no longer smothering; instead, it seemed to at once become a part of her, to course through her veins, to welcome her. And it was a good thing it did, because no one else seemed interested in doing so.
The foyer was brightly lit, yet the people who stood in it seemed somehow wrapped in shadow. Most stood in tight-knit groups; all held large red plastic cups in their hands. Ris pushed her way through the foyer and Morgan did her best to keep up. Already she was doubting the wisdom of their having come here.
They walked into what might be considered the house’s living room and Morgan saw a DJ set up in the corner. He was a tall, lanky white boy Morgan thought she recognized from school. He was wearing a skull cap and a pair of oversized headphones—though only one headphone was covering an ear. He was bopping rather spasmodically and out of synch with the beat of the music. For some reason, Morgan found this incredibly amusing; therefore, when she and Ris were approached by a fellow partygoer, she was smiling.
“Clare! I didn’t expect to see you!” Corbin Starling, a boy from their grade, stopped in front of the girls and smiled broadly, showing off straight, white teeth. His clear green eyes sparkled in such a way that he even seemed sincere in his pleasure at seeing Ris. Then again, Morgan reasoned, it could also be alcohol at work. He did, after all, have two giant red plastic cups in his hands.
At the moment Morgan was thinking this, Corbin turned his attention to her. “Gypsy!” he greeted, a little loudly, hailing Morgan by the pen name she used when writing horoscopes for the school’s paper. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you out. But I guess where Clare is, you’re pretty sure to be, too.”
The smile on Morgan’s lips dissolved. She fixed Corbin with a look bordering on annoyance.
Corbin was oil to Morgan’s water. Not that he hadn’t always been nice to her. Indeed, he was one of the few people who hadn’t teased her during the dark months in sixth grade when rumors about Morgan’s family resurfaced. Still, there was something off-putting to Morgan about him. He was nice to everyone—almost too nice—and in Morgan’s opinion, he seemed almost fake. He seemed to strive to be popular, for people to like him. Morgan just couldn’t understand that kind of mentality.
If Corbin noticed anything amiss in Morgan’s gaze, he didn’t show it. His smile didn’t falter as he turned his attention back to Ris. “You two thirsty?” he asked, indicating the cups in his hands.
Morgan raised an eyebrow at Ris. “Didn’t your mom warn us about this?”
Ris shot Morgan a look that read Behave. Turning to Corbin, she said, “I think we want to lay off the hard stuff—for the time being, at least. We did just get here.”
Corbin seemed puzzled for a moment, but then his smile returned. “Oh, these? Just pop. I was bringing these to Lynna Rochester and one of her friends—”
Upon hearing Lynna Rochester’s name, Morgan grabbed one of the cups from Corbin’s hand and wasted no time taking a drink from it. Corbin eyed her suspiciously but said nothing. Instead, he proffered the remaining cup to Ris.
“Thanks,” Ris said, relieving Corbin of the cup.
“No worries,” Corbin said. Then he glanced around the room. “Look, I’d better go get more drinks for Lynna et al. But we’ll talk some more later, okay, Clare? Gypsy?”
Morgan, who had drained her cup already, gave Corbin a confused look. “How’d you get stuck being Lynna Rochester’s drink boy?”
Corbin shrugged good-naturedly. “Comes with the territory, being host and all, I guess.” And then, without waiting for more questions, Corbin was gone.
Morgan sighed. “Figures.”
Ris looked at her, confused. “What does?”
Morgan gestured at the house around them. “Figures that this is Starling’s house. I knew there was a reason I didn’t like him.”
Ris sighed. After taking a sip of her pop, she said, “Morgs, you don’t like anyone.”
“I like you, don’t I?” Morgan smiled. “And McKenna, and Stew—”
Ris waved a hand to interrupt Morgan’s recitation. “Corbin’s actually an okay guy—you know, besides not liking Star Wars.”
“You’re just saying that because you two used to date,” Morgan accused.
“No,” Ris said firmly, “we used to date because it’s true.”
“And then Han Solo got between the two of you.”
“Sad, but true,” Ris agreed. “You should really give him a chance. I know you think he’s a useless pretty boy—”
“I never said he was pretty.”
Ris raised an eyebrow. “If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Corbin is a fine-looking gentleman,” she said firmly. “And he is a gentleman. He didn’t even flinch when you stole that cup from him.”
Morgan considered Ris’s assertion that Corbin was alright for a moment, but then made a face. “He calls you Clare.”
Ris shrugged. “I’ve known him since kindergarten,” she said, as though that excused him.
Morgan surveyed the room. “So… what now?”
“No clue,” Ris admitted. “We take a lap before committing to a spot?”
Morgan made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Lead the way.”
The two resumed walking through the house, Morgan casting dubious looks at some of the questionable dance moves being perpetrated by her contemporaries. She tried to catch Ris’s eye, but Ris seemed too busy drinking in the experience to notice.
They were wandering through the third or fourth room when Morgan heard her name being called. She turned to see Alecia Emerick weaving toward her, Alec Draper in tow. Morgan couldn’t help smiling: clearly Alecia had decided against dumping Alec, at least for the time being.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” Alecia said, voice a little loud even over the music. “You never come out to parties!”
Morgan nodded. “What can I say? When I read my own fortune earlier today, I saw myself here. Who am I to disagree with fate?”
Alecia just stared blankly at her for a moment before her features rearranged into an expression of fawning awe.
To Morgan’s relief, Alec began laughing at the same moment, and she was reminded why she liked him.
“Yeah right, Gypsy,” Alec said. “Like it wouldn’t cross your mind to disagree with something like fate.”
Morgan just shrugged.
“So, you guys having fun?” Ris asked. Morgan raised an eyebrow at her and Ris gave an apologetic half-smile. Clearly her party small talk needed work.
But Alecia didn’t seem to think the question was inappropriate. She sighed dramatically. “Well, yes, but Lia—Lia’s so distracted and she’s bringing me down.” She leaned in toward Morgan and Ris conspiratorially. “I think it’s college. Her parents are all over her about applications and visits… It’s all she talks about.”
Ris nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, my mom’s been bringing it up a lot lately, too. I wish there was something we could do.”
Morgan could have smacked Ris for the offer because immediately, Alecia’s eyes grew wide and hopeful. “Really? Oh, you two are the best. Morgan—actually, I wanted to ask you—could you, maybe—I mean… I know this is a party and you’re not here to work, but if you could, you know, just maybe do a quick reading for Lia—I’d pay you, of course.”
Morgan aimed a dirty look at Ris. She knew Lia Roderick from school—Lia was this year’s editor-in-chief of the newspaper and yearbook—and she knew Lia didn’t particularly like her. She turned to Alecia and forced a smile. “I really don’t know, Alecia,” she said bracingly. “I mean, it is a little loud in here. Maybe you could bring her by Mond
ay—”
“I’ll pay you double!” Alecia said quickly, a pout forming on her face.
Morgan cast a brief glance toward the ceiling before nodding reluctantly.
Alecia squealed and jumped in place, causing several nearby people to look at her suspiciously.
Quickly, Morgan placed a hand on Alecia’s shoulder. “Take me to her, Alecia.”
Alecia fixed Morgan with a serious gaze and nodded. Then she turned and, dragging Alec behind her, led the way through the room. With a glance at Ris, Morgan followed.
Lia Roderick stood in a corner sipping from her red plastic cup while methodically scanning the room. She looked well-composed, as usual, in a pale yellow shirt that complemented her light cocoa skin. When her golden-brown eyes fell on Alecia, the tension in her face drained.
Until she saw Morgan.
“Alecia,” Lia said, her voice stern. “I can’t believe this.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow at Lia. “And hello to you, too.”
“Hi, Lia,” said Ris brightly, smiling her characteristic wide Ris smile.
“Hi, Ris,” Lia said politely before turning her attention back to Alecia. “I thought I told you no.”
“Oh, come on, Lee!” Alecia whined. “Why won’t you—”
Alec tugged gently on Alecia’s hand. “Look, if she doesn’t want to have a reading, it’s really her—”
“If she doesn’t want a reading, why am I here?” Morgan asked.
“She needs a reading,” Alecia insisted, “she’s just being stubborn.”
Lia planted a hand on her hip. “I do not need a reading,” she said firmly. “No one does.”
Immediately, Ris went on the defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lia rolled her eyes. “It’s like—I don’t know—playing the lottery or something. One time in a million, it’s worth the price of the ticket, but mostly it’s just a waste of money.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Ris asked, her tone dangerous. But before she could say more, Alecia was talking.
“Oh my god, Lee, you’re so wrong,” she insisted, her brown eyes growing wide. “Morgan’s right, like, all the time! I live by her horoscopes during the school year!”
Morgan, who didn’t think this was an advisable life plan, kept her opinion on the matter to herself.
“I’m sorry,” Lia said, her hand moving from her hip to the cross resting in hollow of her neck, “but I just don’t believe in this psychic stuff.”
Morgan grinned. “What if I told you I was a prophet?”
Lia glared but didn’t dignify Morgan’s question with a response.
“You don’t believe?” Ris asked suddenly. “Then why don’t you let Morgan prove it to you? Give her a test. See if she can—divine something about you or something.”
Lia’s hand went back to her hip. “You’re kidding, right?”
Morgan bristled. “What? Afraid I’ll get it right and your belief will be wrong?”
For a moment, Lia didn’t respond, but then she took the bait. “Fine. Do it. Read me. Whatever.”
Ris became suddenly businesslike. “Okay, right here won’t do. Let’s go…” She scanned the vicinity. After a moment, she pointed toward a dark doorway to their right. “There looks good.” Without waiting for agreement, she started toward the room.
Morgan made a sweeping motion with her arm and inclined her head toward Lia. “After you,” she said.
Lia sighed but followed Ris. With a smirk, Morgan followed, too.
When Ris reached the doorway, she felt along the interior wall, presumably for a light switch. Seconds later, the lights came on, only dimly. Ris looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Mood lighting,” she said. “Swanky.”
As Morgan edged past Ris into the room, she took in her surroundings. Dominating the space was a grand piano, and there were no less than three guitars spaced irregularly along the wall opposite the door. But before Morgan could take in much more, Lia brushed past her and planted herself firmly on the piano bench.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, arms crossed over her chest.
“Wow, tell us how you really feel,” Morgan muttered, sitting beside Lia on the bench. Without waiting for a retort, she held out her hand, palm up, toward Lia. “Gimme your hand.”
After the slightest moment of hesitation, Lia obliged. She placed her hand in Morgan’s, palm up, but her fingers were curled over as if she were contemplating making a fist. With her free hand, Morgan unfurled Lia’s digits.
Suddenly, a voice spoke from the doorway. “Hey, actually, this room’s sort of off—oh.”
Still holding Lia’s hand, Morgan looked toward the speaker. Corbin Starling stood in the room’s entrance looking somewhat relieved.
He glanced at Ris. “Clare?”
“Just a quick reading,” Ris said promptly. “Then we’ll clear out.”
Corbin nodded, casting a glance over his shoulder. “As long as it’s quick,” he agreed.
Morgan waited for him to leave. When it was clear he wasn’t planning to, she sighed exasperatedly. “A little privacy?”
Ris cleared her throat pointedly. “Morgan, this is Corbin’s house…”
“I just want to make sure no one else comes in,” Corbin said. “I don’t want anyone messing with the piano or my guitars.”
Morgan sighed. “Whatever.” She turned her attention back to Lia’s palm. She felt the tension in Lia’s hand, felt her start slightly when Morgan brushed her thumbs lightly over the flesh of her palm. As Morgan looked at the different lines—heart, head, life—she tried to block out the music emanating from the adjoining room, the buzz and murmur of voices. Alecia said Lia’s worry centered around college. It wasn’t surprising. Lia was, as far as Morgan could tell, an overachiever at everything. That her parents were behind it in some way was understandable. As Morgan thumbed Lia’s life line, she relaxed herself. Exhaled. Her skin started to tingle, but she figured it was due to the audience. To focus, she closed her eyes.
“College isn’t going to be an issue for you,” Morgan said after a moment, eyes still closed. “You shouldn’t worry about it. Change is coming your way, and… you’ll need to embrace it. You need to go down the path set before you—”
Without warning, Lia pulled her hand away from Morgan. Morgan’s eyes opened and she looked at Lia. “What the hell?”
“I’m done,” Lia said, standing. “I just… This is a waste and I’m done.” With that, she stalked to the doorway, pushed past Corbin, and rejoined the party.
Alecia immediately made a move to follow her, but Ris blocked her way. She nodded in Morgan’s direction. Alecia seemed to get the hint and elbowed Alec in the side. With a sigh, Alec pulled out his wallet and paid Morgan—twice the normal rate. Then he followed Alecia back out into the party.
“Not usually the way your readings go down, I take it,” Corbin said conversationally as Morgan stood.
After a beat, Ris answered for Morgan. “Not really,” she agreed. “But usually people come to Morgan on their own—not because their friends set up a reading.” She smiled at Corbin and inched toward him. “How come you’ve never come for a reading?”
Corbin smiled and gave a little shrug. “I dunno. I guess I’ve never really had any big questions about my future.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Ris, I’m gonna go find some more pop, okay?”
Ris glanced at Morgan, eyes clearly saying, Yes. please, go, thanks. Morgan shook her head slightly as she passed the two of them on her way out of the room.
Morgan started walking around, looking for a likely location for the kitchen, where she assumed beverages would be found. After a minute or so, she saw the place from which the red cups seemed to be emanating.
The nearer she got to the doorway, the more Morgan felt like a salmon fighting against a river’s current. There seemed to be a never-ending stream of people exiting the room. Just when Morgan thought she might have to use elbows to make a hole to get through,
there was a break long enough to allow her to enter without difficulty.
The kitchen was huge and Morgan immediately understood why so many people had been able to exit the room en masse: She guessed that at least thirty people could stand comfortably in the room without encroaching on someone else’s personal space. Additionally, the kitchen had another doorway that seemed to lead to some sort of dining room.
There was a large island in the middle of the kitchen, and all manner of cups and beverages were lined up on it. At the far end of the island, Morgan noticed a group of guys standing protectively around a keg. She rolled her eyes and started toward the island. She was within a few steps of it and put her hand out to grab a two liter when a girl pushed her way into the space Morgan was about to step into. It only took a split second for Morgan to recognize the unruly blond curls of Shayna Malcolm, Lynna Rochester’s third-in-command.
Instinctively, Morgan stopped, not wanting to make bodily contact. But then she felt anger swell within her and, without pausing to think about what she was going to do, she changed direction so that she stepped next to Shayna and shoved into Shayna’s shoulder with her own. The cup Shayna was filling tipped over and cola went everywhere.
“Oh, Shayna!” Morgan said, putting her hands to her mouth in mock horror. “How incredibly rude and self-centered of me to have not noticed you there.”
Shayna glared at Morgan. Then she looked down at the brown cola spot consuming much of the front of her short white skirt. She glared at Morgan again.
“Bitch! How dare you!” Shayna screeched.
Morgan just looked at her evenly. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
For a moment, Shayna just gaped at Morgan. Through her peripheral vision, Morgan noticed that people around them were staring.
“God, you’re such a freak!” Shayna spat the last word like a malediction, as though Morgan should run away and cry upon hearing it. When Morgan’s even expression didn’t change, Shayna tried again. “What are you even doing here? This party isn’t for losers like you. Why don’t you just go home and be freaky all by yourself?”
Morgan said nothing. Instead, she took a step closer to Shayna. In the strappy heels, she was inches taller than Shayna was, and she used this to her advantage. She leaned in close and stared unblinkingly into Shayna’s eyes.
At first, Shayna tried to hold Morgan’s stare, but she finally took a step back, looking away. “Psycho,” Shayna muttered as she turned from Morgan. Then, glancing back, she raised her voice enough so that the people around them could still hear. “But I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you’re a psycho, considering your dad killed your mom and cut her body into tiny pieces so no one would ever find—”
A few things happened in quick succession—so fast, in fact, that later, Morgan would be unsure which happened first. Morgan felt a rage bubble inside her so hot and so fast she forgot to breathe. A fire seemed to fill her from the core of her being outward, and a rushing sound filled her ears. All she could feel was the rage and all she could see was Shayna.
And then Shayna started screaming.
Immediately, there was movement and confusion in the kitchen, but Morgan was only dimly aware of it. All she could hear was the rushing sound and Shayna’s screaming. But then one voice cut above the din.
“Morgan! Stop! What the hell are you doing to her?”
Morgan shook her head, the rushing sound abating. Then she turned to where the voice had come from. Lynna Rochester stood in the doorway, the look of shock and terror on her face quickly rearranging itself into a look of haughty condescension. Then, imperiously, Lynna led her second-in-command, Marya McKenzie, to Shayna’s side. Shayna looked shaken and pale.
Lynna cast an appraising eye at Shayna before glaring at Morgan. “What the hell?”
Morgan felt like she was waking up from a dream. Slowly, she became aware of someone moving through the crowd to her side. She looked to her left and saw Ris standing there, looking both awestruck and confused. For a moment, Morgan didn’t know how to react: she didn’t know what had just happened. But she knew she couldn’t ignore Lynna. She made a conscious effort to arrange her expression into something calm, detached. Then Morgan turned her attention to Lynna. “Keep your minions in check, Jocelyn,” she said, invoking Lynna’s given name and smiling when she bristled at the sound of it. “They don’t seem to be brave enough to venture into the big, bad world all alone.”
“Speaking of worlds,” Lynna shot back icily, “you don’t belong in this one, so why don’t you and your little friend go home?”
“Thanks for the suggestion, but unlike your friends, I don’t do whatever you tell me to.” Morgan cast a glance at Shayna, who still looked shaken. “You might want to get her cleaned up,” she said, indicating the stain on Shayna’s skirt. Without waiting for a response, Morgan walked out of the kitchen, Ris close behind her.
Morgan felt slightly shaky and unsteady on her feet as she weaved her way through the house toward the nearest external door she could find.
She walked as quickly as she could, trying to keep Ris behind her. She knew that Ris would bombard her with questions the moment she was given the opportunity, and Morgan needed a moment to figure out what she might say.
She didn’t know what happened with Shayna. She tried to replay the moments in her mind but found she couldn’t. Rage. She’d felt the rage—so potent that, looking back, she realized if she had a propensity toward violence she might have done Shayna some serious physical harm. But she hadn’t. So why did Shayna scream?
Morgan didn’t stop walking until they reached the back yard, where there seemed to be just as many people as there were inside. As expected, Ris immediately rounded on Morgan.
“What the hell?”
Morgan shrugged, deciding the best tactic, for now, was avoidance. “I know, right?”
Ris shook her head. “No. I mean, what the hell?”
“What?” Morgan asked, trying to sound confused. “Why did I knowingly interact with one of Lynna’s minions?”
“No,” Ris said slowly, “what was with the minion screaming?”
Morgan held up her hands. “I don’t know. I’m very scary?”
Ris just stared at Morgan for a moment before leaning in conspiratorially. “Did you—you know? Curse her or something?”
Morgan made a face. “‘Curse her’? What is this, Harry Potter?”
“I’m serious here!” Ris insisted. “Did you use some of your… psychic mojo on her?”
“Ris.”
“Morgan.” Ris held Morgan’s gaze as though she could will her friend to speak. When it was clear Morgan wouldn’t, Ris sighed. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” It was partially true.
Morgan glanced around the yard. The looks were starting. Apparently the news about what happened inside had filtered outside. “We should go,” Morgan muttered.
Ris sighed. “Of course we should.” She sounded somewhat defeated.
Morgan raised an eyebrow at Ris’s tone but then softened. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“It’s the price I pay, the cross I bear,” Ris said dramatically. Then she smiled. “Let’s go.”
Morgan led the way through the house, glancing coolly at those bold enough or drunk enough to stare at her. She didn’t catch sight of Lynna or her minions, and for that she was glad.
They were on the sidewalk headed toward Morgan’s car when Morgan heard heavy footfalls behind them.
“Hey, wait!”
Morgan and Ris turned. Corbin Starling was jogging to catch up with them.
“You’re already leaving? It’s still early.” Corbin sounded genuinely displeased. Morgan wondered if he was.
Ris gave a small smile. “We’ve already had quite the night,” she said.
Corbin nodded. “Yeah, I heard.” He glanced at Morgan. “Shayna’s a bitch.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “News flash,” she muttered sarcast
ically.
Corbin sighed. “I was really hoping nothing too crazy would happen tonight, but I guess that was too much to ask for, right?” He smiled. “I’m sorry you two have to leave so soon.” He stepped toward Ris and planted a soft kiss on her cheek, lingering for a moment before taking a step back. “I’m glad you came out, Clare.” Then he turned to Morgan. For a moment, he shifted his weight, as though he was considering kissing Morgan’s cheek as well. He seemed to think better of the idea, though, and instead simply said, “Gypsy… you look great tonight.”
Morgan just looked at Corbin for a moment, gauging whether or not he was being sincere. She felt that with someone like Corbin, one could never really tell.
Corbin broke eye contact first and turned his attention back to Ris. “And, of course, Clare, you always look lovely.” With that, he turned around and jogged back toward his house.
Morgan and Ris both watched him go. When he was safely out of earshot, Morgan said, “That was weird.”
“What was?”
“Corbin chasing us down to say goodbye.”
Ris shrugged. “I told you, he’s a nice guy. He wanted us to be there.”
“Wanted you to be there, maybe.”
“Morgan,” Ris said, sounding slightly exasperated. “I know you don’t really like him. That’s fine. You can’t like everyone. But at least believe me when I say he’s a good guy. Your ass is too sassy sometimes.”
Morgan held her hands up innocently. “Point taken.”
Ris smiled. Then she sighed.
“What?” Morgan asked.
Ris held out her arms. “All dressed up and no place to go.”
Morgan had to admit she had a point. “Well, then, let’s go somewhere.” With a smile, she started toward her car.
four