"There you are." Mrs. Richards flagged Lilith down as she was leaving her locker after school. "I need a favor." Her glasses were smudged, and she looked frazzled. Lilith knew the teacher had been working overtime with the prom committee, ensuring they were making "green" choices for the dance.
"Sure," Lilith said. Since she'd apologized to Mrs. Richards and taken her advice about Bruce's diet, the two of them had been getting along much better.
"Chloe King went home sick this afternoon," Mrs. Richards said. "I need a student to deliver her homework to her house."
"I'm not friends with Chloe," Lilith said. "I don't even know where she lives. Can't June or Teresa or the other one do it?"
Mrs. Richards smiled wistfully. "Last-minute prom court meeting! Besides, I thought you were turning over a new leaf." She pressed a stack of folders into Lilith's hands. Chloe's home address was written on a green sticky note on top. "It would really help me out. I hate to see a bright student fall behind."
So Lilith boarded the bus for the rich kids, which was mostly empty because the upperclassmen who lived in Chloe's neighborhood all had their own cars.
She watched the street signs as the bus meandered through the fancy neighborhood, dropping kids off at big new houses tucked away behind huge, well-manicured lawns. She watched one freshman boy walk into a house with a For Sale sign planted in its lawn and wondered where his family was moving.
Lilith imagined them packing up their belongings, climbing into a luxury car, and speeding down the open highway, fleeing Crossroads. The fantasy was enough to make her envious. Escape was never far from Lilith's mind.
Soon they turned onto Maple Lane, and Lilith double-checked Chloe's address. She rose to get off the bus when it stopped in front of a huge white faux-Tudor McMansion girded by a moat filled with koi.
Of course Chloe lived in a house that looked like this.
When Lilith rang the doorbell, someone buzzed her in and lowered an electric drawbridge over the koi moat.
Across the moat, a housekeeper opened the door to a gleaming marble foyer.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm here to drop off Chloe's assignments," Lilith said, surprised by the way her voice bounced off the walls; the foyer had crazy acoustics. She handed the folders to the housekeeper, eager to jog back to campus, where she was supposed to meet Jean and Luis.
"Is that Lilith?" Chloe's voice called from somewhere upstairs. "Send her up."
Before Lilith could argue, the housekeeper ushered her inside and closed the door.
"Shoes," the housekeeper said, pointing at Lilith's combat boots and the white marble shoe rack next to the door.
Lilith sighed and unlaced her boots, then kicked them off.
The house smelled like lemons. All the furniture was massive, and everything was decorated in shades of white. A huge white baby grand piano sat on a white alpaca rug in the center of the living room, playing automated Bach.
The housekeeper led Lilith up the white marble stairs. When she deposited Lilith at Chloe's white bedroom door and handed her back the folders, she raised her eyebrows as if to say, Good luck; she's in rare form today.
Lilith knocked on the door.
"Come in," a voice said.
Lilith peered inside the room. Chloe lay on her side, her back to Lilith, facing a white-curtained window. Her bedroom was nothing like Lilith would have expected. In fact, it looked just like the living room: an oversized white four-poster bed, white cashmere throws draped over the bed and the chairs by the window, an expensive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
Chloe's bedroom made Lilith think of her own room more fondly, with its old twin bed and thrift-store desk, the mismatched lamps her mother had found at a garage sale. She had three Four Horsemen posters, one from each of their most recent albums. She used the space above her desk to tack up lyrics she wanted to find melodies for and quotes by her favorite musicians.
The only thing on Chloe's wall was a platinum record in a white frame with a plaque that read AWARDED TO THE PERCEIVED SLIGHTS FOR FUTURE SALES. MERRY CHRISTMAS. LOVE, DADDY.
Lilith knew Chloe had a lot of passions--not just her band but also the prom court, the bingo team, her student-government campaigns. It was weird that there was no sign of them in the place she spent the most time. It was like her interests had been whitewashed by an expensive interior designer. It made Lilith feel a little bit sorry for Chloe King.
Chloe sniffed and reached for a box of tissues on her nightstand.
"Sorry you're sick," Lilith said. She placed the folders on Lilith's white dresser. "I brought your homework. You think you'll be better by prom?"
"I'm not sick," Chloe said. "I took a mental health day." She rolled over to face Lilith, her face splotchy from crying. "I didn't think I'd ever want to see you again after what you did to me today, but now that you're here, you might as well entertain me."
"What are you talking about, what I did today?" Lilith said, leaning against the doorway. "I didn't even see you."
"I heard your band practicing at lunch," Chloe said. "I was just walking by after the prom court meeting, but then I heard you guys through the door and I couldn't help listening." A sob shook her shoulders. "You weren't supposed to be competition."
"Oh," Lilith said, taking a step closer to Chloe. "So my band offended you by being good?"
"Do you know how much pressure I'm under to win?" Chloe wailed, sitting up in bed. "Everyone thinks I'm perfect. I can't let them down." She forced herself to take a few deep breaths. "Besides, my dad is sponsoring the whole deal, so it's extra embarrassing if I don't win."
"Look," Lilith said, "I've never heard your songs. But, like, a hundred people show up every time you have a gig. I always hear kids talking about it the next day."
"That's because they're scared of me," she blurted out, then looked shocked by what she'd said. She pulled the covers over her face. "Even my own band is scared of me."
"For what it's worth, not many people at Trumbull like me, either," Lilith said, even though Chloe, who had spent years publicly highlighting Lilith's flaws, knew this better than anyone.
"Yeah," Chloe acknowledged, peeking out from under her duvet. "But it doesn't bother you, does it? I mean, you have so much else going on. You're too focused on your music to care about popularity. Do you know how much free time I'd have if I didn't have to constantly manage my social status?"
Lilith used to lament her lack of friends, but being a loner for so long had made her a really strong songwriter. Now that she had a group of friends, Lilith had the best of both worlds.
Suddenly she felt even worse for Chloe.
" 'Managing My Social Status' is a great title for a song," Lilith said, and noticed Chloe's guitar stashed in her closet. She walked over and picked it up. "We could write it together, now."
"I don't need to be reminded of your superior songwriting skills," Chloe huffed. "Give me that guitar."
Lilith did, and Chloe smiled gratefully. Somehow, sitting down on Chloe's bed seemed like the right thing to do next. Lilith sank into the mattress, amazed by how luxuriously soft it was.
"Listen to this," Chloe said, and started strumming. Soon, she broke into song. "Rich bitch, rich bitch..." When she had finished, she looked up at Lilith. "That's what we're playing at prom. It sucks, doesn't it?"
"No way," Lilith said. "It's just..." She thought for a moment. "You're singing it from the perspective of someone else looking at your life and being envious. What if you sang it from your own perspective, and put all your own feelings into it? Like how it hurts to feel like the rest of the world doesn't know you."
"It does hurt," Chloe said quietly. "That's actually not a totally stupid idea."
"Try it again."
Chloe did. She strummed the guitar, closed her eyes, and sang the song so differently, with so much emotion, that she was crying again by the time she finished. Lilith was shocked to find tears welling in her own eyes, too.
&nb
sp; When she played the last chord, Lilith applauded with genuine enthusiasm. "Yes! That was amazing."
"Yeah," Chloe agreed. "It was." She set her guitar aside on her bed, then reached for her lip gloss, dabbed it on, and offered Lilith some. "We're doing a show tomorrow night at Alfie's. You should come."
Chloe had never invited Lilith to anything before. It was one thing to have this weird, private breakthrough in Chloe's room. But to show up in public and not act like they hated each other?
"You're not worried anymore about me being 'influenced by your sound'?"
"Oh, shut up." Chloe swung a pillow at Lilith's head. "And thank you."
"For what?" Lilith asked.
"Helping me with my song. I wouldn't have done the same thing for you," Chloe said, with a surprising amount of honesty. "But I really appreciate it."
Lilith waited a few seconds for the other shoe to drop, for Chloe to say that she was kidding and reveal the webcam she'd been using to punk Lilith, but it never happened. Chloe just went on acting like a regular person, and Lilith realized, to her surprise, that it wasn't a total drag to hang out with her.
"Maybe I'll see you there," Lilith said, then made her way toward the bedroom door. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Chloe smiling.
"Wait," Chloe said. "There's one more thing."
"Yeah?" Lilith asked from the doorway.
"Yesterday morning, I was meeting Dean under the bleachers."
Dean...Dean...Lilith racked her brain to remember who that was, then recalled that it was the name of Chloe's jock boyfriend.
"Don't look at me like that; it was totally innocent," Chloe said. "We were practicing our moves for the first dance at prom."
"Sure." Lilith smirked. Nobody hung out under the bleachers to practice anything but making out.
"Anyway," Chloe said, "I heard voices. It was Cam talking to my dad's intern, Luc. They were arguing. About you."
Lilith tried to control her face so the shock wouldn't show. "Me? What about me?"
"I didn't catch all the details," Chloe said. "Dean was taking up a lot of my attention, but I heard them mention...a bet."
Just then, Chloe's mom poked her head into the room. "Chloe, you need your rest."
"We're almost done, Mom," Chloe said, smiling brightly until her mother disappeared, without so much as glancing Lilith's way.
"What kind of bet?" Lilith asked.
Chloe leaned forward in her bed. "I didn't get it exactly, but basically Cam said he bet he could get you to run away with him after prom. And get this: If he can't, he becomes Luc's bitch. Forever."
Lilith laughed nervously. "That sounds a little far-fetched."
Chloe shrugged. "Don't shoot the messenger."
"Luc's bitch?" Lilith repeated. "How would that even work?"
"There's clearly a lot about those two freaks we don't know," Chloe said, making a sour face.
Lilith tried to think why Luc and Cam would be hanging out in the first place, let alone making some bet about her. They hated each other. Was Chloe lying? That would normally be Lilith's first assumption, but Chloe seemed more open and less scheming than Lilith had ever known her.
She almost seemed to be telling the truth.
"We must be missing some information," Lilith said, trying to pretend she didn't suddenly feel anxious. "Maybe Cam owes Luc money or something."
"I don't think so," Chloe said. "Those guys were talking as if money was no object. They didn't even seem to care about life or death." She stared at Lilith. "All they cared about was you."
Two Days
In poetry class the next day, Cam tried to lock eyes with Lilith. Because of his suspension, he hadn't seen her in almost two days. The sight of her now, scribbling in her notebook, immersed in another world, drove him mad with desire. He ached to unwind the black scarf from her neck and kiss the pale skin underneath.
He tried passing her a note, begging her to meet him after class. When she pushed it off her desk unopened, he tried passing another, not even bothering to fold this one, his message exposed for anyone to see. Please just talk to me. But Lilith refused to read it.
A boy named Ryan Bang finished reading his experimental sestina and Mr. Davidson started clapping.
"Now, that's the kind of poem the New Yorker wants to publish!" the teacher said with gusto.
Cam was hardly paying attention, though. He wished he could have denied the rumor Luc had spread, but he couldn't lie to Lilith. The problem was he didn't know how to tell her the truth.
At the front of the room, Mr. Davidson looked down at his notes. "Cameron, you're next."
"Next at what?" Cam asked, refocusing.
"The assignment? Choosing a poem that clearly expresses a theme? Earth to Cameron." Mr. Davidson must have registered the blank stare in Cam's eyes. "I imagine you will choose something about death, as usual? Come stand before the class and state your theme."
Cam didn't have anything prepared, but he had been around for long enough to encounter some of the world's most brilliant poets, and right now one sprang easily to mind.
Cam made sure to walk past Lilith as he went to the head of the class. He wanted to brush his hand against her as he passed, but she would hate that. So instead, he simply rapped his fingers on her desk, hoping to get her attention.
It worked. She looked up as he stood before the class and announced, "My theme is love."
The class groaned, but he paid them no mind. When Cam had fallen in love with Lilith in Canaan, Solomon had not yet been king of the Israelites. He'd been a boy of eighteen, newly in love himself with a girl from a neighboring village. Cam and Solomon had met in a Bedouin tent one night, both of them traveling in different directions. They'd shared only one meal together, but Solomon had recited to Cam the lovely words that would later become famous as the Song of Songs. Now, Cam gazed at Lilith and started reciting the poem by heart. When he got to his favorite part, he slipped out of English and into the poem's original language, ancient Hebrew.
" 'Rise up, my love, my beautiful one, and come away,' " he said.
At her desk, Lilith dropped her pen. She stared at him, her mouth open, her face ghostly pale. He wished he could know what she was feeling. Did she remember anything?
By the time Cam reached the end of the poem, the bell was ringing. The classroom grew chaotic as students leapt up from their seats.
"Did you hear that?" a girl with rosy cheeks and a huge red backpack giggled to her friend as she walked past. "He switched to gibberish when he forgot a line."
Her friend snorted. "He does look old enough to have Alzheimer's."
"Nice job," Mr. Davidson said. "That's one of my all-time favorites. And you know the Hebrew!"
"Yeah, thanks," Cam said, pushing out of the room and racing after Lilith. He spotted her at the end of the hall, talking to Jean and Luis. They were looking at a poster taped to a classroom door.
"Lilith! Jean! Luis! Wait up," he called, but by the time he had fought through the crush of students to reach the end of the hall, Lilith and the boys had turned the corner and disappeared.
Cam sighed. He couldn't catch a break. And now he might not see her again all day.
He stared at the poster she'd been reading.
ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?!
He'd seen it before. It was advertising the same gig he'd tried to invite Lilith to his first day at school. The Perceived Slights were opening for a local band called Ho Hum. It was taking place that night at a fancy coffee shop a couple of miles away.
Was Lilith planning on going now? She hated Chloe King. So did Cam, for that matter. But on the off chance that Lilith did go to scope out the competition, Cam would be there.
As the sun went down that evening, Roland, Cam, and Arriane crunched through the grass to cross High Meadow Road, forcing cars to swerve around them. Cam was deep in thought. He barely noticed the screeching tires and blaring horns.
"I don't know how we stuck around Sword & Cross as long as we di
d," Roland said as a motorist flipped him off. "I can't get kicked out of these atrocious mortal high schools fast enough."
"Get out of the road!" a woman shrieked over her horn.
"Did you know that almost all car horns are tuned to F-sharp minor?" Arriane asked. "That's why you should always listen to music in the key of A when you're driving in a city. Or sing a song in A."
"She's a kind-hearted woman, she studies evil all the time," Roland sang.
"Where are we going again?" Arriane asked.
"A coffee shop called Alfie's," Cam said, distracted. He had Lilith on his mind. He had to make up with her tonight in order for his plan to work.
"And why is that again?" Arriane patted Cam's stomach. "Cammy's hungry? Wants some crumb cake? You might want to watch your carb intake. Do they even make tuxes your size? Which reminds me, have you asked Lilith to prom yet?"
"Not yet," Cam said. "Not yet. I'm going to need your help tonight," he told his friends as they rounded the corner to the front of the cafe. "Don't forget the plan."
"Yes, right, the secret plan!" Arriane said, stopping to touch up her lipstick. "I love secrets. Almost as much as I love plans. Put us to work, boss."
Cam walked into the coffee shop and held the door open for his friends. The entrance was crammed with shelves of knickknacks and trinkets, little metal trees meant for holding jewelry, coffee mugs painted with cheesy slogans for sale--all to make room for a small stage that had been set up at the back of the cafe.
The walls were mirrored, so Cam tried to avoid looking almost everywhere. He couldn't stand to see the way he looked now. He was indisputably ugly.
"Come on, I need a mocha," Arriane said, taking Cam's hand and squeezing them through a narrow space between two bookshelves so they could join the audience.
There were probably a hundred kids there, most of whom Cam recognized from Trumbull. It was the popular crowd and some of the second tier--and most of their necks swiveled when the fallen angels entered the scene. Cam and Roland were the only guys not wearing khaki shorts and polos. Arriane was the only girl who didn't look like every other girl. Cam watched a dozen high school guys scope her out.
"Jeez, fellas," she said. "Leave my drawers on, will ya?" Then she leaned in close to Cam and whispered, "I'm not wearing any drawers!"