Page 176 of Wicked Dreams

I stare at it like it’ll give me the answers I need.

Where has Claire seen you before, Caleb?

Chapter 38

Margo

Friday.

Halloween.

The masquerade ball starts at seven o’clock, which means…

Six hours to go.

Only four hours before kids start trick-or-treating, but I refuse to think more about that. I’ll be upstairs getting ready with Riley, suppressing the anxiety spikes every time the doorbell rings.

Lenora picks us up from school after lunch. Most of the girls in the junior and senior classes leave early to get ready for the Fall Ball. It’s actually kind of fun to follow Lenora up to Robert’s classroom. There’s a goofy smile on her lips, and she admits that she wishes she could visit Robert in his ‘natural habitat’ more.

His whole face lights up when she knocks on his door.

A quick peek into his room, a kiss, and then we’re off.

“I booked you a hair appointment,” Lenora tells me in the car. “It’s at the same time as Riley’s.”

My lips part. “What? You didn’t have to?—”

“I want tonight to be great.” She pats my thigh. “So just let me pamper you, dang it.”

“Thank you, Lenora.”

It’s a whirlwind from there. I quickly sift through pictures for the hairstylist and point to something a little more extravagant than I would’ve been able to do myself. When in Rome, right?

The stylist is a master, making a braided crown intertwined with ropes of gold and pearls. Curled ringlets frame my face.

I’m the same, yet different.

Once we’re back at the house, Riley and I lay out our makeup in my bathroom. Our dresses are hanging on the door. I wipe off the day’s makeup and think about a plan. It’s setting in that this is real. This is happening.

The doorbell rings, and luckily, I’m still removing my makeup, because I almost jump out of my skin.

Riley throws me a curious glance, then crosses the hall into my bedroom. She returns and says, “The trick-or-treaters are starting to show up.”

I shudder.

“Do you not like it? Halloween?”

“Just some bad experiences.” After a while, even the association with terrible things was enough to make me want to hide. “No pity, please.”

“Got it. So, music?” She pulls out her phone and opens the music app. “Some fun pop, coming right up!”

Justin Bieber starts playing, and I laugh. “How’d you know I had a crush on him when I was twelve?”

She smirks. “Didn’t every girl?”

We do our makeup in silence, occasionally belting out lyrics. Robert or Lenora must be sitting on the porch, since the doorbell has stopped ringing. In fact, the house is almosttooquiet for a while.

I decide to take Caleb’s words to heart, and I don’t pack on the eyeliner like I’m inclined to do. Instead, I fish out my palette of eyeshadows and create a muted, gray-blue smoky eye. It pairs nicely with my amber-brown eye color.

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