Page 28 of Come Out & Prey

Fine. I have two sets of friends—my gang of outcasts and the raccoons. And maybe the capybaras that clean the tower. I’m also fond of the…

“We have to picktwoof us to attend. I’m going to assume this is your fault.” Aubrey glares at them. “Which means two ofyouneed to go.”

“Bullshit,” Felix sneers. “Fang, Claw, Fist—like always. We didn’t do shit.”

“Outside of your ambush defiling my study room—again,” Aubrey grumbles, turning to look at me. “Are you on board with the best two out of three?”

Rolling my eyes, I glare at all of them. “If I have to attend this, I’m kicking all of you out of here for a week. Keep that in mind.” Quiet falls over the Tower and I smile in satisfaction.

Finally, the angry librarian clears his throat and sits, holding his large hand out. “All right. Are you ready?”

Determined looks cross the faces of each pred as they lean forward to focus. With each call of ‘fang, claw, fist, BITE!’, it becomes more obvious that they’re avoiding beating me. It takes extreme self-control not to preen at the concession, but the truth is their teacher housing is terrible and Aubrey hates people in his library. They come here to avoid students and staff. We all have our own reasons for avoiding most of them, but this is our haven.

It was still my refuge first, and they’d better not forget it.

After two full rounds and two re-matches, the unlucky winners of a rubber chicken dinner and uncomfortable formalwear are Fitz and Aubrey. For a moment, I worry that the dragon inside of him is going to explode in fury, but he calms himself by turning the music back on. The others file off to resume their game, and I sigh as the blessed quiet during our mini-tournament gets broken by electronic music and shouted curses.

I hate allof it.

I had an enormous family and many friends in my clan before I was exiled. Until Aubrey arrived, I was alone for many years.It has taken me even more time than that to realize I didn’t appreciate the support and companionship I had in the gargoyle clan. I lost one family, but throughout the years here, I found another. So even if I despise those things, I don’t despise my family.

But they don’t need to know that.

Don’t Cha

I rush towards the door,ignoring Lucille’s barked criticisms about being ‘too eager’. Todd doesn’t give a fuck about our stuffy parents’ conventions, and I will not wait for someone to formally announce that the limo full of my friends has arrived to rescue me from the clutches of my DNA donors.

Matilda opens the door, and I stop short as I hear her gasp. My heels clack on the teak as I stop, unsure why the closest thing I have to a caregiver in this house of horrors has gone pale as a sheet. Her face turns to me, and my stomach clenches at the look of pity on it. Squaring my shoulders, I take a breath before striding over to her as she stands mute in the doorway.

Todd is leaning against the frame, the smell of cheap whiskey wafting from his rumpled tuxedo. His shirt is only half tucked in, and his hair is a mess. If that were the extent of the idiocy, I would get over it. But no… far worse surprises await in the background. My hand flies to my mouth, and I bite my lower lip hard to keep from ruining my makeup with the tears stinging my eyes.

The sleek, black limo isn’t in the background as I’d imagined. Instead, there’s an enormous bus with LED runners and blaring music. The shiny logo on the side proclaims ‘The Landing Strip Party Bus’, and the Heathers are hanging out the windows, waggling bottles of champagne at me. I can only assume the boys are in there as well, and by the sloshed look of my boyfriend, they’ve been riding around for a while before they came to get me.

“Delores,” Matildas starts, but I wave my hand.

Nothing about this is fair, but very little in life is. I have to make the best of the hand that I’m dealt, or I’ll never get away from Lucille and Bruno. Besides, getting smashed on prom night is a pretty common rite of passage, so maybe it looks worse than it is.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, passing her as I head out the door. “I’ll have my phone just in case. Okay?”

She nods, pushing her glasses up as she stares at the neon monstrosity serving as my carriage to the most important night of my life. “Please be careful.”

Nodding, I wait to ensure that neither of my parents is going to come charging across the threshold to laugh at my shame, and head out the door. I have no idea what possessed the boys to rent a party bus, but I’m sure it was Chaz’s idea. That idiot is always talking Todd into doing stupid, thoughtless, or plain mean things, and this has to be his fault.

Gathering what little dignity I have left, I take Todd’s arm to steady him as I walk toward the driveway with my head held high. I refuse to let anyone see how upset I am; they don’t deserve my pain. Reaching the bus, I push my less-than-perfect boyfriend up the stairs by his ass, ignoring his drunkencommentary. Once he’s in, I turn to wave at Mattie and ascend the stairs.

I’m not ready for the sight that greets me. The driver lurches into gear and I grab the seats, holding on as both the movement and my disappointment nearly take my knees out from under me.

The Heathers are dressed in all of their designer finery—still coordinating by color—and they are obviously well on their way towards smashed. The boys are hooting and hollering from the bench seats as they watch Gold take her turn on the stripper pole in the middle of the aisle.

Yes, I said stripper pole.

She’s shaking what Zeus gave her like she needs the money and the girls are shouting praise for her clumsy, intoxicated slip and slide around the pole. The boys are tossing hundreds at her, chugging cheap beer in tall cans. The entire scene is like something out of a bad teen movie, and it makes my hands shake in fists at my side.

This wasnotwhat I planned for the most important night of my life, and I’m furious.

I take a seat at the front, inspecting the surface before I sit. This gorgeous dress will have to be sprayed for biohazards tomorrow if the condition of the rest of the bus is any sign. Placing my hands on my lap, I sit ramrod straight, trying not to let the others see how this is affecting me. I don’t know why they all did this, but I’m at the end of my rope. My mother tried to ruin my dress shopping experience and make me feel fat, my boyfriend allowed his friends to ruin our fairytale evening with a stripper bus, and my friends are so busy getting thrashed and pretending to be strippers they’ve barely noticed my existence.

My life is one big cosmic joke and I’m tired of being the punchline.

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