Body & Soul

  “Hey,” he protested. “What are you—”

  “I know where Erin is,” I said grimly.

  “You can’t be sure,” I said to Alona. But I was beginning to think it might be wishful thinking, rather than a rational argument, that kept me fighting.

  With Ed now safely tucked into the backseat of my car—without notice from the neighbors, as far as we could tell—we were heading out of town, but Alona and I were still arguing over her assertion that she knew where Erin was, or, rather, where Erin would be. Shocking, I know.

  Alona rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. It’s simple deductive reasoning. Leanne wants the biggest train wreck she can find, and Erin is only too happy to oblige.” She slumped back in the passenger seat.

  To be fair, Alona wasn’t particularly thrilled about the possibility of being right in this instance, either. But she wasn’t backing down.

  “Leanne asked her to the party, just like she was talking about doing when I heard her, and Erin, in her quest to create her own personal version of Girls Gone Wild, said yes.” Alona shook her head. “There’s no other way this could have gone down.” Though she sounded like maybe she wished there were.

  Ben Rogers’s back-to-school bash in the woods behind his McMansion was an annual tradition, a final good-bye for the seniors leaving for college, and this year, most likely, one last chance for skeevy Ben to hit on the vulnerable and naive underclassmen girls heading back to Groundsboro High. Yeah, he was that guy.

  It was also, quite possibly, the worst place in the world for Erin/Lily to be, given everything that had transpired the last time Lily had been at one of Ben’s parties. A humiliating and very public breakup with the king of the asshats, Rogers himself, followed by a horrible car accident. It was that accident that had sent her spirit on to the light but, in a quirk of fate, left her body damaged, though still functioning, and open to possession.

  Of course, only Alona and I knew that. To the rest of the world, Lily had survived and had recently woken up unexpectedly from a nearly yearlong coma.

  Which was exactly why Leanne Whitaker, gossip-monger and instigator galore, might want to engineer this particular disaster-waiting-to-happen. Everyone would be watching, if not openly mocking, the person they thought was Lily Turner, and God only knew what Erin would do in response or retaliation or by just not giving a damn about who she was supposed to be. She’d have no clue what she was walking into.

  It might also be the worst conceivable place from which to rescue Lily and/or confront Erin. For Alona, it was okay. None of the partygoers would be able to see her, except for Erin. In fact, because Erin would likely be able see her—and probably deduce our plan from Alona’s presence—it would be better if Alona stayed hidden until the last possible second.

  But me…I’d be the one who’d have to march in there and try to find Erin/Lily and drag her out. Dealing with Ben and his crowd—Alona’s former friends—at school was bad enough. Walking into one of their parties, though, struck me as potentially life threatening. We’d all graduated, yeah, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think that the lines that had divided us and the labels that identified us had gone away overnight. In terms of social status (and cafeteria seating), this crowd was first-tier—or desperately aspiring second-tier people—and I was off the chart, and not in the good way.

  Walking into an event to cause trouble, where I’d be outnumbered, oh, about fifty to one, was not something to take lightly. Especially when Ben and his ilk had shown no compunction in the past about proving their points with their fists.

  The thought made me queasy.

  “It’s a leap, and not one I want to make unless we’re sure.” In addition to my own desire to survive the ordeal with the least number of broken bones possible, I also didn’t want to waste time unnecessarily in the search for Erin/Lily. Alona might not have it to spare.

  “You don’t know them like I know them,” Alona reminded me.

  “Thank God for that,” I muttered.

  She sighed loudly over Ed’s drunken snoring in the back. “I can prove it.”

  I snorted. “Right. How?”

  She shrugged. “Call Misty.”

  I laughed before realizing she was serious. “You want me to call your former best friend, the current commander in chief of the snob patrol, for help? Why would she want to help us on this?” Yeah, she’d tipped me off that something was wrong with “Ally” earlier, but I wasn’t sure if her generosity would stretch this far, especially if her friends—well, Leanne, at least—were heading up this scheme.

  Alona glared at me, probably for the snob-patrol comment. “Because, as far as she knows, you and your strange friend ‘Ally’ saved her ass from me, the big, bad, evil spirit haunting her, remember?” She lifted a shoulder. “And she’s not that bad.”

  A far cry from the evil incarnate she’d believed Misty to be only a few months ago.

  “Trust me, she’ll do it,” she said, holding her hand out for my phone.

  “What is that, exactly?” I asked, not making a move to give my phone to her.

  “She’ll tell us for sure whether Erin will be there tonight,”she said impatiently.

  I turned on to the highway, pointing us toward Decatur and Groundsboro. “And how is she going to do that? It’s only eight thirty, and you said his parties don’t get going until later.”

  “Because if Leanne is up to something, she’ll brag about it to Misty. That’s just the way it works,” she said, in a tone that suggested I’d questioned the laws of gravity.

  “Fine,” I muttered. I pulled my phone from my pocket and slapped it into her palm. At least, that was the plan. What happened, though, was it slipped through her faded and flickering hand to the seat below and then bounced to the floor.

  Panic lit up my insides. I swerved to the side of the road, ignoring annoyed honks from the drivers around me, and stopped on the shoulder. “Are you okay?” I asked, hurriedly putting the car in park. Behind us, Ed continued to snore peacefully.

  Alona wouldn’t look at me, focusing instead on the dashboard. “Just give me a second,” she said.

  She whispered to herself, too quietly for me to hear over the noise of passing cars, but after a long heart-stopping moment, her physicality returned, shifting her from see-through and kind of blurry to solid once more.

  I bent down and retrieved the phone, resisting the urge to ask once again if she was all right. The truth was, she wasn’t, and she wouldn’t be. And there was nothing she and I could do about it now, except all that we were already doing.

  I silently held the phone out to her, but instead of reaching for it, she turned to stare out the window and rattled off Misty’s number. It sent a chill through me, seeing her remove herself from the action, like she’d already given up in some way.

  I had to have her repeat the number so I could punch it in, and as the phone started to ring on the other end, I put it on speakerphone.

  “Hello?” Misty answered, in the suspicious voice of one who doesn’t recognize the number on her caller ID.

  “Hi, Misty, it’s, uh, Will Killian. From before?” I shifted in my seat and looked at Alona for reassurance.

  She waved me on, impatient, but a weak imitation of what it would have been under other circumstances.

  “Yeah?” Misty sounded wary.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for my friend, the one who was at your house today?” I wasn’t sure whether to call her Lily or Ally.

  Misty huffed loudly. “Why are you asking me? She left here with you.”

  “I know, but—”

  “And her mom has been calling over here, all freaked out about her being gone.”

  Crap. I’d forgotten about that.

  “What did you tell her?” I asked. If she’d so much as hinted to Mrs. Turner that Lily was going to this party . . .

  “Same thing I’m going to tell you. She left with you, and I haven’t seen her since.” Misty’s voice rose on a defensive note at
the end.

  I gave Alona an I-told-you-so look.

  Alona shook her head. “She knows, though. She always knows. Leanne can’t do anything without an audience.”

  A rustling came through from Misty’s side, followed by a loud clatter and a stream of swearwords. “Look, I have to go. I’m trying to get ready and—”

  I took a deep breath, banking on Alona knowing these people as well as she claimed to. “Leanne invited her to Ben’s party tonight, didn’t she?”

  Misty sucked in a breath. “How did you know that? How do you even know there’s a party?” She made it sound like I’d somehow managed to crack the complicated code surrounding their supersecret elite activities. Like I’d been blind, deaf, and dumb through four years of high school.

  I ignored her words and the insult behind them. “Did Lily say she was going?”

  She was quiet for a long moment, and I thought we might have lost our connection, but just as I tipped the phone up to check, Misty sighed.

  “Look,” she said wearily. “I don’t want any part in this. This last year has been hard enough—”

  Alona gave me a satisfied nod. “Told you.”

  “Just tell me what happened,” I said to Misty.

  “Leanne invited her over to pregame and to go to Ben’s party together. But I don’t know if the girl’s actually going. I mean, everyone’s going to be there, including Ben. And they’re going to make fun of her. She has to know that.” Misty hesitated. “She’d have to be stupid…or crazy.”

  Neither of which we could rule out in this situation.

  “Thanks, Misty.” I moved to hang up.

  “Wait,” she said quickly. “You’re not actually going to go to the party, are you?”

  I didn’t say anything; better not to give anyone forewarning. Maybe I’d be able to get in and get Erin/Lily out without notice.

  “Listen, I appreciate everything you did,” she said in a rush. “It helps me to know Alona is at peace.”

  Next to me, the girl in question rolled her eyes.

  “But you have to know that going to Ben’s tonight…that’s a bad idea.” She sounded almost worried. “Like, a really bad idea.”

  I grimaced. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, and disconnected.

  Unfortunately, bad ideas, really bad ideas, were the only ones we had.

  Once we were back in Groundsboro, I gave Will directions to Ben’s place, though he didn’t seem to need them. It made sense, I suppose. Small town, relatively small school, and Ben’s parties were the stuff of such fervent gossip that you didn’t need to have actually attended one to know how to find their official sponsored location.

  Not to mention the fact that about a mile from Ben’s actual house we had to pass THE tree, the one Will would recognize all too well, the very same one that had gotten us into this mess. Well, that may be a slight exaggeration. This particular situation was, I suppose, more my fault for taking Lily’s body than the tree’s for simply existing for Lily to crash into. But still.

  I stared at the tree as we drove by. It seemed like it should bear some mark of its significance—if not some otherworldly celestial glow or a giant flashing arrow over the top of it, maybe massive damage left from the crash—a sign that something tragic and important had occurred there.

  But there was no glow or arrow, and if there was damage, I couldn’t see it in the dark. It was just a big old tree. A flash of bark bleached white in the sweep of our headlights, and then it was gone, lost to the shadows as we made the curve Lily had missed.

  “You okay?” Will asked. “You’re quiet. It’s kind of freaking me out.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him, even though he probably couldn’t see that in the dim light from the dashboard. I was too tired to make more of an effort. It felt like it was taking everything I had to keep myself together…literally. “Just thinking.”

  “Why start now?”

  I punched his shoulder lightly.

  “It’s going to be fine.” He held his hand out to me.

  Sure, as long our two definitions of that word were not wildly different, which I wasn’t so certain of at this moment.

  But I took his hand anyway, lacing my fingers between his and enjoying the sensation of security and warmth while it lasted, however long that would be.

  The closer we got to Ben’s house, the number of cars parked on both sides of the street, in shitty attempts at parallel parking, increased, and I could hear the distant thump of music even over the sound of the engine.

  Despite everything, and I do mean everything, some part of me reacted to the familiar stimuli, and my heartbeat kicked up a notch in anxiety and anticipation. Like this was somehow permanently encoded as part of my identity. And maybe that wasn’t far from the truth. Ben’s parties had been as much of my school life as cheerleading or classes. I’d been going since seventh grade, though those early parties were more “seven minutes in heaven” and spiked Sprite than sexual misconduct and full-on keggers.

  I’d looked forward to them with equal parts eagerness and dread. I mean, hey, who doesn’t love a party? Except it was another couple of hours to be on my guard, another chance for my carefully constructed sham of a life to tumble down around me if I said or did the wrong thing, showed weakness, spoke to someone I should have ignored, or drank too much or too little.

  Point of fact, I didn’t drink at all. Which only added another layer of complication, actually, seeing as that was not the norm. It was another thing that had to be, if not covered up, at least not openly acknowledged so as to avoid questions. It occurred to me now, thinking about all of this, how very little of my life had been real.

  It had, however, been exhausting.

  And yet I remembered laughing with Misty in the kitchen at finding a chip shaped like a more-than-generous representation of the male anatomy—a silly, stupid moment, but fun—and the brief feeling of safety that came from being surrounded by my friends and followers, people I thought cared about me.

  Well, I’d learned better since then, but that hadn’t made the memories go away—just tainted them with a longing and nostalgia for a time that hadn’t really existed.

  “You’re going to have to turn around to find a place to park,” I said. “It’s full this close to the house, and nobody’s leaving yet.”

  “The driveway’s empty,” he pointed out, cocking his head toward the sweeping brick driveway. The drive was large enough for three cars across and probably four rows deep, and it had a huge circular turnaround at the far end. Ben’s dad was a car dealer; what can I say?

  “Yeah, Ben’s rules. Something about making it less obvious where the party is being held or something.” Like his neighbors weren’t all too aware of that already. I suspected his dad must have bribed them. How much would it have cost for a dealer to give away a car or two, anyway?

  Will’s lip curled, and he cranked the wheel hard to the right, sending the car into the driveway. Then he pulled all the way up to the four-car garage and a ridiculous stone fountain they had in the center of the turnaround.

  “Yeah, that’s good,” I said. “Subtle.”

  He gave a sulky shrug. Will did not like Ben. I didn’t blame him, but now was not the time.

  “Can you just be less of a guy right now and focus?” I let go of his hand—making myself do so swiftly and without the reluctance I felt—and reached for the door. Everyone was already at the back of the house; nobody to freak out over a door opening by itself.

  Will caught my arm. “Wait, where are you going?”

  “Duh. Someone has to make sure Erin’s actually here before we go charging in.”

  “But if she sees you—”

  I raised my eyebrows. “As opposed to the dozens or more who will definitely see you?”

  Will released my arm with a sigh and slumped back in his seat. “Just…be careful.”

  He looked so dejected and worried I couldn’t resist. I let go of the door and slid across the seat. I lean
ed over him, bracing myself with one hand on the center armrest and the other on his door. I was only a couple of inches from his face before he figured out what I was up to.

  He sucked in a sharp breath in anticipation, and warmth spread through me. Nice that I could still provoke that reaction.

  I brushed his mouth lightly with mine, focusing on the details. His familiar clean-boy-and-laundry scent and the soft friction of his lips beneath mine.

  Will surprised me then, leaning forward into the kiss and lifting his hand to the back of my head to hold me closer. His mouth moved fiercely over mine, and it was like he was pouring all the words he couldn’t say, all the complications we couldn’t unsnarl, all his frustration and fear, into this one moment.

  And I couldn’t think, caught up in the taste of him, the feel of his heat inches from me, but I couldn’t touch him, not without falling…and I really, really wanted to. Both touch and fall.

  My arms started to shake…No, wait, scratch that—all of me was shaking. But I didn’t care. I wanted to stay here forever.

  Then Ed coughed and mumbled something in his sleep from the backseat, startling both of us. I’d forgotten he was there.

  I leaned back away from Will, my breathing all uneven and my heart pounding, and slowly eased back into my seat. I caught myself wondering what it would have been like to be Ally during the kiss. It had been intense as it was, but I felt so much more when I was her. I shivered.

  Will watched me retreat with a warmth in his gaze that suggested I wasn’t the only one who’d lost track of time, place, and circumstances.

  I bit my lip, which felt puffy and tingly; I was so tempted to stay.

  But for how long? That thought alone was enough to dump a metaphorical bucket of cold water on my overheated emotions.

  I looked away from Will and fumbled for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Promise?” he asked as I climbed out.

  I didn’t know what to say, caught between what I wanted and what I could control. So I didn’t say anything at all.