The DJ begins a drumroll.
There’s a commotion on the dance floor, and Mandy Allard is pushed to the front of the crowd, rolling her eyes and smiling widely in her sad attempt to be humble.
Mrs. Malone continues. “It was a close call this year, but the votes are in; this year’s Fairfield High homecoming queen is … Indigo Blackwood!”
The crowd erupts into the same raucous applause that Devon received.
“What?” Mandy and Bianca say together. My jaw is somewhere on the booze-slick dance floor.
I couldn’t agree with them more. Me? A junior? Homecoming queen? After everything that happened? After falling out with Bianca and after befriending the girl everyone thinks is the school’s biggest loser?
It has to be pity, I decide. People feel bad for me because Mom died.
Hands push me forward, and I stumble onstage, squinting against the bright light and the flash of cameras in the audience. I bend down like Devon did so that Mrs. Malone can place the crown on my head. It’s heavier than expected, and I straighten carefully so that it doesn’t topple off. And then, finally, I allow myself to look out at the audience.
Bianca and Mandy sulk off toward the bathroom, Julia hot on their heels. But that’s it: just those three girls in the entire room of students appear the least bit upset with the decision, and the rest cheer as though they’re genuinely happy. And for the first moment, I realize that maybe not everyone loves Bianca. Maybe other people realize what a terrible person she is. It makes me feel sort of bad for her, which is shocking after the whole Sears dress debacle.
But then I see Bishop, and all thoughts of Bianca slip away. He’s inside, leaning against one of the turret-peaked columns that border the room, his hands plunged deep in the pockets of his suit pants, his wing tips crossed at the ankles. He looks up at me from under the bowler hat that sits cocked slightly forward on his head, under which spills his familiar tangle of black waves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in anything but rocker clothing, and though I’m not entirely sure this doesn’t qualify as that, it makes me suck in a little breath. That, and the fact that he shouldn’t be here. And since he is, I guess it means everyone else has given up on the Priory too.
Bishop tips his hat and sends me a crooked grin, and I find myself smiling back before I remember that I’m supposed to hate him.
An arm wraps around my middle, and I jerk my gaze away from Bishop as the crowd begins chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss!”
Before I even get a chance to process what’s happening, Devon dips me backward and plants a wet kiss on my lips. For a moment, I’m too shocked to react, but then I realize that Devon’s kissing me, kissing me in front of the whole school, in front of Bishop, and that it’s not what I want. I put my hands onto his chest to push him away, but it’s too late. He’s already pulling me back to my feet.
And Bishop is gone.
Panting for air, I scan the columns at the back of the room, desperate to find him. But a strange movement in the room catches my attention. I squint into the darkness, sure that my eyes are playing tricks on me, because what I just saw cannot be right. Then the massive, green-spiked tail of the papier-mâché dragon flicks again, and my doubts are cast aside. The dragon is coming to life.
30
When I scan the length of the dragon’s body, I find that the rest of it is as lifeless as any arts and crafts project should be. But I know it’s only a matter of time before the whole thing roars to life along with its tail, prepared to rip me—and anyone standing in its path to me—to shreds.
Panic sucks all the air out of my lungs, and I forget what I’m supposed to do next. I’m only vaguely aware of what’s going on around me. Mrs. Malone speaks into the microphone and people stare at me frozen onstage, but all I can think is that Bishop’s abandoned me. He saw me kiss Devon and was so pissed that he took off, leaving me to die at the hands of the Priory. But then the fire alarm sounds, and I remember I was supposed to run at the first sign of the sorcerers, run far and fast so that none of the students get stuck in the battle zone, and when we were clear, Bishop and Jezebel would attack. Bishop must have activated the alarm when he realized I’d panicked and not come through on my end of the plan.
Devon tugs my arm, trying to lead me offstage as Mrs. Malone attempts to reassure the confused crowd.
“Calm down, students. I’m sure this is just an error and that we can resume the evening shortly, but until the fire department arrives and we can ensure your safety, I’ll have to ask that you all file into the parking lot.”
Students grumble and groan, collecting their purses and jackets from the tables. Some even line up outside the bathroom.
When I dart a glance back at the dragon, it blinks—a heavy-lidded blink—as though waking from a deep sleep.
I snatch the microphone from Mrs. Malone. “Come on, people, get outside! There’s a fire in the kitchen! You’re all going to die!”
Hysteria races through the crowd. Students cram into the doorways as though sucked there by a vacuum, and our principal flies offstage, running around like a headless chicken, trying to rein in the chaos. So, overall, much more effective than Mrs. Malone’s announcement.
“What are you talking about?” Devon asks. He’s been with me onstage and knows that I haven’t been near the kitchen. “Let’s get out of here,” he says.
I shake free of his grip. “You go ahead.”
His eyebrows draw together, and he glances back anxiously at his friends’ retreating backs. “Everyone’s probably leaving for the party,” he says, actual pain in his voice that he’s not part of everyone.
“Go ahead. I’m not feeling well.” I give him a not-so-little shove toward the stairs. He stumbles back, with the most affronted look on his face. A low, throaty rumble sounds from behind him. Devon spins around just as the dragon’s twenty-foot-long, papier-mâché body morphs into the scaly green skin of a lizard, its massive batlike wings expanding with a whisk of air from either side of its muscular shoulders. High-pitched screams erupt from the clog of people in the doorway.
“Holy shit!” Devon scrambles down the stairs, plastering himself against the wall as he passes the beast without so much as a backward glance at me.
Of course I wanted him to leave so he wasn’t killed. But still. What a gentleman!
I root my feet to the stage, fighting the intense urge to flee along with everyone else. I have to remind myself that the point was to lure the Priory out, that Leo won’t kill me until I’ve broken the spell; the dragon is just a scare tactic. But that’s really, really hard to do when china shatters as the dragon climbs to its feet, bones cracking as it extends its long, curved neck to full length. The animal yawns, revealing two rows of serrated, sawlike teeth and a thin red serpentine tongue.
Why, oh why, couldn’t this year’s homecoming theme be Care Bears?
I stumble backward.
“Indigo, what are you doing?” Mrs. Malone pokes her head in the door. “Come on out here, it’s … dangerous.” She spots the dragon, and her eyes go wide. She lets out a bloodcurdling scream and stumbles from the room.
The dragon sniffs the air, then snaps its head toward me so fast I shriek. Bishop? Jezebel? The Family? Any time now, don’t be shy. I know we agreed you’d all stay back until Leo shows his face, but I think a dragon is a good time to intervene too.
The dragon takes a huge breath that puffs up its chest, then exhales, blowing snapping flames across the room, so close to my face that my cheeks sting as though I’ve just come inside from the cold. I flatten myself against the wall so that I’m not burned. Just when it feels like my face is melting off, the fire finally, mercifully, sucks back into its mouth. But the dragon’s not done with me yet.