Meg Cabot - Prom Nights from Hell

Logan shrugged. "She's around here somewhere, glowering at everyone. She doesn't want to dance, she doesn't want to talk, she doesn't want punch, she doesn't want to take pictures, and she doesn't want my company." He ticked each negative off on his fingers. "I don't know why she asked me in the first place. Probably just wanted to show off her dress-it is hot, I'll give her that. But she doesn't seem to care about showing anything now… Wish I'd asked someone else." Logan's eyes lingered wistfully on a group of girls fast dancing in a male-free circle. Gabe thought he saw Logan focus on one girl in particular.

"Why didn't you ask Libby?"

Logan sighed. "I don't know. I think… I think she would have liked it if I'd asked her, though. Oh well."

"Who's your date?"

"That new girl, Sheba. She's a little intense but really gorgeous, kinda exotic. I was too shocked to say anything but yes when she asked me to go with her. I thought that she, well, that she might be… fun…" Logan finished lamely. What he'd really thought when Sheba had all but commanded him to take her to prom didn't seem entirely appropriate to be spoken aloud, especially to Gabe; lots of things seemed inappropriate around Gabe. It was just the opposite with Sheba. When he'd gotten a look at her mind-blowing red leather dress, his head had been full of ideas that somehow didn't feel in the least bit inappropriate while her deep, dark eyes had been focused on him.

"I don't think I've met her," Gabe said, interrupting Logan's brief fantasy.

"You'd remember if you had." Although Sheba had forgotten Logan quickly enough once they were in the door, hadn't she? "Hey, do you think maybe Libby came alone? I didn't hear about anyone asking her…"

"Er, she came with Dylan."

"Oh," Logan said, crestfallen. Then he half-smiled. "Night's bad enough without getting tortured on top of everything else-weren't they supposed to have a band? This DJ…"

"I know. It's as if we're being punished for our sins," Gabe said with a laugh.

"Sins? Like you have any, Galahad the Pure."

"Are you kidding? I barely got off suspension in time to be allowed to come tonight." Of course, at the moment Gabe was wishing the timing hadn't been so helpful. "I'm lucky I didn't get expelled."

"Mr. Reese had it coming. Everyone knows that."

"Yeah, he did," Gabe said, a sudden edge sharpening his tone. Everyone at school was wary of Mr. Reese, but there wasn't much they could do until the math teacher crossed a line he shouldn't have. All the upperclassmen knew about Mr. Reese, too, but Gabe wasn't about to stand by while he stalked that clueless freshman kid… Still, knocking out a teacher was a bit extreme. There was probably some better way to have handled the situation. His parents had been supportive, though, as usual.

Logan interrupted his thoughts. "Maybe we should take off," Logan said.

"I'd feel bad-if Celeste needs a way home…"

"That girl is not your type, Gabe." She's pure evil-and a full-on whore, Logan could have added, but those just weren't the kinds of things you wanted to say about any girl while Gabe was in hearing range. "Let her get a ride with the guy sticking his tongue down her throat."

Gabe sighed and shook his head. "I'll wait to make sure she's okay."

Logan groaned. "I can't believe you asked her. Well, can we ditch out long enough to pick up a few decent CDs at least? Then we could hijack that pile of crap the DJ's playing…"

"I like the way you think. I wonder if the limo driver would mind a side trip…"

Logan and Gabe ended up in a mock argument over the best CDs to retrieve-the top five were obvious, but from there down the list was a little more subjective-both of them having a better time than they'd had all evening.

It was funny, but as they joked around, Gabe had a sense that they were the only ones having a good time. Everyone in the room seemed to be frowning about something. And over in the corner by the stale cookies, it looked like a girl was crying. Wasn't that Evie Hess? And another girl, Ursula Tatum, also had red eyes and smeared mascara. Maybe the music and the punch weren't the only things about this prom that sucked. Clara and Bryan looked happy, but aside from those two, Gabe and Logan-both recently humiliated and rejected-seemed to be enjoying themselves more than everyone else.

Less perceptive than Gabe, Logan didn't register the negative atmosphere until Libby and Dylan started arguing; abruptly, Libby stalked off the dance floor. That caught his attention at once.

Logan shifted his weight, his eyes glued to Libby's departing figure. "Hey, Gabe, do you mind if I ditch you?"

"Not at all. Go for it."

Logan nearly sprinted after her.

Gabe wasn't sure what to do with himself now. Should he find Celeste and ask whether she minded if he bailed? He wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of prying her loose from someone else in order to ask, though.

He decided to get another bottle of water and find the quietest corner possible to wait for the evening to drag to an end.

And then, as he went searching for that quiet corner, Gabe felt the strange pull again, stronger than he'd ever felt it in his life; it was like someone was drowning in black waters and screaming to him for help. He glanced around frantically, wondering where the urgent call was coming from. He couldn't understand the vital, jagged edge of this distress. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

For just a moment, his eyes locked on one girl-on her back, as she was walking away from him. The girl's hair was black and glossy, with a mirrorlike sheen. She wore a spectacular floor-length dress the color of flames. As Gabe watched, her earrings flashed once, like little red sparklers.

Gabe began walking after her in an almost unconscious movement, drawn by the wrenching need that surrounded her. She turned slightly, and he got a glimpse of an unfamiliar pale, aquiline profile-full ivory lips and black slanting brows-before she ducked through the ladies' room door.

Gabe was breathing hard with the effort of not following the girl into no-man's-land. He could feel her need sucking at him like quicksand. He leaned against the wall across from the bathroom, folded his arms tight across his chest, and tried to talk himself out of waiting for the girl. This lunatic instinct he had was way off base. Wasn't Celeste proof of that? It was all just imagination.

Maybe he should leave now.

But Gabe couldn't force his feet to move one step away.

Though the girl barely reached five foot three inches in her stiletto heels, something about her figure-whip-slender and rod-straight as a fencing foil-made her appear tall.

She was a walking contradiction in more ways than height-both dark and light with her inky hair and chalky skin, both delicate and hard with her tiny, sharp features, and both inviting and repellent with the mesmerizing undulations of her body under the hostile expression on her face.

Only one thing about her was not ambiguous-her dress was, without question, a work of art: Bright red tongues of leather flame bared her pale shoulders and licked down her willowy curves until they kissed the floor. As she crossed the dance floor, female eyes followed the pathway of the dress with envy and male eyes followed it with lust.

There was another phenomenon that followed her; as the girl in the fiery dress passed through the dancers, little gasps of horror and pain and embarrassment rippled out from around her in strange eddies that could only be coincidence. A high heel cracked, twisting the ankle inside it. A satin dress split along a seam from thigh to waist. A contact lens popped out and was lost on the dirty floor. A vital bra strap snapped in two. A wallet slipped from a pocket. An unexpected cramp announced an early period. A borrowed necklace scattered in a shower of pearls to the floor.