Sara Shepard - Never Have I Ever

Ethan murmured a note of sympathy, but didn’t offer any advice. “What I wouldn’t give for a day off from this,” Emma murmured. “A couple of hours off.” She thought about Friday night. It was hard enough navigating broad daylight with the Twitter Twins. But dealing with a dark Homecoming dance with a haunted house theme, all by herself? She snuck a peek at Ethan. “I have an idea.”

Ethan dropped his phone into his pocket. “Let’s hear it.”

“What if you went to Homecoming with me?” Emma gestured to the Halloween Homecoming flyer that hung on the nurse’s wall. It was of a skeleton and a witch doing the tango.

Ethan took a step back. “Emma . . .”

Emma cut him off before he could give her an I-hate-dances spiel. “We could look into the Twins together. I won’t have to handle everything myself. And it could even be fun. We can dress in goofy costumes, OD on the amazing cupcakes the caterer is bringing, dance—or not dance, if you’re really opposed. We can laugh at all the people who are really into it.”

Ethan’s hands twisted together in his lap. “It’s not that I don’t want to go. It’s that . . . well, I’ve actually asked someone else.”

Emma blinked. It felt like he’d just dumped a bucket of cold water on her head, and for a moment her brain was filled with nothing but static. “Oh!” she said, a few moments too late. “Oh, well, great! Good for you!”

The look that crossed Ethan’s face was comically grouchy, almost petulant. “I mean, you said you just wanted to be friends. You said you weren’t interested.”

“I know! I did!” Emma’s voice took on the annoying chirpy quality it always got when she tried too hard to sound upbeat. “I mean, it would have been as friends. But this is totally for the better. I’m so happy for you! You’ll have so much fun!”

The room suddenly felt too small to fit both of them. Emma leapt to her feet. “Um, I should go.”

Ethan stood, too. “What? Where?”

“I-I should get back to the auditorium.” Emma fumbled for the door. “They’re still holding the party. I should help out. Plus, all my stuff is still there.”

“But . . .” Ethan slung his bag over his shoulder and followed her, but Emma did not want to discuss it any further. She gave him the most carefree wave she could muster. “I’ll call you later,” she promised, even though she couldn’t imagine doing so. She speed-walked into the hall, turned a corner, then collapsed against a bank of lockers.

The hall was quiet, the final bell of the day not yet having rung. Emma could hear her own ragged breathing. A sob rose in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it down. “You had your chance,” she whispered furiously. “You made your choice. It is for the best.”

A cackling sound floated down the hall. Emma froze, listening. There was another sharp exhalation of breath around the corner, a second triumphant-sounding snort. A shadow spread across the floor. Had someone been watching her? Listening?

She sprinted down the hall, but when she rounded the corner there was no one there. When Emma breathed in, she could detect the faintest scent of coconut in the air. And when she looked down, she saw a few tiny, glittering shards of glass on the ground.

She crouched down to touch one of the pieces. The amber-colored glass perfectly matched the glass in the light fixture that had nearly shattered her skull.

“ Velcome! ” A pimply-faced teenager in a satin Dracula cape, plastic fangs, and a penciled-in widow’s peak leapt into the doorway of Scare-O-Rama, Tucson’s best-stocked Halloween store. “Can I help you? You girls look good enough to bite!” When he laughed, he sounded like the Count from Sesame Street.

“Ew, no!” Laurel said, brushing past him. Dracula covered half his face with his cape, shunned vampire-style, and scooted away to his perch behind the counter.

It was Thursday after school, and Emma and Laurel were on the hunt for their Homecoming costumes. Truthfully, all Emma had wanted to do for the rest of the night was lie in Sutton’s bed in a tight, safe ball and thank her lucky stars that the light fixture hadn’t been a couple of inches to the left, but she’d finally relented after Laurel’s constant badgering. The dance was tomorrow, after all—time was running out. And even if she didn’t have a date, she had to attend in style. But just venturing into the world felt dangerous, like Lili and Gabby could be anywhere or do anything.

Emma kept checking their private Twitter accounts, but they hadn’t posted anything new since Gabby’s tweet that afternoon. She needed more on them—something concrete, unequivocal. But she’d scoured Sutton’s bedroom, house, iPhone, social networking sites, two lockers, and everywhere else she could think of.

Laurel took Emma’s arm and guided her to the racks of costumes cramming nearly every inch of the store. Pitchforks, sparkly top hats, slasher masks, and spiders hung on the wall. Fun-house mirrors made Emma’s body look either lumpish or taffy-stretched. Predictably, “Monster Mash” blared over the stereo, and Dracula and his coworker—a tall girl stuffed into a leather bustier—bobbed along to the beat. Laurel strode up to a rack of southern belle hoop skirts and touched the faux taffeta. “I’m thinking of something retro.” She tied a bonnet under her chin and posed to the right and left. “What do you think? Is it me?”

Despite her exhaustion, Emma smiled. “It’s definitely you.” They both collapsed into giggles. For once, Emma actually felt close to Laurel, almost like she was a real sister. The only thing missing here was Sutton herself.

What I wouldn’t give for Emma, Laurel, and me to be shopping together right now, trying on stupid witch hats and fake noses. Having a true blood sister would change so much. Emma and I would be instant family, a different kind than I’d ever experienced. There would be no jealousy that my parents loved her more than me. We would be bound together always; I would try my hardest for us to have the best relationship possible.

Emma and Laurel sifted through Madonna cone-boob corsets, French maid outfits, and a rack of pink tutus Emma would’ve begged Becky to buy for her when she was four years old. A few minutes into their search, Laurel pulled out a leopard’s costume and shook her head as she examined it. “This isn’t right either. It needs to be perfect .”

“It’s just a dance,” Emma murmured. “What’s the big deal?”

There was a screech of metal as Laurel moved a cluster of hangers to the left. “Caleb really likes Halloween. And I want everything to be just right.” She bit her lip.

Emma couldn’t help but smile. “Do you like him?”

Embarrassment flickered across Laurel’s face. “I know he tells really dorky jokes. And I know it’s not so great that he’s only on JV tennis. But he’s so nice. We have fun together.”

It took Emma a few moments to realize that Laurel was seeking her approval, apologizing for choosing a guy who might not be up to their clique’s standards. “If you guys have fun together, that’s what’s important,” she said, shooting Laurel a genuine smile. “I think he’s supercute.”

Laurel brightened. “Really?”

Emma nodded. “ Really. ”

The corners of Laurel’s lips twitched into a relieved smile. I could tell how much Emma’s words meant to her. It was the kind of encouragement I’d clearly never given her when I was around.

The next rack of costumes contained bikini tops, angel wings, hot pants, and thigh-high boots. “So, does Caleb like you back?” Emma asked.