Expel by Addison Moore
An oversized office chair, a tufted hunter’s green, beckons me. I take a seat and glide over the hardwood floor on its casters. I roll the fat globe back onto the desk, pull open the long drawer in front of me and inspect my findings—a blank note pad, about a dozen loose pens.
Cataloging, pencils, paperclips, two boxes of staples, is not the way I planned on spending my Saturday.
I used to think doing community service with Demetri would be sheer torture, that I would rather chop my feet off and walk on my hands the rest of my life but this certainly beats roadside assistance with a shovel and a trashcan. There’s no orange jumpsuit involved, so already it’s made of win.
I pull out my cell to see if there’s a message from Gage, but nothing.
It’s so deathly quiet here. I wonder what Emily is up to? Didn’t the Gestapo specifically order her to shoulder up with me in office supply labor detention?
God, what if she really is trying to kill Chloe? I bolt up and take off down the hall. The same blue glow captures me, and I head over to the overgrown library to see if the secret passage is still opened—see if the Fem Hall of Fame has any West Paragon High cheerleaders doubling as visitors or decapitated wall mounts.
A cold breeze accosts me in the library, feels like ten thousand disembodied spirits all rallied to greet my presence. I speed past the stacks of ancient texts, the air sweetened with decaying parchment. The cracked and aging hardbacks hunger for my touch. They entice me with their gilt lettering, hold the promise of transferring their knowledge in exchange for rubbing their spines. These books crave love, attention, human hands to cradle them. This is what Demetri should donate to the garbage sale, the whole damn library.
A crack of light emerges at the end of the long line of mahogany bookshelves. The opening in the wall has reappeared.
Chloe is in there, milling around.
Figures.
She hovers over the haunted pictures and looks as if she’s taking her aggression out on one.
What in the hell is she doing?
She’s shaking it like a snow globe and laughing at the effort.
Chloe glides over to the mirror, sticks her hand in just like I did. My heart picks up pace, drumming on the inside until my ears hone in on the rhythm. It takes everything in me not to run over and push her in.
I imagine her head mounted on the wall of horrors as Demetri’s latest conquest and an unnatural rise of pleasure purrs within me.
Chloe doesn’t move, doesn’t flail for help—simply relaxes as her arm swims inside the unknown realm as if she belonged there.
Emily appears.
Shit!
I lean over and see a giant arched entry that leads in from the hall. I’m hardly impressed that the entire house can change its shape at will. It’s about as dead as Demetri’s so-called grandfather. Come to think of it both the house and the grandfather are probably Fems.
Emily moves in slow and stealth behind an unsuspecting Chloe, the clear look of fright contorting on her face. Her pale as plaster skin lies in stark contrast to the dark wiry curls she wears like a bad Halloween wig. Emily continues her noiseless effort and comes upon her the way you would approach wild game that has the ability to bolt before capture. Emily holds her hands out, gives Chloe one swift push in the back and sends her flying into the shimmering glass.
Emily ditches out of the room quick as an apparition. I bolt back through the library and try to catch up to her in the hall.
“You see Chloe anywhere?” I ask, not sure whether to reprimand or applaud her.
“She wasn’t feeling good.” A dark look of satisfaction comes over her. “I think I’m going to take off. I’ll catch you later.” Emily speeds down the stairs. A moment later the slam of the front door echoes like a gunshot.
I run back down the hall to the room of terrors, hesitate before walking through the newly formed entry. The grotesque faces mounted to the walls press over my shoulders with the weight of their stares—oppress me with enough fear to send me into paralysis.
“Chloe?” I say loud enough to fill the ethereal plane. I walk over to the oval crafted wonder and look inside. The aura of a rainbow surrounds my reflection. My hair sparkles iridescent blue. “Chloe?” I lean in with my face, feel a slight electrical impulse as my nose penetrates the barrier. I push in just enough to take a look inside. It’s a room identical to this one, everything set in reverse order.
I pull my head out and take a giant breath.
No sign of Chloe.
And, I, for one, hope it stays that way.
Chapter 43
I Ain’t Missing You at All
When I arrive home, a loose number of Ethan’s party guests have already meandered onto the property. I choose to ignore the rising body count and head inside. The Landon residence feels like a shanty after spending hours at Demetri’s palatial estate.
I still can’t believe I hung out at the haunted mansion alone after Em pushed Chloe into the other side of the looking glass. I was totally hopped up on life once Chloe was no longer an active participant, in this realm anyway, and ended up cataloging every freaking thing in that gargantuan antique desk. Nothing but boring everyday crap you would find at the bottom of your backpack, or the junk drawer in any household.
Eventually, I made my way over to an elongated sofa and fell asleep a good five hours. No matter what the circumstance, no matter how many homicide attempts Chloe suffers through, I want to log as many hours as possible at Demetri’s den of horrors to rid my debt to society.
Today is turning out to be a trifecta of perfection, what with no sign of Demetri, Chloe evaporating into another realm, and soon I’ll get to spend a little time with my dead ex-boyfriend, which will really clear my head. Now, if I could only get Gage into the equation, somehow, life would be just freaking grand.
“Hey,” Ethan calls as I’m about to climb the stairs. “Where’s Chloe?”
“No clue,” I shrug. Totally not a lie. “And when is this revenge of yours supposed to kick in?” Not that it’s important now. But it’ll look good that I asked in the event Chloe decides to show up never.
“I’m riding this wave as it comes. Don’t worry, it’ll get done,” he assures.
That’s what I was afraid of. The non-plan, the idiotic Landon strategy, the, I’m going to trick Chloe into my pants scheme. Ethan is incapable of taking down a viper like Chloe. Even death can’t keep her down. I’m betting she ditches the mirror before midnight. In fact, I bet she’s already crawled back out and brought a pack of magical Fems right along with her.
Female voices escalate from my bedroom. The door sits ajar, and I can hear the distinct sound of cackling. Sounds like Mia and Melissa made up.
I swing open the door. Only it’s not Mia and Melissa. Instead, I’m stunned to find Carson Armistead sitting in my chair with her leg slung casually over the side. Carly Foster is lounging on my bed, extruding a huge bubble from her lips while her bare feet push into my pillow.
“Excuse me?” I penetrate the air with my insolence. “Get the hell out.” There’s no point in being nice to these girls. Nice is lost on just about everyone on Paragon.
“Calm down,” Carly squeaks. I think at some point in her life Carly had her vocal cords permanently scarred with helium. There is no good reason any human being should be able to mimic a rodent so perfectly. Then again around these parts, one doesn’t necessarily need to be human. “We’re just reliving our childhood.” She shags out her straw-colored hair.
“We practically grew up in this room,” Carson swivels in my chair, staring lazily at the walls. “Chloe had a slumber party like every single week.”
God—I wonder if they know about the butterfly room?
“That’s nice. Get out.” I run my fingers through my hair before picking up the detangler and misting myself down. It ignites the room with the fresh scent of apples, eliciting a strong memory of when I first entered the haunted hotel in the Transfer with Marshall.
A gasp
“Remember that time we snuck out and firebombed Brielle’s house with a bag of flaming crap?” Carson laughs like she’s already ripped.
Wow, real mature. No wonder Brielle can’t stand Chloe—she treated her like crap, literally.
“Or that one time we snuck down the hall and made out with Brody?” Carly snorts. “Oh, wait, that was just me!” She hacks out a laugh in pieces until nothing but air cuts from her lungs.
The slight hint of Ellis’ own private reserve hits my nostrils.
“Wait a minute,” I head over to the open window. I hadn’t even notice it was cold in here because Ethan has the front door wide open and the entire house is frigid as a meat locker. “Were you getting high in my room?” Crap. They’re freaking stoned.
Now that I think of it, everything smells like Ellis in here.
“Out,” I yell.
They rise in unison, stretch their limbs lethargic as kittens.
“You still seeing that teacher?” Carson tilts into me as if this were a genuine concern.
I’d say no, but the thought of Carson and Carly double-teaming Marshall sends a rise of vomit to the back of my throat.
“None of your business.” I don’t get it. I should be pushing them at Marshall, he might even gift them with demonic necklaces before the clock strikes twelve, and that would crown this as an unordinarily perfect day. But I can’t help feel a twinge of jealousy when I consider him plying them with his special brand of obsessive attention. Unfortunately, his quirky evil ways have grown on me.
“That means yes,” Carson bites down on her lip. “I saw the DVD. Skyla Does Paragon.” She grazes over me with delight. “You know what I don’t get? Why would you leave Logan Oliver in the first place? He dropped everything for you, and then you go after Gage. I mean Gage is hot, but you had Logan,” she says his name as if he were worth his weight in gold.
“And now Michelle’s leached herself onto him,” Carly opens her mouth with gaping concern as if they have a genuine dilemma on their hands.
“She’s with him,” I interject. “They’re totally an official couple.” I hope Chloe was right about Michelle’s babysitting status. As much as I hate the thought of Michelle actually loving on Logan’s perfect body, I’d send Holden into the transport once again a little sooner than anticipated if he hooked up with Carson or Carly—God forbid both.
They leave in a huddle to go over a ‘solid game plan’.
I need to get Logan back in his body and fast.
***
I set out to check in on Mia and Melissa, as I’m clearly the only responsible adult in the vicinity, but they’re both suspiciously absent from their bedroom. I trot downstairs to canvas the area. A sea of bodies has filled in the nooks and crannies with arms and legs intertwined. This is quickly becoming a house of ill repute, which doesn’t surprise me since most of Ellis’ parties end up with half the downstairs rooms occupied for any number of carnal misdeeds. The lights are all out, as deemed mandatory per Paragon’s unofficial party guide.
I wander into the darkened kitchen and find Ethan and Holden hanging out with a bunch of guys playing a drinking game with the requisite red Solos’. I go over and snatch the cup out of faux Logan’s hand.
“There’s plenty more where that came from. Get your own, Sis.” Holden’s eyes widen for a second as he catches himself in the gaff.
“Where’s Michelle?” No sign of Miller. I don’t like this one bit.
“She went out with Lexy—said she’d be right back.”
“Oh good,” I breathe a sigh of relief.
“They’re getting your least favorite person,” he gives a greasy smile. “How did you not kill her?”
Coming from Holden it’s practically a compliment. And, oh crap, now they’ll never be back.
“You should text Michelle and tell her Chloe’s a big girl,” I suggest. “She can take care of herself. Besides, she seems pretty into you, and there are a lot of guys out on the prowl tonight. I’d keep her close if you know what I mean.” I shrug when all I really want to do is shudder.
“I’ve always had a thing for Michelle.” Holden is spellbound at the mention of her name.
“Beautiful girl.” I hate having this conversation with Holden while he hides behind Logan’s face. It kills me on a primal level.
“You think there’s a chance for us again? You know, me and you?” The question is laced with honesty and for a moment it really does feel like Logan.
“Um,” I’m pretty sure stringing Holden along is a bad idea. “I think we had what we had,” I lose myself in his fiery eyes and a twinge of sadness quivers through me. “Look, I gotta go. Do me a favor—stick with Michelle. You’ll lose her forever if you cheat on her.”
I know.
That’s exactly how I lost Gage.
Chapter 44
Hot Water
I search high and low for Mia and Melissa and can’t find them anywhere. I’m on the verge of an all out panic, thinking all kinds of horrible things. They could have been kidnapped, dragged into the forest by a pack of wild wolves—Marshall style, or God forbid, Ezrina hacked them to pieces in an effort to drive home the fact she’s pretty damn serious about getting a new trial. Or maybe Mia did something stupid like expose the butterfly room to Melissa—and all of West Paragon Junior high is busy indulging in some serious hormonal debauchery up there.
I head out to the front yard where hoards of people are amassed in small groups. I don’t have the time, or initiative, to properly eavesdrop on a single conversation, which is fast becoming one of my favorite pastimes at one of these events. Without Gage I have no life, the closest thing I get is listening to others brag about theirs’.
A seam of light escapes from under the garage door. I head around to the side and let myself in. About a dozen different faces turn in my direction at once. Mia, Melissa, and the who’s who of Paragon minor sit in a circular arrangement, most of them in old lawn chairs we dragged out from L.A. where it actually made sense to own furniture specifically designed to occupy the yard. Here it works as a body buffet for the garage and, come to think of it, this all looks rather cultish, what with them all in black and hovering in a circle.
“I’m going out,” I announce stupidly.
“See you later,” Mia says, giving a quick wink. There’s a boy holding her hand, holding it. Badly I want to go Ezrina on him and detach his appendage at the wrist—teach him a lesson for touching my baby sister, but don’t. Really I should squash this relationship with the Armistead kid before either one of my sisters gets too fixated. The last people on the planet I want to be even quasi related to are the Armisteads.
I head back out and smack into Ellis.
“Love honey,” he says it seductively with a wet smile on his lips, and for a minute I think I’m going to have to duck his unwanted advances.
“Are you high?” Should I be asking? I really don’t see the point anymore.
“The only high I participate in is at W.P.” His demeanor sharpens. “No, I’m not high.”
“Oh,” I laugh. “West Paragon. I get it.”
“Been clean two weeks.” He pushes his cheeks high into a grin.
“Ellis!” I bounce on my feet and pull him in. His sweater is still laced with the indelicate scent. I think it’s time he started bathing in cologne like the rest of the male population. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah, well, I do what I can.” He sweeps his eyes over me. “So, you and Gage really aren’t together anymore?”
“It would appear.” I can’t stand the thought of Gage so thoroughly pissed at me, enveloped in hatred, hot as a fire. Then again, Gage is too generous to hate anyone. I’ve disappointed him, and that’s the worse feeling of all. “Have you talked to him?”
“Nope.” He catches my gaze and holds it. Ellis has soft eyes, a deep dimple on the right cheek. And, alt
“So you wanna hang out some time?” He lights up with hope. “You know, just you and me?”
This is going to get awkward quick.
“Yes, I totally want to hang out with you some time. Maybe next weekend we can catch a bite to eat?” Like at the Althorpe dinner. I just don’t want to come out and say it quite yet. The plan is to grovel to Gage, first.
“Alright,” Ellis bobs into a smile.
Besides, catching a bite with Ellis is the epitome of innocence. If I’ve got one platonic male relationship, it’s right here.
Ellis offers up a knuckle bump as he makes his way over to a girl sporting a spray tan gone awry, and I head upstairs to the butterfly room.
Time to fly to the falls with Logan.
***
The walls of the tiny secret room ignite and shimmer as thousands of paper butterflies come to life. Logan appears in his blue translucent state before filling in with muscle and sinew, fully formed flesh dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans.
“Nice show,” I pick up his hand and press it against my cheek. “You’re a punctual little spook.”
“You’re a funny girl, Skyla.” he looks mildly amused at the barb. “One day things won’t be looking so great for you, and I’ll be the one with the sense of humor.” He pulls my hand over and brushes his lips over my knuckles, sweeps a fire line right up my arm. “Forgive me, but I’ve been thirsty for you ever since I woke up this morning.”
The thought of Logan thirsting for me, wanting to be near me, presses over me with a heavy ache.
“So, are we off to the falls?”
“You have a bathing suit?” He nods with a mild level of concern. Logan wants to follow all the rules with me now. No more swimming in our underwear lest we be splayed across all six screens at the Cineplex.