“Yes. Please.”
His own drink, dark bourbon from the looks of it, clinks in his glass as he leads me out onto the ground
s and over to a huge detached garage. He’s pulled one car out front, and I know right away it’s mine.
Because it’s exactly what Sadie would have wanted.
The tiny cherry-red sports car gleams under the moonlight. I shiver under my borrowed faux mink coat. Or, at least, what I hope is a faux mink coat.
“It’s beautiful,” I say so quietly, it comes out like a sigh.
Dane stares at the car and nods. There’s a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reaches out one hand to adjust one of the mirrors, and then turns back to me.
“You sober enough to drive?”
I think for a second, and then nod. It’s been at least six hours since I switched out my mimosas for orange juice when Ellen wasn’t looking. He opens the door and looks at me expectantly.
“Come on now, I think we both know what it’s like to be cooped up here.” He glances back at the house. “For such a big place, it can get surprisingly stuffy.”
He looks back at me. “You got the keys?”
“Of course.” I tug them out of my pants pocket and grin. I kept them close to me all day, just to serve as a reminder that it’s actually true.
“Then get out of here,” he says, not unkindly. “I would, if I were you.”
All the exhaustion of the day melts away, and I waste no time climbing inside. It may be late, and I haven’t driven since Driver’s ED, but I’m ready to feel the open road beneath me.
Dane watches as I back out of the drive. I take it easy at first, but soon, I’m flying. It’s different from Blair’s motorcycle, but in a way it’s also better.
Because it’s mine.
It’s freedom, and it’s all mine.
I feel like this kind of a lifestyle should feel like a dream to me, but it’s too weird to even feel like a dream. A desperate need for normalcy takes me over, and I know exactly where that’s going to take me.
Dana is sitting up in bed when I come in with a massive bouquet of colorful flowers in my hand. She brightens right away, and I love seeing the huge smile that spreads over her face. She’s still bandaged and wrapped up, but I can see that she’s making some improvements.
“Hey!” I tell her with a sunny smile, “You’re looking better.”
She shrugs a little. “I guess I’m getting better, but just not fast enough. I want to get out of here so bad, but I’m not healed enough to leave yet.”
“Keep your chin up,” I tell her, handing the flowers over and watching her bury her nose in them to drink in the scent, “You’ll be home before the New Year and then before you know it, you’ll be back to school, and I can’t wait for that. I miss you. It’s terrible without you there.”
Dana laughs a little. “I bet it is.” She eyes me curiously then. “You did something new with your hair … and your nails … and that’s a new outfit. I’m your roommate. I know what clothes you have, and that’s new. What’s going on?”
I look at her in surprise. “I thought you had some amnesia! Is that fading?”
“Yeah, a little at a time, but it isn’t total amnesia. It’s mostly the night of the party that I’m having trouble remembering. So, what’s with the polished look?” Dana isn’t going to let go of her line of questioning.
“I guess I have some news to catch you up on. Remember Eli Hamilton?” I ask, settling into the chair beside her bed. I tell her everything.
There’s no point in keeping things from Dana. I always end up telling her anyway.
The stark difference between Dana and everyone else who heard the news is written plainly on her shocked expression.
My best friend’s eyes well up with tears. “Oh god, Teddy, I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. If I hadn’t made that Rainbow Fire, none of this would have happened.”
I shake my head and grasp her hand tightly. “That had nothing to do with it. We made sure that it was safe, and nothing would have happened if Victoria hadn’t gone back to the boiler room and used it to cause the explosion. She did it on purpose to frame me, and it backfired on her. Literally. And it backfired on the rest of us, and I lost my father that night, and I almost lost you.”