She winked at me. ‘I know.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
NORMALITY
When I stood in front of my mirror and saw myself in the royal-blue gown – my blonde hair framing my face in waves, my cheeks lightly rouged, my eyes made bigger and bluer with shadow and mascara – I started to cry. This girl I barely recognized. This girl my mother would have fawned over. This girl who looked elegant and happy.
This girl who wore a mask so convincing she almost fooled herself.
My reflection seemed so far away from who I had become. It wasn’t me, this new image. Inside I was dark and broken. White-hot with rage. Weakened by grief. Inside, I was a black hole, waiting to devour any semblance of happiness.
This wasn’t me, but for tonight, I desperately wanted it to be. And the realization, when it came, was like a punch in the gut. So I cried, just a little, and then I cried a lot. I sank to the floor, pulled my knees into my chest, buried my face in my mother’s sweater, and wept.
God, how I missed her. I missed who she was, and who she made me believe I could be. I missed the way she made me feel. I missed the world I used to know, and all the wonderful people in it. I missed the possibility of a different life.
Be strong. Be brave.
When I stood back up, reapplied my make-up and fixed my dress, I realized that for the first time in a long time, I looked like her. I didn’t look like my father. I didn’t look like a Marino. I looked like Celine Durant, my mother. Not a Marino. Not a Falcone.
Tonight, at the Masquerade Ball, I would wear two masks. The gold-embroidered one from Millie, and this painted smile that spoke of another life.
Millie texted me just after sundown to let me know her and Cris were almost at Evelina. I didn’t know who was downstairs so I decided it would be safest to meet them at the end of Felice’s driveway, far away from any prying eyes.
I gave myself a final once-over in the mirror. The dress fitted like a glove, hugging me in at the waist and parting in gentle ruffles towards the floor. I had redone my make-up – this time with waterproof mascara – but the urge to cry had passed, and in that moment, I felt strong. Excited. I unearthed my mother’s favourite sapphire necklace and earrings and put them on.
I grabbed my bag and my mask, and sneaked downstairs, treading as softly as I could so my heels on the marble floors wouldn’t give me away. I kept my breath bound up in my chest as shivers of anxiety coursed through me.
In the foyer, I ran into Gino. He was crawling along the floor on his hands and knees and squinting at the tiles. I probably could have stepped right over him, but I figured I wouldn’t take the chance.
I bent over him. ‘What are you doing?’
He snapped his head up, and his face broke into a grin. ‘Sophie!’ he said. ‘Wow. Nice dress. You look like a young Brigitte Bardot.’
‘I—what?’
He sat up on his hunkers, disregarding his search. ‘She’s a French actress from back in the day. I like her movies.’
‘Um, OK. Cool. Thanks?’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said, still beaming.
Ah, Gino.
I gestured at the floor. ‘Everything OK?’
‘I lost my earring,’ he said, tugging at his ear and frowning.
‘Oh.’ I didn’t add that that was probably an improvement. ‘Do you want me to help you look for it?’
‘That’s OK.’ He paused, and looked up at me again. ‘Do you want me to help you sneak out?’
I smiled sheepishly. ‘That’s OK. I think I can take it from here.’
‘Where are you going, anyhow?’
‘To a dance.’ I waved the mask in my hand. ‘A masquerade dance.’
Gino sighed, and his eyes glazed just a little. ‘I love dancing,’ he said. ‘But no one ever seems to make time for it. Not since Evelina left.’
I almost would have taken him with me, if it wasn’t for his position as a complete and totally unsubtle loose cannon. ‘I better go,’ I hedged.
He had already resumed his search.
I unlatched the front door and slipped outside. The sky was a myriad of pink and orange brushstrokes, growing dark at the edges. It would be a clear night, and a smooth getaway. The sense of possibility, of before, carried on the soft wind, and I embraced it.
The lanterns around the driveway were already lit up. I walked slowly, concentrating on the determined crunch of gravel beneath my feet. I passed the one and only SUV in the driveway and reached the edge of the circular parking area, and then, I don’t know quite why, but I stopped walking. I stalled, and I knew, without knowing how, that there was someone behind me, watching me. I could feel it in the hairs on the back of my neck.
I didn’t dare turn around. I kept going, determined to have one last night of normality before it all went to hell. One last night of the old Sophie, before the underworld swallowed me up for good.
It would be enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MASQUERADE
For a place that usually smelt of old sneakers and looked like something the 1940s threw up, the school gym was really working it tonight. All the walls had been covered in thick black drapes inlaid with crystalline stars. They even lit up and twinkled. Crêpe paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling around a giant disco ball that cast swirling silver streaks all around the room. The ground was covered in faux snow sprinkled over a white roll-out dance floor, and the tables were adorned with shining silver tablecloths.
Most of the girls were wearing floor-length gowns of black and silver and gold. Their masks were intricate and elaborate – some on ornamental handles, others fastened around their heads with a band. The guys were well turned out in tuxes, although some had opted for Converse instead of dress shoes. One girl was wearing a fitted tuxedo with tails at the end. Her shoes were black and white, and shiny, and she was carrying an actual cane with her, as if she was about to break into an elaborate tap-dancing routine at any moment. She had a dark pixie cut that stuck up around the edges of her white mask. I couldn’t see beyond the upturned nose and dark purple lips to fully recognize her, but I was definitely impressed by the eccentricity.