Awaken

and no one had invited me anywhere once they heard about the mess I’d gotten into with Mr. Mueller. He’d been incredibly popular, and I’d been incredibly not so.

Still, I was pretty sure it wasn’t socially acceptable to go around dumping your drinks out on the floor, no matter how wild the party or how huge of a hurricane was raging outside of it.

“It’s mystery drink,” Kayla said in a tone that suggested I should know what that was. When I looked blank, she explained, “Everybody brings whatever pills they find in their parents’ medicine cabinet and dumps them into a bowl of vodka mixed with Kool-Aid.”

She pointed at the empty prescription bottles scattered amidst the crumpled potato chip bags.

“Oh,” I said, thinking of all the warning labels written along the sides of the drugs I’d been prescribed after my accident: May cause drowsiness. May impair the ability to drive or operate machinery. I’d actually heard of this kind of thing before, but they’d been referred to as pharma parties. “I thought parties like this were a myth created by the media.”

“Like the Underworld is a myth created by the Greeks?” Frank asked.

“Good point,” I admitted.

“In Isla Huesos, nothing is a myth. Look.” Kayla pointed grimly at my chest. My diamond was as black as the night sky outside the wraparound sliding glass doors.

“Oh, my God!” The voice was so shrill it was easy to hear above the pulsating thump of the music.

A second later, Farah Endicott was in front of us, all stick-straight hair and cherry-red lip gloss.

“You came,” she cried, woozily waving a party cup as she spoke. “I was just saying to Seth that I didn’t think you were going to make it; the storm’s gotten way too bad.”

“Well,” I said to her with a watery smile. “We made it.”

“You sure did,” she said. “I’m so glad. And you brought your friends.” She said the word friends so it came out sounding like friendsh, then leered drunkenly up at Frank. “I’ve never met you before. I can guarantee I’d have remembered that.”

“And I you, fair madam,” Frank said, leaning forward to lift the hand in which she wasn’t holding a cup, then lightly kissing it on the knuckles.

“Oh, my,” Farah said, giggling, while Kayla rolled her eyes at Frank’s courtliness. “This party is getting better and better! And I see you came in costumes.” She glanced down at my belt. “I love your whip! It’s cool you respect the occasion. It’s Coffin Night, you know. You guys totally rock … not like some people.”

She glanced darkly in the direction of the coffin. There were several girls dancing on top of it, a risky proposition in their stiletto heels, especially considering the coffin was hollow and made only of plywood, sagging under their combined weight.

“We told them to guard it from juniors,” Farah said mournfully, “not trash it. Even though it’s not full-size, it took me ’n’ Serena all day to paint it.” She looked back at us. “You’re supposed to write your name on it with these gold pens.” She pulled a metallic marker from the back pocket of her denim mini. “We’re trying to get the signature of everyone in the class. But it hardly matters now. You can’t even see them.”

“Would you like me to go over there and knock those girls’ heads together?” Kayla offered, apparently finding Farah less offensive when she was three sheets to the wind.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you,” Farah said, touched. Then her gaze seemed to focus and she really looked at Kayla for the first time. “Hey, you’re that girl with the big boobs Serena is so mean to online.” Farah’s eyes became misty with tears. “I don’t know why I’m friends with Serena. You’re super nice, and you look really beautiful in that dress. Oh, my God. Have you seen what the storm is doing to this place? Seth and those guys are over there making fun of it.” She gestured towards the group gathered in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far side of the room. “But it isn’t funny. My dad is going to lose all the money he invested in this development, and then he’s never going to be able to pay for me to go to college, and I’m not smart or athletic enough to get a scholarship anywhere.”

Farah surprised everyone by throwing her arms around Kayla and beginning to sob into her hair.

“Uh,” Kayla said, startled. “There, there.” She patted Farah on the shoulder. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Yes, it is,” Farah wailed, still clutching Kayla. “I’m going to have to go to Isla Huesos Community College. Then I’ll have to live on this stupid island forever, like my dad. And there isn’t even a Gap, let alone a Sephora.”

After uttering the word Sephora, Farah sagged in Kayla’s arms, her eyes closed.

“Farah?” Kayla cried, giving the girl a shake. “Farah? Aw, dammit. Someone let this girl have way too much mystery drink.”

“What do we do?” I asked worriedly, as Frank hurried over to take Farah’s limp body from Kayla. Perhaps not surprisingly, no one seemed to notice that the girlfriend of the party’s host was unconscious.

“I’ll call nine-one-one,” Kayla said, sounding dubious. “But I’m pretty sure an ambulance won’t be able to get out here with that storm surge. Besides, there’s a standing evacuation order for all low-lying areas. Category Two hurricane or higher, it’s considered ‘remain at your own risk.’ First responders aren’t supposed to put themselves in harm’s way for these areas until storm waters recede due to the risk of debris. At least, that’s what my mom told me.”

“Guess it’s a nice cold bucket of water in the face for you then, missy,” Frank said, throwing Farah, fireman-style, over his shoulder.

“Uh,” Kayla said. She had her phone out and was dialing. “That’s not how we do it in this century, Frank. We put overdose victims in recovery position on the floor so they don’t choke on their own vomit, then check their pulse and breathing until the ambulance arrives.”

“What fun is that?” Frank asked, disappointed.

“The bedrooms are that way,” I said, pointing down the hall. “See if you can find an empty one to put her in.”

Frank nodded and stalked off, Farah’s head bobbing along behind him, her bright copper-colored hair swinging like a horse’s tail.

“Busy,” Kayla said, indicating her phone. “If they won’t come, and she doesn’t come around soon, we might have to take her to the hospital ourselves in Patrick’s car. Not that I care about her,” she added hastily. “But unlike the rest of these losers, I don’t consider death a reason to party.”

I looked in the direction she was staring, at the girls who were shimmying on top of the coffin. Suddenly, I realized I recognized two of them. One of them was Farah’s best friend, Serena … SerenaSweetie, she called herself online. The other was a girl named Nicole, who’d complained about the Rector Wreckers — Seth and his friends — vandalizing the house next door to hers during last year’s Coffin Night. She and Serena had begun to dance suggestively with each other, drawing a crowd of excited male admirers.

This was one reason no one had noticed their friend Farah passing out and being carried off to a back bedroom by a six-and-a-half-foot-tall stranger with a six-inch scar down one side of his face. Lucky for Farah, that stranger had nothing but good intentions.

“Yeah,” I said to Kayla. “I know what you mean. Keep trying to reach nine-one-one. I’ll go get Alex and then find you guys so we can get out of here. Coming here may not have been the best idea after all.”

Kayla nodded, then walked swiftly — her phone still pressed to her ear — down the hall in the direction Frank and Farah had disappeared while I turned to go in search of Alex. Who knows? Maybe he’d found something, and the perilous journey out to Reef Key wouldn’t have been a complete waste of time —

“Pierce? Pierce Oliviera?” bellowed an all-too-familiar voice.

16

I say, that when the spirit evil-born

Cometh before him, wholly it confesses;