Some kind of alarm beeped, and Daphne's black eyes flicked to the clock in the corner of the room. "It's seven o'clock already. Carson is probably waiting for me downstairs. How do I look?"
She twirled around, making her dress swing out in an arc around her, before she smoothed it back down into place.
"You look beautiful," I said in a truthful voice. "Now go have a great time."
Daphne smiled at me, grabbed her purse off the bed, and went over to the door. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at me.
"Thanks for coming over, Gwen," she said. "I had fun."
I smiled at her. "Me too."
"Can I call you later?" the Valkyrie asked in a shy voice. "If it's not too late?"
"You'd better," I warned in a tough voice. "Because I want to hear all about what a good kisser Carson is."
Daphne laughed and held out her hand. I got up, and she looped her arm through mine, resting her hand on my hoodie sleeve.
Arm in arm, we left her room, the beginnings of a real friendship shimmering in the air between us, just like the bright pink sparks fluttering up from the Valkyrie's fingertips.
Chapter 17
I escorted Daphne down the stairs. Carson was waiting in the main common room.
He wore a classic tux that made him look like a tall, lanky penguin, but I didn't say anything to Daphne. Because the band geek's face lit up at the sight of the Valkyrie, just like hers did when she saw him. More pink sparks flashed around Daphne's fingers, and if Carson's grin got any wider, his lips would pop off his face.
"Hi," Daphne said in a soft voice, stopping in front of him.
"Hi," Carson whispered back. "You look beautiful."
Daphne blushed. Carson kept staring at her. Neither one moved or said another word. Finally, I cleared my throat to make the band geek get on with things.
"Oh! This is for you." Carson jerked forward and held out a plastic box with a single pink rose inside, as if he'd just remembered that he'd been holding it all along.
"Thank you." Daphne took out the flower, handed me the empty box, and slipped the simple corsage over her wrist.
I got a little flash off the box, an image of Carson clutching it in his sweaty hands and wondering if he'd picked out the right color rose. It was a sweet, nervous feeling, that he'd be worried so much about something so small. I could feel that Carson wanted everything to be perfect tonight, right down to the corsage.
The two of them stood there staring at each other, before Carson cleared his throat.
"Well, I guess we should be going. We wouldn't want to be late." He frowned. "Or would we? What's cooler?"
Daphne laughed. "I'll tell you all about it on the way over to the dining hall."
Carson held out his arm, and Daphne slipped hers through his. The Valkyrie turned to wave at me; then the two of them left the dorm. I watched them go and smiled. They really did make a cute couple.
Now that they were gone, I had no reason to stick around Valhalla Hall. But instead of heading over to my own dorm, I turned and walked back up the stairs to the second floor. Everyone had left for the dance already, and the dorm was still and quiet, like no one lived here at all.
Nobody saw me use my driver's license to pop the lock and slip back into Jasmine's room.
It looked exactly the same as it had the first time that I'd been in here a few days ago. Bed. Vanity table. Desk. TV. Bookshelves. I pulled out Jasmine's desk chair and sat down, still holding the empty corsage box in my hands. My eyes scanned over the room, hoping for a clue or a vibe or something that would tell me what had really happened to her.
But everything was exactly the way that I'd left it during my last break-in. Pictures of Jasmine stilled lined the mirror over the vanity table. Makeup still cluttered the glass surface. And her bookcase was still full of reference books with titles like Common Valkyrie Powers, Mastering Your Magic, and Manipulating Magical Illusions.
I stared at the books a minute. Something about them stirred a faint memory in the back of my mind, some vague, half-formed thought. My eyes kept going back to the last book. Illusions, illusions ... it was something to do with illusions and magic. Something that I'd seen or felt or heard someone say. But even as I reached for it, I could feel it slipping away. Whatever it was, the memory, thought, or idea wasn't ready to come to the surface of my mind yet. Sooner or later, it would, though. They always did.
I didn't know why I'd come in here. What I thought I'd find, if anything. It just seemed ... sad. That someone could be forgotten so easily so soon, even if Jasmine hadn't been the nicest person at Mythos Academy. Nobody ever wanted to be forgotten.
But there were no real answers to be found in the quiet room, so I got up and left.
I made it back to my own dorm, went inside the turret, and closed the door. Everyone who lived here was at the dance, too, and my dorm was just as quiet as Valhalla Hall. I was probably the only person left inside. Alone again. Naturally.
I flopped down onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. There were things that I could do. Read the last of the new comics that I had, take a shower, watch some lame reality show, eat the rest of Grandma Frost's almond sugar cookies.
I still had that report due for Metis's myth-history class, the one where we had to pick a god or goddess and write an essay on them. Maybe I'd choose Nike, I thought. The Greek goddess of victory seemed to be in the thick of things when it came to Loki, Reapers, and the Chaos War.
Instead of reaching for my myth-history book, I found myself sitting up and staring at my closed closet door. After a few seconds, I heaved myself up off the bed, went over, and opened it. My usual assortment of jeans, graphic T-shirts, hoodies, and sneakers filled the closet, along with a few other things. My heavy purple plaid winter coat. A couple of pairs of dressy black pants. Thick gray fishermen's sweaters for when the weather got really cold. The scratchy black dress that I'd worn to my mom's funeral.
I didn't have a black dress back then, and Grandma Frost had taken me shopping the day before the burial to get one. I'd picked out the very first dress that I'd seen in my size, not caring what it looked like or who saw me in it. I'd hated the fact that I'd had to wear it at all, that my mom was dead and never coming back.
My fingers hovered over the fabric, but I didn't touch it. I didn't want to remember that day and how miserable I'd felt in that dress, how devastated I was that my mom was gone forever because she'd been trying to help one of my friends instead of staying home where she belonged with me. How her accident was all my fault because I'd been so damn nosy and so determined to learn another girl's secret. I never wanted to put that dress on again. Just looking at it made my stomach twist with a sick, guilty feeling, like I was responsible for my mom's death instead of some anonymous drunk driver... .