I followed him through the house, and as we got close to the front door, a loose board tripped me, the tip of my shoe catching its lip. David paused, but I gave him a little wave, saying, “I’m fine, no worries.” But as I looked back at the board, I noticed it wasn’t the only one that was loose. There were a couple that were warped and not fitting flush against the floor anymore. That was weird. As was how . . . unshiny the hardwood looked. And when I glanced at the wall, I could see wallpaper peeling in the corners. Even the paintings seemed less glowy than before.
Maybe whatever magic Alexander had used to make this place was fading. Or maybe it looked worse in the afternoon sun. I had no idea, and at the moment, my brain was so full of thoughts, I couldn’t stop to consider that.
We paused on the porch, David’s hands thrust into his pockets, my own dangling limply at my side. I had no idea what I wanted him to say. We weren’t fine. No matter what had happened last night, we weren’t back together, and none of the issues between us had been solved. I knew that, and from the slump in his shoulders, I think he must have, too.
“Guess you don’t have to do the pageant now,” he finally said. The afternoon light was turning his hair a dark gold, almost the same color as Alexander’s. I could hear the hum of insects, the soft whisper of the breeze through the tall grass, and all I wanted to do was step back into his arms like I had yesterday after the golf course.
But I stayed where I was on my side of the steps, watching David. “I guess I don’t,” I agreed, “but I might as well at this point. I think Sara Plumley might actually murder me if I dropped out.”
That made him smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and I felt a million unsaid words sitting between us.
“Pres, about last night—”
“If you say you’re sorry,” I interrupted, “I’ll murder you. Not that I can, of course, but I could try.”
This time, his smile was genuine, but there was something sad in it. “I wasn’t going to. I was going to say . . . Look, it’s not like I can say it didn’t change things, exactly, but . . .”
My chest hurt, but it had nothing to do with any Paladin powers.
“But it’s still easier when we’re not together,” I finished, and David sighed, his eyes searching the horizon.
“It’s not easier,” he said, and I heard the slight catch in his voice. “But it’s still the best thing we can do.”
He turned to look at me then, and I wasn’t sure if it was the sun on his glasses or that glow that still wasn’t going anywhere. “I meant everything I said last night. Every word. But—”
“We need to stay Paladin/Oracle and lose the whole boyfie/girlfie thing,” I said, and David’s lips twitched.
“Still the worst word.”
I smiled at him even though nothing in me felt all that smiley. He was right, I knew that. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
And then he turned to me, taking my hands in his and searching my face. “Even if the Peirasmos is over, that doesn’t suddenly make things right, you know? There could still be people wanting to take me, you’d still have to deal with Bee and her Paladin powers, I could turn into . . . Pres, look into my eyes.”
I knew he didn’t mean that in a romantic way, and sure enough when I looked closer, I could see the dots of light there in his pupils.
“That’s not going away,” he told me. “And I have a feeling that every time I have a vision, they’re going to get bigger and brighter. You keep saying you don’t want me to go with Alexander because he’ll turn me into a ‘thing,’ but . . . Harper, I think that’s going to happen anyway.”
“It’s not,” I said, shaking my head. “I know that if we—we work at it, and try to—”
“Harper.” He squeezed my fingers tighter. “It’s going to happen.”
Stupid as it was, I heard myself blurt out, “You can’t know that.”
But of course he could. Of course he did.
I stepped back, letting my hands fall from his. “That’s what you saw, isn’t it? Last night at the golf course.”
“Part of what I saw, yeah,” David said, turning away and heading down the porch steps.
I stood where I was, and despite the warmth of the late spring afternoon, I suddenly felt very cold. “What was the rest?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
Chapter 31
THE NIGHT of the pageant was hot and muggy. Mom and Dad still didn’t quite get why I even wanted to do it, but they came anyway. “I missed Cotillion,” Mom had said as she’d carried my baton out to the car, my costume in a garment bag draped over one arm. “I won’t miss this.”
Without Ryan’s powers, there was no way to keep my parents from coming, although, trust me, I’d been trying to find an excuse. Of course, now I guessed that didn’t matter so much. Alexander had said that the Peirasmos were over, but you couldn’t blame me for not trusting the guy. He’d looked plenty freaked out the last time I’d seen him, and I’d thought he’d sounded sincere. But then I remembered Cotillion and the Ephors’ flair for the dramatic. It would be just like them to make me lower my guard, only to attack when I was unprepared.
That wasn’t going to happen.
So by the time we got to the rec center, I was already pretty tense.
So was Sara Plumley. Granted, she wasn’t worrying about the boy she loved possibly turning into a mystical being, but from the way she was running around shrieking, you would think something a lot more dire had happened than one girl running a little late.
“Harper!” she barked at me as soon as I walked backstage. “I thought you weren’t coming!”
“It isn’t that big of a deal,” Bee said, walking in behind me. “She was—”
“What if she hadn’t been here?” Sara near-shrieked. “One girl missing creates a hole in the choreography!”
With that, she stomped off, clipboard in hand, heels clacking, and as soon as she was gone, Bee and I burst into giggles.
“Maybe we should have told Sara about Cotillion,” I said, hanging up my talent costume. “It might have put things in perspective.”
I’d meant to make Bee laugh, but instead, she frowned. And when she reached out to take my hand, I realized she was shaking.