I think I really touched a nerve in Reed because he seems to want to say something else as his eyes argue with mine, but after a few seconds, he nods while he says, “Of course. Goodnight, Genevieve.”

Uncle Jim and I leave the tent, walking the short distance back to my dormitory together. I have to struggle to keep my sorrow locked inside of me, so that I won’t cry on his shoulder. Hugging me tightly, Uncle Jim tells me that he loves me. Watching him pull away, I desperately want to go with him, to escape from Crestwood and pretend that this has all been just a bad dream…pretend that my life is something that I can wake up from. But I know I can’t go with him; he is safer with me here. The only way I can protect him from what I am, is to stay away from him as much as possible.

When I finally reach my room, I am completely exhausted. Flinging my heels into my closet, I change my clothes. After brushing my teeth, I crawl into bed without bothering to turn off my lamp. Then, I do what I’ve been doing for a while now. I cry myself to sleep.

I have a couple more sittings with Mr. MacKinnon, or should I say Sam, which is what Buns always calls him. I take Buns with me as a chaperone because she insists. I finish changing out of the Grecian dress and hang it back in the closet when Buns says, “Sweetie, Sam’s planning on letting you keep the dress when he’s finished with the portrait!” Buns smiles delightedly. “Isn’t that fantastic?”

My eyebrows rise. “Why? What am I going to do with a dress like that?” I ask her, shaking my head.

“There is a formal coming up at the Delt House. JT was talking about it at the last party,” Buns says significantly, eyeing me with growing speculation.

“Do you want to borrow the dress?” I ask her. I could see Buns in the dress. She’d look stunning.

“No, I was thinking you could wear it to the formal, if there was someone you wanted to go with. JT and I thought maybe we could fix you up with someone.” I must be making a face because she says quickly, “Or you could pick someone. It’ll be so awesome, and you know it won’t be the same without you.”

“Where is it being held?” I ask her conversationally with absolutely no intention of going.

“Not far from here. It’s in Ann Arbor, at some hotel ballroom or other,” Buns replies, while petting my hair, which she does when she’s being motherly.

“Okay, maybe… we’ll see,” I say, trying to think of an excuse not to go. I have several reasons not to go—like big scary monsters that inhabit places like Ann Arbor, but I’m not at liberty to tell Buns this excuse, however valid.

“Sweetie, you can leave it all to me,” she says, almost drunk on the power I’ve given her.

True to form Buns doesn’t waste any time arranging things for me. She sets me up with a junior named Owen, prelaw. She also decides that the portrait dress would be too hard to dance in, due to the train, so she and Brownie order a new dress for me online when they are each getting one for themselves.

Now, I have a decision to make. I can go to the formal and not tell Reed, hoping for the best, or I can tell Reed and see what he says. I deliberate over it for a couple of days, but finally, I am swayed in favor of telling Reed. Memories of the shadow man are still too vivid in my head to just blow off the dangers of leaving town without an escort.

After hockey practice, I tell the girls that I need to find out what the assignment is for physics. Then, I run to catch up to Reed as he walks to his car after practice. I think for a moment that he is going to ignore me completely because he doesn’t stop walking when I call to him. When he makes it to his car, he reluctantly turns and waits for me. I stop several feet from him because it’s less uncomfortable the farther we are from each other.

“I need a chaperone, Reed,” I say, looking off to one side of him so that his perfect face won’t distract me.

“Why?” he asks me stiffly.

“I’ve been invited to the Delt formal, and it’s in Ann Arbor,” I say, raising my chin a notch when I hear him growl.

“No,” he says, turning his back on me like the conversation is now over as he opens up his car door.

“Why not?” I ask him unhappily.

He slowly faces me again. “Because I don’t feel like babysitting you while you play with a bunch of drunken frat boys,” he replies.

The blood rushes to my face as I blush. “Fine,” I mumble, turning to walk away.

I feel awful, like he has just reached into my chest and squeezed the last drop of blood out of my heart. I drag my stick along the ground, swinging it every few steps. The noise that my field hockey stick is making grows louder and louder, sounding like deep soughs in an echoing cave.

Halting, I look around me in confusion because there are other sounds hitting me with painful clarity, too. A basketball being bounced in a driveway several houses away sounds like the echo of a wrecking ball. I instinctively back away from it to protect myself from the noise.

Then, I quickly duck my head as something flies by me with the terrifying clamor of a buzz saw, causing every hair on my arms to stand on end. Looking around wildly, it takes me a second to rationalize that it is a dragonfly making that noise, not a vicious monster.

In the next moment, a grating, feminine voice sounds as if it is shouting through a bullhorn pressed to my ear. I search around me and see a woman talking on her cell phone a hundred yards away. She pushes a stroller toward me with alacrity, and the sound of her voice is becoming unbearable. Turning, I run. I have to escape from here before she blows out my eardrums.

With my head down, I don’t realize that someone is in front of me until I run right into his arms. My head comes up sharply as he holds me to him to steady me. Reed! I think as I continue to cover my ears, but what I really want to do is wrap my arms around him for protection from the chaos.

“I…” I start to say, but I wince because the sound of my voice hurts.

Reed doesn’t speak, but puts his finger to his lips, indicating that I shouldn’t talk. I nod, following him to his car. The crunch of our shoes treading on the gravel in the road is painful. I feel nauseous as if I’m on the deck of a ship that is swaying violently in the current of the sea.

As we arrive at Reed’s car, he opens his door and reaches inside to the glove compartment, extracting a box that contains a set of earplugs. He hands me the earplugs, and I put them in my ears, immediately feeling better. I straighten my posture, only then realizing that I had been hunched over.

“You’re fine, Evie. This is normal because your hearing is improving. Right now, everything will seem like a detuned radio with the volume turned all the way up. It takes a few days for it to even out, and then it won’t hurt you. You should be able to control it after a while. You’ll be able to focus on something you want to hear and tune out the background noise. Wear the earplugs most of the time, but take them out when it’s quiet so that you can practice tuning out the background noise,” he says. I think I see compassion in his face, but I can’t be sure because he’s still very stiff around me.

“Thanks,” I say gratefully. I’m somewhat relieved, at least the pain in my head is gone…it’s only my heart that still feels dead.

“If you have any questions about it over the next few days, you can email me about it,” he says, but I can tell he wants to get away from me.

How very clinical it all is, like I’m his patient. I nod, not trusting my voice. I turn to go, but he stops me.

“When is the formal?” he asks.

“This weekend,” I reply.

“Okay, you can go. I’ll arrange it,” he says grimly.

He’s not happy in the least that he is caving in to the request. I don’t push him, I just nod my head, and it gives me a lot to consider as I walk back to my room.

The day of the Delt formal, Buns presents me with the dress she bought for me online. It is a sleeveless, metallic-silver creation that clings to my every curve and hugs my shape. It’s very much like the dress that I wear for the portrait, because it exposes my back, but this dress is much shorter; it stops at my mid-thigh, so it will be interesting when I sit down in it.

“I’m going to be cold,” I complain to Buns, looking at my reflection in the mirror.

“No, sweetie, you’ll be hot,” Buns corrects. “I’ll get you a wrap.”

Brownie applies my makeup. She uses a lot of dark eyeliner and shadow, but the effect is intriguing. It makes my gray eyes seem lighter. I put on earrings that are the same metallic-silver as the dress, and then I sit down on the bed to put on my strappy, silver heels.

Buns and Brownie each have metallic gowns, too. Buns has a soft gold dress, and Brownie’s is a shimmering copper. Each dress is a variation of a flowing, haute-couture gown that also stops mid-thigh like mine. Standing all together, the effect is surprisingly chic. Buns hands me a black clutch purse and a black wrap. I covertly put my earplugs into my clutch. I don’t know if I’m going to need them tonight, since my hearing seems to have leveled out this week, but better safe than sorry.

I’ve been practicing tuning out background noises. It was hard, at first, because I could hear everything from the crickets chirping outside to the mice scurrying around in the basement of the dorm, but I’m managing to get a handle on it. It’s like my brain is expanding so I can accommodate and process more stimuli from the outside world, increasing my awareness of my surroundings. Weird.

“Sweetie, Owen is going to swallow his spleen when he sees you,” Buns says, scrutinizing me with a smug grin that makes me remember that I’m actually going to have to go on a date now.

The Delts are waiting for us in the formal lobby of Yeats when we descend the stairs. Owen, my date for the evening, is handsome in his own right. He is tall, almost as tall as Reed, and his warm brown eyes register surprise when he watches the three of us enter the room. His black suit is tailored to fit like it was created just for him. Paired with a French-cuffed, white dress shirt, silver cuff links, and a silver tie, we have the aura of a well-matched couple. I wonder briefly if Buns has orchestrated that as well.

JT introduces me to Owen, then he turns to Buns, Brownie, and me and says, “Ladies, you’re all dressed for sin, let us see what fresh hell we can make tonight!”

Buns laughs loudly, taking JT’s arm as Owen presents his arm to me. He escorts me to the waiting limousine outside. The trip to Ann Arbor takes less than an hour, and JT, Pete, and Owen tell us amusing stories on the way. Owen is a fairly interesting date, telling me about the first time he met Brownie and Buns during the Delt Wars last year. Somewhere between Crestwood and Ann Arbor, the ice between Owen and me melts, and I start to feel a little less awkward with him. Maybe it’s because he seems genuinely interested in my opinions, or maybe it’s because he’s really quick witted and won’t let JT monopolize all of our attention. By the time we arrive, I feel comfortable being here with Owen.

Holding my hand to help me exit the limousine, Owen tucks my arm securely in his as we walk together to the lobby. Just before entering, my Reed radar goes off, warning me that he is already inside. I knew he intended to come tonight. He’d sent me an email earlier in the week, telling me that he had made the arrangements to be here so I could attend. But, it was Buns who had let me know that Reed was bringing a date. I see them standing together immediately upon entering the wide door that Owen holds open for me.

Reed doesn’t turn around when I enter, and I’m grateful because I’m sure the look on my face would turn him to stone as I scrutinize his date. Buns had done some recon this week, finding out everything she could about Reed’s date, so there wouldn’t be any surprises for me. Her name is Caroline and she’s a junior in the Kappa house. She is my opposite, I think grimly, assessing her attributes. Caroline is petite, maybe 5’1”, and she looks delicate, like she’ll break apart if someone touches her. With her long, blond hair and pale-pink, empress-waist gown, she just screams the word sweet.

Thankfully, I am saved from considering Caroline any further because the booming voice coming from behind me takes all of my attention. “Good Lord, Red! Where’s the rest of yer dress?” Russell asks, only half jokingly when I turn to look at him.

I knew that Russell had been invited tonight as well. We’d talked about it at lunch this week. He was only able to make it because the Chargers had a home game earlier this afternoon. The Delts are interested in Russell as a prospective pledge for next semester, so they invited him to formal as a pre-rush perk.

A smile softens my lips because Russell is extremely handsome in his dark gray suit, white collared dress shirt, and black tie. His broad chest and slim waist make the suit jacket he wears look better than the other designer-suited men here. It’s because it is on such an appealing physique and not because it is expensive or well made.

Candace, standing next to Russell, looks as if she has been sucking on lemons the entire way to Ann Arbor while her eyes rake me from head to foot. The demure, pale-blue dress that she wears is almost floor length. She is very lovely, with her blond hair piled high on her head and cascading diamond earrings sparkling brightly in her lobes, but I can tell that there is something very wrong by the brittle smile on her face.

“The rest of my dress is on layaway. I’ll be able to afford it by next semester,” I say dryly. “You don’t like it?” I ask him, trying to smile.

“Now, I didn’t say that…” he says with heat in his eyes, and to my utter annoyance, something inside of me responds to it.

Candace sees the look Russell gives me, too. Her hands tighten on her clutch, so I hurriedly turn to Owen and say, “Russell and Candace, this is Owen Matthews.

“I already know him, don’t I, Owen?” Candace retorts somewhat rudely.

Owen takes it in stride as he says, “Yeah, we go way back. I think we had a couple of classes together last year. Are you ready to go find our seats, Evie?” Owen asks me with a conspiratorial smile. I nod, grateful for any excuse to get away from Candace.

Entering a private dining room, it is clear right away that most of the couples are already seated. In the confusion, Buns and Brownie are ushered to a separate table from Owen and me. I try not to let my disappointment show as Owen holds a chair for me facing a glass-tiled wall that cascades with water. I don’t allow myself to look around to see where Reed is seated, but I know he is close, really close, judging by the way my stomach is reacting.

After Owen seats himself, he smiles warmly before introducing me to his roommate, Scott, who is dating a sophomore named Chloe. Scott begins to tell Owen and me a funny story about why he and Chloe almost didn’t make it here tonight. But, I stop listening to Scott midway through his tale.

As Reed passes behind my chair, his fingertips graze my skin, trailing a warm, sensual caress across my back. A flush stains my cheeks at the intimate contact, and an airy breath catches in my throat. I close my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the sensation his touch leaves on my bare skin. It is as if every molecule in my body comes to life in an instant. When I open my eyes, the chair on my right side moves, and Reed seats himself next to me. Stealing a glance at Owen on my left, I see him debating the selection of lager on the menu with Scott.

Assuring myself that Owen is occupied for the moment, I whisper to Reed, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing is unconditional, Evie,” Reed says in an equally low tone.

My eyebrows rise in confusion. “What do you mean?” I reply, holding up my menu so no one will see our exchange.

Reed mirrors my action, opening his menu, too. “If your plan is to torture me, then I will not be the only victim,” he says softly.

“Are you accusing me of trying to torture you?” I ask incredulously, still trying to keep my voice low.

Reed’s eyes darken. “Please, don’t act naїve, not in that dress,” his replies.

“It’s just a dress. What’s with you?” I murmur, shaking my head in confusion. “I’m not the one who turned his back on us. That was you. The only strategy I’m employing here is to try to have fun and to be just a normal girl.”

“You are anything but normal,” Reed says, “and as for your date, he is a complete waste of time.”

Owen turns to me then, and asks, “What would you like to drink, sweetheart?”

Reed stiffens in my peripheral vision. Not good.

“Water is fine for now, thanks,” I reply, trying to smile at him. Owen returns my smile warmly before giving the waiter our drink order.

“Why did he call you ‘sweetheart?’” Reed asks me in a low tone filled with menace.

I put my menu back up, pretending to read it, so that I can say, “I don’t know. I just met him. Maybe he likes me.” I shut up completely when Reed’s hand brushes my thigh briefly under the table. The heat from the contact shoots through me like a conflagration.

Lowering my menu, I stare at Reed in confusion for a second, but Russell distracts me; he holds out a chair for Candace to sit in directly across from us. Candace picks up her napkin, snapping it out to place on her lap as she gives me a brittle smile. Russell seats himself beside her, frowning across the table at Reed with equal dislike.

Russell takes off his suit jacket, draping it on the back of his chair. “Reed, I’m surprised to see ya here. I didn’t know yer a Delt,” Russell says antagonistically as his eyes measure the distance between Reed’s chair and my own.

“Hello, Russell,” Reed says in a blasé tone. “I’m not a Delt. I came because a friend asked me to,” he says, gazing at me significantly.

He casually picks his menu back up and begins reading it as if he dines with all of us every night of the week. I study his profile for a moment until I realize that I am staring at him, and then I quickly hold my menu up, trying to read it. The waiter is still making his way around the table, and as he nears Russell, I hear Candace say in a waspish tone, “Russell, I need a drink. Get me a Stoli Raspberry on ice with diet Seven-up, not regular Seven-up and I want a lime in it, but if they don’t have a lime, then I want a lemon.”

“She’s a nightmare,” I murmur under my breath, and Reed laughs quietly next to me. He’d heard my comment and is savoring the fact that Russell has his own issues this evening. I resist the urge to look at Reed again because a part of me is desperate to see him smile.

“What looks good?” Owen asks, smiling at me.

“Mac and cheese,” I reply quietly without thinking, and then glance up at Reed, seeing his green eyes training on me.

“Do they have that on the menu?” Owen laughs, appearing to look for it.

“Probably not. The salmon looks good,” I reply, blushing. “What are you going to get, Owen?” I ask him, trying to cover up the fact that I can hardly breathe as I sip my water and avoid eye contact with the rest of the table.

Managing to regain my composure, I almost lose it again when I see Russell watching me from across the table; his brown eyes hold mine. I try to smile so that the concern I see there will lessen. Candace notices the direction of Russell’s eyes, so she gives me a crocodile smile as she asks, “Evie, wherever did you get that dress? It’s so…you…and not much else.”

“Buns ordered it for me online. It is me, isn’t it?” I ask, not wanting to back down from her thinly veiled insult.

“Your date is really enjoying it,” Reed says under his breath, so that only I can hear him, but I ignore him.

Owen, eyeing me appreciatively, says, “I think it’s perfect.”

“See,” Reed breathes menacingly.