By the Pale Moonlight (Book One of the Moonlight Series) Read online

  I laughed at her exuberance.

  "Melanie, come with me!" Mom led the girl out of the dressing area to go in search of the right pair.

  Unable to tear myself away from the mirror just yet, I stood studying myself. The dress really was perfect. I couldn't wait for Ty to see me in it. Despite everything, I found myself looking forward to Homecoming. In some ways, it had been a welcome relief to step away from all of the research and worry and just be a girl for a while. Perhaps that was the reason Ty had insisted we go through with this. Looking at things from that perspective, I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to hug the boy.

  I smiled one last time at my reflection and picked up the edge of the dress so I wouldn't get it dirty as I made my way back to my dressing room. I stopped when I heard a familiar voice.

  "I hate it."

  "It's very flattering," said an older female voice. "Though maybe if you lost a couple of pounds..." The woman trailed off. "Or not."

  "We just have to keep looking. I'll know the dress when I see it. This isn't it."

  I peeked my head around the corner slowly, convinced I recognized that voice. Yep. Carrie. She was standing in front of a three-way mirror, swishing around to view herself from all angles in the hunter green dress she wore. In my opinion, she looked phenomenal.

  Carrie's mother stood off to the side with what I expected were several discarded dresses draped over her arms. The poor woman looked exhausted.

  My dressing room was straight ahead, and I'd have to pass within Carrie's line of sight to get to it. Perhaps if I waited long enough, she would go back into one of the changing rooms and I could slip in and out again without her noticing. I'd never been that lucky, but the last thing I wanted was to confront the girl in evening wear.

  Pressed back to the wall, I waited them out.

  "What about this blue one?"

  Carrie made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat. "Fine. Give it to me." There was the sound of fabric—I can only assume Carrie ripped it from her mother's hands—and their voices grew muffled. She was in a room. Thank God.

  I picked up my gown again and made tail for my dressing room, quickly changing back into my street clothes. I cracked the door open again and peeked down the hall. I didn't see anyone, and quickly exited.

  "Nice dress."

  I jumped and whirled around. Carrie stood against the wall behind me—the last place I expected her to be. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, and when I turned to look for her mother, the woman had disappeared. Great.

  Carrie pushed off the wall, studying the garment in my arms. Reaching out a hand, she slid the fabric between her fingers. "Pretty."

  I swallowed—hard. "Thanks."

  Her blue eyes studied me for a long beat; I fought to maintain eye contact. Was this Kim's killer? The fact she could sneak up on me this way—was it just a coincidence or had she heard me—smelled me—sensed me in some way I couldn't even comprehend?

  "What about you?" I said, trying to regain my composure. "Any luck?"

  She tilted her head to the side, a slow smile curving her red lips. "No, but I haven't given up yet."

  With that, she brushed past me to the store floor.

  o0o

  With the addition of the pair of strappy silver heels my mother found, my outfit was complete. Regardless, my spirits had been irrevocably dampened by my encounter with Carrie.

  I forced myself to step out of my funk to help Melanie shop for her own gown. With the aid of Ty and one of his buddies, we managed to snare her a date. Matt Bauer was a student coach for the football team and admitted to having a bit of crush on Melanie for quite some time.

  "But I don't even know him," Melanie complained for the umpteenth time.

  I poo-pooed her protests and forced her into a dressing room with another gown. "He's great! He's funny, he's nice, and most importantly, he likes you."

  "Yeah, but what will we talk about?" Her words came out muffled as she slipped a light green dress over her head.

  "Normal stuff. He's just like anyone else. You talk about whatever comes to mind—school, the game, what you like to do. It's simple."

  "Easy for you to say." She stepped outside and we both burst out laughing at the horrendous fit of the dress. It hung off her awkwardly, the hemline pooling at her feet. She looked like a young child playing dress-up with her mother's clothes.

  "I'd leave this part out," I said. We both fell into another fit of the giggles.

  My mother came to our rescue. After scouring the petites section, she appeared with the perfect dress. The burgundy gown set off Melanie's lovely skin and clung beautifully to her small frame.

  "See," I said, stepping back for a full view. "It's perfect. Matt is going to fall over when he sees you."

  My mom nodded her approval, squeezing Melanie's shoulder.

  "Thank you." Melanie dropped her eyes, a rosy blush coloring her freckled cheeks. "There's just one more thing...I don't know how to dance."

  "Not a problem," I said.

  Ty didn't know what hit him when I forced him to give Melanie a mini-lesson on the finer points of dancing. I cleared everything out of the center of my room and turned on some soft music. When they hesitated, staring at each other from opposite sides of the room, I pushed them together. "Can't dance that way, now can we?"

  He shot me an annoyed look before pulling her into his arms. His large stature next to Melanie's short one was adorably cute. He showed her the greatest patience as she kept stumbling over his feet, once even managing to elbow him in the eye—a miracle given their height difference. I took mental notes for my diary.

  After many hits and misses, they finally started moving in sync.

  "See, not so bad." I smiled.

  o0o

  "You're a really good friend to her," Ty said.

  In the process of stacking CDs we had used during the dance lesson, I was unprepared for the compliment. I smiled to myself, realizing I had enjoyed the day—despite my encounter with Carrie. Being with Melanie and my mother that day had felt good. Easy.

  "I like her," I said, shrugging. It was true. Being around her was different than hanging out with Jenna and my other friends. With them, I always felt the need to compete—or at least try to hold my head above what felt like shark-infested waters. For the first time in a long time, I didn't have to pretend to be something I wasn't.

  Ty was lying on my bed, bouncing a tennis ball against the wall behind it. I studied his dark head for a moment, wondering if I should tell him about Carrie. It didn't seem right to withhold the information, but I didn't know if he would be receptive. Soft thumps of the ball on plaster filled the quiet in the room. He paused, catching the ball in his right hand, and looked over at me.

  "Is something wrong?"

  I should've told him then, but I couldn't. It had been a perfect day and I didn't want it to end in an argument. Any mention of Carrie's name always led to that, it seemed, and I just couldn't take the idea of him taking her side again.

  "Nothing," I said.

  He rolled off the bed in one fluid motion and put the ball down on my desk. "Good. Because we have work to do."

  I raised an eyebrow. "We?"

  He nodded, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

  "My my...first your car, now this? Whatever will you trust me with next?"

  Our eyes met for the briefest moment and my heart moved into a gallop.

  He laughed, nervously, and motioned toward the door. "Let's get to work."

  Helping Ty with his restraints wasn't nearly as glamorous as he made it look. Whereas he wore grime well, the dirt and dust making him even sexier, I simply turned into a big hot mess. After wielding the hammer just once, I was ready to quit. Rather than embarrass myself further with my complete ineptitude, I sat back and watched him work.

  Talking was impossible with all of the noise he was making, so I soon grew bored and tired. When I nodded off for the third time, I jerked my chin up and stretched. Enough al
ready. I hugged him from behind.

  "I'm going to bed," I said. Standing on tiptoe, I placed a light kiss on his neck. He reached to give me a hug, but I backed away from him. "Don't even try it."

  He laughed, waggling his greasy fingers at me. "I'll be there soon."

  "Shower first," I said, grinning.

  I pulled the shed door closed behind me, taking a deep gulp of the night air. After the noise inside, the quiet outdoors was a welcome relief.

  After a moment to let my senses adjust, I pushed off the shed and started toward my house. A light shone on Ty's back porch, but once I started into the trees, it faded into the background. Soon I was in darkness, the trees and bushes mere shadows that seemed to blend in to the next.

  Just as the dim light from my own porch filtered through the thinning leaves, a sharp smell struck me full force. I clapped a hand over my nose and mouth, tried not to gag on the stench. It was all around me, the very air heavy with it. I stumbled backwards, anything to get away. It had the sting of ammonia, only foul.

  Something on the ground slid against my ankle. I shrieked. It was cool to my skin, but in the darkness I couldn't make out what it was.

  "Mac!" Ty appeared so quickly that I involuntarily yelped and stumbled away from him. Whatever was on the ground seemed to have a hold on me, and I kicked out at it.

  "Get it off of me!" I yelled.

  Ty reached my side in an instant, wrapping his arms around me. He made soft shushing noises in my ear. "I'm here," he repeated until my heart slowed and my breathing returned to normal. When at last I was calm, he bent to the ground and came back with what appeared to be liquid darkness.

  "What the..." he said, turning the thing over in his hands. "I think it's...clothes."

  Despite my terror from a moment before, I reached out to touch the silky material in his hands. My heart sank. I recognized it in an instant.

  "It's my Homecoming dress."

  Chapter 23

  I watched Ty pace my bedroom, his shoulders rippling with tension. Seated on my bed, I clutched a throw pillow to my chest and regarded the dress that now lay on the floor at the foot of my bed. I hadn't wanted to bring it inside—the thing stank worse than a portable latrine—but Ty had insisted.

  When I explained the smell in the woods, Ty went to investigate, finding nothing. Even worse, despite my insistence that the garment at his feet reeked, he couldn't smell it. It was just another piece of this weird puzzle that we couldn't put in place.

  My mind didn't want to go there, but even I realized it was a warning. And not a pretty one.

  The thought that someone would sneak into my room to steal my dress—it sent a chill through me. Add to that the image of someone—this thing—dropping trou and essentially marking me, and I was afraid I might trip over the line into hysteria.

  Frustrated, Ty dropped down to his haunches and gathered the satin gown in his hands, once again shoving his face into the soft material. As before, I nearly gagged. The fact he could get that close to the stinking garment and not smell it was beyond me. It would probably take weeks to air out my bedroom.

  "I hope you know you're showering for two hours if you think you're ever getting in this bed again," I said, my tone flat. It was meant as a joke, but it fell far short.

  He balled the dress in his fist and dropped it on the trash bag I had insisted he lay on the ground beneath it. Armed with a bottle of Febreze, I shot a spray of the freshener in his general direction.

  "Guess we figured out one thing," Ty said, rubbing a hand across his neck. "There's a reason I can't sense this thing. My sense of smell is the same as it's always been—at least as far as this thing is concerned."

  "Wrong," I said. "It's non-existent."

  His green eyes met mine, and he reluctantly nodded.

  "Can you get rid of it now?"

  He quietly gathered the dress and tied it inside the garbage bag. He dropped it on the ledge outside my window, closing it behind him. Thankfully he stayed there, leaning against the window jam to study me.

  "Who would do this?" I asked, a note of desperation in my tone.

  I wanted him to be the one to say her name, but he only shook his head. "I don't know."

  Letting out a slow breath, I rubbed my eyes, suddenly exhausted. "I saw her—at the department store. We ran into each other when we were trying on dresses. She even commented on my dress."

  I snorted at his non reaction.

  "Not in a 'gee, that's really pretty' kind of way, Ty. It was in a 'I could cut you right now, bitch' way."

  Ty's frown only deepened. "It isn't her. You don't know her."

  It was true. We had known each other for years, of course, but once she and Ty started dating a barrier had gone up between me and the couple. Whereas Ty and I had gone around that barrier to remain friends, nothing was ever really the same between Carrie and me. I couldn't claim to know her, but I had seen her actions over the past couple of weeks. And rather than the good light Ty saw her in—despite everything that had gone on between them—my only impression of her was of being the queen of all bitches. In some ways, she put Jenna to shame.

  "Then who?" I said, exasperated. Try as he may, he couldn't come up with an alternative name.

  After a few long beats of silence, I stood. "I'm going to take a shower. I suggest you do the same."

  When I emerged from the bathroom a while later, Ty was nowhere in sight. A slight shift in the wood outside my window made me jump, but I soon recognized the shape of Ty's shoulders. He was seated on the overhang. I left him there and crawled into bed alone. I expected him to join me at some point, but he never did. Eventually I drifted to sleep, safe in the knowledge that he would stand sentry.

  Chapter 24

  On the day of Homecoming, I spent the entire afternoon preparing with my mother hovering over me. We styled my hair together, decided what make-up would be best, and then accessorized the look with a pair of her diamond earrings and a thin gold chain with a princess cut diamond.

  Much to my surprise, Ty showed up at my house the day after the incident in the woods, a duplicate of the destroyed gown over his arm. I knew exactly how much it cost, and it added extra pressure to look perfect—for him. Despite my worries and fear, I vowed to push it all aside. He deserved this night—we both did.

  During the game, all the princesses in the Homecoming court were corralled into one of the classrooms. Full-length mirrors were set up for last minute touch-ups to make-up and hair.

  Jenna was there, of course. She looked absolutely stunning in a sleek red number with small diamond cutouts down the front, and a halter top that showed off her voluminous chest. The boys would undoubtedly go ga-ga over the amount of exposed flesh down her front.

  Mary Clark waved hello to me as she entered, her forest green dress swooshing around her ankles as she hurried over to greet me.

  "You look fabulous!" she said.

  "You, too!" I said, meaning it. She looked radiant. More than a small part of me hoped she would win that evening. I knew my chances were pretty much in the toilet, and it would be horrible to watch Jenna win.

  We huddled around a mirror together, helping to tweak each other's hair.

  In the reflection, I saw Carrie slip inside the room. I'd forgotten she was on the court, or perhaps my mind simply blocked her out. Everything aside, I had to admit she looked gorgeous. Her long brown hair was piled on top of her head with loose tendrils brushing her shoulders, and she wore a canary yellow gown with thick straps and an empire waist. The dress flared and ended in a soft train at her back. Her chest looked well-endowed and her cheeks were flushed with a beautiful glow.

  We ignored each other. I huddled on one side of the room with Mary—Jenna and Carrie stuck to the other. Everyone seemed on edge, anxious to get on with the night's proceedings.

  True to tradition, each of us would be driven around the track during halftime like a candle on top of a birthday cake. It was a cold night, the temperatures having finally succum
bed to the approaching winter. I didn't look forward to riding aloft the back seat of the convertible that would serve as my coach. The only good thing in the situation was Ty, who would meet me at center field and accompany me in the procession across the grass.

  My mother appeared. "Are you ladies ready?"

  She slyly turned her face aside as I walked past her through the door, wiping away the tears I saw glistening on her lashes. At the last moment, I turned and gave her a quick hug.

  Ty stood at the fifty yard line with the other princes. It didn't matter that he was still in uniform, grass stains and dirt all over him. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, and I felt his on me as the parade of cars winded its way around the field to the hoots and hollers of the onlookers. Melanie waved frantically from the stands, a huge grin lighting up her face. I smiled and returned it, feeling like a beauty pageant contestant.

  One by one, the cars stopped and each princess was greeted by her prince. When it was my turn to disembark, Ty stepped forward and offered me a hand down. His palms were so warm and I didn't want to release them. My own fingers were half frozen in the frigid air.

  He slipped a corsage of white roses on my wrist. Accented with miniature daisies and ivy, it was beautiful. "Thank you," I said. I raised my wrist and breathed in its light scent.

  Tucking my arm beneath his, he escorted me to the center of the field where an impromptu staging area had been assembled. His eyes kept returning to me.

  "You're beautiful," he whispered.

  I flushed with pleasure. "So are you." Suddenly, it seemed a whole lot warmer outside.

  We lined up with the other couples. There was Mary and Ed, Simone Bauer and Brian Kramer, Carrie and Todd York, a basketball player, and finally, Jenna and David. I tried to ignore the implications of that particular pairing.

  Waiting for our names to be called out in introduction was a frustrating process. By time the festivities concluded, I was literally shaking from the cold.