the door to the costume room, she adds, “I bet you picked out some awesome dresses for Vera.”
“Oh — thanks,” I say, flattered.
It’s the strangest thing, but with Sasha next to me, I’m not scared in the costume room. I realize something: Sasha may not be popular, but she’s … pleasant. Nice to be around.
Maybe I’m being ridiculous, avoiding her and Marc. I need to talk to
someone
about the Dark Ones, especially now that Arabella’s not getting back to me. I know Marc would be helpful, and if Sasha gets involved — that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Maybe I should take Marc up on his invitation from yesterday.
Maybe.
Chapter Ten
The next afternoon, fate — or, rather, Mr. Harker — makes the decision for me. I’m standing at my locker at the end of the day, and he jogs up to me, out of breath and carrying a bulky garment bag.
“Ashlee,” he says, looking stressed, “can you do me a huge favor? I just picked up Vera’s costumes from the tailor, but I have a doctor’s appointment. Would you be able to give the dresses directly to Sasha now? I want to be sure she has time to try them on, in case there need to be last-minute fixes before the show.”
“Um, sure,” I say, knowing that, as wardrobe master, I can’t say no.
Mr. Harker thanks me, hands me the garment bag, and hurries off.
I glance around the empty hallway, past the crimson-bright
At First Bite
posters on the walls. I drank a Sanga! in the library before coming to my locker, so it’s on the late side. Sasha’s probably left already, which means I’ll have to bring the costumes to her house.
I feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. I’ve wanted to talk to her and Marc all day but never had a chance. So I gather my courage and shut my locker.
I memorized Marc’s address from the directory, and it’s not a long walk from school. When I arrive at the house, though, I gasp. It’s a full-on mansion, wide and majestic, with a blue pool glistening behind it. I would have
never
guessed that Marc and Sasha were so wealthy. I suddenly feel even more nervous, especially since I’m showing up unannounced.
I hug the garment bag to my chest and ring the bell. A beautiful African-American woman about my mom’s age opens the door. She gives me a warm smile and I immediately see the resemblance between her and Sasha. And Marc has her big, long-lashed brown eyes. She’s clearly their mom.
You’re a vampire!
I want to tell her.
On the Council!
But I struggle to keep the words from leaping off my tongue.
“Hi, I’m Ashlee Lambert,” I say instead. “I’m here to give Sasha her —”
“Her costumes, yes,” the woman says, opening the door all the way. “I’ve heard all about you, Ashlee. Please come in. I’m Mrs. Hirsh.”
I wonder what Marc and Sasha — but mainly Marc — told their mother about me.
I take off my sun hat (I’ve been good about wearing it outside) and step inside. The house is full of fancy furniture and fine art, but it also feels cozy and welcoming.
“Sasha! Honey?” Mrs. Hirsh calls, peering up the grand staircase. She shrugs. “Maybe she’s in here with her dad,” she adds, leading me into the living room.
The first thing I spot is a shiny gold statuette on the mantel: It’s an
Oscar!
Who
are
these people? Then I see the man sitting on the sofa, reading from an iPad.
“Sasha and Marc are both upstairs,” he says, looking up with a smile.
He has blond-gray hair and Sasha’s hazel eyes, and I realize that I
know
him. He’s Ben Hirsh, the totally famous, Oscar-winning actor! So
that
was why I’d thought Sasha’s last name had sounded familiar when I’d heard it my first day at S.M.A.
I’m speechless. I’ve never met a real movie star before, and I never expected to find one at Sasha and Marc’s house. I probably should tell him I’m a big fan, but I’ve never seen his movies (they’re mostly, like, boring political dramas). Plus, all I
want
to say is:
You’re
“Oh — thanks,” I say, flattered.
It’s the strangest thing, but with Sasha next to me, I’m not scared in the costume room. I realize something: Sasha may not be popular, but she’s … pleasant. Nice to be around.
Maybe I’m being ridiculous, avoiding her and Marc. I need to talk to
someone
about the Dark Ones, especially now that Arabella’s not getting back to me. I know Marc would be helpful, and if Sasha gets involved — that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Maybe I should take Marc up on his invitation from yesterday.
Maybe.
Chapter Ten
The next afternoon, fate — or, rather, Mr. Harker — makes the decision for me. I’m standing at my locker at the end of the day, and he jogs up to me, out of breath and carrying a bulky garment bag.
“Ashlee,” he says, looking stressed, “can you do me a huge favor? I just picked up Vera’s costumes from the tailor, but I have a doctor’s appointment. Would you be able to give the dresses directly to Sasha now? I want to be sure she has time to try them on, in case there need to be last-minute fixes before the show.”
“Um, sure,” I say, knowing that, as wardrobe master, I can’t say no.
Mr. Harker thanks me, hands me the garment bag, and hurries off.
I glance around the empty hallway, past the crimson-bright
At First Bite
posters on the walls. I drank a Sanga! in the library before coming to my locker, so it’s on the late side. Sasha’s probably left already, which means I’ll have to bring the costumes to her house.
I feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. I’ve wanted to talk to her and Marc all day but never had a chance. So I gather my courage and shut my locker.
I memorized Marc’s address from the directory, and it’s not a long walk from school. When I arrive at the house, though, I gasp. It’s a full-on mansion, wide and majestic, with a blue pool glistening behind it. I would have
never
guessed that Marc and Sasha were so wealthy. I suddenly feel even more nervous, especially since I’m showing up unannounced.
I hug the garment bag to my chest and ring the bell. A beautiful African-American woman about my mom’s age opens the door. She gives me a warm smile and I immediately see the resemblance between her and Sasha. And Marc has her big, long-lashed brown eyes. She’s clearly their mom.
You’re a vampire!
I want to tell her.
On the Council!
But I struggle to keep the words from leaping off my tongue.
“Hi, I’m Ashlee Lambert,” I say instead. “I’m here to give Sasha her —”
“Her costumes, yes,” the woman says, opening the door all the way. “I’ve heard all about you, Ashlee. Please come in. I’m Mrs. Hirsh.”
I wonder what Marc and Sasha — but mainly Marc — told their mother about me.
I take off my sun hat (I’ve been good about wearing it outside) and step inside. The house is full of fancy furniture and fine art, but it also feels cozy and welcoming.
“Sasha! Honey?” Mrs. Hirsh calls, peering up the grand staircase. She shrugs. “Maybe she’s in here with her dad,” she adds, leading me into the living room.
The first thing I spot is a shiny gold statuette on the mantel: It’s an
Oscar!
Who
are
these people? Then I see the man sitting on the sofa, reading from an iPad.
“Sasha and Marc are both upstairs,” he says, looking up with a smile.
He has blond-gray hair and Sasha’s hazel eyes, and I realize that I
know
him. He’s Ben Hirsh, the totally famous, Oscar-winning actor! So
that
was why I’d thought Sasha’s last name had sounded familiar when I’d heard it my first day at S.M.A.
I’m speechless. I’ve never met a real movie star before, and I never expected to find one at Sasha and Marc’s house. I probably should tell him I’m a big fan, but I’ve never seen his movies (they’re mostly, like, boring political dramas). Plus, all I
want
to say is:
You’re
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