Pyxis: The Discovery (Pyxis Series) (18 page)

He stepped close and tried to close his hand around mine, but I pulled back.

“Mason,” I said, my voice pleading. “Don’t do this.”

“Why?” His hazel eyes looked so wounded I thought my heart would break.

“I don’t…” I swallowed, and my mouth tasted like the inside of a tin can. “I didn’t mean for anything to happen between us. We’re friends, that’s it.”

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?” I felt a flutter of fear in my stomach. I’d never seen Mason really angry, especially not with me.

“I don’t know! I wanted to! You wanted me to!” My voice was strained with frustration, and angry tears threatened to flood my eyes. I knew I’d done something I shouldn’t have, but I also knew I needed him. My insides were tumbling, and I felt like I might throw up. “Please don’t be mad at me. It was just an impulse, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.”

He jammed his hands into his pockets and glared at the floor. “Really? That’s all you have to say after everything?”

“I’m really sorry, I am.” A couple of hot tears spilled down my cheeks. I lifted my arms helplessly. “What do you want me to say?”

His head whipped up, and he looked at me with such intensity I nearly took a step back. “Honestly? I wish this wasn’t all such a big mistake to you. Because it didn’t feel that way to me.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. I opened my mouth, but no words came. Clapping a hand over my mouth, I turned and dashed into the girls’ locker room. I banged into the first stall just in time to hurl my dinner and a bunch of sour pink liquid into the toilet. I tore off some toilet paper and wiped my mouth, then flushed it all down. Hunched over with weakness, I leaned against the stall wall for a minute and let my tears trail down my face.

I didn’t want to face Mason or anyone else, but I needed to get back out there and find Ang. I grabbed another wad of paper and stood in front of the mirror to mop my face. I looked like hell, with eye makeup smeared, red-streaked cheeks, and nose running. I cleaned myself up the best I could, rinsed my mouth, and thanked my lucky stars I had the bathroom to myself. What a pathetic display, on top of the mess I’d made of everything. I remembered the hurt on Mason’s face. I grabbed another wad of toilet paper and left the safety of the locker room.

The crowd in the gym had thinned considerably. A song ended, another one started, and the DJ announced it would be the last song of the night. I nearly wept with relief when I saw Ang and Toby near the coat-check table. I made the mistake of looking at the bowl of pink, fizzy punch as I passed the drink table and tried to ignore the sour sensation that threatened to lurch up my throat.

“Are you okay?” Ang asked, her eyes scrunched in concern.

“Oh, yeah. I think something at dinner didn’t agree with me.” I glanced around, trying to smile casually whenever someone looked my way. I didn’t see Mason anywhere.

“Want to go back to your place now?”

“Yes, please,” I said. “Mason, uh, said he’d meet me outside.”

Toby, Ang, and I emerged from the gym into the cool night, and my ears buzzed in the silence. I squinted, scanning the sidewalk and parking lot for Mason. I finally spotted him talking to Jesse and Garrett not far from Ang’s car. He noticed us and joined us at the car. He slid into the backseat without so much as a look in my direction. Fortunately, Ang and Toby were wrapped up in some private joke, something that’d happened at the dance, and they were oblivious to the silent passengers sitting behind them.

My chest tightened, and I bit my lip hard to hold back tears. I remembered the awful days when Ang refused to speak to me. As bad as that had been, this felt even worse. Mason had been my friend forever, and now we shared some sort of bond I didn’t understand. I needed him. The thought of him freezing me out terrified me.

When we got to my house, we all tiptoed down to the basement. I closed the door at the top of the stairs and plugged in a romantic comedy. Ang and Toby settled on the sofa with less than a hair’s space between them, and pretty soon he had his arm around her. I passed out bottles of water and sat on the other end of the sofa, next to the recliner where Mason was slouched with his elbow propped on the arm of the chair, blocking his face. I was surprised he stayed. He could have walked home.

After about twenty minutes, I couldn’t take it any longer. I stood and touched Mason’s shoulder. He looked up, and I motioned for him to follow me to my room. “Please?” I whispered.

He followed me—thank God, or I probably would have fallen completely apart. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but I knew I needed to say something. I couldn’t let him leave hating me. I left the overhead lights off in my room and switched on the little nightlight in the outlet near the door. I thought I might have more courage in the dark.

|| 28 ||

MASON FLIPPED UP HIS collar, pulled off his tie and dropped it onto the purple chair. He’d left his jacket in the TV room. He sat down next to me on my bed, which I took as a good sign.

“Mason, I—I need to ask you about something.” I gulped nervously and took a deep breath. “After Solstice Fest, what were you doing with Sophie? Ang saw you with her.”

I paused and waited for his reaction, but his eyebrows just lowered a little. He certainly didn’t look like he felt guilty about it.

“She saw you outside, making out with Sophie,” I tried again.

An amused smile spread over his face, and he snorted a laugh. Then he full-out guffawed.

I frowned. “Stop laughing! You kissed me and asked me to be your girlfriend, and, like, a day later, sucked face with Sophie! How could you do that to me, Mason?”

He pressed his lips into a line, but kept erupting with little snorts of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s just the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You thought I made out with
Sophie Marcelle
? Seriously, Corinne, do you know me at all?”

“Ang has a picture of the two of you, you jerk!” I clenched my hands in my lap so he wouldn’t see them shaking.

The smile faded from his face.

“That’s impossible because it didn’t happen,” he said, his voice quiet but earnest. “Did you actually see my face?”

“Well … no,” I admitted. “Your back was to Ang. It was definitely you, though. Green coat, black hat.” Like I’d ever forget. The image was burned into my brain.

Mason leaned his head back and rolled his eyes skyward.

“Oh God. My coat. I gave it to Sam before I left.”

“You … what?”

“It was almost too small for me, and Sam’s puppy practically destroyed his coat. So I gave him mine.”

I couldn’t speak. Relief, embarrassment, and other feelings I couldn’t name flooded through me. My eyes filled with tears, and I turned away from Mason to dab at them with a corner of my pillowcase.

“Why are you crying?” Mason asked.

“I just … this whole time, I thought….” I sniffled a little.

He dragged me to him, and lay on his back with my head tucked under his chin. I felt the tension leave my shoulders and my body melted against his. “You should have known better.
Sophie
?”

“What! There was a
picture
! What was I supposed to think?”

“I just can’t believe you let all this time go by. Ignored all my emails.” His words formed little puffs into my hair.

“Yeah, that was dumb,” I said. We lay there in silence, his fingers trailing up and down my bare arm, sending pleasant shivers through me.

I was fighting to stay awake, but my head was heavy with the after-effects of the booze and the events of the night. And Mason’s chest was so warm against my face.

I dozed off after a few minutes, and some time later, I heard Ang and Toby go upstairs and out the front door. I hoped he’d kissed her at some point during the evening. She’d only been waiting, like, ten years for this night. I snuggled farther into the crook of Mason’s arm and fell back asleep.

I woke up in the early morning, cotton-mouthed and stiff, and still wearing my blue dress. Mason was sprawled on the bed, one side of his hair smashed to his head and his shirt untucked and twisted around him. I found my sweats and a t-shirt in the dark and tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom to brush my teeth and change. Muffled footsteps and sounds of doors opening and closing overhead told me my dad was probably getting ready to leave for the café.

After I hung my dress over the shower curtain rod and slipped into the sweats and t-shirt, I leaned over the sink and grimaced at my reflection. My bun had migrated around my head in the night. Makeup was smudged like bruises under my eyes, and pasty skin peeked through the foundation on my cheeks in vertical streaks where my tears had blazed a trail. I washed my face, and then I pulled out all the pins in my hair and brushed it back into a ponytail.

What a night. Would things be okay between us now? I really didn’t know where we stood. Well … we’d figure it out. We had to.

I squirted toothpaste out and tried to scrub away the sour taste in my mouth. Just as I was uncapping the toothpaste for another round of brushing, there was a tap at the bathroom door. I squeaked in surprise.

“Corinne?” My dad’s voice on the other side of the door sounded alarmed. Oh God, had he gone to my room already? At least Mason was fully dressed and on top of the covers.

I opened the door. My dad had his phone to his ear, and the look of shock on his face made my heart jump in panic. Did something happen to Bradley? Mom?

“What is it?” I whispered, my eyes wide. He held up one finger, indicating I needed to be quiet.

“This is just incredible,” he said into the phone. His eyes welled a little as he listened. What the hell was going on?

“Yes, she’s right here,” he said, and held out the phone. “It’s your Aunt Dorothy. She wants to talk to you.”

I stared at him stupidly for a second with my mouth gaping. The tiniest spark of hope began to bloom in my chest. I pressed the phone to my ear.

“Aunt Dorothy?” My voice sounded small and tentative.

“Corinne, my dear! I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to hear your voice. I do apologize for taking so long. I was in quite a state, and it took several days for the rectification fluid to work its magic, so to speak.” She sounded clear and energetic. Tears filled my eyes, and I couldn’t seem to force words past the lump in my throat. “Is your father still there with you?” she asked, her voice low and conspiratorial.

“Yes,” I croaked, and cleared my throat. “Yes, he’s right here. Is it really you, Aunt Dorothy?”

“Of course it’s me, dear. It worked! You did it. Although I must say, it took quite a lot of persistence on Doris’s part. She practically had to box you in the head to get you to understand! But that’s no matter. We’ll work on it.”

I sat down on the edge of the tub. My thoughts reeled dizzily, and for a moment, I felt like I was still drunk. My dad motioned for me to come upstairs. I nodded but lingered behind.

“I just can’t believe it’s you!” I exclaimed finally. “How do you feel? What happened to you? It wasn’t really a stroke, was it?”

Aunt Dorothy laughed ruefully. “No, it most definitely was not a stroke. I’ll tell you more when we can speak in person. But it’s nothing for you to worry about now. I’m fine, and I’m coming home. The sooner the better! This place is just one step away from the morgue.”

“So—so you know about the
pyxis
?” I asked in a low whisper. “The bottles? And the … the dreams?”

“Yes, my dear.” Her voice turned serious. “We have much work to do, Corinne. I’ve seen the dreams, too, and we must prepare. You, Mason, Angeline, and I must meet at once.”

I walked up to the kitchen where I found my parents speaking to each other in urgent, low voices. “Can we bring you home today?”

“I certainly hope so!”

“Okay, I’m giving the phone back to Dad, now. I’m so, so happy that you’re okay, and I can’t wait for you to come home.” Tears welled in my eyes again.

I handed the phone to Dad.

Mom gave me a shocked half-smile. “Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

“Can we go get her? Today? Now?” I took the tissue my mom offered and blew my nose.

“Dad and I were just talking about that. He needs to get over to the café, but I thought the three of us—you, me, and Bradley—could take the van and my car and drive to Danton. We should be able to get everything in one trip.”

“What’s going on?” Bradley stood in the doorway with his hair askew. He wore his glasses—it was too early for contacts.

Mom filled him in, and I ran downstairs under the pretext of needing to change and get ready to leave. I burst into my room, and Mason started in alarm.

“Are you awake?” I tried to keep my excitement down to a whisper. “Oh my God, Mason! You’ll never believe what’s happened. I just talked to Aunt Dorothy. She’s lucid. She’s okay.”

He sat up, scooted to the edge of the bed, and swiped his hands over his eyes. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yes! I talked to her on the phone.” My excitement tempered a little when I remembered her words. “She knows about the
pyxis
and the dreams. And she said we have work to do.”

He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands—not quite the ecstatic response I’d expected. I stared at him, and then sat down on the bed next to him. “Are you all right?” I touched his shoulder.

He nodded and let his hands drop. “I’m just relieved, I guess.” His voice was thick, as if he were on the verge of tears. “All this time, I knew I’d have to protect you. To help you somehow. But I didn’t know from what or how.”

I examined his face in the semi-daylight that illuminated the room. His forehead was lined with worry, and the tiredness in his eyes made him look about ten years older. I remembered all the nights he’d shown up here to comfort me, all the times he’d known I was distressed, and I tried to imagine feeling obligated—compelled, even—to help someone without a clue what to do or expect.

I slipped my hand around his back and under his arm, and I leaned against him. His arm curved around my shoulders.

“She’s going to help us.” I tried to sound confident and reassuring.