Page 1

Chapter One

Eliza

“When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.”

—William Shakespeare, King Lear

I had hoped that if I showed up to a party dressed head to toe in black and feathers, a gothic fairy from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, I could hide in plain sight.

I was wrong.

It only took thirty minutes after my walking inside for one of my exes, dressed as Mario, to appear at my side and ask if he could “jump me to level up.”

He earned a swift heel to his clunky plumber boot.

And minutes later, someone nameless dressed as Frodo hissed “My precious” into my ear.

Frodo’s journey to Mount Doom would take him a bit longer now with a bruised kneecap.

God, I hated big parties.

My best friend, Lauryn, however, lived for them. She waved and flashed a beaming smile while swaying with the bass in a haze of smoke. Her platinum-blond hair with lavender highlights bounced off her shoulders as her diamond nose stud sparkled under a chandelier.

“Elizaaaa!” she called out to the tune of “The Schuyler Sisters” before she wove through the crowd toward me.

Well, if anyone hasn’t noticed me yet, they sure as hell know who I am now.

My watch glittered under the string of neon lights above me, and I scowled. Barely 10:30 p.m. and she’s made a Hamilton reference.

It was Tracey’s—the most popular and fakest girl in school—annual Beginning of Summer Party, and after what happened last year, I couldn’t let Lauryn go alone to this one. If she had more than three Jell-O shooters, she was a hot mess of cabaret. Our friends still talked about last June’s performance of “Lovely Ladies” and her…dancing.

“Would you please stop sulking? You’re getting forehead wrinkles.” Lauryn grabbed my arm and dragged me toward a bar covered with white twinkle lights. “It’s a party! Lighten up! We’re going to be seniors in a couple months!”

Don’t remind me. I still had so much to do before school started again. “I’m not sulking. And I don’t have forehead wrinkles.”

“Maybe not yet, but you will.” She picked and plucked at my tank top. “Then again, it’s hard to tell anything about you underneath all those black feathers. Why’d you wear this, again?”

“I’m a dark fairy.” I flicked away her hand. “Plus, it helps me blend in.”

“You couldn’t blend in if you tried, girl.”

Fair.

It was hard enough having people fawn over me during the school year—the rich Crowley girl, daughter of the man who practically owned the town. But was it too much to ask to blend in for just one night? To not be a Crowley?

Lauryn hiccupped, her breath reeking of cherry syrup mixed with vodka.

“How many have you had?” I yelled over the music.

Lauryn snagged a pen from the bar and began doodling a necklace design on a small white napkin.

“Lauryn?” I nudged her. “How many?”

“What? Oh. Just a couple.” She tossed the pen aside. “So how do I look?”

I scanned her over. “Like a cute bunny.”

“I’m a cat.”