But in the end, I go. Mostly because it's the right thing to do. And I'm so focused on gathering my supplies and donning my smock, that at first I don't realize he's not even there. And as the minutes tick by with still no sign of him, I grab my paints and head for my easel. Only to find that stupid triangle note balanced on the edge. I stare at it, focusing so intensely that everything around me grows dark and out of focus. The entire classroom reduced to one single point. My entire world consisting of a triangle-shaped letter resting on a thin wooden ledge, the name Stacia scrawled on its front. And even though I've no idea how it got there, even though a quick survey of the room reaffirms Damen's not there, I don't want it anywhere near me. I refuse to participate in this sick little game. I grab a paintbrush and flick it as hard as I can, watching as it soars through the air before tumbling to the ground, knowing I'm acting childish, ridiculous, especially when Ms. Machado comes by and swoops it up in her hand.

"Looks like you dropped something!" she sings, her smile bright and expectant, having no idea that I put it there on purpose.

"It's not mine," I mumble, rearranging my paints, figuring she can get it to Stacia herself, or better yet, throw it away.

"So there's another Ever I'm not aware oft" She smiles. What?

I take the note she dangles before me, Ever clearly scrawled across its front, and written in Damen's unmistakable hand. Having no idea how this happened, no logical explanation. Because I know what I saw.

My fingers tremble as I begin to unfold it, opening all three corners and smoothing the crease, gasping when a small detailed sketch is unveiled—a small detailed sketch of one beautiful red tulip.

Chapter Eleven

Halloween is just a few days away and I'm still working on the final touches for my costume.

Haven's going as a vampire (duh), Miles is going as a piratebut that's only after I talked him out of going as Madonna in her cone-breast phase, and I'm not telling what I'm going as. But only because my once great idea has morphed into an overly ambitious project I'm quickly losing faith in.

Though I have to admit I was pretty surprised Sabine even wanted to throw a party to begin with. Partly because she never really seems interested in stuff like that, but mostly because I figured that between the two of us we'd be lucky to come up with five guests max. But apparently Sabine's a lot more popular than I realized, as she quickly filled two and a half columns, while my list was pathetically shorterconsisting of my only two friends and their possible plus ones.

So while Sabine hired a caterer to handle the food and drink, I put Miles in charge of audio/visual (which means he'll dock his iPod and rent some scary movies), and asked Haven to provide the cupcakes. Which pretty much left Riley and me as the sole members of the decorations committee. And since Sabine handed me a catalog and a credit card with specific instructions to "don't hold back," we've spent the last two afternoons transforming the house from its usual look of semicustom Tuscan track home to spooky, scary, crypt-keeper's castle. And it's been so much fun, reminding me of when we used to decorate our old house for Easter, Thanksgiving,and Christmas. Not to mention how staying busy and focused has really helped curb some of our bickering.

"You should go as a mermaid," Riley says. "Or as one of those kids from those OC reality shows."

"Oh jeez, don't tell me you still watch that stuffy I say, balancing precariously on the second to last rung, so I can string up yet another faux spider web.

"Don't blame me, Tivo's got a mind of its own." She shrugs.

"You have Tivo?" I turn, desperate for any information I can get since she's always so stingy with the afterlife details.

But she just laughs. "I swear, you are so gullible—the things you believe!" She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, reaching into a cardboard box and retrieving a string of fairy lights.

"Wanna trade?" she offers, unraveling the cord. "I mean, it's ridiculous the way you insist on climbing up and down that ladder when I can just levitate and get the job done."

I shake my head and frown. Even though it might be easier, I still like to pretend my life is somewhat normal.

"So what are you going as?"

"Forget it," I say, attaching the web to the corner, before climbing down the ladder to get a good look.

"If you can have secrets, then I can too."

"No fair." She crosses her arms and pouts in the way that always worked on Dad, but never on Mom.

"Relax, you'll see it at the party," I tell her, picking up a glow in-the-dark skeleton and untangling the limbs.

"You mean, I'm invited?" she asks, her voice squeaky, eyes wide with excitement.

"Like I could stop you?" I laugh, propping Mr. Skeleton near the entryway so he can greet all our guests.

"Is your boyfriend coming too?"

I roll my eyes and sigh. "You know I don't have a boyfriend," I say, bored with this game before it's even begun.

"Please. I'm not an idiot." She scowls. "It's not like I've forgotten the great sweatshirt debate. Besides, I can't wait to meet him, or I guess I should say; see him, since it's not like you'd ever introduce me. Which is really pretty rude if you think about it. I mean just because he can't see me doesn't mean..."

"Jeez, he's not invited, okay?" I shout, not realizing I've stumbled into her trap until it's too late.