Read Online Captive by L. J. Smith - Free Book Online
Authors: L. J. Smith
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fine, light-brown hair waving softly back from her face. The highlights shimmered when Cassie moved her head, so it must be her-but it couldn't be, Cassie thought. Her eyes didn't have that dreamy, mysterious aura. Her skin didn't have that dewy glow, and she didn't blush that way, to bring out her cheekbones. And her lips definitely didn't have that breathless ready-to-be-kissed look.
84
"It's the lipstick," Suzan explained. "Don't smudge it."
"It's possible," said Melanie, "that you've gone too far, Suzan."
"Do you like the dress?" Laurel asked. "It's the perfect length, just short enough, but still romantic."
The girl in the mirror, the one with the delicate bones and the swan's neck, turned from side to side. The dress was silvery and shimmering, like yards of starlight, and it made Cassie feel like a princess. Suzan's shoes, appropriately, looked like glass slippers.
"Oh, thank you!" Cassie said, whirling to look at the other girls. "I mean-I don't know how to say thank you. I mean-I finally look like a witch!"
They burst into laughter, except Deborah, who threw a disgusted glance at the ceiling. Cassie hugged Laurel, and then, impulsively, hugged Suzan, too.
"Well, you are a witch," Suzan said reasonably. "I'll show you how to do it yourself if you want."
Cassie felt something like humility. She'd thought Suzan was just an airhead, but it wasn't true. Suzan loved beauty and was generous about sharing it with other people. Cassie smiled into the china-blue eyes and felt as if she'd unexpectedly made a new friend.
"Wait, we almost forgot!" Melanie said. "You can't go to a dance without a single crystal to your name." She rummaged in her canvas bag, and then said, "Here, this will be perfect; it was my great-grandmother's." She held up a necklace: a thin chain with a teardrop of clear quartz. Cassie took it lovingly and fastened it around her neck, admiring the way it lay in the hollow of her throat. Then she hugged Melanie, too.
From downstairs a doorbell chimed faintly, and, closer, a male voice shouted, "For crying out loud! Are you going to get that, Suzan?"
"It's one of the guys!" Suzan said, thrown into a tizzy. "And we're not ready. You're the only one dressed, Cassie; run and get it before Dad has a fit."
"Hello, Mr. Whittier; sorry, Mr. Whittier," Cassie gasped as she hurried downstairs. It wasn't until she was at the door that she thought, Oh, please, please, please, let it be any one of the others. Don't let it be him. Please.
Adam was standing there when she opened the door.
He was wearing a wry smile, appropriate for a guy who's been commandeered at the last minute into escorting his girl's best friend to a dance. The smile disappeared instantly when he saw Cassie.
For a long moment he simply stared at her. Her own elated smile faded, and they stood gazing at each other.
Adam swallowed hard, started to say something, then gave up and stood silent again.
Cassie was hearing Suzan's words: It'll make you irresistible. Oh, what had she done?
"We'll call it off," she said, and her voice was as soft as when she'd told Faye about the dark energy. "We'll tell Diana I got sick too-"
"We can't," he said, equally soft, but very intense. "Nobody would believe it, and besides . . ." The wry smile made an attempt at reappearing. "It would be a shame for you to miss Homecoming. You look . . ." He paused. "Nice."
"So do you," Cassie said, and tried to come up with an ironic smile of her own. She had the feeling it turned out wobbly.
Cassie took another breath, but at that moment she heard a voice from the second floor.
"Here," Laurel said, leaning over the balustrade to toss Cassie a tiny beaded purse. "Get her to the dance, Adam; that way she'll have a chance at some guys who're available." And, from the bedroom, Suzan called, "But not too many, Cassie-leave some for us!"
"I'll try to fend a few of them off," Adam called back, and Cassie felt her racing pulse calm a little. They had their parts down
84
"It's the lipstick," Suzan explained. "Don't smudge it."
"It's possible," said Melanie, "that you've gone too far, Suzan."
"Do you like the dress?" Laurel asked. "It's the perfect length, just short enough, but still romantic."
The girl in the mirror, the one with the delicate bones and the swan's neck, turned from side to side. The dress was silvery and shimmering, like yards of starlight, and it made Cassie feel like a princess. Suzan's shoes, appropriately, looked like glass slippers.
"Oh, thank you!" Cassie said, whirling to look at the other girls. "I mean-I don't know how to say thank you. I mean-I finally look like a witch!"
They burst into laughter, except Deborah, who threw a disgusted glance at the ceiling. Cassie hugged Laurel, and then, impulsively, hugged Suzan, too.
"Well, you are a witch," Suzan said reasonably. "I'll show you how to do it yourself if you want."
Cassie felt something like humility. She'd thought Suzan was just an airhead, but it wasn't true. Suzan loved beauty and was generous about sharing it with other people. Cassie smiled into the china-blue eyes and felt as if she'd unexpectedly made a new friend.
"Wait, we almost forgot!" Melanie said. "You can't go to a dance without a single crystal to your name." She rummaged in her canvas bag, and then said, "Here, this will be perfect; it was my great-grandmother's." She held up a necklace: a thin chain with a teardrop of clear quartz. Cassie took it lovingly and fastened it around her neck, admiring the way it lay in the hollow of her throat. Then she hugged Melanie, too.
From downstairs a doorbell chimed faintly, and, closer, a male voice shouted, "For crying out loud! Are you going to get that, Suzan?"
"It's one of the guys!" Suzan said, thrown into a tizzy. "And we're not ready. You're the only one dressed, Cassie; run and get it before Dad has a fit."
"Hello, Mr. Whittier; sorry, Mr. Whittier," Cassie gasped as she hurried downstairs. It wasn't until she was at the door that she thought, Oh, please, please, please, let it be any one of the others. Don't let it be him. Please.
Adam was standing there when she opened the door.
He was wearing a wry smile, appropriate for a guy who's been commandeered at the last minute into escorting his girl's best friend to a dance. The smile disappeared instantly when he saw Cassie.
For a long moment he simply stared at her. Her own elated smile faded, and they stood gazing at each other.
Adam swallowed hard, started to say something, then gave up and stood silent again.
Cassie was hearing Suzan's words: It'll make you irresistible. Oh, what had she done?
"We'll call it off," she said, and her voice was as soft as when she'd told Faye about the dark energy. "We'll tell Diana I got sick too-"
"We can't," he said, equally soft, but very intense. "Nobody would believe it, and besides . . ." The wry smile made an attempt at reappearing. "It would be a shame for you to miss Homecoming. You look . . ." He paused. "Nice."
"So do you," Cassie said, and tried to come up with an ironic smile of her own. She had the feeling it turned out wobbly.
Cassie took another breath, but at that moment she heard a voice from the second floor.
"Here," Laurel said, leaning over the balustrade to toss Cassie a tiny beaded purse. "Get her to the dance, Adam; that way she'll have a chance at some guys who're available." And, from the bedroom, Suzan called, "But not too many, Cassie-leave some for us!"
"I'll try to fend a few of them off," Adam called back, and Cassie felt her racing pulse calm a little. They had their parts down
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