Page 5 of Unveil

Above them, another door opens and closes. King Fury must have left too, because I hear Uncle Ben’s voice for the first time.

“It’s war if you break this oath, Sol.”

There’s a pause.

“Then it’s war.”

Present Day

Twenty-eight.

Twenty-nine.

Thirty.

My heartbeat races, my thighs shake, sweat prickles my brow. I’m sure my smile is blinding every time I turn and the spotlights zero in on me as I fling my leg around in a perfect spin. I’m dancing the best I ever have, rising up on my pointe shoes. Flying.

Thirty-one.

This is it.

Thirty-two.

And I land the final fouetté during the last performance of my life, tears in my eyes.

The auditorium erupts in chaotic applause as the rest of the senior class floods the stage, cheering and hugging me. Our celebration is barely audible over the orchestra blasting “When the Saints Go Marching In,” and it stays lost in the musicwhen someone from sound switches on an early ‘00s graduation song. As soon as it starts playing, the orchestra leaves their instruments in the pit to hop onto the stage and join the huge pile-up.

I somehow hold back my tears, but it’s hard. We wrapped our college career with the show that was the most fun we’ve ever had performing. And now? It’s over.

Technically, we graduated months ago, and the point of Bon TempsSenior Night is to usher in the freshman class. The seniors who stuck around after graduation work on the production all summer before we scatter across the world to chase our dreams. We’re welcoming the new students, but it’s also a goodbye. To college, New Orleans, and each other. And, damn, was it a good time.

Our rehearsals usually consisted of running over parts we already knew by heart, then partying on Bourbon before heading to Frenchman Street. Partying instead of practicing meant tonight wasn’t our best work, but this audience of new students, friends, and family would’ve cheered if we’d played patty-cake for the last hour and a half. Most were probably one drink away from being trashedbeforethe five-dollar cash bar opened.

Us performers had our fair share of alcohol, but I only had one shot, and that was just because Brylie and Lucy twisted my arm. No way was I doing thirty-two freaking fouettés, one of ballet’s hardest turns, while drunk. Sure, I’ve done that a time or twelve for funsies in soft shoes, but en pointe? Hell no. That’s a broken leg waiting to happen. Broken toes have been enough for me, thank you very much.

Flowers pelt the stage, and a bouquet of red and white roses bounces off Lucy’s head, knocking her ribbon headband askew as she squeezes into the crowd. Brylie and Benoit find their way to the center and tug Lucy inside as she scowls. Or scowls as much as she can. Lucy’s the nicest of us and wouldn’t hurt a fly.

“Watch it!” Brylie and I defend her in unison, although my tone ismuchgentler than Bry’s husky shout. None of it matters, really, because popcorn, pecans, and Mardi Gras beads are flying from all directions too.

As I try to find the culprit, I spy box five instead. I’m not surprised to see Momma dabbing her eyes with one of Dad’s handkerchiefs.

What does surprise me is that she only has her best friend, Uncle Jaime, and his husband, Robert, beside her.

Where’s Dad?

I frown, until a heavy arm slaps over my shoulders and a hard hand musses up my hair, knocking my black feathered veil off my head.

“Nox! Youbutthead! You’re lucky Benny and I even let you back here.”

Nox, Brylie, and Lucy shouldn’t be backstage since they’re not Bordeaux Conservatory seniors. But Bon Temps Senior Night is always a madhouse, and no one cares so long as you’re having a good time. As I fix my hair, though, I’m regretting it now.

My twin chuckles. “Now, now, that’s no way to respect your elders.”

“Seven minutes does not deserve elder status.”

“Technically a whole day,” he points out with a grin.

“By acalendarday,” I counter. Being born at 11:53 P.M., today’s Nox’s birthday. But as soon as the clock strikes twelve, it’s mine. We’ll have a countdown to switch the party over, and I can’t wait to lord it over him like he does me. “Now get your ugly ass off me!”