Hell On Heels(66)

There was a large, long, uncomfortable pause.
“Look Dixie,” she said, thankfully leaving her former line of questioning alone. “I was mean and uh. . .you didn’t deserve it. No one has given you a chance here, so. . .I, I mean we,” she said as she referred to the idiots who were nodding like bobbleheads. “We would like to start over.”
Confusion and wariness warred within me as I searched their expressions for an ulterior motive. I wished one of my gifts was mindreading. What was the old saying? Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?
“I suppose,” I said, knowing I would probably regret it. “We could try.”
Did I really need friends so badly that I was willing to give it a go with vapid, overly made up mean girls? Yep, I did. Anyway, if they screwed with me I could easily make them wake up in the morning with twenty-five extra pounds hanging off their trim little bods.
The minions started to babble excitedly and I decided immediately I would not learn their names. Henceforth they would be Thing One, Thing Two, Thing Three and Thing Four. Now that a truce had been born, I wasn’t sure what to do. I pushed my Alpo around with my fork and tried to make sense of the Things’ conversation. Two words stopped me cold.
“Angels and Demons,” Thing One gushed to all the other Things.
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted. “What did you say?”
“Angels and Demons.” Thing One’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree—not that I’d ever had one. “The theme of the Fall dance, silly!” she giggled.
“We’re the dance committee.” Thing Two grabbed my hand and squeezed it as if we were best buds. “And now you are too!”
Her excitement was like a rash. What had I been thinking? It was better when they hated me. I extracted my hand and put it in my lap. However, this could be fascinating and until I had to go kill a bunch of evil immortal asswipes this might be a good diversion. I’d have great stories for Stella when I was allowed to see her again.
Shit. Another piece of the puzzle clicked. Grandpa said I needed to dance. Did the Angel Demon dance fulfill that part of my destiny? Considering the fact it would be filled with innocent humans, I prayed to my father and uncle that this was not the case. I briefly closed my eyes and decided that I was definitely going to be part of the dance committee. If anything was to go down at the dance, as least I would have been in the planning stages and would know the lay of the land. . .or the gymnasium. Also, I promised myself that I would do everything in my power not to turn the Things into mutes. Hard, but doable.
“What kind of Angels and Demons?” I asked.
“Are there more than one kind?” Thing Three was alarmed and confused.
“I don’t know,” I quickly said. “I was just wondering how this all works.”
“Ohhhh,” Thing Four squealed. “It’s beyond awesome. Half of the gym will be Heaven and half will be Hell.” She whispered the word Hell like it was a swear word. I almost slapped her. “Everyone will dress like a Demon or an Angel. I’m going as a Demon,” she announced proudly. The other Things gave her a round of applause. Were they for real?
“What are you wearing?” I was starting to enjoy myself immensely, although I felt Lucy’s stare. I glanced over and she looked away. My paranoia was getting ridiculous.
Thing Four, oblivious to anyone but herself, went on. “I have a red dress. I’m pairing it with horns and fangs and blood dripping all over me,” she explained. “My dress is hot, it shows a ton of cleavage. Then I’m going to decapitate a couple old dolls, cover them in blood and tie them to my legs. You know, so they drag on the floor.”
I was beyond speechless. I wanted to laugh, but a bigger part of me wanted to magic up some huge cold sores all over her mouth.
“Don’t you think,” Lucy chimed in dryly. “That it might be difficult to dance with dead babies attached to your feet?”
“Oooo.” Thing Four puzzled it out, completely missing the irony in her leader’s snarky tone. “You’re right. I’ll tie them to my arms.”
Lucy rolled her eyes and then turned them on me. “What do you think a Demon looks like, Dixie?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I told her, wondering what evil I’d committed to deserve this group’s friendship.
“I’m going as an Angel,” Thing One volunteered. “I’m wearing a white bustier, hot pants and boots with ripped black fishnets.”
“Very Miley Cyrus,” Thing Three observed. “What about a halo and wings?” Thing Three, the dry heaver, asked while applying way too much lip gloss.