Track 43

“Rapture”

Present Day

“No shortcuts this time, okay?” I strap myself into Hayden’s truck on homecoming night. It’s filled with the sweet aroma of a spilled soda mixed with the earthy cologne Hayden uses. I lift my delicate shoes to make sure I haven’t put my foot into a puddle of Coke.

Almost a week has passed since Moira hypnotized me and buried the suggestion in my mind about remembering UFO visits. I’ve not encountered an alien in that time. Which means either I truly have not been paid a visit or I have been abducted but the “spell” Moira cast failed.

I spent a lot of time drilling down on Mom’s playlist choices, listening for clues. “The Man Who Stole a Leopard” by Duran Duran has really grown on me. The song tells the story of a man who took an animal from the wild and kept her confined for his own selfish enjoyment. He told himself he loved the big cat. But keeping something trapped in a place where they don’t belong isn’t love. It’s torture.

After interpreting every element of that track, I researched convicted animal hoarders and cyber visited some very dark places. If Jane is still alive, I hope to God she’s safe.

Hayden turns on the engine and grins. “I can take the long way, if you want. Drive down every street in town until we get to school.”

When he told me he’s never been to a homecoming dance before, I very cordially asked him to be my date. Since that day, nothing has wiped the smile off Hayden’s face. It made a nice change from the shy, guarded Hayden who arrived here weeks ago. I noticed he’s become a lot more social lately, not hiding away.

Dress-wise, I went for the KISS principle—a navy-blue jersey boat-neck dress with three-quarter sleeves that I’d pulled from Mom’s old closet. It’s tighter and shorter on me than it ever was on her, but still kind of warm enough to keep the fall chill at bay. I’m regretting the silver pointy-toed heels I also took from my mother’s abandoned stash. It feels like I’m walking on needles. Maybe, after a while, my feet will go numb and I won’t notice the pain anymore. And also temporarily forget that my work on the case is going as slow as molasses.

Hayden’s sartorial choice is a black slim-cut suit. The top of his crisp pale-blue shirt is unbuttoned. No tie. The ensemble fits him so well, though. We look like a pair of yuppies from the eighties.

As we drive out of my cul-de-sac, the hulking form of Saddleback Ridge comes into view. A small shudder rolls through me. I cast a wary, thoughtful look out the windshield. “You know what we need? Dash cams.”

“So if it happens again, we’ll have it on camera?” He raises his brows, impressed. “Genius idea.”

My mouth puckers. “Of course, I would rather not be kidnapped by aliens again.”

“But just in case.” He reaches across the bench seat and finds my hand, then he very deliberately runs his thumb along my skin. The warmth of his body heats up mine.

Do we have to go to the dance?

I just want to be alone with him.

Behind us several cars honk us into reality. Hayden jumps, his hand flying back to the steering wheel. In his haste, he messes up with the clutch again and stalls the truck.

Red-faced, he gives a courtesy wave to the driver behind us before they get another chance to honk.

I can’t help but laugh. “Where did you learn to drive anyway?”

“YouTube. It’s the repository of all wisdom.” He flashes a grin. “Kidding. I got through driver’s ed. Barely. But practice makes perfect, right?”

“Yeah. A lot of practice,” I tease.

The truck glides down Second Avenue and turns into MacKenzie. Looks like he’s taking the shortcut after all. Hayden turns up the radio. A fiddle twangs as a singer moans about being oh-so-sad and lonely because his “woman” cheated on him. He turns it back down again.

At a traffic light two blocks from school, Hayden angles his head toward me. “I have to make a confession—I can’t dance. I’m like an octopus on roller skates, just so you know.”

I hide a grin at the image of tentacles flailing and doing awkward splits under a mirror ball. “And this is a big deal because…?”

“Isn’t that why people go to dances? You know, to dance?”

“No, people go to show off and make out.” I laugh. But instead of laughing with me, Hayden looks even more nervous. He wipes his hands on his freshly ironed trousers. “You’ll be fine. I’m no Maddie Ziegler on the dance floor, either.”

When we finally reach the school parking lot, it’s heaving with cars and kids. A pink stretch Hummer blocks the main building’s entrance. All around us I see bright, happy, excited faces. In direct contrast, Hayden looks terror-stricken. Eyes like a startled meerkat. He’s so rigid I’m afraid I’ll have to use a crowbar to get him out. My heart melts for him. He’s obviously lived a very sheltered life up until now.

Softly, I tell him, “We don’t have to go in if you’re too freaked. It’s not like we get extra credit for attendance.”

Cutting the engine, Hayden turns to me. His dark eyes pierce into mine. I want to look away, but I can’t. I take in a view of a jaw slightly roughened by stubble. Dark pink lips drawn in a firm line. A strong chest that’s rising and falling rapidly. His fingers curl around the steering wheel, and for a few seconds I imagine those hands wandering all over on my body.

“Okay, let’s make a deal,” I say, forcing hot and steamy thoughts from my mind. “We have one drink. Spiked, preferably. One conversation with friends. One dance. And if you’re still not having fun, we can leave. Together.”

“We have to do each of those things?”

“At least once. And it can’t be one out of three, or two out of three. We have to drink, talk, and dance like octopuses on roller skates.” I hold out my hand for him to shake.

“All right.” He slides his hand into mine, and his warmth makes my head swim. “But if that drink isn’t spiked, we are outta here.”

“Just as long as by ‘we,’ you mean ‘you and me.’” I grin and grab the door handle.

“Wait, don’t move.”

Hayden jumps out, goes around the front of the truck and opens my door. He takes both my hands and pulls me up. My feet get tangled in his, and I lurch into the door. He puts his arms around my waist, steadying me.

I stop breathing.

An electric pulse seems to throb between us, drawing us closer. Inch by inch. His warm, minty breath brushes tantalizingly on my lips. The voices around us fade out like a song. I swear the only sound I’m conscious of is a thunderous heartbeat. His or mine, I’m not sure. Probably his, because I’m out of breath. But the thudding is fast and furious. Overwhelming. Hayden’s hands rest on my hips like they belong there.

Just as fast, the spell breaks with the noisy arrival of a carload of kids beside us. We blink at each other.

Voices become louder and more intrusive. Someone calls out to me and says something. I don’t know who. Don’t know what. I just send a distracted wave and smile in their general direction. The group of kids moves away.

I take a slow, unsteady step back.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I say, my voice husky. Oxygen starts to return to my brain. “And you’re wrong.”

“Oh? What am I wrong about?” he croaks. Hayden takes my hands and twirls me once before releasing me. All. Too. Soon.

“What just happened there does not count as dancing. So our scoreboard is still zero out of three.”

…

“This punch isn’t spiked,” I note with disappointment, swirling ice around the plastic cup. I also note the glares shooting from some of the girls around me. One trio of freshmen in particular alternates between looking at me with envy and looking at Hayden with lust. Hayden seems oblivious to all types of stares.

Shifting from foot to foot, I try to keep my weight off these toe-squishing shoes. I wonder where Angie and Jake are.

I’m half hoping he says he can’t make it on account of a spontaneous coma. I’m not sure I can pretend I don’t know him. Of course, Angie would be heartbroken if he stands her up for a third time.

“Let’s just pretend we’re drunk. No one will care.” He puts down his half-empty cup. “Aren’t those your friends over there?”

I follow his gaze to the gym’s south entrance. Lisa and Billie are sauntering through the door hand in hand. The two of them giggle like elementary schoolgirls and make a beeline for us.

“Cassidy! You look amazing,” Lisa says, squeezing me in a bear hug. Her red hair is coated in glitter. She turns to Hayden. “Doesn’t she look incredible? You did tell her, right?”

“Three times.” Hayden throws an arm around my shoulders. I could get used to the buzz of electricity I get every time he touches me. “Using different adjectives, too.”

Lisa and Billie laugh uproariously. It’s not hard to see they’ve had something a little more risqué than Budweiser.

Billie looks over the dancers to the DJ booth onstage. The end of a bouncy pop song mixes seamlessly with a bouncy hip-hop song. “I love this one! Let’s get out there, you guys!”

She drags Lisa behind her, and they shimmy into the middle of the crowded dance floor. Every now and then, they jump head and shoulders above everyone else.

Beneath my feet, the polished timber vibrates. More kids are drawn to the dance floor.

I pry the cup out of his hand and tug on his arm. “We’d better do what Billie says. No telling what she’ll do if we don’t get out there. Report us to the dance police, is my guess.”

Hayden stares at the dancing crowd. There’s a range of styles going on out there. Body-locking by stiff-legged jocks. Vigorous arm-waving and high kicks by the cheerleaders. Vague swaying movements from the less coordinated. Tangy salsa in the shadows by a couple out of the chaperones’ eye line.

A few kids are scattered around the bleachers lining one wall of the gym. Misery’s stamped over their faces, making me wonder if they really are here only to get extra credit.

“If you want, we can check out a few dance tutorials on TikTok. Wanna learn how to pop and lock?” I bust into a poor imitation of hip-hop moves.

“Confession time. I may or may not have watched Dirty Dancing right before I picked you up.” He snares my hand. “Let’s see if anything sunk in.”

He spins me twice, then leads me toward the center of the floor. We get bounced around like we’re inside a pinball machine. But no one seems to care about getting pinged. Smiles glow broadly under the black light. Everyone’s in their own groove. The beat’s frenetic. My pulse accelerates in time with the music. In this cauldron, it’s hard to move. I shuffle my feet from side to side in an approximation of dancing while others take to simply jumping up and down on the spot. The crowd pushes Hayden and me closer.

He grabs me by the wrists, then starts reeling me in and out before spinning me around three times. A colorful blur races before my eyes as he spins me again. On another part of the dance floor, Lisa and Billie are flailing their arms, oblivious to everyone and everything.

Hayden leads with a fast pace. I keep waiting for one of those teen movie moments, when the music changes to something slow and sexy. When the teen movie couple is left standing with their arms folded, looking around awkwardly, watching everyone else draw together as if pulled by a magnetic force.

None of that happens.

A strobe light flashes, burning right into my retinas at millisecond intervals. White light captures people in funny mid-dance poses as if they’re in a stop-motion cartoon. But in the dark phases, when I should see nothing, faces are odd. Not-so-funny. Large, elongated heads. And black eyes. Big, wide, staring black eyes.

I stop dead.

But still under the spell of the strobe, Hayden doesn’t notice. He goes on dancing the mambo with his eyes closed.

Turning my head, I see dozens of figures swaying and moving. Thin, insect-like arms fling in all directions. The kaleidoscope of colors blend into a putrid khaki green.

My skin starts to boil. Thousands of tiny hot needles seem to poke up and down my body like in a stadium wave formation. At the same time, those eerie black eyes all stare intently at me. I blink hard, but that does nothing to clear away the image of those damn eyes.

“Hayden…” I try to shout his name, but it comes out like a whisper from a mouse. With my arms extended out wide, I try to grab onto him. But, inexplicably, I can’t connect with him. My arms go straight through him.

This isn’t real, I insist to myself. It’s got to be a dream. It’s got to be. That’d make sense. Why else would you be out on a date with someone mega-hot like Hayden McGraw?

The strobe light pulses impossibly fast.

Now I can’t move, even if I wanted to. I try to lift my arms. They’re sticks of lead dangling at my sides. My legs are stuck to the floor, too. Heaviness sets in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

All the while, Hayden dances on and on.

I try to shout again. “Hayden!”

This time he hears me. His eyelids snap open, and he sees me paralyzed in front of him. He squeezes my shoulders with both hands. I feel the heat and pressure of his touch.

I guess I’m not dreaming after all.

“Cassidy?” Hayden shakes me gently.

The moment he speaks, color returns to the dance floor. Those spooky faces and eyes vanish.

Were they even there in the first place?