Free Somewhere in the Middle by Linda Palmer

the noise, but only those nearest to us. Bruno Mars's
soulful voice drowned it out for everyone else. I heard it again--a
metallic ripping that gave me the shivers. Couples began parting and
glancing around uneasily.
    Suddenly that massive chandelier high overhead dipped a little on one
side. I heard gasps and muted screams. The cluster of dancers directly
below tried to move out from under it, but couldn't since the mass of
dancers encircling us were still oblivious.
    The light dropped a little more.
    "Move it! Move it!" Guys in the middle began to shoulder students
aside to widen center floor space. But the tiny area they cleared wasn't
even in danger. As we watched, the chandelier abruptly gave way. I
ducked, screaming, my arms over my head, but my eyes still focused above
me. Peripherally, I caught Roone flicking his left hand slightly to the
right. The chandelier instantly swung in that direction and then crash
landed in the only spot where no one stood.
    God, what a sound. Metal slamming against wood. Glass shattering. My
ears rang with it.
    In the chaos that followed I found myself separated from my date for a
couple of minutes, but my gaze stayed glued to him. Through narrowed
eyes, I studied his demeanor and expression. Was that a hint of a smirk?
Instantly, more questions popped into my head. Had I seen what I thought
I'd seen? And was I the only one who had?
    "Everly!" Roone pushed his way to me, his expression now appropriately
solemn. "Damn. Are you okay?"
    "Yeah. Was that close or what?"
    "Close. Very freakin' close."
    For the longest time we stared into each other's eyes with all hell
breaking loose around us. Did he know I knew what he'd done?
    More important, had he really done it?
    The earsplitting squeal of the DJ's mic jerked me back to the present.
One of the chaperones, Ms. Bracken who taught art, now held it to her
lips. "Please remain calm. There is no need to panic. Are there any
injuries?"
    "No."
    "We're okay."
    "It's all good."
    "That was so scary!"
    "Anyone who needs assistance should go to the chaperone's corner now,
please. As for everyone else, the dance is temporarily suspended while we
sort things out, but there are refreshments across the hall and chimineas
on the back terrace. We'll let you know when it's all right to come back
into the ballroom."
    It took a while for everyone to get out of there. Roone and I walked
slowly with the crowd, our shoes crunching on shattered crystal
pendalogues. Then we had to wait our turn to squeeze through the double
doors and into the teeming hall. I took a deep breath of relief. "Whew.
How's the refreshment room looking?"
    Roone, who could see better, took stock. "Very crowded."
    "Then let's hit the patio."
    "Good idea."
    "I should warn you that there'll probably be couples making out in the
dark. Especially since all the grownups are so distracted."
    "I think I can handle it."

Chapter Six
    The huge brick terrace was a sight to see. Two chimineas burned at
opposite corners, with wrought iron furniture scattered across the area
between them. Each table sported an illuminated poinsettia, and twinkling
Christmas lights outlined the surrounding low brick wall as well as the
steps leading onto a beautifully landscaped lawn. Without even talking
about it, we walked across the terrace and down the steps. As usual,
Roone helped me.
    We wandered toward the gazebo, but didn't go in it. Instead we stood
nearby and watched the other couples spilling out the door. Sure enough
many--as in most--were soon kissing in the shadows. I pointed to Dayna
and Gavin, who were among them.
    Roone softly laughed. "We kind of stick out."
    "I did warn you."
    "Maybe we should...?" He tucked his finger under my chin.
    I tensed. "Really? Wouldn't that be against the rules?"
    "Whose?"
    "Your dad's for starters."
    Roone frowned. "Please tell me you didn't hear us arguing last
night."
    "I would, but I hate to lie."
    Now he groaned. "I am so, so sorry. He really likes you."
    "As a typist,