Free Evil Returns by Caroline B. Cooney Page B

WALKED SLOWLY TO her locker and then slowly to the lobby. People smiled at her. They continued to remark on how nice she looked today—was it her birthday or something?
    Devnee had never been the center of anything. Even at her own birthday parties, it always felt as if the little girls she had invited were being polite.
    Today she was the center of it all.
    She had not known that beauty was literally pivotal: that heads would turn, bodies would turn, eyes would turn—all to look at Devnee Fountain.
    She had not known how differently she would stand and pose; how her chin would lift, and her head would tilt, and her eyes would tease.
    Usually she could leave school—any school, the last one, this one—in a few seconds.
    Today, what with talking and waving and smiling and flirting, it took a long time. There was so much to do, so much to say.
    This is how perfect people live, thought Devnee, stunned.
    They’re busy. Busy being beautiful.
    She laughed with the sheer joy of it and, listening to the sound of her laugh, realized that it, too, was different; not just an ordinary everyday garden-variety laugh—it was a beautiful cascade of joy. Everybody laughed with her, and the afternoon was free and soft and lovely.
    And the real Devnee—her soul, her personality—was at last where it belonged: in a perfect, matching body.
    She knew now why they had bought the house with the tower. It was because she, Devnee, was destined for beauty. The vampire had simply straightened out an error of birth. It was only right and just.
    Finally the crush of students in the lobby dwindled, as people went on to sports events, or orthodontist appointments, or the pizza place.
    And Trey came back to school.
    She saw his car coming to the front drive. Such an ordinary car for such a fabulous boy. A dull four-door sedan. Matronly. Middle-aged. And yet it didn’t matter, because with Trey on the inside it was incredibly exciting and wonderful.
    He parked right in front of the front door.
    Not allowed.
    Students had a student parking lot. Even disabled students had to park down below and come in the bottom entry.
    She wondered if handsome boys, like beautiful girls, could get away with things. Was Trey parking there because he knew nobody would tow his car?
    Trey came up the stairs, opened the lobby door, and looked around.
    He looked wrong.
    He looked off balance.
    He looked—well—spooked.
    “Trey?” said Devnee.
    He seemed to see her with difficulty. As if focusing his eyes were hard. As if she were coming and going from his sight. He walked over unsteadily and said, “Devnee. I’m so glad somebody’s still here. I just went to see Aryssa. She’s—she’s—”
    He couldn’t finish.
    Devnee’s hair prickled. Her skin stood out from her bones. Her soul stiffened. She said, “She’s what, Trey?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t know how to describe it.” Trey shuddered.
    Devnee said softly, “Let’s go to the Doughnut House and talk about it.”
    “How did you know I love the Doughnut House?” said Trey, half laughing and half still upset.
    How did I know? thought Devnee, and now half of Devnee, too, was upset. She could feel the vampire tickling the edges of her mind and she hated it—that he could live there like that, that he was part of her and she was part of him.
    In Trey’s car they went to the Doughnut House. They could not find a space right in front and parked down a block. They had to walk slowly, picking their way around slush and ice piles.
    A guy in a mason’s dump truck honked at Devnee and grinned.
    A city bus driver tapped his horn and gave her a thumbs-up.
    Two men on a rooftop repairing shingles whistled.
    A woman in a store window changing the display gazed at her with the complex admiration of a plain woman for a beautiful one.
    Once inside, snuggled up to the counter and each other, they ordered hot chocolate, which she loved to stir more than to drink. Although she loved jelly doughnuts, they were