Devilish Read Free

Allison asked, glaring at Kristin’s short line. “Why hasn’t she come up to me?”
    “Give it a minute,” I said. “There’s still some in the back.”
    The next wave was a slower, more considered group. They made their way to the next tier—not the superstars, but the perfectly acceptable people. The everyone elses. This was a slow, trickle-down kind of thing.
    “No one’s coming over here,” Allison said. Her voice sounded odd. She was suddenly gruff, almost angry-sounding. I turned to find that she had gone a little bit gray. She was sweating, but then everyone else was too. But she was also gripping the edge of her folding desk with an intensity that couldn’t be good.
    “Hey, Al,” I said. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine,” she said tersely.
    The mysterious little didn’t come. Ten agonizing minutes went by. Allison watched the room and watched the clock. I watched Allison. She was naturally pretty pale, but now she was turning a color kind of like freezer-burned bread: not quite gray, not quite blue, not quite bread. Not a good shade to be. It started at her chin and zipped right up her head, right to her hairline—and that’s kind of a long way. I couldn’t take it anymore.
    “You’re not okay,” I said. “You need to get some air. Just tell them you don’t feel good.”
    “I’ll be
fine
,” she said, clenching her teeth. “I’m just hot. I have to get a little.”
    I became aware of a buzzing, which I at first thought was the undertow of all the conversations going on. I looked around, but all that was in front of me was a mob of schmooze. I don’t know why I looked up. I just did. That’s when I saw them … the flies. Hundreds of them were streaming in through the open windows. Most had gone right for the ceiling and were dripping down like icicles. I had never seen so many flies. There were entire constellations of them.
    My hand automatically went out to tap Allison and point this out, but then I realized that this might not be good, not the way she was feeling. I looked around to see if anyone else saw this or if the heat had just driven me insane.
    There was a loud scraping noise of a chair being pushed back. It echoed through the gym and caused many people to turn, including me. The sound came from directly next to me. It was Allison, leaping up from her seat. She was obviously trying to cut through the room and get to the door, but she ran straight into a freshman who was slowly and deliberately coming in the direction of Ally or me or Kristin.
    Then Ally threw up.
    Well, it was more than that, unfortunately. It was truly projectile, and it was accompanied by horrible coughing noises that almost sounded like barking. She got the poor freshman completely and totally, mostly in the hair.
    For a second, there was no sound. Then there was a loud intake of breath and a sound of awe. A few higher-pitched squeaks. People backed up and moved away. The freshman let out a wail the likes of which I have never heard before. It was a real end-of-the-world scream. This stirred the room, and sound increased—cries of sympathetic horror from all corners, as if Allison had just thrown up on everyone in the gym, everyone in the world. A few people rushed toward the freshman to help. No one was quite able to bring themselves to touch her—most pulled out tissues or anything they had on them and passed them to the girl.
    No one reached out to help Ally except for me and one of the sisters who was standing nearby. Allison pulled away from us and ran for it. The crowd parted for her, and she was gone.

three
    “It’s not that bad,” I lied.
    I could see the soles of Allison’s saddle shoes poking out from under the pink stall door, toes to the ground. Classic puking position. But she wasn’t sick anymore—she was dead silent. I poked at the sole of one of her shoes with my foot. Nothing.
    “People will forget,” I added. “They’re all too busy.”
    Nothing.
    “And not everyone saw