A Beautiful Dark

turns, blocking out the noise, the sound, everything but the feel of the snow beneath me. At the bottom, when she congratulated me on my win, I took off my goggles. “Whoa,” she’d said. “Are you wearing contacts?” And moments later, in a bathroom so much like this one, I saw it for the first time. My eyes like liquid silver coins staring back at me in shock.
    I detached myself from the stall door and waited until the two girls who had interrupted me left, the door squeaking open and then shut. The bathroom was quiet. I emerged, lifting my face once again to stare into the mirror, bracing myself for what I was about to see.
    But my eyes were back to the same old nickel gray. Something my dad used to say needled its way into my thoughts. Little silver bells. When they ring, we’ll know. It came out of nowhere. I hadn’t thought about it since he’d died.
    Pushing the memory aside, I took a deep breath and stood straighter, appraising the rest of me. My skin looked even paler than usual. My jeans and periwinkle sweater, which before had felt just right for a cozy night with friends, now felt frumpy. I took my sweater off. The tight T-shirt underneath was marginally better. My black waves were plastered to my neck from the dancing, and I scooped them up into a ponytail.
    I glanced down at my watch. It was almost midnight. I wondered if everyone would give me a hard time for going home this early. Cassie would be disappointed. She’d been gloating all week that she’d convinced Aunt Jo to forfeit my curfew just this one night. I hated to waste it, but I’d suddenly lost all enthusiasm for partying. Why did this keep happening? Was I sick?
    The bathroom door squeaked on its hinges again as I pushed my way back into the hall, reminding myself to tell Ian that he should probably get that fixed.
    The light in the hall was dim, and it took my eyes a little while to adjust to the difference.
    But then I saw them.
    Two guys were standing with their backs to me. I could barely make out that one was blond, while the other’s close-cropped hair blended into the dark background. They spoke in hushed tones. Every now and then their voices rose and then fell again, as if the conversation was heated but they were afraid of being overheard. I couldn’t see their faces from where I stood, but I definitely didn’t recognize them.
    I could hear only a snippet of the conversation: “Not . . . yet!” The blond guy stood straight, his arms stiff by his sides and his hands balled into fists. “You are not supposed to interfere.”
    “Do you think I care?” the dark-haired guy whispered loudly. “Your rules mean nothing to me, Devin.”
    In a blur, he pushed the blond guy, sending him toppling back into a stack of wooden chairs that went crashing to the ground. At least, he must have pushed him—he moved too fast for me to see exactly what had happened. Everyone turned around to look. Someone cut the music. Devin looked stunned as he lay tangled on the floor amid a nest of chairs.
    “I can see that, Asher .”
    Devin shoved himself to his feet. Asher came back at him, and the two locked together, head to head. Some people in the crowd shouted. I tried to suppress the panic rising in my throat.
    “You would have done the same thing.” Asher’s voice was a growl, deep and menacing.
    “You know I wouldn’t have.”
    As the crowd gathered in closer, I found myself right at the front, inside the circle. People jostled against me, striving to get a better view. I was trapped.
    “Well, whose fault is that?”
    Devin twisted around in Asher’s grip, and Asher went flying backward—toward me. I couldn’t move; the crowd was packed in too tight. Closing my eyes, I held my arms out to catch him as he hurtled into me, sending us both to the hardwood floor. Pain jolted through me as the impact knocked the wind out of my lungs, and I gasped.
    “Skye!” I heard Cassie’s voice rise above the ringing in my ears.
    I couldn’t call out to her; I could barely move. Asher weighed a ton, and I was pinned beneath him. He turned around to right himself, pressing his arms into the floor on either side of my head for balance. His face was right above mine. His eyes widened.
    It was the guy I’d met on the street just a few minutes ago. The one who’d asked me what I’d wished for on my birthday. His eyes, even in all this chaos, were deep and dizzying. Looking into them was like trying to follow a penny as it falls down a