I ended up sleeping over at Taylor's. This was a little awkward to explain to her mother, as Taylor was hiding in her bedroom and I had to broach the topic alone. However, her mother had agreed without a fight, handing me a set of spare sheets from the linen closet without saying much.

Taylor had a trundle bed. Most of the time when we had sleepovers, that's where I slept: in that strange drawer under her bed like a little gremlin. This time, when I was sure the door was locked so that Doreen wouldn't be able to spy on us and get the wrong impression, I left the trundle to join her up top. As she slept, she pressed her face into the crook of my neck, and I stroked her long hair as she fell asleep.

The following morning, we walked to class together. I bought her a mocha iced latte and a chocolate muffin from her favorite café on Main Street and we talked about everything and anything that had nothing to do with her mom or the art forums or Clarissa. I could tell she needed to keep her mind off those subjects, so I did the best I could to distract her. I even texted her throughout morning classes—something I almost never did because of our school's strict no texting policy.

As the day went on, the Taylor I knew and loved slowly returned, perking up like a wilted flower reunited with the sun.

As we left Calculus, Taylor did a strange jig. "I need to pee so badly," she said, sipping on the remains of her iced mocha.

"Probably the coffee," I said, pointing at the plastic cup.

Taylor was nearly jogging down the hall at this point, weaving between backpacks. "I'll meet you in the cafeteria. Grab the seat by the windows!"

"Okay!"

I was by myself for less than ten seconds when "Miss me?" rang through my left ear.

I jumped, jerked my head to my left, and saw that the Devil was right beside me.

"You scared me," I said, heart pounding. "Where have you been?"

Lana raised an eyebrow. "I've been here all day. You've just been too buddy-buddy with Taylor to notice."

"Oh. Sorry," I apologized. "She had a rough few days." I hesitated, because I wasn't sure if this was something I could tell Lana, but then said, "Don't tell anyone, but she's gay."

"And?" Lana asked. She stared at me blankly for a moment before a look of realization crossed her face. "Ohhh. Sorry. I forgot humans are still in an era of strange moral superiority when it comes to sexual orientation." As we walked into the cafeteria and placed our jackets on the table by the window, she added, "Angels don't have sexes, you know. Or genders. Or anything like that. And neither do human souls. All that stuff is just an earthly construct."

"Well, I guess that's reassuring in the grand scheme of things, but it doesn't really help her right now," I said.

We ate our lunches in silence for a few minutes—wonderful, interrogation-free silence—and then Taylor returned from the bathroom and sat down with us.

"This is what I like to see," Taylor said, gesturing between Lana and I. "Two friends who actually remember each other." She winked at me. "Glad your memory came back."

"Yep," I lied with a grin. "You were right: just a weird brain fart."

"How are you doing, Taylor?" Lana asked, leaning forward curiously. "Jessa said you had a rough night."

For a moment Taylor looked surprised, clearly wondering what I had told Lana. "I'm okay, I guess," she said. "My mom and I got into a fight."

"I'm sorry about that," Lana said, taking a bite of her sandwich. "Fights are the worst. Did you sleep okay afterwards?"

Taylor sent me a quick glance and I watched the corners of her mouth turn up in a smile. "Yeah, actually. I did."

Lana didn't seem to have caught Taylor's smile. "That's good to hear," she said. "I slept like a rock—I forgot how tiring being a human being can be."

My jaw nearly hit the floor, but thankfully Taylor seemed to attribute Lana's admission to a figure of speech. "Oh my God Lana," she said with a laugh, "I forget how weird you can be."

Lana flashed an innocent grin in response.

I shook my head and poked at my salad with a fork. That's when I saw a blur of motion out of the corner of my eye. When I looked up, there was a girl hovering at the edge our table like a jittery hummingbird.

"Sam!" Taylor said, gesturing for her to sit.

Samantha Stevens didn't take the chair and I wasn't surprised. Sam was much too busy to eat lunch with the likes of us. She was the president or vice president of at least five clubs. Lunchtime was precious to her; it was time to finish up edits on the school newspaper or hold a meeting for key club. It wasn't time to eat or—God forbid—socialize.

And yet here she was, hovering at the edge of our table, clearly wanting something from us.

I looked at Taylor. She was the one who typically handled Sam; Sam had always been a little too much for me. She always looked put together—pin-straight blond hair a la a flat iron and mod-style dresses with crisp collars—but she was too intense for my liking. She had this frazzled energy that followed her wherever she went. It was a complete contrast from her twin brother, Billy Stevens, a laid-back lacrosse player in my US Government class.

"Sorry. I can't sit and eat today. I'm actually stopping by on behalf of the dance committee," she said. "We're holding a Mischief Dance in honor of Halloween at the end of the month and I'm selling tickets, five dollars a pop." She withdrew a stack of orange tickets from her clutch. They were decorated with tiny clip art images of ghosts with top hats.

"Huh, I didn't know there was going to be a Halloween dance," I said.

A look of horror crossed Sam's face, and for a moment I thought I had given her a panic attack. "You didn't see the posters on the bulletin boards?" she asked.

If she meant the activity bulletin boards, then there was no way in hell anyone would see advertisements for the dance because there were probably fliers tacked to that thing from the 1970s.

Taylor, of course, gracefully slid in. "I saw those," she reassured her. "It sounds fun."

Lana, meanwhile, was squinting at Sam with a strange look in her eye. "When exactly is this dance?"

"October 30th, the night before Halloween," Sam said. "That's why we're calling it the 'Mischief Dance' this year, since it's on Mischief Night. The principal thinks it'd be good to have a school function that night, to help curb some of the TP-ing and pumpkin smashing that usually goes on." She waved the tickets. "So any takers? It's going to be a lot of fun! It's going to be a costume party, and we're getting a live band and there'll be snacks and punch..."

Taylor immediately raised her hand, requesting a ticket, and I started digging through my book bag for my wallet, because I always enjoyed a good dance. But I was surprised when Lana held up a five-dollar bill, dangling it between her second and third fingers like a flag. It was almost like she had conjured it out of thin air—then again, she probably had.

Sam distributed our tickets, took our cash, and said, "Perfect! Anyway, I have to go to all the other tables now. I'll see you guys in English!" And with that, she vanished in a flurry.

Taylor shook her head and laughed. "That girl has some energy doesn't she?"

"Tell me about it," I said.

Lana, meanwhile, didn't say a word. Her eyes were still locked on Sam as she flitted around the cafeteria. 

Lana followed me onto the bus that afternoon. I didn't ask her why—she seemed so lost in thought that I honestly thought she just absentmindedly followed me through the parking lot.

Even as we sat together, she was quiet. She just kept playing with that little paper ticket, looking at the text, smoothing it over with her fingers, and brushing it against her palm.

As we drew nearer to my stop, she finally spoke up. "Do you mind if I come inside your house?"

I was startled by the question. This was the first time she had actually asked, as opposed to simply showing up on our front porch and whimpering like a lost puppy until my parents caved.

"Ummm..."

"I don't want to interrogate you," she said quickly. "I've just been thinking about this dance."

"What about it?"

She pointed to the date. "That's the night right before I need to head back to the Underworld."

"So it's like your going away party?"

Lana wasn't amused at my joke. If anything, she look worried. "Can I come inside? Please?"

Please. The Devil had actually used the magic word. Something was definitely off. "Okay," I said, and when the bus slowed down, we disembarked together.

As soon as I opened the front door, Lana made a beeline up the stairs. I followed her, but she was fast. When I finally caught up to her, she was already in my room, bent over and scanning my bookshelf.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"Your yearbook."

What? Still, I pointed to the thick volume embossed with "Arlington High School" down the spine.

She plucked the yearbook off my shelf, took the book to my bed, and I joined her on the comforter as she started flipping through the photos of all my classmates.

"I'm sorry," I said as she skimmed the faces, "but I'm confused. Are you... trying to find someone else to make a deal with?" There was a hopeful lilt to my voice that I'm sure she caught.

"Sort of..." she murmured as she flipped the page. I watched her pass by my picture from last year—I had skipped gym so my hair wasn't messed up for the photo—and only slow down once she had reached the second half of the alphabet. Her finger trailed over the students with last names that started with the letter "S," and finally she paused on the photo of Samantha Stevens.

"Do you need to make a deal with Sam?" I asked. Honestly, she seemed a much better candidate than me. Sam was an overachiever in desperate need of more time and a Xanax. I wouldn't put it past her to make a deal with the Devil if it meant she'd get into Yale.

But Lana shook her head no and moved her finger one more space, to the picture beside Samantha: a boy with light brown eyes and curly blond hair.

William Stevens. Better known as Billy Stevens, Samantha's twin brother.

I frowned at the picture. "I don't understand. What's Billy got to do with any of this? Do you even know him?"

"I met him the first day I got here," Lana said. "The day I was trying to figure out who I needed to make a deal with."

She drummed her fingers on the page and then said, "This whole deal with you doesn't make sense."

I couldn't believe it for a moment, but I was so relieved she seemed to be coming to her senses. "Thank you!" I said. "That's what I've been saying this whole time."

"But," she interjected, holding a finger up, "I have a theory. And it sounds... crazy. Even to me—which is something considering I started a celestial war against the Creator."

"Um, okay...?" My interest was piqued, but once again, I was completely lost.

She looked like she was struggling to find the words, and for a moment I thought she was never going to say anything. Then she screwed up her eyes and the words came out in a sudden rush. "I think I have a crush on Billy."

It took a solid three seconds for her words to make any sense, after which I shouted, "What?"

"I know, I know. It sounds crazy."

"Crazy is an understatement," I said, running my fingers through my hair in abject horror. "He's a seventeen-year-old boy and you're a million-year-old angel-demon thing!"

"I know!" Lana looked distraught. "You think I don't know this?"

"And what about all that stuff you said about angels being asexual?"

She held up a finger. "I never said that. I said we don't have genders or sexes. We can still develop feelings."

"I still don't understand how this happened," I said. "You've never brought him up until now."

"I know," she said, "but that's because I was so focused on trying to come up with a deal with you that I put all thoughts of him aside. But when Sam came over today with those tickets for a dance happening the night before I leave... my brain started whirring and I started thinking about him and how when I had met him, even for just a few minutes last week, he was so kind, and nice, and cute, and he seemed familiar, like an old soul and..." She trailed off. "I sound crazy."

"Yes, you do," I agreed. "But the more important question is: what are you going to do about this?" I looked down at the photo of Billy, at his good-natured smile and his mop of curly blond hair. I understood where Lana was coming from—he was cute—but this didn't seem like something that could happen. "You can't go and make a deal with him," I said, trying to push through with logic. "It'd be unethical."

"Of course it would," Lana said, shocking me with her agreement. "Which is why I've been thinking that my spell is right. I still have to make a deal with you... but it's about him."

"What?"

"Hear me out," Lana said, holding up her hand. "I think my spell realized I've been a bit lonely and wanted to set me up on a kind of date. But it couldn't pair me with him directly—like you said, that'd be unethical. So for some reason, it chose you to be the matchmaker."

I blinked. "Lana, I've never set anyone up. I don't even have any experience with guys. I only kissed one during a game of spin the bottle in the eighth grade and it was awful."

She held up her hands. "I don't know why it chose you, but it did. Which means it's going to work... or at least that you're the best shot I have."

"I don't know," I said, rubbing my arm. "Setting you up with Billy seems a bit... wrong."

"I don't want much," Lana said. "All I want is to go to the dance with him. That's it. It's all you have to do."

"And then you take my soul?"

"No!" Lana shook her head. "Forget all that soul stuff. I get a date with Billy, and you get whatever you want."

She waved her arm and suddenly the world around me faded. Not another vision, I thought, preparing myself for a horror show like the one she had shown me in the schoolyard. However, this time, the images were different. I saw piles of glittering gold. I saw beautiful reflections in a pond. I felt strong and healthy and happy. The warmth of these feelings clung to my skin even after I returned to my bedroom.

"I'll pay you whatever you want," the Devil said. "But I can feel it in my bones. This is it. This is our deal. Just help me go to the dance with Billy Stevens."

I took a deep breath. "And what if I can't do it—set you up with Billy, that is?"

"Then we both go home empty-handed. You go back to your life and I go back to mine. But I don't think that's going to happen. My spell chose you for a reason. I think you can do this."

I hesitated, and Lana reached out and grabbed my hand.

"Please," she said, and when I looked into her eyes, I saw the same glimmer I had seen back on Main Street: a deep loneliness hiding behind those dark irises. It was like staring into the depths of a great sea.

"Let me get this straight," I said carefully. "You go to the dance with Billy Stevens and I get whatever I want?"

She nodded. "Exactly." She held out her hand now. I saw it was shaking: perhaps with excitement, perhaps with fear. "So, do we have a deal?"

My brain was whirring, but despite the little voice of warning in the back of my head, I couldn't help but feel, deep down inside, that Lana was being genuine. And of all the deals that could have sprung up, this one sounded like it might be fun.

And so I took her hand in mine and I squeezed it tight. "Deal."

- - -

Dun dun dun! Let me know your thoughts on this deal! Is Jessa being stupid for agreeing to a deal with the Devil? Or should she continue to try to see the good in Lana? I always love reading people's speculations in the comments section!

~Bdicocco