Once we’d gotten to the driveway, Bee turned to me. “Right, so that’s kind of nuts,” she said.

I grimaced. “I know.”

“But,” she added, screwing up her face, “it’s also kind of awesome. You looked so fierce, all—” She lifted her hands, doing a few chops and slices that I guess were an imitation of me deflecting stuff.

“Shut up,” I said, laughing as I batted her hands down.

“Seriously, I get why you’re keeping this secret, but . . . I don’t know, I’m proud of you. Homecoming Queen, debutante, President of All the Things, and a secret ninja. Best best friend ever.”

“Harper!” Saylor called from the porch. “Are you coming?”

Sighing, I gave Bee a quick hug. “No rest for the ninja,” I said. “And thanks, Bee. For not thinking this was too weird.”

Her cheeks flushed a little, and she glanced down. “To be honest, Harper? I didn’t believe you. That’s why I wanted to come today, to, like—”

“Call my bluff?”

Nodding, Bee pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head. “Which makes me the worst best friend ever.”

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I’ve been out of it lately; I understand.”

“Harper!” Saylor called again, her voice a little sharper this time.

“Go,” she said, giving me a friendly shove. “Get your ninja on.”

I reached out to link my pinkie with hers. She squeezed it back. Smiling sheepishly, Bee ducked her head, blond hair swinging over her collarbone. “I forgive you for being a bizarre combination of totally perfect and totally weird.”

I laughed at that, and as Bee drove off, my heart felt lighter in my chest.

Chapter 27

THAT WEEKEND, I finally had a date with Ryan. Between training with Saylor, preparing for Cotillion (both the normal and the supernatural parts of it), and keeping up with all my regular stuff, I hadn’t exactly been a model girlfriend. Hence tonight’s date, which included a movie of his choosing and, since his parents were at their lake house for the weekend, some alone time at Ryan’s place. I actually couldn’t remember the last time we’d . . . been alone, and I told myself it was anticipation making my hands tremble as I brushed my teeth that evening, not nerves.

When I came downstairs, Mom and Dad were both sacked out on the couch, watching some true-crime TV show. “Hey,” I said, pausing in the doorway.

Dad’s arm was around Mom’s shoulder and both of them had their feet propped up on the coffee table. Even their ankles were crossed the same. “Hay is for horses, Harper Jane!” Dad called out, and I rolled my eyes, but smiled.

“Fine. Good evening, parental types.”

Mom looked over her shoulder at me. “You look pretty. Where are you off to?”