by Kristy Tate
Jason flicked a glance over his shoulder before turning back to Lizbet. The cat stood, arched his back, and batted a dead moth out of the corner of the window toward Jason’s crotch. Surprised, Jason jumped out of the line of fire.
Lizbet’s lips twitched as she escaped. “Thanks,” she whispered to the cat as she went to find Declan. She didn’t see him with his friends in the backyard, in the mass of kids huddled in the kitchen, or in any of the circles of conversation in the living room. She thought she heard his laughter floating up the stairwell that led to the basement, but before she climbed halfway down, someone turned off the lights and plunged the basement into inky darkness.
“Everyone close your eyes,” a girl said.
Lizbet froze on the stairs, unsure where to go or what to do. She risked tripping in the dark in either direction.
“Vampire, open your eyes and select your victim.” Someone switched on a flashlight and a girl giggled.
Lizbet hurried down the stairs.
“Stop! Intruder!” Someone turned on the overhead light amidst groans.
Lizbet swallowed hard, suddenly aware that somehow she’d inadvertently pooped on the party.
The girl who seemed to be in charge pointed at Lizbet. “State your name and business.” She had a severe haircut and wore I-mean-business glasses, a black turtleneck despite the warm summer night, and a pair of painted-on jeans.
“She’s Lizbet and she’s with me.” Jason came up behind her and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “’Scuse us for interrupting. Mind if we join you?”
A couple of people made groaning sounds, but most murmured a welcome. The lights were doused before Lizbet even got a look around the room to see if Declan was in the crowd.
Jason tugged at her hand and she fell into a cross-legged position beside him. “I don’t know this game,” she whispered as she disentangled her fingers.
“It’s easy. You’ll catch on.” Jason’s warm breath fanned against her cheek. “As a werewolf warrior, you’ll be a natural.”
In the darkness, he seemed closer than she would have guessed. She inched away from him and bumped someone next to her. “Sorry,” she hissed and held herself very still so as not to touch anyone else.
“Night has fallen...again,” the game-master girl began. “While the villagers sleep, the vampire works the wages of death. Vampire, open your eyes and select your victim.”
“Keep your eyes closed,” Jason whispered, and he squeezed Lizbet’s knee.
Moments later, the game-master girl flipped on a flashlight. “Everyone open your eyes.” She flicked the flashlight at the faces of the twenty or so kids seated on the basement rug. When Lizbet saw Declan wasn’t in their number, she wanted to leave, but she’d already interrupted the game once and didn’t want to do it again.
“In the dark of night, a vampire stole into the home at twenty-eight Reynolds.”
“Yeah! That’s my house!” a redheaded kid with a smattering of freckles said.
The game-master girl slid him the evil eye. “While Carl slept, the vampire sucked his blood and left his lifeless body on the library floor.”
“I have a library. Cool,” Carl said.
“Yeah, like that’s going to do you any good seeing as how you don’t read,” someone said.
“Hush!” a girl in a vintage Van Halen T-shirt hissed.
“You can’t talk,” a guy with hair like a hedgehog said. “You’re dead.”
Carl looked as if he wanted to argue, but he bit his tongue.
“I’m not sure I want to play this game,” Lizbet whispered to Jason.
“You better be quiet, or else the vampire will kill you, too,” Jason whispered.
“I’d be okay with that,” Lizbet returned, “seeing as how I don’t want to play.”
“Silence!” the game-master girl called out. “Villagers, who among you executed this dastardly deed?” she asked as she flashed the light into the blinking faces of her friends. “Who is the vampire?”
Speculations and laughter flew. Lizbet tried to be a good sport, but with Jason’s thigh pressing against hers, she felt increasingly uncomfortable. The guy sitting on her other side had excessive arm and leg hair so that every time she bumped into him she felt like she was touching a fur ball. Plus, he had onion breath.
“Okay! New round!” The game-master girl stood and flipped on the overhead light, illuminating the orange shag carpet and plaid sofas pushed up against the wood-paneled walls. “Everyone turn in your cards.”
Lizbet had missed something.
Declan, Baxter, and McNally followed by Nicole and a couple of girls trooped down the stairs.
“Hey, can we join in?” Baxter asked. Lizbet had observed that because Baxter was so big, people rarely told him no. The circle widened to let him in while Declan inserted himself next to Lizbet.
“What brought you down here?” Declan whispered in her ear.
“I was looking for you.”
“Hmm, I was looking for you, too.” He kissed her lightly on the lips.
“Not yet, Lamb.”
“Sorry,” Declan said, sounding not in the least repentant.
Nicole, who had wedged herself on the other side of Jason, rolled her eyes.
The game-master girl hit the lights. “Villagers, close your eyes! Night has fallen in the village of the doomed. While the villagers slumber, the vampire stalks his prey.”
Someone dropped in front of Lizbet and planted a sloppy wet kiss on her lips. She struggled and pushed him off.
“Yeah! That’s the game!” Jason said.
“Sorry, I...” Lizbet jumped to her feet. “I told you I didn’t want to play.” Embarrassed, she crawled over people in the dark until she found the stairs and felt her way out of the basement. In the kitchen, she realized that Declan had followed her.
“Ugh.” She covered her face with her hands. “That was awful.”
He laughed. “Don’t let Jason hear you say that.”
She shuddered. “Can we go?”
“Sure.” He draped his arm around her shoulder. “It was just a game.”
“I know. It wasn’t a big deal.” But it felt like it was.
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Langston Hughes
From Lizbet’s Studies
CHAPTER 2
The next day, while Maria helped Lizbet pick the green beans from Lizbet’s mom’s garden, Maria told Lizbet that she wasn’t the only one who had thought Jason kissing her was more of a big deal.
“Nicole was really mad,” Maria told her.
“Why? I thought they broke up months ago.”
Maria dropped a handful of beans into a basket. “They were getting back together.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Her parents don’t know it yet, but Nicole is thinking of not going to Duke.”
“Because of Declan?”
“Why are we whispering?” Maria asked.
“I don’t know, you started it.”
Maria shrugged, cleared her throat, and returned to her normal speaking voice. “Who knows? Maybe because she doesn’t want to go by herself without knowing anyone. It probably sounded exciting when she thought Declan was going too, but now that he’s not...she’s pissed.”
“But Declan has to stay here because of his mom.” Lizbet thought back to the accident a few weeks ago that had nearly severed Declan’s mom’s hand. Her doctors had said it was a miracle that she was regaining use of it. But that accident had not only wounded Declan’s mom, it had also caused a rift between Lizbet and Declan because Rufus, Gloria’s dog, had warned her that Godwin, Declan’s stepfather, would try to cause an accident in an attempt to kill Declan. Lizbet had successfully protected Declan, but not his mom. Lizbet tried not to blame herself for what had happened to Gloria, but her thoughts kept returning to that horrible day that changed everything. Her happiness at Declan’s change of plans com
pounded her guilt. She took a deep breath and tried to refocus on Maria.
“I know that,” Maria said. “Everyone knows that, including Nicole, but that doesn’t mean she’s happy about it. In fact, his willingness to stay with his mom after the accident just makes Declan look noble. And it makes Nicole look like a baby for not being brave enough to go alone.”
“She should be able to change her mind.” Lizbet hated sympathizing with Nicole, but she did anyway. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to travel across town to attend school, let alone across the country, far away from everyone she knew and loved.
“Yeah, but getting into a screaming and pushing match with someone three times her weight was just stupid.”
Lizbet picked a bean off the vine and bit it in two. She thought while she munched. “Jason doesn’t really seem like the type to let someone push him around.”
“No, he doesn’t, does he?” Maria used the back of her hand to push her dark hair off her forehead where a small string of sweat beads was starting to form. Half Latina and half Native American, Maria had an exotic beauty that even the early morning sun couldn’t compete with. No wonder Baxter was crazy about her.
“Did you see the fight?” Lizbet asked.
“Everyone did. It happened right after you and Declan left.”
“Wow.”
“I wonder if they’ll both be at Sarah’s bonfire tonight.” Maria cocked her head at Lizbet. “You going to that?”
Lizbet buried her hand in the bush, grabbed a handful of beans, and yanked them off the vine. “Can’t. I’m helping my mom. She has a gig at the yacht club.”
“That’s right. I forgot about that. Matias is working, too, right?” Maria slid Lizbet a look under her lashes. “How does Declan feel about you two working together?”
Lizbet flushed. “He’s cool with it. Why wouldn’t he be?”
“I love my brother, but I could see why Declan would feel differently. Did he seem okay with Jason kissing you last night?”
Lizbet laughed and picked up the basket of beans and balanced it on her hip as they reached the last bush in the row. “I wasn’t okay with Jason kissing me last night...or ever.”
SHOOTING HOOPS WITH Baxter had been a lot more fun before his growth spurt had turned Baxter into the jolly giant. There had been a time when Declan and Baxter had stood nose to nose, but that time had passed as Baxter had sprouted into a monster on the basketball court and an anomaly everywhere else. At the moment, he planted himself under the basketball hoop attached to his garage, snagged the ball from Declan, and casually tossed it in. Declan darted for the rebound and sprinted out of Baxter’s considerable wingspan, knocking into McNally. McNally flew across the court, landed on his butt, and swore.
Declan froze, gaping at his friend. “Sorry, man.” He hadn’t even been aware of McNally behind him.
McNally stood, brushed himself off, and examined his arms and legs for bruises. His army of freckles accented his sweaty, flushed cheeks and his cowlick pointed to the sky as if standing in righteous indignation.
Baxter picked up the ball, tucked it under his arm, and scowled at Declan. “No need to throw punches. Especially since he’s on your team.” Baxter, given his size, usually made up his own team.
Declan’s gaze flinched between Baxter and McNally. “I didn’t. I swear.” He focused on McNally. “I didn’t even know you were there.”
“Sadly, that’s what all the girls say as well...” McNally tried to make a joke of it.
The game resumed. McNally took the ball to the sideline and bounced it a few times before passing it to Declan. Baxter charged at Declan, but Declan darted across the court. Baxter followed but couldn’t stop him. Declan jumped to sink the ball and kicked out his legs. His right foot made contact with Baxter’s chest, sending Baxter sprawling onto his back.
McNally stared while the ball rolled across the court. “There’s something seriously freaky going on.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Declan stared at Baxter who gazed blankly at the sky. “Are you okay?”
“Just let me catch...my breath.” Baxter looked shell-shocked.
McNally pushed Declan. “You knocked the wind out of him!”
“Not intentionally! You know Baxter. He’s harder to budge than Mount Rainier.”
McNally peered at Baxter who lay with his legs curled into his chest.
“What did you do?” McNally pressed.
“I just...landed wrong... I’ll be okay,” Baxter sputtered.
Declan reached down to pull Baxter to his feet. Declan relaxed his grip and Baxter began flexing his hand as if it were aching.
“We’re switching things up,” Baxter said. “Me and you,” he met McNally’s gaze, “against him.” He jerked a thumb in Declan’s direction.
“It’s on,” McNally growled.
Baxter picked up the ball, thumped it against the concrete, and glared at Declan.
“Guys!” Declan began. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Save your tears for your defeat,” Baxter said through clenched teeth right before he rammed into Declan with his shoulder. Seconds later, Baxter was flat on the court.
“How did you do that?” McNally asked, looking genuinely confused. “I didn’t even see you move.”
“I didn’t.” Declan nodded at Baxter. “He did.”
“How’d you flatten him?” McNally asked.
“He must have tripped.” Declan chased after the ball, picked it up, and tucked it under his arm.
“No.” McNally shook his head. “If he had tripped, he would have gone down face first, but he landed on his back. You must have pushed him!”
“He outweighs me by fifty pounds!”
Baxter groaned.
McNally crossed his arms and glowered. “Did you enroll in ninja classes?”
Declan held up his hands. “There’s nothing ninja about me.”
Baxter rolled onto his hands and knees like a dog, and hung his head.
McNally dropped into a squat beside him. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” Baxter gasped. “I want an arm wrestling match.”
“What?” Declan tried to laugh, but it sounded like a snort. “You’ve been whipping me at those since we were thirteen.”
“I know.” Baxter pushed himself to his feet. “There’s something going on, but I don’t get it. If you’re taking steroids—why now? You had to be clean during basketball season.”
“Maybe he wants to try out for the UW team.” McNally spoke as if Declan weren’t there.
“Guys!” Declan tried not to be offended.
“It’s not sex,” McNally said. “Sex uses energy, not supplies it.”
“Oh, like you’d know!” Declan tossed the ball at McNally’s chest. “Are we going to play or not?”
McNally caught the ball without taking his gaze off Declan.
Baxter eyed Declan. “So, are you and Lizbet?”
“I’m going to pretend this conversation never happened.” Declan knocked the ball out of McNally’s hands and huffed off the court.
McNally caught up to him in two strides and grabbed his arm. Declan shook him off. McNally stared at his hand as if Declan had stung him. Moments later, he planted himself in front of Declan. “What gives?”
Baxter joined him and folded his long arms across his enormous chest.
Declan pushed through their united front. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Stumbling, Baxter and McNally both fought to remain upright.
“It’s drugs. It’s gotta be drugs,” Baxter murmured.
“Maybe he’s just been working out,” McNally said. “Nah...it doesn’t work that fast, right?”
His friends trailed after Declan as he marched across the grass. Tickles, Baxter’s dog, caught up to him and gave him a look that said he knew the answers to their questions.
Later, in the privacy of his bedroom, Declan set a goal to do as many push-ups as he could. During the basketball season, Co
ach Simmons routinely made the team do a hundred push-ups before each practice and Declan had generally blown through them. But he’d never set a goal to see how many he could do before his muscles failed. After about twenty minutes, he wished he had.
He quit when he could no longer stand the boredom, wondering what would have happened had he not stopped. Could he have really spent the day doing one push-up after another? While in school, he’d had access to the weights at the gym, but since school was out, he didn’t have that option. Curiosity drove him to the closest sporting goods store to try out a weight set.
THE LAKE LAMENT YACHT Club sat at the eastern shore surrounded by thick woods and a sliver of gray beach. An unpretentious wooden building, it looked humbled by the glistening mighty boats parked along its moorings. The sun hovered on the distant shore and threatened to disappear into East End’s shining skyline.
Lizbet wore what she considered her caterer’s uniform: black shoes, hose, and skirt topped with a white button-down blouse. She kept her curls tied back with a black ribbon and tried to keep her lips pressed into a smile as the country-clubbers plucked the stuffed mushrooms and shrimp cocktails off her proffered tray.
Matias liked to make up stories and names for the yacht club members. “See the woman in the blue pantsuit? She’s really Hillary Clinton’s spy,” Matias hissed as Lizbet headed to the kitchen to refill her tray.
“Why would Hillary have spies in East End?” she whispered back.
“Hillary has spies everywhere,” Matias told her as he followed.
“Why? Is she planning a coup?” Lizbet plunked down her tray on the stainless-steel counter and began refilling it with a variety of appetizers.
Matias loaded his with sparkling drinks in dainty flutes. “She’s not, but that man who looks like a walrus definitely is.”
“There’s a walrus here?” She picked up her tray and headed back out.
