Thirst No. 4

by Christopher Pike

  Maybe Bill will be in another one of my classes.

  Break came next. Before leaving for school that morning, Jessica had spoken to another friend of hers, Polly McCoy—Alice’s older sister—filling her in on everything that had happened on her vacation. She had known Polly almost as long as she had Sara, although she was not nearly so close to Polly. A lot of their friendship was founded on simple geography; since they were kids they had lived only a few hundred yards apart; it was hard not to be friends with someone your own age who lived so close.

  Polly had what at best could be described as a nervous disposition. It showed particularly when she was around Sara, who enjoyed picking on Polly. Keeping the two girls apart was difficult, however, because none of them really had any other close friends, and they usually ended up going to movies, the beach, or wherever together. Three bored girls each looking for one exciting guy.

  When Polly and Alice’s parents had died, they left the girls a large construction company. It was at present managed by a board of directors, but both girls were potential bosses and millionaires. They lived in a big house with a partially senile aunt who was their legal guardian. They lived as they wanted. Only the McCoy sisters could think of throwing a party to introduce two schools to each other.

  But it turned out that Alice had not told Polly about the party.

  “She’s going to do what?” Polly asked as they waited in line at the soda machines. Polly had already gotten ahold of a candy bar. She ate a lot of sweets these days, and it showed, especially in her face. It was a pity. When thin, Polly was a doll.

  “She’s going to invite thirty of our own people and team them up with thirty of Tabb’s people,” Jessica said, casting an eye toward the front of the line. Apparently the machines here took kicks as well as quarters. The guy up front was busting a toe for a Coca-Cola Classic.

  “She never told me.”

  “Maybe she just thought it up.”

  “I don’t care. We’re not having it. They’d rip up the house.”

  “No, they wouldn’t.” The guy kicked the machine one final time and then stalked off. He was from Mesa. “But let’s not invite that guy. Hey, is there another place we can get something to drink?”

  “There’s the mall. It’s less than five minutes away in the car. But I don’t want to go there now. And I don’t want a party at my house.”

  Jessica decided she’d let Sara and Alice argue with Polly. She had already made up her mind that they had to have the party if only to invite Mr. Football Quarterback. “All right, all right, we’ll have it in my bedroom. What did you do while I was gone?”

  “Nothing.” Polly took a bite of her candy, her bright green eyes spanning the jammed courtyard. Then she grinned. “I take that back. I did do something funny. They were running a contest on the radio to see who could send in the best album cover for a new heavy-metal band. I can’t even remember the group—it was Hell and Steel something. Anyway, I sent in one of Alice’s paintings. She won!”

  “What did she win?”

  “A free trip to one of their New York shows and a backstage pass. The disc jockey said the group is seriously considering using her artwork.”

  “Is Alice going to go?”

  “No. You know she hates loud music.”

  “Wait a second. One of Alice’s paintings on the album cover of a heavy-metal band? Since when does she paint anything that doesn’t have flowers and clouds in it?”

  Polly shrugged. “It’s none of my business.”

  “What’s none of your business?”

  “What Clark has her drawing.”

  “Her boyfriend has her drawing whips and demons? Boy, I hope he hasn’t seduced her.”

  Polly did not appreciate the remark. She was fanatically protective of her younger sister. “He’s not her boyfriend. He’s just someone who comes over and eats our food.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  “Not bad, pretty good.”

  “You wouldn’t want to give me too many details, would you?”

  Polly smiled. Unlike her sister, her hair was dark, almost black, with red highlights. Indeed, in almost every respect, their looks differed. Alice was a waif. Polly was a peasant. She had big breasts and a bigger butt. “He’s got great hands,” she said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m not saying anything.”

  “For someone who doesn’t like to pry into Alice’s business, you’ve said a lot.” The subject was beginning to bore Jessica. She noticed a booth near the center of campus, pointed it out. “What can we sign up for over there?”

  Now Polly was bored. “Student office. They’ve lengthened lunch today so all those who want to play politics can tell us why we should vote for them. You’re not thinking of running for anything, are you?”

  Jessica had a brilliant idea. “No, but Sara is.”

  “Sara? She doesn’t like to get involved in choosing what to wear in the morning.”

  “You say the candidates are supposed to speak at lunch today?”

  “In the gym, yeah. It’s the only cool building on campus.”

  “Let’s sign her up.”

  “We can’t. You have to sign up in person.”

  “Then you be Sara for a few minutes.”

  “We’ll never get her out on the floor to speak.”

  “We’ll worry about that later.”

  “She’ll be furious.” Polly paused, thought about that a moment. “All right, I’ll be Sara. What should we have her run for?”

  “What else? Student body president.”