My sister and I had a code; we didn’t rat each other out. So I was stuck not being able to tell my parents where she was going. Eve gave one last gloating smirk before she jumped down a few rows to where several of her friends were talking.
“Hey, Chris. You ready?” I almost jumped; Becky had appeared unnoticed by my side while I had been fuming at Eve. Crap. I had totally forgotten to ask about the party.
“Ummm….” I dragged out the word, trying to think of something.
Both of my parents looked from the perky girl to me in wonder. As Rose had noted, I was lousy at introductions; fortunately, Becky had enough gumption for the both of us.
“Hey, y’all must be Mr. and Mrs. Harding! I’m Becky Bailey, one of Chris’s friends.” She held out a hand, and I noticed her nail polish was black; a quiet stand against authority.
“Hi,” said my mom, a little stunned. Like I said, I’d had girlfriends before, but I mostly attracted bookish types or the occasional skate punk. Not strawberry-blonde cheerleaders with Southern drawls.
“Pleased to meet you!” said my dad, taking her hand and smiling. He was no doubt surprised, too, but better at going with the flow.
Becky shook his hand and then addressed me again. “We have to bring Monica and Richard. Monica doesn’t drive, and Richard said his truck broke down again.”
Or maybe he just wants to keep an eye on you, I thought.
“Where are you going?” asked my mom, recovering quickly as her parental alarms went off. I saw that Eve had noticed the exchange and was subtly moving closer to listen in.
“Oh, uh, I forgot to tell you there’s kind of this party tonight I was going to go to.”
Before my mom could speak, my dad said, “Of course—you kids have a good time! Don’t be home too late.”
The look my sister gave them was priceless.
“Thanks, Mr. Harding. Don’t worry; I’ll have him back by dawn.” Becky winked at my dad and took my hand. I think it was to torque off my sister. Despite her joking tone that afternoon, I suspected Becky really did think Eve was plotting to take over her squad. But her hand was warm and pleasant in mine, and I didn’t care about the reason for it being there.
“Take your time,” said my dad. My mom gave him The Look, and I led Becky down the stands before anyone changed their minds.
Eve followed us, and as soon as we were out of our parents’ earshot, she said, “I can’t believe you.”
I got my turn to smirk. “Enjoy your ice cream.”
Eve didn’t answer. She just stomped off towards her friends, growling, “I can’t believe they just let him go to a party.”
Becky and I walked over to the parking lot, where Monica was filing her nails in the back of a new black Mustang convertible. As we approached, she called, “Hey, guys! Richard’s changing. He should be here in a few minutes.”
I admired the GT. “Wow. This is your car?”
Becky smiled, popped the trunk, and threw her stuff in it.
“Wow.”
“I’d let you drive but….”
“I know, Asian drivers.”
She gave me an impatient glance. “No, stupid, you’re fifteen and don’t have a license. If something happened, my dad would kill me.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that. You’re too pretty to die.”
She looked happily surprised, while Monica made a gagging sound.
“Hey, guys!” Richard ran up and put his bag in the trunk.
I was about to get in the back, but Richard vaulted over the side of the vehicle and into the seat next to Monica. The whole car sank down. Monica didn’t bat an eye, even though she had been inches away from getting squished.
Becky screamed, “Richard! My car!”
“Fat but nimble!” He grinned. A small smile crept across Monica’s lips as she examined her nails.
Becky climbed into the driver’s seat, growling something about Richard owing her a set of shocks. I got in beside her as she fired up the engine, and I had about a split second to admire the rumble emanating from the exhaust pipes before it turned into a roar as she floored it, laying about twenty feet of rubber before fishtailing out of the parking lot.
I frantically tried to buckle my seatbelt as a laughing Richard shouted at me from the back seat, “Oh yeah, dude, good luck with her—she’s crazy!”
“Screw you,” retorted Becky, shifting gears and accelerating. I closed my eyes and prayed my parents didn’t hear the car screaming down the street.
Becky eased off the gas moments later, and the car rapidly decelerated as she braked and downshifted. I just caught her mischievous sideways glance. Then I got distracted when I noticed just how short a cheerleading skirt was, especially when she brought her leg up off the clutch after a gear change.
“Eyes on the road, Chris, or you’ll never get to drive my car.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. Caught twice in a row. I seriously had to practice using my peripheral vision.
Chapter 8
Needless to say, we got to the party fast. It was being held in a giant old barn about ten miles outside of town. The place looked like it shouldn’t be standing, let alone have electricity, but someone must have brought a generator, because music and lights poured out of the open doors. The music was booming, but we were close enough to nowhere that I didn’t think anyone was going to be hearing it besides us and the wildlife.
At least fifty people had already arrived, with plenty more on the way. As we got out of the car, I saw my sister pulling up in a Jeep packed with a bunch of her friends. I noticed with relief that Trevor wasn’t among them, and I beamed at the thought that I might win the bet after all.
Richard assumed my grin was due to the party, and said, “Pretty cool, huh?”
I nodded, looking around. In the distance was an old single-story farmhouse in only slightly better shape than the barn.
“Who owns this place?”
“Trevor’s parents own the property, but no one uses the house or barn anymore. It’s been the unofficial party spot for a couple of years,” explained Richard.
“Speaking of Trevor, you should have let that Clarksville linebacker get to him at least once. Would have been good for him,” said Becky.
“Nah. Besides, if I did that, he wouldn’t let me copy off him in chemistry.”
“So you can both flunk?”
Monica interrupted. “Can we get going already?” She was literally vibrating in anticipation.
Once we got inside, I realized that this was going to be the type of party that I had only seen on TV. Sure, I had been to parties, but they had been the kind where a few friends get together over at someone’s house, not the kind with a DJ, a monster sound system, strobe lights, and a couple of kegs.
We found a relatively quiet spot in the barn where we didn’t have to yell too loud to be heard. I was relieved to note that not everyone was dancing. I could actually dance, I even liked it, but I thought it would be a bad idea to ask Becky with Richard standing right there, and there wasn’t anyone else I had an immediate interest in dancing with.
We chatted as the place began to fill up. In what seemed like no time at all, a couple of hundred people churned and danced to the pounding beat.
“So what are you going to do about your ghost?” Becky asked me, leaning close to be heard better.
“Rose said I should go to the library tomorrow and see if they have back issues of the newspaper. You know, from when Charlotte was killed. Maybe I can find out more about her.”
“Why?” asked Richard.
“Who’s Rose?” asked Becky. She wore a funny expression, one I hadn’t seen on her before.
Monica looked mildly interested for the first time in a while. She had been kind of be-bopping to the music and shooting glances at the dancers for the past twenty minutes. It was obvious where she wanted to be. For some reason, it was making Richard nervous. Every once in a while I caught him looking at her, and he would kind of fidget.
“Rose is m
y next-door neighbor—the one who lives with Mr. Givens. Anyway, she said ghosts normally hang around because they want something. Or there’s something they still need to do on Earth, or whatever. So she figured that if I could find out what it was, then maybe I’d know how to get rid of her. Then I could finally get some sleep.”
“And what makes Rose such an expert on ghosts?” asked Becky.
“Beats me. She seemed like she knew what she was talking about, though.”
“Makes sense to me,” said Monica, shrugging and looking at the dancers to indicate her interest in this topic was waning already.
“So you and Rose are going to go to do a little research tomorrow?” asked Richard, glancing sideways at Becky.
After Rose shot me down last night, I didn’t think so, but then she had ended up giving me that kiss, so I had no idea what was going on with her. Girls were too confusing.
“I dunno. Maybe.”
Becky turned to stare off at the dancers.
“Have you tried searching the Internet?” Richard asked.
“Nah, I haven’t had a chance. I’m going to do that this weekend.”
Monica finally couldn’t stand it anymore. “So does anyone want to dance?”
“I’m not so good at dancing,” said Richard. He was fidgeting again.
“Sure,” I volunteered, looking at Monica. She was a beauty. Standing right at five feet tall, she was a miniature version of the traditional ditsy blonde blue-eyed cheerleader, except I got the feeling she was a lot smarter than she let on.
“Fine, you’ll do.” Becky gave a little start, her head snapping back to see Monica reach out and grab my hand. I felt myself being hauled off towards the dancers. She was fast and I had to scramble to keep up. Behind us, I heard Becky say, “Come on, big guy, you’re dancing,” followed by a string of protests from Richard.
I had expected country music for some reason, but so far all the songs had been Top Forty, which was a good thing, because I had no idea how to line dance, or two-step, or whatever it was you did to country. Becky and Richard made it out onto the floor just after us, and I saw that Richard wasn’t as bad at dancing he claimed. Either that, or Becky was just good enough to make him look better than he was.
Monica was crazy good, and I found myself having a lot of fun. I tried to catch Becky’s eye a couple of times, but she was ignoring me, and all I caught were funny looks from Richard.
I saw my sister dancing for a brief time with Trevor, a little too close for my liking. It wasn’t like she’d been grinding, but when we finally paused for a drink, I considered having a little chat with her.
“Thank God; I thought that would never end,” said Richard, pumping the keg as Monica filled a red plastic cup. As the designated driver, Becky grabbed a Diet Coke out of a ginormous metal tub full of ice and sodas.
“Well, at least my feet are still intact,” said Becky. She looked down at them to make sure before she popped the top on her Coke and took a swig.
“Hurry up and rest already.” Monica downed her entire glass in one go, while still managing to look out enviously at the dancers.
Even though it was after ten at night, the temperature hovered in the mid-eighties outside, and was at least ten degrees warmer in the packed confines of the barn. Despite her flushed face and the beads of sweat around her forehead, I could see Monica was itching to get back out. I didn’t think people danced much at parties, but apparently Monica was up to starting a new trend.
I sighed. I wasn’t sure I could keep up with her much longer. I went to get a breath of fresh air and cool off, scanning for my sister as I walked out of the barn. I didn’t see her, but the place was so crowded that wasn’t too surprising.
Music and voices spilled out from the barn behind me, and beyond was the quiet, starry night. It was peaceful here, and even the warm evening felt like a relief for a few minutes. I was walking back into the barn, ready for round two with Monica on the dance floor, when someone called my name.
I turned and saw Tim Peterson heading my way. With the way he leaned slightly forward and to the side as he moved, I guessed he was drunk. A couple of his friends trailed behind him with looks ranging from concerned to eager anticipation at the possibility of something exciting happening.
“Hey, asshole, I’m talking to you! It’s time someone taught you folks a lesson about coming over here and stealing our jobs.” I assumed by “us people” he meant Asians; I decided it would be a bad idea to remind him my dad was a white guy of Irish decent.
Everyone around us turned at Tim’s raised voice, and now watched as I stood frozen, waiting to see what he would do.
“Not so tough now without your girlfriend sticking up for you.”
I assumed he meant Becky. “She wasn’t sticking up for me, she was just reminding you that your dad went and got himself fired. Something about groping an office chick. Not my fault.”
“Screw you. That’s not what happened.”
“Oh, it was an office dude? Sorry, man. I guess the guy didn’t like it. Still not my fault.”
There was laughter. Tim roared and lunged at me. It wasn’t hard for me to get out of the way as he stumbled past. He was caught by a couple of people who obligingly spun him around and pointed him back in my direction.
He was definitely drunk, but he was also four inches taller and weighed eighty pounds more than me. He stepped forward and took a clumsy swing, which I ducked under. I took the opportunity to send an uppercut to his stomach. It didn’t bother him as much as I would have liked.
He was wasted and pissed. If I could keep him doing stupid things, I had a chance. We circled for a while, neither of us managing to land anything. Then he lunged again and caught me off guard. We both went down, but I sent a knee into his gut that bought me the time to get back up. He was way too big for me to try and wrestle with him.
We were drawing a crowd. So far I was managing to hold my own; he was wasted and I was starting to feel that I would get through this okay. Unfortunately, that’s when I noticed Becky breaking through the spectators, looking upset. I turned toward her and didn’t see the right hook that caught me in the side of the head.
I came to staring up at impossibly green eyes. I blinked and the rest of Becky came into focus. The view was worth the KO, and I smiled. “Almost had him.”
“Why did you take your eyes off him?” Her brows were drawn in concern.
“Saw something I liked better.”
I must have still been a little delirious to try that line, but she smiled, and her hand gently brushed the side of my face.
“Stupid,” she teased gently.
“Speaking of stupid, where is Tim?”
“Being stuffed into his truck by Richard. Savannah will drive him home.”
Most people had wandered off once they were sure it was over, though I noticed a small crowd still hovered around me. I hauled myself up, trying to save a last shred of dignity.
“I thought all you guys were black belts,” said Richard as he came over and helped prop me up.
“We are. I’m lulling him into a false sense of security. Just wait ‘til next time.”
“I think once might be enough for you, big guy,” said Richard, patting my back.
“We should probably get you home,” said Becky.
“Where’s Eve? Anyone seen her?” I asked, surprised she would miss an opportunity to see her brother get stomped.
“Dunno, dude. Last time I saw her she was with Trevor,” said Richard.
We looked around for Eve in the barn, but still didn’t see her. When Monica and Becky exchanged a look, Richard saw it. “Ah, man, I hope not.”
“What?”
“Let’s go check the house,” said Becky.
“The house?”
“It’s where people go to, uh, well—you know, dude,” said Richard.
Crap. I knew then that this was one of those days that held great promise, but never lived up to its expectations.
My frie
nds were quiet during the walk over, which meant they were expecting the worst. As we neared the house, the music from the barn was replaced by rap being belched out by a boom box somewhere inside. I climbed the rickety porch stairs, expecting with any step that my foot would go straight through the tired-looking wood.
Entering the house, I was met with a smoke cloud that had nothing to do with cigarettes. A guy I half-remembered from one of my classes offered me a hit off something. Normally I might have been tempted—you know, for medicinal purposes—but right now I just wanted to find my sister.
I followed Monica through a crowded kitchen and into a hallway. A door opened to our right, and a brunette I didn’t recognize came out. She covered her mouth when she saw us, though she didn’t look nauseated. She met my eyes for a second as she brushed past me. Definitely more embarrassed than sick. Also older; maybe a college chick.
Monica looked inside the unlit room and shook her head. Over her shoulder, I could see just well enough to know that the guy passed out on the stained mattress was definitely not my sister.
Monica opened the next door and I heard, “Dude! Occupied!” then, a second later, “Monica? Hey, come on in, there’s room for one more! Ow! What?”
Rolling her eyes, Monica closed the door and shook her head. The last bedroom was a bust as well and, after a quick search of the rest of the house failed to turn up Eve, we headed back towards Becky’s Mustang.
“I don’t see Trevor’s car. Maybe they took off?” Monica said, as we threaded our way through the haphazardly parked vehicles.
“I’m sure she’s all right,” I said, mostly to reassure myself. On the one hand, I was glad we didn’t find Eve at the house. If we had, I would have been tempted to start something with Trevor, and I had already received one beat-down that night. On the other, I was beginning to worry about where she was.
I knew Eve could take care of herself. Still, I remembered what I’d read about the county having a high rate of missing persons, and it made me edgy. On top of that, my jaw was aching, and I wanted to go home and get an icepack and some aspirin.
“Why don’t you just call her, dude?” suggested Richard.
The Haunting of Pico (Pico, Texas - Book 1) Page 6
