Party Games (2 page)

But Beth says I'm really pretty. She says I look like Reese Witherspoon. She always knows how to cheer me up.

I watched Brendan and his friends talking so intensely. Even Eric had a serious expression on his face. What could they be talking about?

The kitchen bell rang. I hurried to the window to pick up the food. Lefty squinted out at me from the kitchen. His narrow face was bright red and bathed in sweat. He always wears a white baseball cap backward over his bald head.

“You okay, Rachel?”

“Busy night,” I said. “But I'm handling it. I—”

Lefty didn't wait to hear my answer. He had turned back to the fry griddle.

I went back to work. So far, I'd made it through with only a few mix-ups.

The diner had emptied out a bit when Brendan and his friends got up to leave. They smiled and nodded to me as they made their way to the door.

“Would you like a tip?” Eric said.

“Sure,” I replied.

“Look both ways before crossing the street.” He laughed at his own dumb joke.

I was surprised when Brendan stayed back and pulled me aside. Again, he kept his eyes on me as if trying to read my mind.

Maybe he has this intense stare for everyone. He probably doesn't even realize it.

I could feel my chest get a little fluttery. “Was everything okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “Sure.” He shifted his weight. He suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “So … you work here every night?”

“Not always. It depends on who else can work. Sometimes I'm here on Saturday, too. I need to earn some money to help my family. Things have been kind of tight for them, and I wanted to … you know … pitch in.”

Too much information, Rachel.

He nodded and scratched his dark hair. “You're in my World Government class, right?”

“Yes,” I said. “Mrs. Rigby. She's funny. I like her.”

“Some guys think she's really hot,” he said. He flashed the shy grin.

Someone spilled a Coke at a table near the counter. I heard the glass shatter on the floor. Some kids laughed.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Brendan said. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I'm having this birthday party, see. It's my eighteenth. On Saturday.”

“Happy birthday,” I said.
Awkward.

“My family has this huge old summer house on Fear Island. You know. In the middle of the lake? We're opening it up for my party. It's going to be like an overnight thing. We're going to party all night.”

The kitchen bell rang. More cheeseburgers to pick up.

Brendan leaned forward. “Think you could come?”

Best day ever?

“
This
Saturday?” I said. My voice came out a little higher than normal.

He nodded. “I'm sending a boat to pick everyone up at the lake dock at the end of Fear Street at two.”

“Yes,” I said. “I can come. Hey, thanks for inviting me.”

“It's going to be an awesome party,” he said. “Lots of games.”

Lefty banged the bell a few more times.

“I have to get back to work,” I said.

Brendan nodded. “See you Saturday.” And then he reached out his finger and wiped a drop of sweat off the tip of my nose.

My mouth fell open as he turned and strode to the door.

I could still feel the touch of his finger on my nose. I started to the food window.
Brendan Fear just invited me to his birthday party.

I stepped up to the counter, but a hand grabbed my wrist and tugged me back.

And a voice whispered in my ear, “Rachel—don't go.”

 

2.

THE WARNING

 

I turned and tugged my wrist free. “Don't go,” Amy O'Brien repeated.

I'd forgotten she was still in the restaurant. Amy is my best friend. We've been friends ever since our sophomore year overnight when we both got lost in the woods and had to be rescued by Mr. Singletary, our homeroom teacher.

Poor guy. I think we gave him a total breakdown that night. He couldn't stop shaking for a week. I guess he thought we were eaten by wolves or something.

Being totally lost at night in the woods is an awesome way to start a friendship. You already know you're both hopeless idiots. Amy and I have been BFFs ever since.

Amy is short and a little chubby, with scads of coppery curls and green cat eyes and creamy skin to die for. She loves the color red and always has a red scarf around her neck or a red top or vest. And she wears this bright red lipstick, called
Wildfire,
which her mother says makes her look like a slut. But Amy says red is her trademark.

She squeezed my wrist again. “I heard everything, Rach. Please. Don't go.”

“Amy, I have to pick up these plates,” I said. I took the food plates off the window counter. I could see Lefty staring at me from the kitchen. I turned and started to carry them to Booth 8.

Amy followed me, pushing her way through a group of men in blue work uniforms waiting for a table. “Rachel, what did you tell him? Did you tell him you'd go?”

I set the plates down and brought the customers ketchup and mustard from the service table behind their booth. I turned to Amy, who was impatiently plucking at the buttons on the front of her red wool jacket.

“Of course I said yes, Amy.”

“Shut up. You said yes to a sleepover at Brendan Fear's house?”

“It's not a sleepover. It's a birthday party.”

“An
all-night
birthday party, right?”

I sighed. “Amy, I can't talk now. I'm the only one waitressing tonight. I have to help Lefty close up at ten. Want to come over when I'm done?”

“I'll finish my cheeseburger and wait for you. We have to talk. I can't believe you said yes.” She walked back to her stool at the counter, shaking her head.

I knew that Amy didn't like Brendan, but I wasn't sure why. If she had some reason she didn't want me to go to his party, I knew I'd hear about it later. Amy isn't the type to keep her opinions to herself. She's kind of judgmental. But she's smart, and she's usually right.

Only a half hour till closing, but the time seemed to drag on for hours. Finally, everyone had paid up and left. Silence. Except for the sound of Lefty scraping down the grill in the kitchen. I wiped the tables and brought the last of the dirty dishes to the sink. I checked the time on my phone as I stepped out of the diner. It was a little after ten thirty.

It was a cold October night. The frosty air felt good against my hot face. I took some deep breaths, happy to be out of the steamy restaurant. A pale half-moon floated high in the sky above snakes of gray cloud.

Amy waited for me on the corner, her red jacket buttoned to the collar. She had pulled on a red wool cap and wool gloves. She squinted at me. “Wow. You must be tired. You look like roadkill.”

“Don't hold back,” I said. “Tell me what you really think.”

She was right. I was that special kind of tired. The kind where you're so exhausted, even your hair hurts. I had a layer of dried sweat on my skin, and I could smell the fry grease in my hair.

I shifted my backpack on my shoulders. I was supposed to work on two chapters in my science notebook tonight. But now, forget about it. Amy probably wouldn't go home till midnight.

We crossed Division Street, empty except for a UPS truck making a late stop. It was a short walk to my house, only three blocks away. My legs ached and my back felt stiff. I'd been standing up since four o'clock.

Don't complain, Rachel. You made more than a hundred dollars in tips tonight.

I planned to turn most of it over to my parents. They were having tough times. My dad was laid off last year from his job as director of a big investment company. It took him a long time to find a new job. Now he's working as a shift manager at the Walmart in Waynesbridge.

My mom still hasn't recovered from a really bad case of Lyme disease. She's been home for three months and still feels weak and exhausted all the time.

A strong gust of wind pushed Amy and me back as we started to cross Front Street. Dead leaves danced in a perfect circle around our feet.

“Go ahead,” I said. “Let me have it. Give me your lecture about why I shouldn't go to Brendan Fear's party, even though it's going to be awesome.”

“Awesome?” She made a snorting sound. “Have you Googled the word
geek
? You can read about Brendan.”

“I think he's … hot. Seriously.”

Amy blinked. “Hot? He's totally weird. He spends all his time playing video games with that big goofball Eric Finn.”

I shook my head. “Amy, you just don't get it. Like, hello—it's the twenty-first century. Geeks rule.”

“But, Rachel—”

“Brendan doesn't just play games. He designs his own games, and he does all the programming. He's like a genius. And … don't you like the way his eyes crinkle up when he smiles?”

“Forget his eyes,” Amy replied, adjusting her hat in the wind. “What are we talking about here? I don't care if you think he's hot or not. He's a Fear.”

I brushed a leaf from my hair and shielded my eyes from headlights as a car sped past. “Oh, wow. I can't believe you're going to bring up the Fear stuff. Do you like ancient history much?”

“It's not ancient history, Rach.” Her green eyes flared. “There's a curse on the Fear family.”

I laughed. I gave her a shove, making her stumble off the sidewalk. “Do you believe in vampires, too? Hey, look—two zombies just drove past in that car.”

“You're so not funny, Rachel. Everyone in town knows about the Fears. And everyone knows the stories are true. The street that's named after them, Fear Street, where they all used to live.… You've heard the horrible things that happened there.”

“Yes, everyone knows those old stories,” I said, rolling my eyes.

She pulled up her jacket collar. “Listen to me, Rach. Brendan Fear's ancestors were witches or sorcerers or something. They had evil powers.”

I laughed again. “Amy, give me a break. I really don't think Brendan Fear is a witch.”

Her red lips formed a pout. “You just want to laugh at me. I'm trying to be your friend here. Am I stupid? Is that what you think? Go ahead. Tell me I'm stupid.”

“No, you're not stupid,” I said. “It's just—”

“Didn't we learn all those frightening stories about the Fears in school?” she interrupted as we crossed the street onto my block. “Remember? In sixth grade?”

“Amy, Mr. Gruder told us all those stories because it was Halloween. He was trying to scare us.”

“Well, he scared
me
. And I believed them.”

I didn't know what to say. I wished Amy would stop. I knew she was into fantasy novels, and she was always dragging me to horror movies. But I never thought she believed in all that spooky stuff.

Everyone in town knows the stories about the Fear family. But that all happened a long time ago. I mean, Brendan's father, Oliver Fear, is an investment banker, not an evil sorcerer. He's like a billionaire or something.

He built a huge stone mansion, totally awesome-looking, with windows that reach up the whole side of the house, and waterfalls, and fountains all around. It's a tourist attraction. Seriously. People drive for miles to park in front of it and take pictures.

The moon drifted behind clouds as we crossed the street. Darkness washed over us. I felt a shiver run down my back. “I really think you're going overboard about the Fear family, Amy. Okay. Brendan is shy and he pretty much keeps to himself, and he's really into video games. That's no reason—”

“I just have a hunch,” she said. “I have a very bad feeling about this. Rachel, you really want to be with Brendan Fear and his weird friends all night, all alone on that little island?”

I shrugged. “Seriously. What could happen?”

She shrugged. “Let's change the subject. Did you finally break up with Mac?”

I sighed. Thinking about Mac Garland made my stomach tighten. For weeks, I thought I really cared about him. Now I felt only dread when someone said his name. “I … I've given him lots of hints.”

Amy frowned at me. “Hints? Like what?”

“Well … I changed my Facebook profile from
In a Relationship
to
It's Complicated.
”

“That's subtle.”

“And I don't answer his texts or calls.”

She stuck out an arm to block my path. “But you didn't just say it to him? You didn't say, I don't want to go out with you anymore?”

“Well…”

“You didn't say, get lost. Take a hike. Have a nice life. Go die.”

“Huh? No. Of
course
not,” I said. “Wow, Amy, you're really harsh tonight.”

“You have to tell him,” she said. “You have to confront him.”

I shook my head. “I actually tried, but he … he got real scary. He started pounding his fist on the wall and cursing under his breath and … I really thought he might hurt me.”

“Mac is a creep. I know I've asked you this before—but why did you start seeing him in the first place?”

I shrugged. “Because he asked me?”

Amy shook her head. “You just liked the idea of hanging with the bad boy. Someone dangerous.”

“Yeah. Maybe I was bored. I admit it.”

“Well, after Johnny Gruen, I don't blame you.”

“Now you're going to dump on Johnny?”

“He's too boring to even discuss.”

I laughed. “Just because he collects coins doesn't make him boring.”

“Collecting coins doesn't make him boring.
Talking
about collecting coins makes him boring.” Amy frowned. “I thought we were discussing Mac. Are you really too afraid of him to tell him you're breaking up?”