Super Dark (Super Dark Trilogy) (8 page)

He touched his head self-consciously. “Really?”

“Oh, nothing drastic—just a trim. In fact, if you want, I could do it for you.”

“You know how to cut hair?” he asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” I said, though it was only partly true.

I’d really only cut my dad’s hair once, but I’d been dying for another opportunity to test my skills. “If you want, you came come to my place after school and I’ll do it for you—no charge.”

“Okay, great!” Frasier said excitedly. “And maybe while you’re doing that I can get you to change your mind about going to the party.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” I muttered, but in the back of my mind I could already feel myself weakening.

We got to my house around five-thirty. Mum wasn’t home, so we had the place to ourselves—which was good, in a way. Having never seen me bring a boy home before, I could only imagine how hysterical she’d get if she saw Frasier. She’d probably start buying her wedding outfit and organizing my bridal shower.

“Wow, you’re a gym buff, aren’t you?” Frasier commented as he looked at the cross-trainer in my bedroom.

“Oh, I dabble a little,” I replied bashfully.

He patted his pudgy stomach and sighed. “I wish I had your will power, but I can’t seem to lay off the carrot cake.”

I chuckled and cleared a space for him on the bed, discreetly tossing a half-eaten piece of pizza into the wastebasket. My room looked a mess and I silently cursed myself for not keeping Frasier in the living room until I had cleaned up a little.

“Do you want anything to drink?” I asked.

“What have you got?”

“Coke, water, tea—and there’s a Budweiser, if you’d like. I can check the fridge.”

“No, water’s fine,” Frasier said, smiling broadly.

As I turned to go, I saw him looking at the framed picture of Elliot on the dresser. He studied it for a second, then he glanced away, pretending he hadn’t seen anything.

After a moment of silence, I said, “You
know
, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “Well, now that you mention it, Becky might have said something about it.”

“And?”

“And it’s none of my business. Whatever happened in your past has nothing to do with me. Besides, I doubt if you like people bringing it up all the time. I know I wouldn’t.”

I nodded silently, then turned and went to the kitchen. When I returned, we talked about school and
Star Trek
and what we had planned for the summer holiday. Then I went to Mum’s bedroom and brought back a pair of electric clippers.

“I think we should probably do this in the bathroom,” I decided. “That way, the mess will be easier to clean up.”

Frasier’s eyes fixed on mine. “Just don’t leave me with a bald patch, okay?”

“Frasier, do I look like someone who would leave you with a bald patch?” He opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off. “Don’t answer that. Relax. I know what I’m doing.”

We went into the bathroom and I had him sit on a stool. Then I plugged in the clippers and carefully began to run them over his head, watching as locks of wavy brown hair cascaded to the floor. My plan was to cut the back and sides relatively short while leaving plenty of fringe on top.

Tilting Frasier’s head back, I began to shape his sideburns, but my hand slipped and the clippers dug into the fringe I had so carefully crafted. Sighing, I switched off the clippers and surveyed the damage.

“What’s wrong?” Frasier asked apprehensively.

I scratched the side of my nose, deliberating on how to salvage the situation. “Um,” I said thoughtfully. “You know, I think you’d look better with a crew cut.”

“A crew cut?” he asked in surprise. “You mean like the army guys wear? Give me the mirror! I need see what you’ve done.”

He tried to stand, but I pushed him back down. “No peeking till I’m finished,” I reprimanded. “If you look now, you won’t understand what I’m trying to do.”

“This is just what I’m afraid of,” he muttered.

Sighing again, I proceeded to shave the rest of his hair off, and when I was done, I handed him a small mirror. There was a long silence as I awaited his verdict.

Unable to wait any longer, I asked, “Well, what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Frasier replied, tilting his head from side to side. “It makes my nose look big, don’t you think?”

“Not at all,” I countered. “In fact, I think it suits you. It makes you look more edgy.”

“Edgy?” he said suspiciously, but before he could say any more, I heard the front door slam, followed by the clatter of Mum’s high heels in the hallway.

“Darling, I’m home!” she called cheerfully, “and I’ve brought Chinese home for tonight.”

“In here, Mum,” I shouted.

When Mum finally poked her head through the bathroom door, she looked surprised, but quickly regained her composure. She touched her hair, like she did whenever she was around a man. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.”

Frasier smiled, stood, and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you.” Then he added, “Wow! The two of you could pass for sisters.”

That remark clearly made Mum’s day. “Oh, flattery will get you everywhere, darling,” she said coyly. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“His name is Frasier, Mum,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He’s in my English class.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Mum said, looking at the pile of hair on the floor. “I see my daughter’s given you a haircut. It looks very…interesting.”

Frasier blushed. “Thanks. We’re going to a party tomorrow night, so I thought I’d make a bit of change.”

Mum clapped her hands and gushed, “A party? How wonderful. Who’s is it?”

“Some boy called Taffin Carter’s,” Frasier replied.

“Hold on,” I added quickly. “Just when did I agree to go? It’s still undecided.”

“Of course you’re going!” Mum said, shooting me a look. “You haven’t been out in ages.” She turned her gaze to Frasier. “She’ll go if I have to drag her there myself. She’s becoming such a homebody, but you can help me liven her up, Frasier.”

Frasier didn’t know what to say. “I’ll do my best.”

“But I don’t have anything to wear,” I pouted.

“You can borrow something of mine,” Mum said cheerily. “Now you’ve got no excuse.”

“Well, I guess that’s decided,” Frasier said, winking at me. “I’ll pick you up at nine.”

“Perfect!” Mum said happily.

We shared our Chinese dinner with Frasier, and after he left, Mum ransacked her closet trying to find me something to wear. She threw several glittery skirts, tops, and dresses on the bed, asking me to pick out anything I liked.

“You know I don’t wear this kind of stuff,” I grumbled. “We have very different taste in clothes, and I just can’t see any of these working for me.”

Still rummaging through her clothes rack, she said, “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“Frasier’s
not
my boyfriend.”

“And he’s a lovely boy, too. So polite and sweet.”

“We’re just friends, okay, Mum? Nothing more.”

She finally emerged from the closet. “Sam, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“What?”

“I’ve met someone.”

I was stunned, and didn’t really want to hear any more. “That’s great, Mum. Who is he?”

“Oh, just someone from work. His name’s Greg. We went out tonight and had a marvelous time.” She paused a moment, then continued, “We haven’t been seeing each other very long, but I think I really like him.”

“That’s great, Mum,” I repeated, but my heart wasn’t in it.

Despite my cynicism about romance, I’d always secretly hoped my parents would get back together, so the thought of Mum dating someone else was disturbing.

“Maybe I’ll introduce him to you sometime,” she said hopefully. “Perhaps we could all go out to dinner.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just take one step at a time, okay? Like you say, it hasn’t been very long, and who knows if it’s even going to last?”

Mum pursed her lips, then turned back toward the closet. She pulled out a navy blue jumpsuit made of a chiffon-type material, held it up, and said, “What do you think of this?”

It was the first thing I’d seen that looked remotely interesting, but as I glanced down at the legs trailing on the floor, I shook my head. “Too bad it’s too big for me.”

“Never fear,” Mum said, her face brightening. “I’ll get out the sewing machine and we’ll take it in for you. It won’t take long.”

“Cool,” I smiled. And I meant it.

***

Taffin Carter lived in a white, mock Tudor mansion off Priory Lane, a street in Elmfield where no house cost less than two million. His parents were seriously loaded, and rumor had it Taffin had been expelled from three private schools before ending up at St. Mary’s. His father, John, was a newscaster for one of the big cable channels—I couldn’t remember which one.

Frasier and I arrived at nine-thirty and I was stunned by how beautiful everything was. Hundreds of tiny fairy lights lit up the driveway as our taxi drove through the entrance gates. As we entered the backyard, we saw tables filled with barbequed meat and fruit punch, and there was a bandstand off to one side where a DJ was busy whipping the guests into a party mood.

Frasier was wearing a black fedora, a white pin-stripe jacket with wide shoulders, and a pair of shiny silver trousers that tapered at the ends. For my part, the adjustments Mum had made to the jumpsuit were perfect, and it hugged my body as if it had been custom designed just for me. My short black hair was gelled like someone from an ‘80s music video, and I had even let Mum put some make-up on my face—just a little mascara, lipstick, and blush.

Still, I’d never liked large crowds and there were so many people there it looked as if Taffin had invited the whole school. I wondered how we’d ever find Becky.

As I looked around, Frasier went and got us each a glass of peach-flavored punch. It was way too sugary for me, but I thanked him for the effort and smiled as I sipped it in tiny gulps.

For a long while, we stood observing our surroundings until a boy with a fluorescent pink mohawk came up to us. “Hey, guys! I’m so glad you made it.”

“Hey, Taffin,” Frasier said, giving him a high-five.

“Are you enjoying the party?” Taffin asked excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s great,” Frasier enthused. “Oh, by the way, happy birthday.”

“Thank you!” Taffin turned to me and flashed a devilish grin. “Who’s your friend, Frasier? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“She goes to St. Mary’s with us,” Frasier replied. “Sam, this is Taffin.”

“Hello,” I said flatly, not happy with the way birthday boy was ogling me.

Suddenly, Taffin snatched Frasier’s fedora off his head and put it on his own, saying, “I think I’ll borrow this for a while.”

“Hey, give it back!” Frasier shouted above the noise of the DJ’s PA system.

Without a reply, Taffin raced away and disappeared into the house.

“Great. Just great,” Frasier said, shaking his head.

I bit my lip as I looked at him. His head looked like a shiny boiled egg. I then realized that his fedora hadn’t been a fashion statement. It was a way to cover my botched barber job.

I leaned toward him and asked, “You don’t like your haircut, do you?”

“I never said that.”

“I’m sorry, I messed it up. Can you forgive me?”

“Don’t worry, it’ll grow back,” Frasier replied stoically. “Eventually.”

“Come on,” I said, changing the subject. “Let’s go find Becky.”

We went inside the house and I marveled at the lush decor. Everything was done in white and beige, with marble floors and pillars, and ceilings so high they made me dizzy when I looked up. For the next hour we roamed from room to room, but there was no sign of Becky.

“Well, it’s still early,” I said, glancing at my watch. “She’s probably on her way. You know how long girls take to get ready.”

Frasier nodded glumly. Without his hat, his confidence seemed to have disappeared.

“I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll see you in a bit,” he said.

As Frasier walked away, I suddenly felt exposed and self-conscious. I didn’t even have a glass of punch for company. I had set it somewhere during our search for Becky.

As I stood by the marble staircase, feeling like an idiot, Taffin reappeared clutching a half-empty wine bottle. He offered me a swig, but I politely declined.

Then, leaning into me, he said, “I’ve been watching you.”

“Oh, really?” I said airily. “That’s nice.”

His eyes running up and down my body, he then said, “You’re gorgeous.” As I fiddled with my handbag, he added, “But I imagine you hear that all the time.”

“Actually, I don’t,” I replied truthfully.

“Have you got a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Seriously?”

I nodded.

“Wow, this looks like my lucky night.”