It was almost as if, once you left school, you got infected with some kind of zombie-apathy virus.
In disgust at seeing one more shopping post, she finally gave up on Facebook. She’d managed to send her dad a selfie today, when she’d gone up to Makeout Hill. She’d posed it very carefully, wearing the oldest and most faded of her thrift store finds. So there she was, no makeup, blond hair looking washed out in the overcast, a little thinner than she had been before (which she frankly thought was an improvement, and probably due to having to walk or bike everywhere), and looking more like an advertisement for helping street kids than the selfie on her Facebook page. She’d posed that one carefully too, wearing her best Juicy Couture outfit, makeup and jewelry that showed off her green eyes and good cheekbones, hair she had spent hours on. She’d told him she’d had to buy stuff to wear because she didn’t fit in and anyway, everything she had for summer was too light to wear given how cold it was here.
Okay, it was manipulative, but Brenda was manipulating him too, and anyway, it looked like the selfie had paid off. The latest email from Dad said he was sending her an L.L. Bean card. So at least she could get stuff that wouldn’t make her look like she was homeless.
If things weren’t exactly looking up, at least they weren’t quite sucking as much.
The sound of bottles clinking in the fridge made her decide she might as well take her lappie upstairs and watch a movie. Not feeling like being Mom’s drinking buddy, she reflected cynically. Although, at least last year, when Mom had taken her as a drunken confidant, she hadn’t also offered her beer.…
* * *
Friday found her early at the coffee bar, waiting for the others—who surprised her by coming in at five, rather than the seven she had expected. “Did you eat yet?” Wanda asked, as they all came in. She shook her head, expecting the answer to result in them all going over in a bunch to the Burger Shack.
“Good, then you might as well come along with us,” replied Seth. “Second Friday of the month.”
“Yeah, it is, what’s that got to do with anything?” she asked, standing up, and slinging her purse over her shoulder.
“First Methodist does a BBQ for teeeeeeeenz,” Wanda answered, drawing the word out sarcastically. “That means our folks don’t bother feeding us. Fourth Friday is a movie night with hot dogs. Which means our folks don’t bother feeding us.”
After a moment of thought, Staci identified “First Methodist” as the “okay church that sometimes puts stuff on for kids,” that Beth had told her about. “Okay,” she replied, following them out the door. Free food was free food. It couldn’t be worse than the Burger Shack.
As usual, the others were on foot, so she walked her bike along with them. The church in question was higher up on the slope that Silence was built on, and she was actually glad she wasn’t going to have to peddle her bike up it. The road they were taking was almost as steep a grade as the one up Makeout Hill.
When they got to the church—which at first glance looked like something on a New England postcard, all white and complete with steeple, and only at second glance did you notice that the new paint had been slapped over the old without anyone scraping or priming the bad parts—the BBQ was already as close to “going strong” as anything she’d yet seen in Silence. There were six adults presiding over six old kettle grills, three giant aluminum tubs full of ice and sodas, and a table with a red and white checkered tablecloth holding paper plates, condiments and bags of chips. Someone’s radio with blown-out speakers was tuned to Silence’s only station, and there were twenty or thirty kids ranging in age from nine to late teens milling around with food.
Looks like the gang’s ’rents aren’t the only ones that don’t bother feeding their kids.
This was the biggest number of people she had seen in one place, ever, in Silence. Even with the conversations and the music from the radio, the gathering seemed a little too quiet for that many people. Her group wove its way through the crowd until they had reached the tables with the food on them.
“Kind of dead, isn’t it?” Staci noticed that most people were keeping to themselves; the only conversations that were happening were in small clusters of people. Everyone that she made eye contact with looked away shortly after, as if they were purposefully ignoring her.
“Are you kidding? This is a regular jumping time in good ol’ Silence.” Jake had piled three hot dogs on his plate, and was reaching for a fourth. “Almost better than watching grass grow.”
It didn’t take long for her group to make their way through the food line and pick a corner in some shade from the setting sun. They were probably the loudest group there, and constantly got looks from the adults and some of the other kids. And it wasn’t as if they were being seriously loud. They were just talking normally.
As the sun went down, somebody turned on the exterior lights. There were a couple floods on the back of the church, and strings of old Christmas lights and the sort of bare-bulb things you used to see at used car lots before people realized having four big floodlights cost less to run than strings of bare bulbs. I didn’t know you could still get plain light bulbs…Then again, this was Silence. All 1950s, all the time. Except for the music which seemed to be stuck on “All Eagles, all the time.”
Staci ate mostly in silence, piping up for certain parts of the conversation that the others were having. By and large, she just listened.
“I don’t care; Boba Fett is seriously underwhelming.”
“Now that’s a bunch of crap! He’s an interstellar bounty hunter. He’s got weapons on every inch of his person, and a badass ship. He’s able to get the drop on Han Solo, for crying out loud!”
“Actually, that was Vader—”
“Whatever. Point is, I hope we see more of him.”
“He got knocked into the gut of a giant monster. By a blind guy. With a stick. The most you’ll be seeing of him is a pile of throwup with a dinged helmet in the middle of it.”
“Hey, read the Expanded Universe, Jake! You know I got the books. Rule of Cool, man.”
Staci was having a hard time keeping up with the flow of the conversation, but she was getting better than she had been when she first joined the group. At least she actually knew what Star Wars was. Wanda waited until the other three were fully involved in science fiction minutiae before she scooted over to where Staci was sitting.
“So, want the dope on the rest of the peeps here?” Wanda asked, in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Sure,” Staci whispered back, looking at her burger. It was better than the Burger Shack, even if it was a little burned.
“Okay, the adults don’t really count, but they’re the minister, Reverend Franklin, his wife Eloise, Fred and Thelma Krause, and Joe and Evelyn White. They’re all okay. Now, the six kids closest to us are the skaters. Ken and Stan Jennis, Larry Green, Jerry Krause and Tom Pendergras. You never see one of them alone, it’s like they are joined at the hip or something. The jocks and their gfs, who are the Cheerleading Squad, are just past them, and there’s no point in telling you who they are because you will never be invited into their exalted company.”
Staci giggled a little at that. “So the skaters are okay with us and—”
“And to the Loyal and Exalted Society of Jocks and Jockettes, we do not exist.” Wanda rolled her eyes. “You should remember I told you that our football and basketball teams have never won anything in the history of ever, right?”
“Yeah. Not sure what they have to be stuck-up about,” Staci agreed.
“Me either. The minute they graduate, they’re gonna go straight to work, and you know what the options are around here. Not that too many people from Silence ever go to college, but it’s a cinch the jocks never do. This is the best they’ll ever get. Gotta hang on to what little glory they can, I guess.” Wanda sighed. “Seems pretty pathetic to me, but they’re Neanderthals, so, uggah-wuggah, me strong, me alpha male.”
“So…the guys with the white T-shirts—let me guess, t
hey’re the science nerds?” Staci hazarded.
“Yes, and two of them are girls. Mary Krause, Bill Schoeder, Bob Flint, Kyle Peterson, Maureen Silk. They’re cool. The only reason they aren’t over here with us is because they’d have to cross alpha-male territory to get here.” Wanda finished off by pointing out a few of the kids who were eating alone, one with her nose stuck in a book, a harried kid who was trying to keep his hyperactive brother from jumping off the steeple or imploding, and about twenty kids who were “from the bad part of town, if you can imagine that we have one” who were keeping to themselves, and a half a dozen kids too young for high school. “There’s a lot of kids that don’t come here, or only come here once in a while, because they’re on night shift at a job, or they’re too tired after being on the fishing boats all day,” Wanda concluded. “Probably about two thirds of the kids going to high school have summer jobs. We’re desperate to get car and gas money, as you can imagine.”
“Yeah,” Staci agreed.
“Then there’s the Goths. Over there. In the shadows. Being mysterious. Sue ‘Valentina’ Griffin, Eric ‘Vlad’ White, Brittany ‘Bella’ Hailey, Rob ‘Blade’ Ketcham, and Kelsey ‘I’m-a-mega-bitch-and-play-with-dead-things-because-it’s-creepy’ Johnson. I used to hang out with them, but then they started to get way too dark and mopey. Even for me, which is saying something. Jake, Riley, and Seth are a better fit, anyways.”
“I was never into wearing uniforms,” Staci replied, eyeing their all-black outfits, dyed black hair, identical black nail polish and black eyeliner.
Wanda nearly choked on her bite of hot dog.
That got the attention of the Star Wars geeks. “What?” asked Seth.
“Uniforms—” Wanda managed to get out, nodding at the Goth clique. Seth looked at her puzzled for a moment; Riley got it first, and smothered a fit of giggles behind both hands.
“Really,” Jake said, when the light dawned for him. “And there is, seriously, only so much Morrissey and Nine Inch Nails you can listen to, am I right?”
And that was when the atmosphere changed, completely.
There was a…sound. Once you’ve heard the engine noise of a really expensive, really high-powered sports car, you never mistake that sound for anything else. The steel canyons of New York were good for that; Staci had heard, and consequently seen, a lot of high dollar cars. That was what Staci heard now, pulling up in the front of the church and stopping, and so did everyone else. All the conversations stopped dead. All heads turned; it was…weird. Even for Silence. Staci had never been in a situation where literally everyone stopped doing everything and waited for the appearance of—
He came around the corner of the church, and somehow, every bit of light seemed to be pulled towards him, as if he was creating his own spotlight. He paused for a moment, and cast his eyes over the crowd, giving the crowd more than enough time to take him in.
He looked to be in his late teens, he was blond and if you could be ruggedly handsome and angelic at the same time, he certainly fit both descriptions. Staci, as a New Yorker, knew how to pick out the subtle details that told you that someone’s clothing was expensive, and his certainly was. It might just be a light gray leather jacket, a black T-shirt, and a pair of jeans and boots, but the way it fit him, it all had to be tailored.
“That,” Wanda said, quietly enough that she didn’t break the silence, “is Sean Blackthorne, youngest of the Blackthornes, gracing us with his Presence.”
Sean’s eyes—a striking emerald green—passed over the crowd. He nodded to the jocks, waved a little to one of the adults, and then, locked gazes with Staci.
“None of them ever come to these things; I can’t ever remember one of them coming here, at least,” said Seth, his plate of food forgotten next to him.
The conversations started up again, now a little less muted than before, once Sean Blackthorne started to make his rounds. He flowed between all of the groups effortlessly, from the adults to the jocks to the math nerds to the Goths to the skaters. Staci couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. Once or twice, it looked as if Wanda was going to say something about that—but then she shut her mouth.
Then, for the second time, Sean Blackthorne locked gazes with Staci. From across the entire gathering, he was staring directly at her. Not just a passing glance…but staring at her. All of the conversations fell to a quiet hush again, as more and more of the attendees turned to see what Sean was looking at. Staci felt her face flush, and did her best to focus on what remained of the food on her plate. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Why is he looking at me?
She felt a block of ice drop into her stomach when she noticed that an expensive pair of boots had just walked up to her. Slowly, she let her eyes drift upwards. Sean must’ve been six and a half feet tall, easily. A chin that looked like it was hewn from marble, a strong Roman nose, and eyes that had a peculiar—and almost entrancing—glint in them. His golden hair wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either. It had that look to it that said someone who was paid an awful lot of money had cut it to look precisely halfway between tousled and tamed.
“Hi. I’m Sean Blackthorne. I don’t recognize you, and I know just about everyone in this little town of ours. What’s your name?”
“S-Staci,” she stammered, looking up into his green, green eyes. “Staci Kerry.”
Please, please, please don’t let him say “Oh, you must be Paula Kerry’s girl.…” She did not want him to know she was the daughter of the drunk waitress at the Rusty Bucket.
“A pleasure, Staci.” He smiled. It was a smile warm enough to make her knees feel a little weak. “I don’t know if this is too forward, but I was wondering if you would accompany me back to my family’s estate; a few of us are having a sort of impromptu get-together there, and my other date bailed on me.”
She blinked, not sure what to say. On the one hand—Oh my god, the hottest guy I have ever seen just asked me to his estate for a party! On the other hand, wasn’t this how every single rape-fantasy story ever started out? Or something like this? Not to mention about half the horror movies she had ever seen…
“Think about it,” he urged, as if he was reading her mind. “The invitation is open-ended and I’ll be here a while longer.” Then he strolled over to the Jocks’n’Cheers, with an understanding smile cast over one shoulder.
“Holeee shit,” Seth breathed. “That was Sean Blackthorne…”
“Inviting Staci to the Elite Meet and Eat, yeah,” Riley replied, envy in her voice thick enough to spread. “Oh man. I am so jealous. I am so jealous.” Then she looked down at herself with chagrin. “Not that I’m likely to pass as anything other than one of the maids.”
Staci felt someone jiggling her elbow; it was Wanda. Her eyes were wide, but not with excitement; it was alarm. She didn’t say anything, just kept her eyes locked with Staci’s, shaking her head very slightly. I didn’t think she’d be the jealous type. How can I say no to him? This could be my chance to actually get noticed in this nowhere town, and have something to do.
“You’ve got to go, Staci,” said Seth, even if his voice dripped envy. “Seriously. I’m dying to find out what goes on at those parties. Actually, I am dying to find out if they somehow got broadband, and if the rest of us can figure out how.”
“Get a gander at how the other half lives. And score some free chow! Don’t forget us little people; bring back as many doggie bags as you can.” Jake looked as if he was already daydreaming of lobster and steak.
Riley sighed. “Promise you’ll take notes, or something. The only thing anyone has ever said about the Blackthorne mansion to me is that it’s big and everything is expensive. Big duh there.”
Wanda rolled her eyes. It was clear she had been outvoted. “Be careful. That’s all I’m going to say.” She stood up, dusted the grass off of her clothing, and beelined for the soda coolers.
With the encouragement of three of the four Musketeers, Staci wound up her courage and left the group. She hesitated for a moment, halfway between
them and the gaggle of jocks and cheerleaders that Sean was currently talking to, when Sean turned his head a little and caught her eye again. Once more, she found herself mesmerized by his gaze as he made some comment, left the group and came towards her.
“Please tell me you decided to accept the invitation, not that you have a date with a good movie and some ice cream,” he said with a smile. “I don’t think my ego could stand it.”
“I’d love to come,” Staci said simply.
“Excellent. We were just about to head out.” He offered the crook of his arm for her. “Shall we?” He allowed his gaze to drift over the various groups and made a tiny circling motion with his free hand. Roughly five other people detached themselves from their cliques and followed them down to the car.
Staci had expected a sports car from the sound of that engine. It wasn’t. It was—well, she wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. It was certainly as sleek as an expensive sports car, but it had the capacity of a limousine. It was easy enough to fit everyone else, though Staci got pride-of-place in the front passenger seat. She wished she knew more about cars; all she could tell for sure was that the inside was mostly glove-soft blood-red leather, with dark wood and black-chrome details.
Sean started the car. The engine roared to life, the sound of it suggesting that Staci had been right about this vehicle having the heart of a high-dollar sports car. Then he touched a control, and music started in the middle of a song. Pop, but played through some really amazing speakers, the music took on a lush quality she’d never heard before. The couple of jocks and their cheerleader girlfriends that were in the back talked amongst themselves; they all seemed excited to actually be going to The Party, and hardly even noticed that Staci was there. She didn’t mind that, actually; it was a lot better to be overlooked than purposefully ignored.
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