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“You’re going to invite G., right?” she asked, arching one of her brows. She was folding laundry and doing it badly.
“Here, give me that,” I said, grabbing the slacks from her. “You’re going to wrinkle your mom’s pants and then she’s going to be mad. Of course I am going to invite G. That’s the whole reason I’m having this part- I mean get-together—in the first place.” I folded her mom’s slacks along the crease in the front and grabbed another pair out of the pile. “I thought it would be good for him to get to know some people before school starts.”
“Right, and it’s not because you’ve got dibs on him or anything?” She was not looking at me with interest.
“What? No. I can clearly see you’ve staked your claim. Besides, he already texted me about you.”
Her eyeballs nearly popped out of her head. Good thing she was wearing her glasses to keep them in. “Really?” She shrieked a little bit on that last part.
“Seriously Tara, would I make something like that up? Yes, really. He wanted to know what you were like. And he said you had crazy hair.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Well, I doubt he would have texted me about you in the first place if it was bad.”
Tara grabbed the remaining stray socks, scooped them into a pile, and plopped on the bed. “Well that’s unexpected. I mean, awesome, but unexpected.”
Here we go. “What?”
“If he likes me back – I’m not sure what to do about that, you know? No one has ever liked me back before.”
“You’ll figure it out. Just be natural, don’t try too hard to impress him with your encyclopedic brain, and for Pete’s sake, don’t start talking all your crazy new-age talk until after he’s gotten to know you a little bit.”
Tara nodded sagely. “Right. Don’t want to scare him off. What should I wear?”
06. TARA
I pulled a flouncy skirt out of my closet and held it up, examining myself in the full-length mirror across the room. Sigh. I don't have Mel's legs – maybe I should focus on the assets I do have. I looked down at my cleavage and grinned. Something sassy but not too revealing—I don't want G. to think I'm easy. On the other hand, he's really tall, so anything a little revealing... I spied an indigo colored scoop-neck blouse with the tag still on; I held it up to my chest.
“Hello, Othello.” The indigo made my eyes stand out, and my hair went from brassy gold to tawny just from the contrast. Oh, yeah.
It was kind of hot out, but since Mel always seemed to have the AC on arctic-cold, I decided to pair the blouse with some skinny jeans, a silver medallion belt cinched at the waist to accentuate my curves, and slouch boots.
Clothes on, hair fluffed, mascara, eyeliner and lip gloss applied, I surveyed my “look.” A little bit sexy, a little bit bookish. Perfect. I reached up to pull the string on my closet light and saw the game boxes piled on the top shelf. Most of them were not party material, but the Spirit Board caught my eye. If ever there was a time to pull out something spooky and fun, this was it, and who cared what Sam would say?
I pulled it down and made for the door. The new quartz crystal glinted at me from my nightstand; I grabbed it as an afterthought. I'd never used the Spirit Board before, but I was pretty sure I read somewhere that having a crystal around would keep it 'light' in case the thing actually worked.
A car honked outside. “Bye Mom, going to Mel's!” I shouted, half out the door. I didn't wait for her response—she knew my routine. It was the summer, it was the weekend, and I was going to be at Mel's and home by one. It had been the same practically every weekend since I started my sophomore year.
“What's that?” asked Mel, glancing at the box as I slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door.
“It's a Spirit Board. I thought maybe video games would get old, and something like this would be fun for later when it gets dark out.”
Mel shrugged. “I doubt they will ever get bored of video games, but who knows? Good idea to have a backup. I've never used one.”
“Me either,” I said, my hand sliding over the top of the box. “My Aunt gave it to me one year for Christmas. She said she had one growing up, and it was fun for slumber parties. But I pretty much forgot about it until tonight when I saw it in the closet. I've never even opened the box.”
“Cool. Let's stop by the store. Sam said he could get me a discount on a party tray. Should we get anything else besides that and soda?”
“Probably extra crackers and chips and stuff. I brought ten bucks so I could chip in.” I pulled the worn ten dollar bill out of my wallet and flipped it to her, as if money were nothing and I was made of the stuff, all nonchalant-like. I really needed a job.
Melody took the bill and stuffed it into her pocket and grinned. “Thanks! That will help.” She pulled into the parking space and shut off the car. “Are you nervous?”
“What, me? Pshaw. You think I dress like this every day?”
“I know you don't. But you look great.” She grinned again. “Can you can help me with my hair?”
“Of course. As long as you have lots of hairspray.” Melody's hair was famously straight, and she was always trying to do something nonstraight with it. “Who are you dressing up for?”
“No one in particular. But it can't hurt. Sam is bringing Colton and Tyler with him.”
“I feel ya, Ophelia.”
Sam, Sam, Sam. Don't you know better than to invite cute friends to your not-so-secret-crush's party?
07 G.
There were a couple of cars parked in front of the house, the evening sun glinting off of windshields and custom wheels. I parked behind them and let the engine idle for a second or two before turning it off. Meeting new people was never really my thing, so I was totally out of my comfort zone. Melody said on the phone that Tara was going to be there and was already picking her brain about me, which just pushed me over the edge of nervous and into dread. My palms were sweaty and I hoped that the body spray I used after the shower was enough to cover the faint smell of grease left over from The Blossom.
I knocked and waited for someone to answer. It seemed awfully quiet for a party. Before long, an older lady with flowy gray hair and a smile opened the door wide. “You must be Gideon,” she said, and pulled me in.
My jaw dropped in surprise, “No, it's just G.--”
“Melody and the others are in Matthew’s—I mean the clubhouse, out back. Go on through.” She ignored my protest and shooed me down the central hall of the house toward a screen door that opened into the backyard. Just as I was about to push the door open, the lady reappeared and put a glass of lemonade in my hand. “Don't be shy. They're a good bunch. And please tell Melody to come in for a moment to say good night to her grandfather.”
The yard was nicely landscaped with some sort of smelly herb garden thing on one end and a bunch of rose bushes on the other. There was mismatched patio furniture, an old chiminea, and lots of great big pecan trees. There was a small, square white building on the far end near the rose bushes that had brightly lit windows and familiar noises emanating from it.
“Aw, man, you totally had that!” someone yelled as I stepped into the doorway. Just inside I could see a kitchen-style counter with snacks, a table and chairs with the girls clustered around it, and a few guys perched on a couple of old loveseats playing video games. A local Top-40 radio station played in the background. I took a breath. No point in going gutless now.
“Hey Melody,” I said as I approached the table. “You're supposed to go in and say goodnight to your grandfather.”
Melody turned. “Oh, hey G.! Everybody, this is G. G., this is Shelby, Tara you already know, Brittney,” she paused to point toward the couch, “Tyler, Colton, Sam.”
I don't think I spared more than a glance for the guys once my eyes landed on Tara. She looked hot. And she had even more of that crazy hair than I remembered. Maybe I would start calling her Rapunzel. “Hey,” I said, my gaze locked on hers.
“Hey.” She grinned back, her cheeks going a little pink.
I made a valiant effort to resist looking to see whether or not the pink tinge traveled down her neck to her br... Ahem. Crap, failed my saving throw. Her curves were even curvier than I remembered. Now it was my turn for my face to get hot.
I felt a jarring slap on my shoulder and looked to see Sam, grinning from Tara to me like he'd won some sort of prize. “How's your skillz?”
“Depends on the game,” I countered, sneaking a glance back at Tara, whose smile fell a little.
“Road Kill: Vengeance,” he said, nodding toward the game deck.
“Not great. When you get to Omega Wars, though, give me a shout.” I turned back to Tara.
Sam gave me an absent-minded wave and went back to gaming, and from the look Rapunzel gave me, I knew I'd made the right choice.
We sat out on the stoop and watched the fireflies buzz through the air, rowdy hoots and hollers coming from the clubhouse behind us. It was one of those pauses I usually dreaded, the kind where both people go silent and you search around for something to say. Except this time, sitting with Tara, as close as I could get to her without touching, I didn’t feel the urge to fill the silence with anything. Instead I looked out over the garden, moonlight illuminating the roses and the patio furniture, yellow lights glowing in the windows of the house beyond, and I felt supercharged. There was something in the air, or maybe it was just being so close to Tara, but I swear I knew every breath she took and could practically feel the heat of her hand where it sat on her knee, a few inches away from mine. My hand twitched. I wanted to touch her so bad it was distracting. I took a drink from my soda instead.
“So when Melody’s grandmother told me to come out here, she called this Matthew’s clubhouse? Who’s Matthew?”
Tara rustled and shifted next to me, and I felt each movement as if we were connected by strings. The mood changed a little bit and I turned to look at her, suddenly afraid I had said something wrong. The moonlight lit her hair up like strands of gold, and the shadow between her breasts threatened to make me forget my own name. Good Lord, I had never felt like this around a girl before. What the hell was wrong with me?
Except I liked it.
“Matthew is, was, Melody’s older brother. When he graduated from high school, Melody’s grandparents turned this building into a small apartment for him so that he could have his own “place.” One day he didn’t come home from work, and the next day he didn’t come home either…and Melody went to look for him at his garage. It was a mess. She found a lot of blood and evidence something really bad had happened, but no Matthew.
“They did a DNA test, it was definitely Matthew’s blood, so finally they had a funeral with an empty casket. For a while no one came out here.” She paused. “And then a few months ago, Melody and her grandmother packed up Matthew’s personal stuff and decided to turn the place into a clubhouse. But this is the first time she’s actually used it. It’s been really hard on her. I’m glad she’s finally—” her hand fluttered like it was reaching for the right words.
“Man, that’s rough.” I said, sorry I had brought it up.
“Yeah, it is.” She got still for a moment, looking off toward the house and the patio.
I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so I said nothing. If it were me and one of my boys talking, we’d just wait it out.
Finally she broke the silence. “Hey, they sound like they’re getting tired of video games in there. Wanna go in and see?” She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I brought something spooky to try now that it’s dark out.”
Glad for the change of subject, I grinned. Standing, I held out a hand to help her up and felt my insides flip flop when she grabbed it. Apparently she felt it too, because she giggled and her fingers tightened on mine.
“I’ve been waiting hours for you to do that,” she smiled.
08. MELODY
It felt like the get-together was winding down just as Tara and G. came back in. They were both smiling, and I swear I saw them holding hands. Tara gave me a covert thumbs-up sign and I felt glad for her. G. didn’t look unhappy either.
“Hey, you guys, now that it’s dark out I thought maybe we’d give the video games a break for a while. Anyone wanna try out my Spirit Board?” Tara pulled the box out from one of the cupboards and put it out on the table.
“I don’t know,” said Shelby. “Isn’t that devil worship stuff?”
“Nah, it’s for talking to spirits,” Tara said, unboxing the board and planchette. “You know, like that guy on TV who talks to dead people. Only with a Spirit Board, anyone can do it.”
Everyone looked at me then, and I realized they were waiting for me to say something. I shrugged, only a little uneasy. “I don’t believe in that stuff,” I said. “I think that guy on TV is fake, too.”
Brittney walked over and grabbed the information booklet that came with the board. “Has anyone used one of these before? Do we need to read the…like, rules?”
Tara looked at me. “Mel, do you have any candles or anything? You know, mood lighting?”
I looked around and shrugged. “Not out here, but Gram definitely has some back at the house. I’ll get a few.” Ignoring Brittney who was now reading the ‘rules’ aloud to the rest of the group, I pushed through the door and out into the night. It was beautiful out, the stars were crisp and clear, and the moon was now setting behind the house.
“Hey, I’ll come with you,” Sam said as he jogged up next to me.
“Thanks,” I said. I led him into the kitchen and motioned for him to grab the matches off of the windowsill while I dug in the cavernous pantry for the basket of candles. “You think we need anything else?”
Sam cocked his head and grinned. “If we were on some TV show, we’d have some sort of recording equipment. Like, at least a voice recorder or a camera. Unless you have a spare EMF reader around?”
I laughed. Knowing my grandparents, anything was possible. Before Gramps got sick, he was a notorious flea-market hound. The closets were stuffed full of things he thought might be useful or worth money someday, not to mention what he’d crammed in his workshop and the library. “Who knows?” I said. “But doesn’t everyone already have a cell phone? Couldn’t we use those?” I flicked the kitchen light off and made toward the back door.
“Hey, I might even have an app for that,” he said, fishing his phone out of his pocket and thumbing through the widget screens. “I do! Not an EMF meter but better, an EVP recorder… I’m going to try it out.” He held the light of his phone up under his face, illuminating it from below. “You never know what we might find, muahahaha.”
“Dork,” I said over my shoulder and walked back out into the night. As I stood on the stoop waiting for him to catch up, there was a sudden chill, despite the lack of breeze, and I shivered. Sam came up next to me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he said, half-joking. But when I looked into his dark, narrow eyes, I saw something else there; something serious.
“Your dream creeping you out again?” I asked, watching to see his reaction. Sam didn’t like to talk about his dreams, so when he did, I actually paid attention, because sometimes they came true.
He hesitated and then laughed it off. “It’s nothing. Let’s just get this party started.” He strode off to the clubhouse. “You coming? Or you chicken? Buh-kah!”
“Shh, you’ll wake my grandparents with that chicken cackle!” I said, but it made me grin.
We set the board up over by the love seats, since the low table was a little easier to get everyone around. Tyler and Colton were mocking, but cooperative, Shelby hung back, doubtful, and Brittney was all-in. Tara was in the middle, and Sam and I sat off to the side. G. just sort of hung back behind Tara. Not really fitting in, I suppose, but he still wanted to be part of the group. It’s just as well, the planchette was really crowded with so many eager fingers in the middle.
“This will never work. Too many arms in the
way. How am I supposed to read the board?” Tara complained.
“Here, I’ll step back. Give me the notepad and the pencil. I can be record keeper,” I said, secretly relieved to not have Sam pressing against me in order to fit his fingers on the planchette.
“Me too,” said Colton, falling back. “I need to use the john anyways,” he let out a big root beer–fueled belch and trudged off to the restroom.
“Okay, that’s better,” said Tara. “We can do more than one session anyways, and switch out people if we need to, right? Hey Shelby, will you light those candles? G., will you turn off the lights?”
Shelby grimaced. I could see she was truly not comfortable about any of this. “How about G. can light the candles and I can turn off the lights,” she said. It was a statement, not a question.
Tara shrugged, the rest of us laughed, and G. was happy to oblige. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, getting up from the table to dig around in her purse. She pulled the new quartz crystal out and raised it up. “This should make you feel better, Shelby. The quartz will keep anything 'dark' away.”
Shelby seemed dubious that something witchy like a crystal was going to help keep devil-worship things from happening. I wanted to laugh at the irony, but didn't. It would just piss her, and/or Tara, off.
“Ooooh,” said Tyler “Spooky.”
Tara glowered at him. “Whatever. You don't have to participate if you don't want to.”
“Oh no, I want to. I just think you're lame for putting a crystal on the board is all. Like that will actually help.”
At moments like these, I actually admired Tara; when she wanted to let things slide off her back, she just did it. Like water off a duck. If it were something I felt strongly about, I would have tossed off some smart-ass reply to Tyler's teasing. But not Tara. She just smiled and said, “Better safe than sorry. Besides, this is supposed to be fun, not like that movie, Ouija.”
A Quarrel Called: Stewards Of The Plane Book 1 Page 3