The Nightworld (2 page)

Chapter 3

I wake up late on Saturday—it’s almost noon by the time I roll out of bed. My body clock has already adapted to a summer schedule. It’s sunny, one of those warm, breezy June days that make you glad to be alive and out of school for the summer. When I get downstairs, the light above the basement door is on. I don’t think it’s been off for the last two days. I know Dad’s still alive because he leaves dirty dishes in the sink, but I haven’t seen him since we had our stew dinner together. He’s left me two sticky notes on the fridge. One, left yesterday, said
Plz p/u milk
and had a ten-dollar bill attached to it. He likes lots of milk in his coffee. I walked down to the corner mini-mart to get it for him and spent the change on chips. Today’s note says
Don’t frgt to mow
with a smiley face drawn under it.

The lawn is my job. I mow it once a week during the summer, and I get ten bucks a pop. Keeps me in Twizzlers. And Dad thinks it teaches me about responsibility. Who knows, maybe it does.

After a brunch of cereal and a banana, I go out to the garage and get the mower. It’s already hot out, and the sun beats down on the top of my head. The lawn doesn’t look too bad—it won’t take long. That’s good, because tonight’s Lara’s thing, and I want time to get ready. I usually don’t give much thought to what I wear, but I know I’ll try on five different T-shirts before I hit the right one for tonight.

My phone vibrates just as I’m finishing the lawn. It’s Charlie. He’s texting to see what time he should be ready.

Crap.

It’s not like Lara even invited Charlie. I mean, he just happened to be there when she invited me. And none of my daydreams about how the party is going to go involve Charlie standing around drooling while I put the moves on Lara.

Still, he’s my best friend. He stood up for me in fourth grade, when Ben Anderson decided to start his career as class bully with me as his first victim. When Amy Winters broke my heart in sixth grade, he told her that Donny Morris, the guy she ditched me for, cheated on her. Last year, when I thought I was going to flunk Algebra II, he explained how to solve linear equations over and over until I got it.

Part of me wants to ignore the text, just pretend I never got it, but I know I can’t. I do a quick revision in my head of all the scenes of the party I’ve imagined so far, and add Charlie. It’s not quite the same imagining me and Lara
and Charlie
hanging out on her sofa, listening to music, while all the rest of the people at the party just fade into the background. It doesn’t work quite as well when I lean in for that kiss if Charlie’s grinning at the two of us like a loon.

Nothing to be done about it, though. I text Charlie and tell him to meet me at the bus stop at seven thirty.

I shower—the longest shower ever, I think—and shave, even though there’s not much to shave yet. After several tries I find just the right combination of jeans and a T-shirt. Once I’m happy with my look, I head downstairs to make a sandwich.

The light is still on above the basement door, and the generator is humming away. I grab the peanut butter from the cupboard and slather some on a slice of bread. There’s an apple left in the fruit bowl, and I eat that too. It’s seven fifteen; almost time to go. I know better than to disturb Dad, so I go to the fridge to write him a note and find one he’s left me, sometime between when I went out to mow and now. It says
Have a good time—be careful. Home by eleven
.

My hopes of getting out of the house without a clear curfew crumble. Eleven! That’s so lame. I draw a frowny face under his note and write
Eleven?! Love you anyway
.
See you tomorrow.
Although knowing him, he’ll probably choose tonight to wait up for me.

Charlie is standing at the bus stop. He waves when I’m still half a block away, and jumps up and down a little. I duck my head and grin. What a goof. I’m glad I didn’t pretend not to get his text, even though he’s bound to throw some sort of wrench in my plan to get next to Lara.

“Dude,” he says once I reach the stop.

“Uh-huh?” I take in his Death Cab for Cutie T-shirt and his khakis. Red high-tops finish off the look. If I was hoping for Charlie to wear something sort of normal, I was wasting my time.

“I figured you’d pretend you never got my text.”

I try to look like he’s crazy. “Would I do that?”

Charlie just laughs. The bus pulls up and we climb aboard.

“Who else do you think is coming?” Charlie raises his voice in order to be heard above the bus engine.

I shrug. I’ve been so focused on the fact that Lara invited me that I haven’t even thought of who else she’s invited.

“I bet Morris will be there.” Charlie knows I still harbor a grudge against Donny, ever since he stole my girlfriend in sixth grade. Okay, it was just sixth grade and barely even counted, but even so. “He’s always checking Lara out in chem lab.”

I hate to admit it, but I saw that too. It was almost like sixth grade repeating itself, except that Lara didn’t seem to be interested in Donny, even though now he’s the quarterback for the stupid football team. Chem lab had been a sort of sweet torture, watching Lara from three stations behind, wishing I could get up the guts to ask to be part of her group for the final project, knowing I never would. At least Donny hadn’t either.

“Man, I guess I should have brought my jacket.” Charlie’s voice brought me back from my reverie.

“What do you mean? It’s . . .” I was about to say “It’s an awesome day,” but when I look out the bus window, I see what Charlie means. There’s a mean-looking storm cloud far off in the distance. It will take a while to reach us, but by the time the party’s over I bet it will be pouring rain. I didn’t bring a jacket either.

“Oh, well,” says Charlie. “We can steal Donny’s jacket.” He grins.

“Listen, Charlie.” I’m not sure how to get my point across without hurting his feelings. “Not sayin’ it will happen, but if by some miracle I get next to Lara . . .”

Charlie looks at me blankly, waiting for more. I can’t think how to put it in a delicate way. “I mean, if we were to, you know. . .”

“You mean you don’t want me around you at the party?” He looks a little hurt.

“It’s not that I don’t want you around . . .”

Charlie starts laughing. “Got ya.” He shakes his head at me. “Dude. Like I’m gonna hang on you if you get a chance with her? Tell me you know me better than that by now.”

Charlie may be a pain in the ass sometimes. But he’s still my best friend, you know?

Chapter 4

When we get off the bus, I look up at the sky and notice that the cloud we saw earlier has gotten even bigger. There’s something about it that makes me a little nervous, but I don’t have much time to think about it. I’m looking up at Lara’s building, and suddenly I’m nervous. It’s a fancy high-rise, with a doorman and one of those lobbies with more art in it than most galleries. Are we really going to do this? She
did
really invite me, right?

The doorman gives us a look, but nothing compared to the look we get from the guy behind the desk in the lobby. “Boys,” he says with the same tone Mrs. Martin uses when she has to explain dirty jokes in Shakespeare to the class. “Are you expected?”

At first I don’t know what he means, but Charlie does.

“We are, Jeeves,” he says, in a fake English accent. “We certainly are.”

The guy ignores him and turns to me. “Who might be expecting a visit from you?”

“Um, Lara . . . um, Hanover.” I wonder if I’m supposed to prove it somehow.

“I see.” He doesn’t sound like he approves. “Just so you’re aware, the building management is of the understanding that Ms. Hanover’s parents are abroad. We have instructions to limit the attendance of her soiree this evening.” He looks us both up and down. “Wait right there while I call up to see if you two are in the in crowd, won’t you?” He turns his back and picks up a desk phone, punches in some numbers. We hear some murmuring, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.

Charlie and I look at each other. We’re not in the in crowd. Never have been. I heave a sigh, get ready for the boot. Charlie gives me his best it-ain’t-over-till-it’s-over look and plants his feet more squarely on the marble floor.

“Well.” The desk guy turns back around, an irritated look on his face. “It appears that at least one of you is on the list. Which one of you is Nick?”

I raise my hand.

“You, my fair sir, are on the list.” The guy eyes me. “Your friend is not.”

I can see Charlie already deflating. I don’t like this guy. He seems to me to be like every guy I’ve ever known who wants to be sure you know you’re not up to par, that you don’t quite have what it takes. You just never know where you’ll run into one, but they’re all pretty much the same. That “Your friend is not” shit? One of their favorite tactics. Divide and conquer. They figure you’ll ditch your friend for the prestige they’re holding out like candy, and sometimes they’re right. I’ve seen people do it.

“I think you better call again.”

The guy’s having none of me. “I’ve already confirmed with the lady.”

“Well.” I take out my cell phone. “Either you can call her, or I will.” I wait, hoping there is no way he can know that I don’t even have Lara’s number. He doesn’t budge, so I start tapping on the screen of my phone.

“Very well.” He snarls the words, and turns back to his phone, stabbing in numbers. “Ms. Hanover. Yes. The person you indicated had approval . . . yes, that Nick person. He is insisting that his friend must be on the list as well. What? Well, one moment.” He turns back to me and gestures toward Charlie. “What’s his name?”

“Charlie.”

He turns back, and we can hear him say Charlie’s name. After a few seconds he hangs up the phone. I steel myself, because as much as I want to go to Lara’s party, if she doesn’t let Charlie in, I don’t know what I’ll do.

The guy looks at us with that same disgusted expression. But I can tell we won by the peeved expression on his face. He doesn’t even bother to tell us we got the okay, just shrugs in annoyance and motions for us to go on up. “Number 1201,” he says.

I give him an exaggerated military salute and snap my heels together. “See you later.”

We head for the bank of elevators. When we get inside, Charlie looks at the buttons and his eyes get all wide, like he’s seeing God or something. “She’s all the way at the top. Wonder if it’s the penthouse.”

I look too, and sure enough, there are only twelve floors. “Top floor doesn’t mean it’s a penthouse. I bet there are lots of apartments on twelve.”

But when the doors whoosh open, we spill out into a small landing with a table, a small sofa, and one door with the number 1201 on it.

“Penthouse,” breathes Charlie, like he’s seeing a starlet in person.

I reach up to lift the knocker, a brass lion, no less, and the door whips opens before I can even touch the lion’s mane. Radiohead blares out, along with cigarette smoke and laughter. It looks like there’s quite a crowd already here. Some guy I don’t recognize looms in the doorway.

“Damn, I wore the wrong shirt,” mumbles Charlie, looking down at his Death Cab for Cutie. He has the largest collection of band T-shirts in the known universe. I know just the Radiohead shirt he’s thinking of because I’ve seen him wear it a million times.

“You Nick?” The guy is older than us—he looks like he must be in college. I think I recognize him from Lara’s Facebook photos, but I’m not sure.

“That’s me.” I wonder if he’s Lara’s boyfriend. I bet. I bet she just invited me to the party out of pity or something.

“Nick!” Lara bounces up, laughing, and puts her arm around the guy’s waist. “So glad you could come!” She looks amazing. I mean, she always looks amazing, but there’s something different about her tonight. She’s dressed up, sure, but cool and relaxed too. There’s an easiness to her smile and an amused look in her eye, like she just heard a joke. She’s on her home turf now, and it makes her more beautiful than ever.

“Charlie, you too! Glad you’re here. Is Brian acting like the bouncer again?” She mock-punches the guy in the side. He grabs her and messes up her hair. And—another reason I think she is the coolest chick ever—she doesn’t care.

Lara smiles at me and Charlie. “Brian doesn’t bite. He just likes to act all big-brother-y when he’s home from college.” She wrinkles her nose. “Come on in.”

He’s her brother! I hear angels singing somewhere. We follow her into a room with one wall made entirely of windows. There’s a huge flat screen mounted on the opposite wall, flashing music videos. A couch and some chairs furnish the room, but they’re not like the furniture in my living room. Clearly we’re looking at a different level of couch and chairs, from a different level of store, if they even came from a store. I bet they got delivered from some designer place. After they got picked out by some designer. It looks like Charlie and I walked onto a movie set instead of into somebody’s apartment. I wonder what Lara’s parents do for a living; must be something with pretty good pay.

The place is packed, both with kids I recognize from school and others I don’t. People mill around in the living area, staring at the flat screen and talking in little groups. There’s bottled beer chilling in ice and a spread of food that looks like it had to be catered. Do people really cater their high school parties? I’m more used to a keg and some Doritos and dip. Charlie grabs a beer and starts loading up a paper plate with delicacies. Lara watches him, amusement coloring her face. Then she looks at me and sort of tilts her head in a way that makes my heart beat faster.

“Want a beer, Nick?”

“Sure.” I take the bottle she hands me. We stand, two feet apart, awkward and silent. Charlie’s busy with his food and seems to be keeping his distance nicely. Finally I say, “How have you been?”

“How have you been?” Freaking genius. I saw her three days ago. I’m sure nothing earth-shattering has happened to her since then. She must think I’m such a—

“Okay.” She smiles that smile and I stop thinking. “Nothing much going on. How have you been?”

“Um, you know. The same.” We both start laughing.

“Want to check out the view?” She starts walking toward the windows, and I see that one of them is a door. I follow her through the room, out onto a balcony that looks over the entire city. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the city all lit up and spread out like this before. It would be amazing to see this every day.

“Weird,” Lara says with a frown.

“What?”

“It’s only eight o’clock.” She points toward the rest of the city. “There are never that many lights on this early.” Lara looks up at the sky, eyeing the cloud cover. “Then again, it’s never this dark on a summer evening at eight o’clock at night.”

The dark cloud that was off in the distance when Charlie and I were at the bus stop has grown into a blob that blots out the sun as it gets ready to set.

“Looks like there’s going to be a storm.” I smile sideways. “Hey, maybe I’ll have an excuse to miss my curfew. I can’t go home if it’s raining, right?”

Lara rolls her eyes and looks like she’s trying not to let on that she thinks it’s funny, but she can’t help letting out a little stutter of a laugh. She just shakes her head and looks back up at the cloud, not saying anything.

I know I should try to be chill, but I can’t stop looking at her. I almost can’t believe I’m standing here with her like this, like we’re old friends or something. Her hair’s come a little bit undone and it’s blowing a little in the breeze, twisting into her face. It’s blue, then pink and then yellow again in this weird, shifting twilight.

I almost want to reach out and put my arm around her—I have this weird feeling that she wouldn’t push me away. But just as I’m about to do it, she turns from the sky and back to me and busts me staring. I feel heat rise to my cheeks.

“It was cool being in class with you this year,” she says.

I’m surprised. I didn’t even think she’d noticed me. “Um,” I mumble. “It was?”

“Yeah. I, um, I sort of wondered if maybe you were going to ask me out, before the year was over. But you never did.” She looks up at me sort of funny, and it suddenly hits me. I realize that she must be shy. Lara Hanover, shy!

“Wow.” I don’t know what to say.

“You’re really pretty smart, aren’t you, Nick? I noticed in Mrs. Martin’s class that you really read the assignments. I could tell because of the way you knew what she was talking about sometimes.” Lara looks down at the balcony railing. “I read them too. I like books, mostly.” She looks back up at me. “Does that sound dumb?”

I’m about to say that she could never sound dumb to me, when my worst nightmare appears at the balcony door.

“There you are!”

I close my eyes. I know that voice. I turn, and sure enough, there’s Donny Morris. Standing just inside the apartment, grinning his sleazy grin at Lara. “I wondered where you were hiding.”

Lara smiles back at him. I’m not surprised—I’ve never seen her be mean to anyone. “Hi, Donny. Did you find the beer?”

Donny keeps grinning and brandishes a bottle. “I sure did. Want to show me that game now, Lara?” He holds up another bottle he’s been hiding behind his back.

“Oh, Donny, I forgot.” Lara looks at me, an apology of some sort in her eyes. “I told Donny I’d show him Brian’s newest Wii game. Maybe,” she says to me in a lower tone, “we can meet up later.” Then she’s heading toward Donny, and I’m standing there alone.