Lost Girls(45)

Zoe giggled. “Mine gets an 8, mostly for effort.”

Both she and Stephanie cracked up. They kept laughing and analyzing all the boys they knew for the rest of the ride. We passed Pasadena, Eagle Rock, and Glendale, then swung onto the 5, and somewhere around Burbank we took an exit, heading down one side street after another, through seedy neighborhoods that got worse and worse the farther we drove. Tenement buildings with graffiti loomed over cracked and pock-marked streets; gang members sold drugs on street corners next to houses with boarded-up windows and crumbling roofs; a dilapidated building with signs that read SUPER MARKET and CHECKS CASHED HERE and BEER AND WINE stood abandoned, the windows painted white and the doors hanging open. I tensed up, biting my lip, glancing at Lauren from time to time.

“Do you know where you’re going, ’cause it sure looks like we’re lost,” I said.

Right about then, that little black box on my dresser seemed pretty innocent. It would have left me alone—as long as I ignored it. Not so with the streetwalkers and pimps who tried to get our attention, or the homeless guys who wheeled natty shopping carts filled with stereo speakers and DVD players and other electronic equipment that had obviously been stolen.

“No worries,” Lauren said. “We’ll be out of this area in a minute.”

I regretted leaving that kandi bracelet and my cell phone behind. Even having Dad mad at me and getting grounded was better than what could happen if Lauren’s car broke down here.

She was right, though. A few minutes later, the streets began to empty of all the dangerous street thugs. Houses and liquor stores gave way to weedy parking lots and long, flat-roofed warehouses. Lights gleamed up ahead, casting long shadows, and the cars parked on the streets started to look nicer. Mustangs, Hondas, a Scion here and there, no cracked windows or red plastic tape covering broken taillights. A steady stream of people drifted in the same direction as us—girls in platform shoes and shorts, guys wearing ripped jeans and strange costumes. Music thumped in the distance, not loud yet, but I knew it would get louder soon.

“Almost there,” Stephanie said from the backseat. “Wish we had time for another joint.”

“You’ve had plenty,” Lauren admonished. Apparently one freebie was all the others were going to get, although that was fine with me. I’d rather have us all level-headed when we got there—wherever that was.

“Are we going to a rave?” I asked, feeling like a kid going to her first girl/boy party, unsure what to expect.

“Most definitely,” Lauren said.

“A Phase Two rave?” I asked. She’d never answered that question before.

“Oh, yeah.”

The other girls started giggling again.

The building appeared then, lit up by moving spotlights. From the outside, it looked like we were going to a circus. A pack of girls wearing pink wigs, black swimsuits and fishnet stockings wandered around, handing out kandi bracelets and glow sticks and pacifiers on beaded necklaces. Guys wore devil horns, red face paint and pants wrapped with bright green glowing bands; they had long hair or short hair, were clean-shaven or sported gross, waist-long beards; they wore skintight shirts or no shirts, most of them exposing muscles that looked like they’d been carved by a Renaissance sculptor.

“Oooh, baby,” Lauren said, after we slid into a parking spot and climbed out of the car. “This place is epic tonight. Come on, let’s get inside.” Stephanie and Zoe took off their jackets and tossed them in the backseat. I started to do the same, knowing it would be hot inside. Lauren stopped me. “Leave your jacket on,” she said with a grin. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Zoe grinned. “That’s right! Rachel doesn’t know—”

“Shhh! Don’t wreck it,” Stephanie said.

“What kind of lame-ass surprise involves me wearing a jacket?” I asked, but I had to jog to catch up with them, because they were already running toward the door. I was a bit amazed that Lauren could move so fast in those stilettos and still make it look elegant. It was like she was some kind of gazelle, loping across the Serengeti, finally in her natural habitat.

Meanwhile, two girls, wearing rainbow tutus and purple tank tops, dashed toward us.

“You guys want some E? We got some. Real cheap.”

They lowered their neon-colored sunglasses to look me in the eye, as if that would convince me. Lauren paused, looking tempted. No way was I letting her get higher than she already was.

“Beat it!” I shook a fist at one of the girls.

“Whoa!” She backed away, hands palms up. “What about the peace and love, girlfriend? Remember where you are.”

“And you remember me and stay the eff away. Got it?”

They scampered off, looking more like fairies than real girls. Lauren grinned and pointed a finger at me. “Once we get inside, the real you is coming out. I promise.” She latched onto my hand. “Let’s go, we gotta get inside quick. We’re late.”

I wanted to ask late for what, but I knew she had some sort of surprise going on here. Maybe we were going to meet up with some of our friends and do some street dancing—if so, that would be way fun. My heart began to match the steady, pounding beat that thrummed from the warehouse’s open doors. Clusters of brightly colored beams of light—blue, red, green—illuminated the crowds that danced inside, bodies jumping and swaying to the music. The closer we got, the more the music consumed me until, once we were inside, it took over, pulsing through the soles of my feet, vibrating up my spine and across my ribs. I pulled away from Lauren, tossing my hands up toward the vast ceiling, laughing and dancing, instantly at one with the ocean of teenagers who were doing the same thing. Glow sticks flashing like magic wands, we were all washed in blue-green light, stars spinning overhead in time to the music. I closed my eyes.