Suspicious Minds (Stranger Things Novels #1)(40)

Terry would never get used to the way Alice’s mind worked. “It learned what’s good for it.”

“Yes, it did.” Alice turned off onto an unfamiliar road—to Terry anyway. “A shortcut,” she explained. “It starts at eight?”

“That’s what everyone’s saying.” Terry had been so worried all day, she might as well be having an out-of-body experience.

“If it doesn’t go well,” Alice said, “I have family in Canada. Cousins I’m close with. Not that I’m saying Andrew’s a draft dodger or anything like that.”

Terry snorted. “I wish he was. It was my first suggestion, but I think he’ll see it through, whatever the verdict.”

“I suppose so.” Alice shook her head. “Men. Even the good ones make life difficult.”

She said it with such conviction, Terry wanted to know everything about her sample size. But they were turning onto the apartment complex’s street already. That was a conversation for a different day.

Alice parked and they got out. She pulled up her jacket sleeve and said, “Still five minutes.”

They hurried on in silence anyway. When they reached the door, Alice went to knock at the same time Terry spun the knob. “We’re coming in!” Alice called.

“Babe!” Andrew trotted over to drop a kiss on Terry’s cheek. He extended his hand to high-five Alice. Her palm met his with a smack. “Hey, kid sister! You two made it just in time.”

He was putting on a good front. He had been since the verdict kicking him out of school. Job applications had gone out the next day, and he already had an interview for a night manager position at a local motel. But she could see the tightness around his lips, the hint of dark circles from waking at 3:00 a.m. and staring at the ceiling.

“Men of armed services eligible age get couch seats. It’s a law,” Dave said.

Stacey stopped fiddling with the TV to swipe a hand up at Terry and Alice.

“So do their girlfriends,” Andrew informed Dave, and they sank into the couch. Alice took the seat beside Terry.

“I think it’s coming on,” Andrew said. There was no hiding his nerves anymore. Terry put her hand over his.

Stacey reached over to turn up the volume as CBS News cut in with an announcement saying Mayberry R.F.D. was being preempted by a report from anchor Roger Mudd, live at the Selective Service offices in D.C. An array of officials at desks and a large board were behind him. He announced that the first draft lottery to be held in twenty-seven years was beginning.

“Hear me out,” Stacey said, lowering into a seat on the floor. “Roger Mudd is smoking hot.”

“Ew, he’s like your dad’s age,” Dave countered.

Stacey blew on her nails. “Doesn’t mean it’s a lie. What do you say, Ter?”

“I don’t see it.” Terry half laughed.

“What about you?” Stacey pressed Alice.

“To each their own.” Alice’s voice was neutral.

“So, Roger Mudd’s all mine. Anyone know how this works?” Stacey asked, ticking her head toward the TV.

Mudd explained, as if he’d heard her. There was a big fishbowl filled with blue capsules that had been mixed up inside it. Each capsule contained a number, which corresponded to a certain day of the year. They’d be chosen one at a time, and then everyone with the corresponding birthday would know in what order they’d be called to report. First, last, somewhere in between.

“They’re pulling the first number.” Andrew clamped Terry’s hand in his.

A man chose a blue capsule and passed it to one of the people at the desks, who opened it. No one spoke as they waited for the verdict.

“September fourteen…,” the man reading the slip said. “September fourteen is number zero-zero one.”

Another person in the office moved to the board and wrote the date down as the next capsule was chosen. Terry couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know what to say. Andrew’s grip tightened and she squeezed back.

“September fourteen? No September fourteens?” Dave asked. “I say we make this a drinking game. Drink if they don’t call your birthday.”

“Then I’m going to have to drink, because my birthday is September fourteenth,” Andrew said. He slowly withdrew his hand from Terry’s. “It seems I’m the first-round draft pick.”

The hush that descended could only be described as horror.

“Dude,” Dave said and then he burst into tears.

“Hey, man, it’s all right,” Andrew said, voice taut with strain.

“No, it’s not!” Dave said.

Terry got up and tugged Andrew with her. “Stacey, Alice, I’m going to take Andrew outside for a second. Can you help Dave get it together?”

Everything seemed to be spinning around her, but she was an expert now. It wasn’t acid. It was her world crumbling.

Andrew closed the door behind them and they stood on the landing, their breath making puffs of cold air.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Terry said.

They huddled together.

“I know.”

“We’re not sure exactly what it means…,” she tried.

He shook his head, a half laugh. “We’re pretty sure. I have a couple of months, maybe. I’m out of school and I’ll be in the first group called up. I’d say we know enough.”