Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(34)

“Hey, man. Yep, my dad’s gone, just like I planned. Why don’t you guys come

over about eight? Sure, it’s cool if you bring your own beer . . .”

He’d had the same conversation with a dozen people. After he’d finished his

calls, he raced up to the attic, carried down several boxes of Christmas

lights, and strung them up all over the house, as if the small white glows

would hide all the clutter, mismatched furniture, and assorted junk that

Fletcher had accumulated. Finn also taped up a couple of old silver disco

balls on the ceiling.

He had gone into the kitchen and arranged cold cuts, carrot sticks, and more

food from the fridge on platters and then filled bowls with chips, pretzels,

and popcorn. He had also set out cans of soda, along with bottles of gin,

Scotch, and other liquor from Fletcher’s office. For a final touch, he’d

hooked up an old stereo system in the den and tuned it to a popular radio

station.

“Hey, Gin,” Finn called out now. “Hand me some more tape. I need to get

this final string of lights up before anyone gets here.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re going to get into so much trouble.

Fletcher’s going to find out. You know he will.”

The old man was downright spooky when it came to figuring out Finn’s latest

schemes and how he was plotting to get around Fletcher’s rules, whether it

was about homework or curfew or doing his chores. But Finn was just as

stubborn as the old man, and he kept right on doing exactly what he wanted, no

matter how many times Fletcher punished him.

Finn grinned, but his smile was more calculating than kind. “He won’t find

out if you don’t tell him. And since you haven’t called him or Jo-Jo yet,

well, I’d say that makes you just as guilty as me now. Wouldn’t you?”

I shifted on my feet again. I hadn’t called anyone because I hadn’t wanted

to get into trouble. Fletcher said that he loved me, that I was part of his

family, now and forever, but we weren’t related.

We weren’t blood.

The truth was that Fletcher could kick me out anytime he wanted to, and I

couldn’t help but think that he would if I ever pissed him off enough. Like

by letting a bunch of kids eat his food, guzzle his booze, and trash his

house.

“Come on, Gin,” Finn said, his voice taking on a wheedling note. “If you

think we’re going to get into trouble anyway, then we might as well go ahead

and have the fun now. Make all that punishment really worth it in the end.”

He winked and slowly widened his grin, trying to charm me the way I’d seen

him charm countless other girls. Finn was cute, but I wasn’t stupid enough to

get suckered in by a pretty face. Still, it was easier to go along with him

than it was to protest. Besides, he was right. He’d already done all the work

and called everyone, so it wasn’t like he could cancel the party. Not without

looking like a complete loser in front of his friends, something Finn would do

anything to avoid. Being cool and popular was more important to him than

anything else.

“All right,” I muttered. “But you can tell Fletcher that it was all your

idea.”

Finn grinned again, knowing that he’d won. “Sure. I’ll tell him that very

thing. Now, grab the tape and help me with the lights.”

I sighed, thinking that no party was going to be worth the weeks of no TV,

extra chores, and other punishments we’d get from Fletcher, but I helped Finn

finish stringing up the lights.

We’d just taped the last strand to the mantel when a knock sounded on the

front door.

Finn gave me a sharp look. “Just be cool tonight, okay? Or as cool as you can

be. As long as you don’t act like a whiny Goody Two-shoes, everything will be

fine. You’ll see.”

He gave me one more warning glare, then hurried down the hallway and opened

the front door. “Hey, Steve! Tony! Glad you guys could make it. Come on in .

. .”

Over the next hour, more and more kids arrived, streaming into Fletcher’s

house like it was the site of the greatest party ever. Maybe it was. More than

a hundred kids packed into the house, smoking, drinking, laughing, talking.

The stereo was cranked up so loud that you could barely hear what anyone else

was saying. Then again, everybody was too busy drinking, smoking, and making

out to care about having a real conversation.

All the kids were older than my fourteen years, and many of them were older

than Finn’s sixteen. In fact, several guys with facial stubble and girls with

big hair and even bigger breasts looked like they should have been in college,

rather than hanging out at a high-school party. And beer and cigarettes weren

’t the only things they’d brought with them. One of the downstairs living

rooms reeked of pot, with thick, hazy, suffocating smoke filling the air. And

it wasn’t just that folks were drinking and smoking things they shouldn’t.