Lurker

“Yeah, Hoyt. So, I’m all pissed off, because I’m thinkin’ he was playin’ me. But I get home and open his picture and there it was, right there on his face as bold as you please. I just didn’t notice it before.”

Mandy remembered this story now. They were freshmen at Lake Crest when it happened. Laurel spent the rest of the semester being mean to Hoyt, which seemed odd to Mandy since Hoyt didn’t do anything wrong.

“Well, it’s just a bad pic,” Mandy said. “He shot it in like two seconds while we were chatting.”

“Looks good enough to me,” Laurel said.

“Yeah, and you were really smart to have him do that,” Drew said. “I mean, he could have been anybody, even that scary guy that got Nicki.”

The Witchman, Mandy thought, remembering his beaklike nose and pointed chin. For a few days, that image of his wild-eyed rage, was everywhere: the Internet, the news, and her own dreams. Sometimes in the middle of the night, she woke with that old, wrinkled face hanging before her eyes, even after the nightmares he wandered into had ended.

“If we’re playing show-and-tell,” Laurel said, “I got something you have to see.”

She got up from her seat on the bench beside Drew and walked to the bed, where she picked up her handbag. Returning to the bench, she sat down and placed the bag in her lap. From it, she pulled a small handgun out by the grip, dangling the weapon between her thumb and forefinger like it was a piece of smelly trash.

Both Drew and Mandy pulled back in shock. Drew covered her mouth with a palm, her eyes wide with astonishment.

“What are you doing with that?” Mandy asked angrily, hating the sight of the gun.

“A gift from Dad,” Laurel said, still dangling the thing between her fingers. “It’s not loaded yet. He won’t give me the clip until I take lessons, so guess how I’m spending the next three Saturdays?”

“Why didn’t you tell him you didn’t want it?”

“God, I’d never have a gun,” Drew said.

“Yeah, well, it was take it from him or spend the rest of my life in my room. I figured this was the lesser of two stupids. In a few weeks, he’ll chill out, and I can shove it in a box in the basement. Until then, I’m packin’, girls. So, don’t be dissin’me or I’ll pop a cap in your asses.”

“That’s so not funny,” Mandy said.

“Totally not,” Drew agreed.

Laurel laughed and dropped the gun back in her bag. “You know I’m anti-gun. As soon as I can rid myself of it, I will.”

“Your dad’s really worried about you,” Drew said, sounding jealous.

Mandy knew that Drew’s dad was pretty much nonexistent. Including the candlelight vigil, Mandy could count the number of times she’d seen him on her fingers. He worked a lot; he’d struggled to raise Drew and her brothers on his own ever since his wife had run off to “find herself.” That had been ten years ago. Apparently, Drew’s mom was still lost, and so was Drew.

“My dad’s a whack job. What kind of dork gives his teenage daughter a gun? I’ve been asking for a car for the last two years, but instead of a Beamer, I get an Uzi.”

“Just keep it in your bag,” Mandy said, “and don’t go telling everyone you have it.”

“Right, because nothing makes you more popular than fire power. I’m not telling anyone except you guys.”

The next surprise on that Thursday afternoon was for Drew. In a lot of ways, it was even more shocking than Laurel’s gun show.

A ring tone had them all scrambling for their cell phones, until Drew announced, “That’s mine.” She looked at the caller ID before answering and turned as white as a ghost. “Oh my God!”

“What is it?” Mandy asked, thinking it had to be something terrible.

But just as she asked the question, a wide nervous smile cut across Drew’s lips. “It’s Jacob,” she said, her voice a high squeal. “My God, Jacob Lurie is calling me.”

“Why do I think you had something to do with this?” Mandy whispered to Laurel.

On the other side of the room, pressed into the corner, twirling her hair with a finger and clutching the cell phone to her head, Drew nodded and said, “Sure.”

Laurel leaned closer and said, “I figured this was the only way to shut her up about him. Besides, he likes her too.”

“I thought you hated Jacob.”

“Hate is such a strong word. I just feel better when I don’t have to look at him. Drew’s the one that’s got to go out with him, not me.”

Mandy nudged Laurel, knowing she was being far nicer to Drew than she’d ever admit. She’d never seen Drew so excited, though something or another often excited Drew. This was a good excited, a happy excited.

“Oh God,” Drew gushed into the phone. “I know! It’s totally like that.”

“You realize we’re going to hear about nothing else for the rest of our lives, right?” Mandy said.

Laurel’s face scrunched dramatically in a pretended expression of sorrow. “I know. God help me, I know.”

Mandy didn’t know exactly what to make of the last two surprises of the day. After gushing and babbling about Jacob’s call (We’re going to a movie tomorrow. God, I have to buy an outfit.) Drew left in a fidgeting swirl of exhilaration. Laurel, whose father still insisted she be home before dark, left with her.

Alone, with another hour before her mom got home, and nearly two before her father would appear, Mandy signed online and immediately searched her buddy list for Kyle’s handle. Disappointed that it wasn’t there, she checked her e-mails. When her doorbell rang again, she was reading an announcement from Trinity King, head of the yearbook committee, informing the student body that they were dedicating a full-page memorial to Nicki Bennington. As such, they needed photographs and suggestions for text.

The doorbell rang. Mandy rose from her chair to look out the window, and was surprised to see a large green van in her driveway. A bouquet of flowers was painted on the side of the van. Beneath this, GREEN GUY FLORISTS was written in large white letters.

Flowers? she thought.

The doorbell rang again. With the thrill of anticipation urging her on, Mandy ran down the stairs, her hand hopping down the banister as she rushed for the door. She got there just as the deliveryman rang a third time.

Mandy opened the door and gasped. The man, a roly-poly guy with thinning red hair, held a simple vase from which sprouted two dozen red roses amid a spray of baby’s breath.

“Mandy Collins?” the man asked.

“Yes,” she said, barely able to speak for the knot in her throat.

“You have an admirer.” The man handed her the vase and made a check on his clipboard. “Have a nice afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Mandy said, closing the door.

She filled her eyes and nose with the wonderful flowers, holding the vase tightly so she didn’t drop the gift. “Beautiful,” she whispered. In the kitchen, she set the vase down on the counter and searched for a card. Kyle sent her these. She just knew it. She didn’t know how he found her address—probably just looked up Collins in the phone book—but it didn’t matter. He sent her flowers, beautiful roses. Holding the small envelope, her nervous fingers fumbled with the flap. Finally getting it open, she yanked at the card…

And her heart sank a little.

I’m really sorry. Dale.

Disappointed and annoyed that he would finally do something romantic after she dumped him, Mandy carried the flowers upstairs and set them on the windowsill. Afternoon light kissed the petals and made the water-filled vase glow. What a creep, she thought, staring at the bouquet. What was she supposed to do now? Just ignore the gesture, move on, never mention it? Or did she have to be polite, thank him? Wouldn’t that just make things harder?

“Crap,” she said to the flowers. “Beautiful crap.”

“Grind them up in the food processor and drop the mess on his doorstep,” Laurel said over the phone. “Too little, too late. Next!”