Faces of Fear

Alison stared at her. “Why would I want any of that?”

Now it was Tasha who stared, her eyes remaining on Alison’s chest long enough that Alison felt her cheeks burning.

“About one hour at Wilson and you’ll know exactly why you’ll want it,” Dawn said.

“Come on,” Trip put in. “If Alison thinks she’s just fine the way she is, let it alone.” The thank-you that was about to emerge from Alison’s lips died in her throat as Trip went on. “Just because we think she could use some major renovation, so what? I mean, who are we to say?”

Alison stared at her fingernails, blushing again, feeling her eyes filling with tears. Ignore them, she told herself. Just get up and walk away.

Then she remembered her mother, greeting everyone in the receiving line, smiling graciously even at people Alison was sure she didn’t like. But what should she say? What could she say? Then, just as the silence was starting to get totally unbearable, the orchestra started up.

“C’mon, Dawn,” Trip said. “Let’s dance.”

Dawn and Trip, and Cooper and Tasha, got up and headed for the dance floor, and Budge followed them, leaving Alison sitting by herself.

She wanted to run to her mother, but what good would that do? Her mother was busy on the other side of the lawn with her Conrad Dunn, talking to another couple who Alison knew she’d met but whose names she’d forgotten.

She gazed around the garden, at all the beautiful people who seemed to know each other and fit perfectly together.

So perfectly that she was already sure there wasn’t going to be any room for her at all.

Not here, and not at Wilson Academy, or anywhere else in her new life.

What was she going to do?

10

KIMBERLY ELMONT PICKED AT HER SALAD, WONDERING HOW IT WAS that Jennifer Livingston could eat a double Whopper with fries, drink a Coke, and then eat a Cinnabon roll for dessert and never gain an ounce. Even though it had been that way since kindergarten, when they became best friends, Kimberly still couldn’t quite deal with it, since she herself had to diet constantly just to fit into her jeans. “And speaking of jeans,” she said out loud, “there’s a sale at Macy’s.”

“Who was speaking of jeans?” Jennifer said, dipping a french fry into a blob of ketchup, then slipping it into her mouth as delicately as if it was a toast point covered with caviar.

“We weren’t. But I was thinking about them — I need a new pair.”

Jennifer shrugged indifferently. “Okay. Macy’s is good.”

Kimberly pushed her salad away, knowing she couldn’t eat another bite and then try on clothes, and pulled out her cell phone to check for new text messages.

One new message was waiting.

CAN YOU COME TO THE RAVE TONIGHT? BRING A FRIEND. — DEAN

If she were at home, she would have stood up and yelled, “Yes!” but here in the mall she merely folded up her phone, put it in her purse, and smiled at Jennifer.

Jennifer wadded up the paper leftovers of her meal and took a long drink of her Coke before noticing Kimberly’s grin, which had taken on the sort of frozen quality that she knew meant Kim was bursting to tell her something. “What?” she asked.

Kimberly glanced first in one direction, then the other, and when she spoke, her voice had dropped to a conspiratorial tone. “Want to go to a rave tonight?”

“A rave?” her friend echoed. “Really?” Though Jennifer had the face and body of a model, she hardly ever went out, and never went on dates — all the guys she knew were too intimidated by her looks to ask her out. But at a rave, she knew there would be all kinds of guys — probably older guys — and maybe they wouldn’t be so shy. “Where? With who?” Not that it mattered, really, since Kimberly’s mom would never let her go. But maybe this time Kim wasn’t planning to tell her mom.

“A guy named Dean just invited me, and he told me to bring a friend.”

Jen frowned. “Who’s Dean?”

“A guy I met on MySpace. We’ve been chatting for a couple of nights.”

Jennifer eyed her. “A guy you met on MySpace? Are you nuts?”

“He’s a nice guy, and I know a lot about him. He’s seventeen, and goes to Burbank High, and likes all the same things we do. He’s cool, Jen. And he’ll have cool friends.”

Jennifer’s brows arched skeptically. “Have you talked to him on the phone?”

“Not yet,” Kimberly replied, unable to keep from sounding defensive.

“Then you don’t have any idea who he really is, do you? He could be some forty-year-old perv.”

“But he didn’t ask me to come alone,” Kimberly countered. “If he was some kind of pervert, he’d want to meet me alone, right? But he didn’t — he asked me to bring a friend along. So I’m asking you.”

Jennifer gave her a withering look. “And when you tell him you’re actually bringing a friend, he’ll back out.”

Kimberly met Jen’s gaze straight on. “I bet you’re wrong.”

“Or else he just won’t show up,” Jennifer went on, “and then he’ll call you later and ask you to meet him by yourself.”

“Want to bet?” Kimberly said. “I bet you he shows up and he comes with a really cool guy. Besides, what else were you going to do tonight? Paint your nails?”

Jennifer shook her head. “It’s just not a good idea,” she insisted.

Kimberly looked around the crowded food court, then leaned across the table so no one else would hear her pleading. “C’mon, Jen. It’s a rave! Have you ever been to a rave?”

“No. And neither have you.”

Kim sat back triumphantly in her chair. “Then it’s settled.”

“It’s not settled at all.”

“What can happen with hundreds of kids around?” Kimberly argued. “Even if we don’t meet up with Dean and his friend, we’ll have fun. I bet we even see people we know.”

Jennifer thought for a moment while she pushed the last of the french fries aside and pulled a little piece from her cinnamon roll. “All right,” she sighed, knowing that once Kimberly made up her mind about something, she never gave up. Besides, Kimberly was right — there would be hundreds of people there, and they wouldn’t be alone. “Tell him you actually are bringing a friend, and if he doesn’t back out, I’ll go.”

“Super!” Kimberly opened her phone and hit REPLY, then entered her text message: SOUNDS FUN. WHERE? WHEN? WE’LL BOTH BE THERE. She hit SEND and closed her phone. “What’ll we wear?”

Jennifer stuffed another piece of the cinnamon roll into her mouth and wiped her hands on her napkin. “Something new,” she decided, then gathered the remains of their meal onto her tray. “C’mon. Let’s see what’s on sale at Macy’s.”

Twenty minutes later, when Jennifer had disappeared into the fitting room with an armload of things while Kimberly was still hunting through the sale racks, the cell phone in Kim’s purse buzzed insistently.

She fished it out.

One new text message.

She opened it.

11 PM KESWICK AND TOBIAS VAN N UYS. CU THERE!

She knew the light industrial area of Van Nuys — her dad’s company had a warehouse out there.

And a lot of kids at their school went to parties in those warehouses almost every weekend.