Faces of Fear

white.”

Even Alison tried not to stare at the enormous bunches of colored balloons hovering over a dozen small tables, with each tablecloth matching the color of the balloons overhead, and each table displaying an elaborate bouquet of flowers in the same color. A buffet table laden with chafing dishes sat next to a bar stocked with sodas and fruit juices; a second buffet table featured an ice sculpture of a dolphin that seemed to be launching himself out of a sea of shrimp, crab, and chilled lobster.

“I knew I shouldn’t have worn jeans,” Lisa said ruefully, and folded her arms over her pink tank top.

Cindy shook her head. “You’re fine,” she said. “It’s just a house!”

As soon as Alison appeared on the terrace, the three-piece band began to play and the fairy lights in the trees that she’d seen from inside the house began to brighten in the fading daylight. Then a stream of her new friends, led by Trip Atkinson and Cooper Ames, burst through the French doors and onto the terrace. Laden with gifts far more elaborately wrapped than those the Santa Monica group had brought, they piled the packages onto the table set out for that purpose, offered Alison greetings barely less pretentious than their gifts, then went directly to the food and the bar. Tommy Kline and Anton Hoyer followed them, wasting no time filling two plates.

Alison began to relax as she watched the party begin. Though the kids from Santa Monica had seemed overwhelmed by the house, with Tommy and Anton plunging right in, maybe it was going to be alright.

“Hi, birthday girl,” Tasha Rudd called when she appeared on the terrace, Dawn Masin trailing along a half step behind. Alison could almost feel Cindy and Lisa stiffen as they watched the two Wilson girls stride confidently toward them, wearing tiny dresses that were mostly made of spandex and obviously cost several hundred dollars each. Tasha waved a tiny little gift bag at her, then added it to the table that was beginning to fill with presents. “Just something I found at Tiffany that had you written all over it,” she said, kissing the air next to each of Alison’s cheeks.

“That dress looks simply fa-boo on you,” Dawn said to Alison as she repeated Tasha’s air kisses. “And your new boobs are perfect.” Alison smiled, but her smile faded as she caught the look of scorn on Cindy Kearns’s face. “Be sure to have Conrad do your chin next,” Dawn went on.

“And that little bump on your nose,” Tasha chimed in. “He could do that at the same time.”

“Actually, I’ve been sort of thinking about that,” Alison said, remembering the perfect cleft in Scott Lawrence’s chin and how he’d gotten it.

“You’re kidding,” Cindy said, making no attempt to conceal her disdain for the idea.

“Well, I haven’t decided anything,” Alison said a little too quickly.

“Why would she be kidding?” Tasha asked, turning to look directly at Cindy for the first time. “It would improve her profile hugely.”

“That’s stupid,” Cindy said. “There’s nothing wrong with Alison’s profile.”

Tasha eyed Cindy. “And you are…?” As the question hung in the air, Tasha let her gaze wander appraisingly over Cindy’s straight brown hair and casual clothes, and uttered a small but audible — and pointedly hopeless — sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Alison said, too hurriedly. “These are Cindy Kearns and Lisa Hess, my friends from Santa Monica.” She shifted her focus to Cindy and Lisa, pleading with them with her eyes. “This is Tasha Rudd and Dawn Masin. They go to Wilson.”

The four gazed silently at each other.

“Why don’t we all go get something to eat?” Alison asked, trying to steer the group toward the steps down to the lawn.

“I’m not eating,” Tasha said. “It’s almost swimsuit season.”

Alison was about to laugh when she felt a hand close on her elbow, and as the rest of the girls started down the steps, she found Cindy Kearns holding her back.

“Swimsuit season?” Cindy repeated, her voice mimicking Tasha’s almost perfectly. “I don’t believe this, Alison. It’s barely been a month, and you’ve already turned into—” She hesitated, then tilted her head pointedly toward Tasha and Dawn, who had paused on the steps and were now looking back up at them. “—one of them,” Cindy finished.

“One of us,” Dawn countered. “Well, it’s certainly better than being one of you. Where on earth did you buy that outfit? Kmart?”

“I’m leaving,” Cindy said, turning to Lisa Hess. “I knew we shouldn’t have come.” She struck a pose, again perfectly mimicking Tasha Rudd. “We’re so not their class, darling. Let’s go have a pizza.”

Lisa hesitated. “Come on, Cindy, we just got here—”

Alison put a hand on Cindy’s arm. “Don’t go. Please?”

Cindy shook her head, her eyes suddenly glistening with tears. “I don’t know who you are anymore,” she said, the words choking in her constricted throat. Then she pulled herself together and drew her arm away from Alison. “You have a new life and new friends. What do you need me for? Go play with your new friends. Have a good time, and happy birthday.”

“Cindy…”

But Cindy had already started back toward the French doors. “Stay if you want, Lisa, but I’m going.” She signaled to Tommy and glanced once more at Alison. “Excuse me while I get your valet to bring up Tommy’s Honda before it brings down property values around here.” She turned on her heel and continued walking.

“I guess I better go.” Lisa looked apologetically at Alison. “They’re my ride.”

Feeling tears in her own eyes, Alison nodded and hugged Lisa, but most of the happiness she’d felt only a few minutes ago drained out of her as she watched her oldest friend walking out of her party.

A soft hand touched her arm. “Let them go,” Tasha said.

“She’s right,” Dawn added. “Forget them — you aren’t like them anymore.” She opened her purse and showed Alison a pint of tequila. “C’mon, birthday girl. Let’s have some fun!”

Alison wanted to ignore Tasha and Dawn and go after Cindy and Lisa, but as another group of Wilson kids arrived, she knew she couldn’t.

This was her party, and she was the hostess, and no matter how much she’d rather be with Cindy and Lisa right now — or even upstairs in her room, calling Cindy and trying to put their friendship back together — she knew she couldn’t give in to her impulses.

Instead, she had to put on a happy face and be a good hostess, no matter how she felt. As she turned back to the garden, the band picked up the tempo and Trip came up the steps to the terrace.

“Dance with me?” Giving her no chance to refuse, he took her hand, and seconds later she was on the dance floor. As the music swelled, Cindy’s words began to fade, though she could still feel the pain in her heart. Tomorrow, maybe, she would call and try to fix things. But for now she smiled as brightly as if she were still at the peak of the day’s happiness, and danced amid her new friends.

25

TINA WONG SIPPED AT THE PAPER CUP OF COLD COFFEE, EVEN THOUGH caffeine had been eating a hole in her stomach for hours. Ben Kardashian, the video tech who’d been cooped up with her in the editing bay all night, looked even worse than she felt, his unshaven face dark with stubble, and eyes so bloodshot it looked as though he’d been out drinking all that time.

But even after working all night, the hour’s worth of tape they’d come up with still wasn’t quite right. But what was missing? Tina had finished all her camera work, completed all the voice-overs.

The interviews melded well, each one flowing smoothly into the next, building the story. Yet she didn’t have the climax. Somehow, despite the grisly horror of everything the hour depicted, it still lacked that final dramatic moment that would tie the whole story together and give it a sense of overwhelming urgency.