Social Suicide

He spun around.

Then his mouth dropped open just a little as he took in Sam’s handiwork, his eyes honing in on the result of her push-up.

“Heeeeeey,” he said slowly. “Wow, you look-”

“Hot!” another voice finished.

I whipped my head to the left and saw Ashley Stannic sitting at Chase’s table.

What the…?

“Nice shoes,” Ashley said. “You going out later?”

I blinked at her. “I, uh…” Slowly I let my gaze shift around the table and realized not only was Ashley crashing my dinner with Chase, but Chris Fret was sitting at the table as well, along with a guy I recognized from Spanish class.

Chase cleared his throat beside me. “I, uh, I’m glad you could make it, Hartley.”

“Thanks,” I answered, hoping the confusion rattling around in my brain wasn’t clear in my voice.

“So, now that we’re all here,” he said, turning back to the table at large. “The reason I invited everyone out for pizza was to introduce you all to the newest member of the Homepage staff.”

I froze.

He invited everyone.

I suddenly felt like the word moron was stamped across my forehead. Chase hadn’t asked me out. He’d asked one of his reporters out. I silently prayed the floor would open up and swallow me whole as I only halfway listened to Chase, embarrassment all but drowning him out as it pounded in my overheated ears.

“Guys, this is Mike Watson,” Chase said, gesturing to Spanish Class Guy. “He’s going to be covering all the away games for HHH, as it’s come to my attention that Chris may be a bit overworked.”

Chris grinned sheepishly at the veiled reference to his cheating attempt.

“Great to have you,” Ashley said. Chris mumbled something similar. Chase clapped Mike on the back.

All I could do was stare dumbly.

Somehow, I managed to sit, congratulate Mike, and even stuff half a slice of pepperoni pizza into my mouth, even though all I wanted to do was crawl into that big black hole. I was so stupid. I was the queen of Stupidville. The Duchess of Moronland. The Empress of Misunderstandingtown.

And by the way Chase kept sending sidelong glances at my rhinestone-framed cleavage and spiky heels, I had a bad feeling he knew it. Clearly I was overdressed for pizza with friends. Clearly I had taken some pains to change after school. Clearly I was expecting something way more exciting than a new sports guy.

Clearly I needed to have my head examined.

By seven, I couldn’t take it anymore. I mumbled something about a previous commitment and slipped from the table as Ashley laid out her ideas for this weekend’s coverage of the homecoming dance. Chase moved to get up as I slipped from the table, but I stopped him with a quick, “See you at school,” over my shoulder as I ran (or tried to- the heels were really wobbly) for the door.

I took half an hour to indulge in a pity-party chocolate bar from Powell’s before I hoofed it down North Santa Cruz Ave to meet Nicky at Oak Meadow Park. I was determined that despite my detour into the stupid lane, my night was not going to be a total bust. So Chase only saw me as a reporter. Fine. That was easier on my stomach anyway. But this week I’d better be a fudging good one and turn in something more than fluff.

I walked as fast as my legs would take me in the tight skirt and ridiculously high heels that Sam had made me wear, all the while chanting to myself that I would never listen to her wardrobe advice again.

I looked down at my cell readout as I crossed Highway 9-7:54. I picked up the pace, half jogging until my calves cramped up, then checked my cell again. 7:58. No way was I going to make our rendezvous time. I bit my lip, praying that Nicky would wait for me.

At 8:06 I finally hit the corner of University and the gates to Oak Meadow Park.

As far as city parks went, it was large: a playground with two big jungle gyms at one end and a carousel and miniature train station at the other. Between them spanned picnic areas and a large expanse of grass used by the local soccer league in the summer.

At this time of night, everything was dark and the gates were closed. I did a brief over-the-shoulder, waiting until there was a break in the passing traffic, then quickly hopped the fence. Or, it would have been quickly if my stupid heels hadn’t gotten stuck in the metal diamonds. I finally kicked them off and threw them over the gate, cringing as they skidded in the dirt on the other side. Sam wasn’t going to be happy about that. On the second try, I slipped over the fence, landed with a thud on the other side, put the shoes back on (only scuffed a little), then picked my way down the gravel pathway to the miniature train station.

The train was a big draw for kids during the weekends and summer break, the station packed with lines of toddlers waiting for the three-dollar rides. But tonight the train was silent, and the giant clock set in the Victorian- style steeple of the station ticked eerily in the dark.

I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I’d worn something a little warmer, and quickly made tracks toward the quiet station.

I was a few feet away when I spotted a figure in the shadows, just behind the roundhouse. By the dark hair sticking out from under a skater beanie, I could tell it was Nicky. I was about to call out when I saw another person approach him.

I paused. Nicky hadn’t said anything about bringing friends. Suddenly I felt a little outnumbered, standing in the shadows.

Which was ridiculous, because I was just going to talk and get a story. The dark, the quiet, and the eerie Victorian station were giving me the creeps.

At least that’s what I told myself as I approached the two figures. Only they weren’t paying any attention to me. They were talking to each other. Loudly. Arguing, I realized as I got closer. I was too far away to hear what they were actually saying, but the second figure started flapping his (her? It was too dark to tell) arms at Nicky. Nicky stepped back, his voice raised, though the only words I caught were, “Dude, no!”

I paused, not sure I wanted to get in the middle of this, whatever this was. I could see Figure Two was dressed in dark pants and a dark Windbreaker. He (she?) was close to Nicky’s height, but that was all I could make out. Male, female, old, young were all swallowed up by the darkness.

But I could see Nicky was getting more and more agitated. He shook his head, waved his arms. Finally he shouted, “It’s over!” loudly enough to make Figure Two stop in his-slash-her tracks. Nicky turned his back on the guy, as if to emphasize the over-ness of their situation, and started walking away.

I opened my mouth to call out to him.

But that’s when I saw it.

Figure Two bent over and picked up a rock that was lying at his feet. From the effort it took him to stand back up again, I could tell it was heavy. I watched in horror as he took a step toward Nicky, lifted the rock above his body, and brought it down with a thud on the back of Nicky’s head.

Nicky made a pathetic sort of grunt, then slumped forward, crumpling to the ground.

Chapter Thirteen

I WAS FROZEN TO THE SPOT, NOT SURE WHAT TO do. Run to Nicky’s aid? Make a citizen’s arrest of Figure Two? Call for help?

Being that there were a lot more rocks lying around for Figure Two’s convenience, I decided on option three and pulled my cell from my pocket. I backtracked toward the street as I dialed 911, all the while keeping one eye on Nicky’s prone form.

Which meant I wasn’t watching where I was walking, which meant I tripped over a stick on the ground and stumbled to catch my balance.

Figure Two’s head snapped up.

Oh, fluffin’ fudge.