Vicious

her bra and panties on—and made a big deal out of that.

He still couldn’t believe she’d accused him of peeking at her while she was showering this morning. Did she really think he was that desperate and creepy?

He wasn’t going back there. She’d told him, “Leave me the fuck alone.” How much clearer could she have been?

Frowning, Leo lumbered along the forest trail, occasionally kicking at a rock in his path. Some birthday so far, he thought. He was eighteen and still felt like a skinny, inexperienced kid. He was graduating this year, too. What was it going to say under his picture in the yearbook? Not much. Because of his diabetes and his work schedule busing tables at the country club, he couldn’t go out for any sports. So he wasn’t a jock. He couldn’t drink and be a party boy—even if he wanted that. And he wasn’t part of the theater crowd either. If not for his friendship with Jordan, he’d be a total nobody. So what the hell would it say under his name in the yearbook anyway?

CHARLES LEO FORESTER

“Leo”

Social Club Vice President,

Garfield Big Brothers, Spanish Club

Pathetic Virgin

Sometimes, he got really sick of being the “nice guy” all the hot girls’ mothers adored. He had to go to another school to find a girl who actually liked him and made him feel important. Moira Dancey was smart, pretty, and funny—and not like anyone else he knew. But every time he tried to get romantic with her—even just a coy, suggestive remark or a hand on her knee or shoulder—Moira’s response was something along the lines of “Oh, God, gross, cut it out, Leo!” or “I don’t think of you that way!” And he’d feel like an asexual reject-loser. More than anyone, she knew how to humiliate him. It was awful getting that kind of treatment from someone he really liked and felt so comfortable with.

Before crossing over some rocks in the narrowest part of the spring, Leo turned back and glanced at the trail behind him. He thought he had heard Moira yell out his name. He started to backtrack—to get away from the babbling stream and listen for her voice again.

“MOIRA!” he hollered. “MOIRA, ARE YOU OKAY? I JUST WANT TO MAKE SURE YOU’RE ALL RIGHT!”

He retraced his steps along the trail, hoping to hear her answer him. He had a gut instinct that something was wrong. Plus he felt pretty lousy for making her cry earlier. But what had upset her most was the revelation that Jordan wasn’t interested in her and that he was embarrassed by her flirting.

Yeah, he was being hurtful when he’d told her what Jordan had said. Jordan had actually said those things, too—but coming from him, it hadn’t seemed so critical and cruel.

Jordan had also said that he was wasting his time with Moira: “I think she’s pretty and nice and all. But you ought to find yourself a girlfriend who doesn’t act like she’s about to hurl every time you try to kiss her.”

He had a point.

Still, Leo couldn’t help worrying about her right now. She was unfamiliar with these woods. Of course, he wasn’t exactly Daniel Boone. He didn’t know the area very well himself. He’d stayed at the Prewitts’ Cullen cabin only twice before.

The first time had been when he was twelve, shortly after Jordan’s family moved down from Bellingham. He was Jordan’s first friend in Seattle. They went everywhere together on their Schwinns. Leo was in awe of the Prewitts’ big-screen TV and the Penthouse collection Mr. Prewitt had hidden in a drawer in his walk-in closet. But they spent most of their time at Leo’s house, where his dad helped them organize weekend softball games in the park with some of the other neighborhood kids and their dads. Mr. Prewitt never came. That first trip to Cullen was an overnight with Jordan and Mr. Prewitt. It was just about the only time Jordan’s dad ever did anything with them, and he was nice enough, but not exactly Mr. Personality.

The second trip had been almost two years ago, a weekend with just Jordan and him. Leo had recently been diagnosed with diabetes, and later that same month his dad had been killed in Iraq. “We’re taking the Cullen Cure- All,” Jordan had promised him. And he was right, that weekend was the first bit of fun Leo had experienced since finding out his dad had died in the jeep accident. They had some good laughs—and they’d cried, too. It was the only time Leo had seen Jordan cry. “Your dad was really cool, man,” Jordan explained. “I liked him a lot.”

On that trip, he also talked briefly about his dead mother, and how much he missed her. Leo figured they had something else in common now, both having lost a parent in an automobile smash-up. But when he pressed Jordan for details about the accident—how it had happened exactly—he hit a wall. “I really don’t remember the specifics,” Jordan told him. “I was eight at the time. I’ve asked my dad for more information, but he doesn’t like to talk about it. Guess I don’t like talking about it either….”

They’d spent a lot of time hiking that weekend, too.

Leo had been able to refresh his memory hoofing to the hot spring last night. So while no expert on the terrain, at least he knew his way around better than Moira.

He was near where they’d parted company earlier. This spot with the three tall evergreens in a row looked familiar. He saw some movement in a clump of bushes off the pathway ahead. Leaves rustled.

“Moira?” he called. “Is that you?”

A deer suddenly scurried across the trail in front of him. It gave him a scare, but he caught his breath and scoped the area again. “MOIRA!” he yelled. “ARE YOU THERE? MOIRA, ANSWER ME!”

There was no response.

Leo started to feel a bit light-headed. He’d brought along a small, Halloween-size Nestle Crunch bar in case of an emergency. But he needed something more substantial to keep his levels right.

Leo called to Moira several more times before turning back. He didn’t want to leave her alone there, but figured he wouldn’t do her much good passed out in these woods. He’d go back to the cabin, wolf down some food, and then return with Jordan. The two of them would find her—if she was indeed lost.

By the time he made it back to the hot spring, he’d eaten the Nestle Crunch and felt steadier. He called out for Moira a few more times. Maybe she’d discovered another trail and hiked back to the cabin on her own.

Leo continued along the pathway until he finally saw the cabin through the trees ahead. Emerging from the woods, he noticed Jordan’s car parked in the driveway, near the back of the house. On his way to the back door, Leo looped around to the car. Peeking inside, he checked out the gift-wrapped package and what was unmistakably a bakery cake box.

With a tired grin on his face, he turned and started down the flagstone walkway for the kitchen door. He hoped Moira would be there with Jordan, waiting for him. And if she wasn’t, she’d be back soon enough. Then they’d smooth things over, and everything would be okay.

Leo stepped inside the kitchen and let the screen door slam behind him. “Hey, is anyone home?” he called, making a beeline to the refrigerator. He grabbed the container of orange juice that had saved him last night and guzzled the rest of it down. “Anyone?” he called again.

No one answered.

But he heard a muffled whimpering sound from another room. Then someone grumbled, “Shut up, goddamn it!” Leo didn’t recognize the voice right away. It sounded a little like Jordan, but he couldn’t be sure. It was too distant and muted.

Baffled, Leo closed the refrigerator door and put the empty container on the counter. Heading toward the living room, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. It didn’t sound like anyone was on the second floor. But he could still hear a person muttering and realized it was coming from the basement.

“Jordan?” he called, returning to the kitchen. He opened the basement door.

“Stay there!” Jordan yelled—with panic in his voice. “I’ll be right up, man!”

Leo laughed. Obviously, his buddy was hiding some birthday surprise down in the cellar. But then he heard a weird, muffled sobbing.

A puzzled smile frozen on his face, he took a few steps down. “What’s going on?”

“I mean it, get out!” Jordan shouted.

But it was too late.

“My God,” Leo whispered. Stunned, he gaped at his friend in the dank, cluttered cellar. He’d never seen