Jamie swore a blue streak in her mind, then said quickly, “Twenty. It’s all I’ve got.”
“You’ve got scads in your savings account.”
“I’m saving for college. I’ve got thirty. Please, Emma.”
“I’ve got things to do and wouldn’t be there till nine at the earliest, so . . .”
“I’ll babysit them till nine, and you can take over.”
“I don’t know . . .” She made a face.
“Fine. I’ll get you fifty!”
“This must be really important,” Emma said, turning back to give Jamie a long look.
“I can’t be the total nerd any longer,” Jamie said, the truth popping out. Emma’s popularity was legendary and Jamie, who’d finally gotten her braces off—which had taken for-effing-ever, thank you, God—had grown her hair out from the short bob Mom had given her since she was three, and was working on matching a little bit of that popularity. “Take my place at nine and I’ll give you the fifty and all the money from tonight’s babysitting, too.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
It had taken Emma a few more agonizing moments to consider, but then she’d finally agreed. “But if I get killed, it’s on you,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah.”
She was referring to the two babysitters who’d been attacked that summer, one in Vancouver, apparently the victim of a masked robber who’d stabbed her during his getaway, and the other falling from a rooftop deck in Gresham, where she’d supposedly been trying to meet her boyfriend. Neither of those places was close to their River Glen neighborhood, a suburb of Portland’s westside.
Now it was eight forty-six. Jamie had checked the Ryersons’ mantel clock before ducking under the table. About fifteen minutes to go. She had a brush in her purse to fix her hair and some lipstick and mascara. The Stillwell house, really an estate, was only about twenty blocks north of the Ryersons’, down a long, hedged driveway so the neighbors, noise, and cops wouldn’t be aware of the party, fingers crossed.
As Jamie started to slide out from under the table, a shadowy figure standing to one side caused her to shriek and smack her head on the table’s underside.
“Shii—ouch!” She just managed to stop herself from swearing a blue streak when she saw it was Serena standing there in a pale nightgown. “Serena. What are you doing up?”
Jamie shimmied out from under the table and stood up, rubbing her head. Irked, she frowned down at the little girl.
“I had a dream that I was dying.”
“Oh, honey.” Jamie’s annoyance dissipated, and she gently put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, turned her around, and slowly marched her back to bed. “You’re fine. Your mom and dad are going to be back soon. Just try to sleep.”
“Is your friend coming?” Her voice wavered.
Jamie had told the twins that Emma might spell her and not to be scared if they woke up to find her there instead of Jamie. “My sister. You’ve had her babysit you before.”
“I want Mommy,” she sobbed, clinging to Jamie’s leg.
“Don’t be a baby.” Teddy’s voice rang from down the hallway to his sister’s room, which made Serena cry even harder.
It took Jamie till after nine to calm Serena down and get Teddy, who hadn’t wanted to give up chastising Serena, back to bed. Their mother had assured Jamie that the twins would sleep soundly because they’d been to the Oaks Park amusement center for the day and ridden on all the rides. Nadine Ryerson had said, “Don’t worry, they’ll sleep like the dead.”
Ha.
Jamie half-expected one or the other or both of the twins to get up again, but they seemed to have finally settled down for good. But then, where was Emma? She was late. And because neither Jamie nor Emma owned a cell phone—they were too expensive and Mom didn’t trust that they wouldn’t lose them—Jamie was stuck waiting for her sister to show up. She paced the living room floor, her eyes on the clock above the stone mantel. It felt like the minute hand wasn’t moving at all.
Where the hell was she?
At nine-thirty Emma finally appeared, knocking on the door so loudly, Jamie flew to answer it in a panic. “Don’t wake the kids!” she shushed angrily.
Emma just pushed her way inside. “You’re lucky I’m here at all,” she declared, nearly running into Jamie in the process.
“Are you drunk?” Jamie demanded, panicked.
“No. God, no. I’m just . . . pissed.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Go on to your party. I had to walk from there and it’s a long, long way. You owe me. More than what you said.”
“Whatever.” Jamie was out the door in a flash.
It turned out Emma was right. The twenty blocks or so, half of them up Stillwell Hill, to reach the entrance to the Stillwell estate, felt like forever. Her steps slowed as she climbed to the crest, her steps slowing even further as she headed across the last few yards to the wrought-iron gate set between towering laurel hedges. The gate was open, but now that she was here, she was reluctant to step foot on the ribbon of tarmac that led to the house. She could see lights at the end of that long drive, but suddenly she felt naked and alone. She desperately needed a girlfriend to be with her, Camryn or Rosie, but their parents would never let them attend an unsupervised senior party either. Maybe Gwen, whose Mom and Dad were like hippies or something and not as concerned with keeping tabs on their daughter’s every move, but Gwen was a weirdo and not a real friend anyway.
Jamie hovered by the main road, loathe to walk between the hedges. Now that she was here, she felt like the uninvited. Cooper was the only one who’d really asked her to come, and what if he wasn’t here? She should have asked Emma about him, but that would have given the game away, and Emma would know and tease her mercilessly and probably tell Cooper to boot, so that was a no-go.
What to do .
