Deadly Offer (5 page)

“Midseason replacements are problematic,” said Mrs. Roundman. “The kind of girl we want is not a girl who sits around with an empty schedule. By now, such a girl has other commitments. She’s a busy, active, involved person, or we wouldn’t want her on our squad, anyway.”

“I don’t have other commitments,” said Althea nervously.

Mrs. Roundman hugged her. “I think you knew a spot would open up, Althea,” said the coach. “Your commitment to cheering is very strong. I can absolutely feel it, Althea!”

Mrs. Roundman took them through grueling warm-ups. Then she led them outdoors, into the same courtyard as before.

The sun was not so strong. A slight chill rose up from the grass. Althea swallowed. Becky shouted advice. Mrs. Roundman shouted orders.

A dozen kids gathered around to watch.

One of them was Celeste.

Althea tripped and steadied herself on the brick wall. The brick was slightly warm, as if it were slightly human. Like Celeste, who seemed only slightly warm and slightly human.

Celeste’s face was caved in, like a sleeping child’s. She did not really cry. She just stared, her mouth sagging, as if she could not understand what was happening.

“Celeste, I told you to see the school nurse,” said Mrs. Roundman sharply. “What are you doing here?”

Celeste mumbled something.

She doesn’t even have the strength to move her lips, thought Althea.

Mrs. Roundman said, “Celeste, you are upsetting everybody. That’s very thoughtless of you. You’ve surrendered your place on the squad, which in my opinion was the action of a quitter. So quit. Go. Leave. Now.”

Nobody went to help Celeste. Nobody spoke up on her behalf. Nobody leaned down to carry the bookbag for her. Celeste could not hoist it from the ground and instead dragged it over the pavement by a shoulder strap. Only Althea watched her go. Everybody else had better things to do.

I knew he would give me popularity, thought Althea. But I didn’t know he would give me Celeste’s! I didn’t know she had to lose everything for me to have something! I thought—I thought—

Far across the field, the football team was practicing.

Ryan and Michael were there. Ryan, who made sure Althea was going to McDonald’s. Michael, who was so perfect.

Her heart pounded fiercely, nervously, desperately. I have to get on the squad. It’s my ticket to Ryan and Michael. To Becky and parties!

Out of the sun, in a cold corner, stood eight girls in Junior Varsity cheerleading uniforms. Sullenly, they watched Althea and her competition. When Mrs. Roundman allowed a brief rest for a sip of water, the JV captain walked over. Her voice was hostile. “I don’t understand, Mrs. Roundman,” said the JV captain. “Why didn’t you bump one of us up to fill Celeste’s position? It’s not fair to put a beginner on Varsity when you have eight trained, seasoned JV cheerleaders available.”

Mrs. Roundman frowned slightly. She looked out over the grass, and the grass trembled slightly, as if invisible feet were passing by.

“You don’t have a reason, do you?” said the JV captain, trembling with anger. “You just felt like bypassing the JV squad.”

Whose feet had just passed by? Who had persuaded Mrs. Roundman? What was out there on the grass?

Mrs. Roundman said, “You people are having such a fine season, with your own great coach, that I was hesitant to make any such change. There will be more squad changes when football season is over.”

The JV captain brightened. “This is a temporary addition, then? Until basketball season? There’ll be new tryouts then?”

“We’ll see how everything works out,” said Mrs. Roundman, and the JV squad went away less hostile.

Althea did not like that word
temporary.
Nor that phrase
We’ll see.

Football season was half over, anyhow.

Is my popularity already half over, too? thought Althea. Is this all I get? A taste? A few weeks?

B
UT THE DAYS TO COME
were sunny and golden. Everything seemed bright, as if the world were made of daffodils and lilies, of springtime and sweet breezes.

How warmly the rest of the squad greeted her! Kimmie-Jo gave a charming little speech about how Althea was absolutely perfect for the team. Becky gave a little speech about how she and Althea were becoming great, great friends, and Becky knew that Althea would be a great, great friend to the whole squad.

Mrs. Roundman took pains to fit Althea’s uniform perfectly. On the snowy white sweater the golden initials flared like a sunburst.

“Although Celeste was a lovely girl,” said Mrs. Roundman, smoothing Althea’s thick gleaming hair where the pullover had mussed it up, “with that pale coloring she simply did not shine the way you will, Althea.”

Over the next several days she worked very hard. Becky and Mrs. Roundman stayed after regular practice to help with the tougher routines. Saturday afternoon would be her first public performance, her first football game.

But either the girls were kind, or she really was good enough. Nobody yelled at her. Nobody made a face when she needed a second or third try, though once was enough for the rest. Nobody said they wished Celeste were still around.

After the hardest, longest afternoon of her life—Friday before the game—Althea staggered back to the locker room. She took a shower there, instead of waiting till she got home, something she would normally never have done. There is nothing worse than a girls’ group shower. Except maybe leaving the locker room with three hours of sweat clinging to your body.

She toweled off, blowing her hair dry, putting her earrings back on (Mrs. Roundman seemed to be morally opposed to anything that dangled), and fixing the collar beneath her pullover sweater just the way she liked it. Exhausted, she made her way to the front hall.

The high school foyer was a handsome space, with black marble floors and gray-striped marble walls. Announcements, bulletins, and the Artwork of the Week were taped everywhere. Scattered on the plant ledges and the steps were kids waiting for rides.

One was Celeste. She looked like a plant herself, drooping and in need of water. She was wearing an old dress, with too much material for her skinny body, and she was tucked into a corner of ledge and wall as if she needed several props because her bones had given way. Nobody sat with her.

Althea turned her back. It was best to accept things. Celeste had gotten too much too soon, and she would have to scrape her life back together and that was that. Althea could not get involved. Althea had enough pressure right now, what with her first game the next day.

Althea raised her chin, flipped her hair, and thought cheerleader thoughts.

Footsteps approached her. A voice said her name.

Althea cringed. She could not make herself turn around. I can’t talk to Celeste, she thought, I absolutely can’t, it’s too much to ask. Why didn’t she quit school as well as quit the squad? It isn’t fair of her to keep showing up and making me remember—

A hand touched her. A hand that felt like a sponge, that seemed to have no bones and no blood.

Althea tried to run but she was rooted to the spot. She turned her head, and only her head—and it was Jennie Marsden.

Jennie had been Althea’s closest friend before high school. Jennie had been the one to telephone, to sleep over, to giggle and gossip with. What friends they had been! That inseparable, essential intimacy of junior high friendship—when sleep is not possible until you share every single one of the day’s thoughts on the phone.

But almost the first day of freshman year, Jennie found a whole new set of friends. She and Althea had hardly spoken since then, and when they did, Jennie was embarrassed and Althea was miserable.

“Jennie!” said Althea, relief sweeping through her with the velocity of race cars taking a turn. “Hi. Been a long time. How are you?” Althea’s uniform, folded so the yellow letters could be seen and understood, lay on top of her notebooks. Swinging in her free hand were her blind-your-eyes-yellow pom-poms.

Jennie’s eyes had landed on the precious sweater and the beautiful yellow letters. “You made Varsity!” said Jennie. “That is so great. I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks,” said Althea. I’m free, she thought. No more pain because Jennie got sick of me. I’m Althea, Varsity Cheerleader, and she’s just Jennie, Former Friend.

“Yellow is your color,” added Jennie. “It’s your dark hair, I guess, and your fair skin. You look perfect.”

“Thanks. I’m really excited about being on the squad.”

“I’ll bet,” said Jennie enviously. “I never even dreamed of trying out. I could never do the routines. But you kept up your dancing and gymnastics, didn’t you?”

Dancing and gymnastics we used to take together, thought Althea, and in her memory saw two little girls in matching leotards, tumbling, running around. Best friends.

Friend
is a nice word, thought Althea. But
best friend—
that’s beautiful.

She wondered dreamily who among all her new friends would become her best friend.

Althea made a quick and frightening decision. Becky had wanted her to have a party. She would schedule it right now, before she lost her nerve. Before she was overcome with hostess agony. “I’m having a party Sunday,” she said. “Would you like to come? You’d like the rest of the cheerleaders, I’m sure.

Oh, how she loved saying that! The revenge of it! “Letting” Jennie come to a party.

“That would be so nice!” cried Jennie breathlessly. “It’s so nice of you to think of me, Althea!”

Althea smiled generously. She walked carefully to the exit, keeping her eyes on Jennie, making herself forget that Celeste was on the far side of the foyer. Celeste, the only cheerleader who would not get an invitation. The only cheerleader who had been to the house before. The only one who knew.

“I love a party,” said Jennie eagerly. “Want me to help?” Althea’s heart sang. Her feet danced. I’m having a party, and everybody will want to come! I did it. I’m popular! I have everything!

T
HE PHONE THAT HAD
been so quiet for so long was busy every single minute.

Becky was delighted. “Of course I’ll be there,” she said impatiently, as if she and Althea had shared dozens of social events. “Call Kimmie-Jo,” ordered Becky, “and have her call the rest of the squad.”

“Is that polite?”

“It’s the way it’s done,” said Becky. So Althea called Kimmie-Jo, who clapped her hands, a more frequent activity for Kimmie-Jo than for most, and said she couldn’t wait and would call the others.

Althea telephoned Ryan, Scottie, and Michael. She, who had never had the courage even to look steadily into a boy’s eyes, called ten boys. Everyone was delighted. Everyone said yes.

Partly it was because nobody had anything else to do on Sunday. She recognized that. Partly it was because they had never seen her house before, and it was the kind of house that everybody always wants to explore.

But partly, she thought, it’s me!

With the last call completed, Althea walked slowly around the house, thinking of what she would have to do between now and then. Cleaning, shopping, food, music. The party must be perfect. It would be too cold out to dance on the porches or the lawn. Althea experimented with the furniture in the large parlor, moving it to this side or that to free up floor space.

“I’m considering,” said the vampire, “who I want.”

Althea’s fingers closed spasmodically around the arms of a chair she had just shifted.

Where was he? How had he gotten in? From her crouching position she jerked her head back and forth to locate him. He was in the doorway, hands gripping each side. His fingernails were longer, and sharper, and seemed to be leaving dents in the woodwork. He rocked back and forth, chuckling to himself.

“So many choices!” said the vampire. The texture of his voice, usually dark, like pouring syrup, was much sunnier, as light and warm as honey.

Althea stood up.
So many choices.
He means my guests … he means …

No! This is my party! My first party! I’m popular now! He can’t come back into this!

I could bash him to pieces with this chair, Althea thought. She picked it up.

“A chair?” said the vampire disdainfully. “I’ve avoided destruction for centuries now. A teenage girl with a chair is hardly going to slow me down.”

Althea made herself set the chair down neatly and quietly to show that she was in complete control. “I’m just changing the furniture around,” she said haughtily. “I am having a party this weekend, and you are
not
to be here.”

His eyebrows rose. They arched like cathedral doorways, thin and pointed, vanishing under his straight black hair. With his eyebrows up, his eyes were very wide, too wide, as if they were glass balls that could fall out. “I’m quite looking forward to your party,” he said. He let go of the doorway and admired his fingernails.

She thought of the people she had invited. Of the necks he could grip in those fingers.

“Get out,” she whispered.

“My dear,” he said.

How she hated the affection in his voice. As if they were companions of some sort! As if they had anything to do with each other! “I’m not your dear,” she said. “Get out of my house.”

“You forget, Althea, that I
come
with the house. I have been here longer than you, and I will be here long after you have departed.”

Being addressed by name was far worse than being called “my dear.” It was so much more intimate. It gave the vampire some sort of ownership over her. She wet her lips and tried to breathe evenly, but it was impossible; her lips stayed dry and her chest rose and fell like a panting dog’s. “Go away,” she said.

“I think not. Because I do have ownership over you, Althea.”

He could read her mind? He was up inside her thoughts? Underneath her skull? Was nothing safe from him? Not heart, not veins, not even thoughts?

Althea felt the terrible cold of his presence, the wet woolliness of the air around him. “I gave you Celeste!” Her voice cracked.

“And so quickly, too,” he agreed. “So craftily, carefully executed. I was grateful. But a party! Twenty guests! I am really quite eager to meet them.”