Double Date (8 page)

Samantha is totally nuts, Bobby decided. They're
both
totally nuts.

He started walking toward the parking lot. I should drop them both, he told himself. There are so many girls at Shadyside High who are being deprived because of them. So many girls just
dying
to go out with Bobby the Man.

But there was something special about Samantha and Bree. It wasn't just their good looks, Bobby realized. It wasn't just the way they held him, the way they both kissed him so needily. It wasn't the fact that they both seemed to like him so much.

Lots of girls are nuts about me, he told himself.

It's the fact that there are two of them—and I've got them both!

The whole school is talking about me! Bobby told himself with pleasure. The whole school knows that both Wade twins are mine.

I'm famous!

At Shadyside High they'll be talking about Bobby the Man for years to come! They might even have to put a special trophy in the case in the front hallway of the school.
BOBBY THE MAN,
it'll say.
BOTH WADE TWINS AT ONCE!

Bobby's thoughts cheered him up.

He strolled around for a bit, searching for kids he knew. When he didn't find anyone, he stopped and had a big chocolate milk shake.

Samantha has got some kind of mind control, he joked to himself as he slurped the last drop of chocolate syrup from the metal milk shake can. I'd never sit here by myself having a milk shake if she hadn't put the idea in my head.

He paid the waitress, wiped the chocolate mustache off his upper lip with a napkin, and headed to the outside parking lot. To his surprise, the lot was dotted with dark puddles. Bobby realized it must have rained while he was inside the mall.

He raised his eyes, searching for the moon. But it was hidden behind a covering of clouds.

His sneakers splashed through small rain puddles as he made his way to his car. When the red Bonneville came into view, Bobby saw at once that something was wrong.

It was resting at a tilt. A slight angle.

The car seemed lower than the other cars.

Bobby waited for a station wagon to roll past, its headlights forcing him to shield his eyes. Then, blinking away the glare, he hurried to his car.

“Whoa!” he cried out when he realized why the car looked strange. “My tires!”

The front tires were both flat.

How could he get two flats at once?

Bobby bent down, squinting in the dim light, to examine them.

Slashed.

Both tires had been slashed.

Long tears had been cut into them. Jagged tears.

Bobby ran his hand over the torn strips of rubber. A car edged past, sending up a low wave of water from a puddle. Bobby cried out as the spray of water hit his back.

He climbed to his feet, hurried to examine the back tires.

Also slashed. Also flat.

“Who?” Bobby uttered the question in a choked whisper. “Who did this?”

He leaned on the trunk, ignoring the puddles, his eyes searching the large parking lot.

“Who did this?” he shouted.

There was no one in sight. But still he felt like shouting.

How am I supposed to get home? he asked himself.

Who would
do
this to me?

He walked forward to study the front tires again, as if maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe this time they'd be okay.

No.

The tires had been cut to pieces.

Bobby angrily slapped both hands against the hood.

It took him a long while to realize that a car had stopped in front of his. He heard a car engine running, saw the long rectangle of light from headlights on the wet asphalt, and waited for the car to drive past.

But when it didn't move, he spun around and stared into the driver's window.

He recognized her at once. Saw the strange, amused smile on her face.

And guessed that she had been the one who cut his tires.

“
M
elanie!” Bobby cried.

She smiled back at him, that strange, amused smile, her face half hidden in shadow.

“Melanie—you—!” he cried.

She rolled down her window. Loud music floated out from inside her car. “Bobby, hi! I
thought
that was you!” she called.

She sounded too cheerful, he realized. Since when was she so friendly? She'd been angry with him since he'd started dating the Wade twins.

He hopped over a puddle to her car and rested both hands on the door, peering in at her. She clicked off the radio. The sudden silence seemed louder than the music.

“I'm on my way to Arnie's,” she volunteered. “But I had to stop and pick up something for my mom. I thought I saw you from way back there and—”

She stopped suddenly, raising her eyes over his
shoulder. “Bobby—your car!;” she cried. “What happened to your tires?”

Phony, phony, phony, Bobby thought.

Does she really think I'm going to buy that wide-eyed innocence?

“Someone cut them,” he murmured, studying her with his eyes.

“Huh?” Her mouth dropped open. “You mean—?”

“Someone cut them all up,” Bobby said unhappily. “Can I have a lift?”

She nodded her head. “Sure, jump in.” She stared hard at his car, resting so low on its wheels. “What a lucky coincidence that I came by,” she said as he lowered himself into the passenger seat.

“Yeah. What a coincidence,” Bobby murmured bitterly and slammed the car door shut.

After school on Monday, Bobby dropped his backpack into his locker, then started to the music room to rehearse with the band.

Arnie had called him on Saturday with the news that he and Paul wanted to change the name of the group to Desperadoes. Bobby didn't see any point in arguing.

We're going to look like total dorks in front of the entire school on Friday, he told himself. It doesn't matter if we call ourselves Desperadoes or The Rolling Stones!

On Sunday, he had spent a lot of time thinking about Melanie and the slashed tires. At first, he was convinced that she was responsible.

She's so jealous of the twins, he told himself. She
wants me back. The poor kid is so desperate, she's out of her head.

But after a lot of thought, Bobby decided he was wrong. Melanie and Arnie seemed pretty happy together. She didn't want to go back to Bobby.

Melanie, he knew, was a good friend of Bree's and Samantha's. And Melanie had certainly been angry that Bobby was secretly dating them both.

But is Melanie upset enough about it to slash my tires? Bobby wondered. Does she really care that much?

His answer was no. No way.

Girls aren't strong enough to cut tires that deeply, Bobby told himself. Girls don't know how to handle knives. No way.

It had to be someone else, Bobby decided. But who?

He hadn't a clue.

Halfway to the music room, he stopped to kid around with some guys from the basketball team. Then he saw Bree across the hall. He waved to her, and she waved back.

“Wait up!” he called.

She disappeared into the auditorium, probably hurrying to chorus practice.

He turned the corner and nearly collided with Samantha. “Hey!” he called out. “How's it going?”

“I saw you chasing after Bree,” Samantha said, eyeing him coldly. “You're not really falling for her, are you?”

“Huh?” He scratched his head and flashed her his best innocent smile. “No way, Sam.”

Her expression softened. She grabbed his arm. “Come with me. Hurry.”

He pulled away. “I'm late for practice.”

“It'll take only a minute,” she told him. She tugged on his hand. “Come on. I won't bite.” A sly smile crossed her face. “Or maybe I will.”

She pulled him up the stairs and down the nearly empty hall to the science lab in the back. The door was shut. She grabbed the knob and pushed it open.

“Your science project?” Bobby asked. “Is that what you want to show me?”

She nodded. They stepped into the large room. The lights were off.

Bobby reached for the light switch, but she grabbed his hand. Then she pressed him against the wall and kissed him. A long, passionate kiss.

When she finally pulled her face away, they were both breathless. “I like your project,” Bobby joked. “You get an A.”

She giggled and squeezed his hand. Bobby could hear his two monkeys chattering excitedly. In the dim light that filtered in through the closed venetian blinds, he could see them leaping around in their cage at the back of the room.

He reached for the light switch, but Samantha pushed his hand away again. “I want to show you something,” she whispered.

They heard loud footsteps out in the hall. Laughing voices of two teachers. Samantha pressed her hand over Bobby's mouth. They remained frozen in the darkness, waiting for the teachers to pass.

Samantha lowered her hand and took a step into the dark room. Her eyes glowed excitedly in the dim light.

“What do you want to show me?” Bobby asked eagerly.

A sly smile crossed her face. “Remember I told you there was a way to tell Bree and me apart?” Samantha whispered.

“Yeah. I remember,” Bobby replied, trying to guess what she was about to say. He grabbed her around the waist. “Kiss me again. I bet I can tell the difference.”

She pushed him away. “Shut up, Bobby. This is what I want to show you. Look.” She reached up and pulled her T-shirt down off her left shoulder. “See?”

Bobby leaned in closer, struggling to see what she was showing him. A tattoo. A tiny blue butterfly tattoo on her shoulder.

“Cool,” he whispered.

“Bree would never get a tattoo,” Samantha whispered. “Never.”

She straightened the neck of her T-shirt. Then she put both hands on his shoulders and pushed him back against the wall. “I want you to drop Bree, Bobby,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Huh?” Bobby reacted with surprise.

She pressed harder, pinning him to the wall. “I'm sick of this,” she said sharply. “I don't care about her feelings anymore. I want you to get rid of her.”

“Well …” Bobby hesitated.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “Tell Bree you can't see her anymore. Be nice about it. Or don't be nice about it. Just get rid of her.”

“I'll try,” Bobby promised.

“No.
Do
it,” she said, pushing on his shoulders. “I'm telling you this for your own good. I'm not just being selfish. You don't know my sister. You don't want to get involved with her. I've warned you before.”

“Okay,” Bobby replied softly. He wasn't sure he wanted to drop Bree. He liked her, liked her a lot. But he didn't want to argue about it with Samantha.

Samantha leaned forward and kissed him again. A short kiss, as if sealing the bargain.

The monkeys chattered excitedly in their cage. Bobby clicked on the lights. The two long rows of fluorescents flickered on.

“Have you met Wayne and Garth?” Bobby asked, making his way over to them. They hopped up and down, pleased to see him. “Look. They think I'm going to feed them.”

“They're so cute!” Samantha gushed. “I love their curly tails!”

Bobby poked his finger into the cage and scratched Garth's back. “I'd take them out and let you hold one,” he said, “but I'm really hanging Paul and Arnie up. I've got to go.”

“But I brought you here to show you
my
project,” Samantha replied. She tugged him over to a glass aquarium case on a table against the wall. “Look. My little guys are cute too.”

Bobby stared down through the glass lid over the aquarium. At first he saw only the yellow sand that covered the bottom. Then he saw large red insects crawling over the sand. “Ants?”

Samantha nodded, her eyes trained on the cage.

“I don't think I've ever seen red ants before,” Bobby told her. “They're enormous!”

“They're cannibal ants,” she said. “From New Zealand.”

“Wow. Interesting,” Bobby replied, bending down to get a closer look. “What's that they're eating?”

“A dead mouse,” Samantha replied.

“Yum!” Bobby grinned at her, then returned his glance to the cage. “They're doing a pretty good job. They've chewed that mouse down to the bone.”

“They eat twenty times their weight every day,” Samantha said matter-of-factly.

Something about the way she said it, something about the cold detachment in her eyes, the tight, almost angry expression on her face, gave Bobby a chill.

He stood up. “Hey, they're making me hungry!” he joked.

She didn't laugh.

“Later,” Bobby said, heading to the door. “I've got to get downstairs. I'll call you.”

“Yeah. Later,” Samantha replied absently.

He glanced back to see her still leaning over the glass case, staring intently at the swarming red ants.

“Are you nervous?” Arnie asked, scratching the blond fuzz above his lip.

Bobby shook his head. “No way, man. We're as good as we're ever going to be!”

Paul laughed. “Is that a compliment or a putdown?”

Bobby laughed but didn't reply. They were standing backstage in the auditorium, waiting for their turn in the spring show.

“I just wish they'd let us tune up before we go onstage,” Bobby grumbled.

“You don't have to tune up a keyboard,” Paul said.

“You know what I mean,” Bobby replied sharply. “What if the balance isn't right? What if my amp is
too loud or too soft? What if one of the amps is busted or something? They should have given us a few minutes to check out the system.”

“Yeah, you're nervous,” Arnie muttered. He tapped his drumsticks against the tile wall, tapping out a rapid rhythm.

“We're on next,” Paul informed them. “Right after the gymnastics demonstration.”