Indigo Vamporium (5 page)

Reggae is pumping from the belly of the house and I'm trying not to stare as we dawdle past the older crowd. They're drinking and smoking, and underdressed. The guys are tall and buff, or lanky and mean, all of them adorned with vivacious flirts who already know you can make or break ladder rungs going up in this world by whose arm you're seen clinging to.

I decided to play it safe by wearing jeans, takkies, and a hoodie. The only thing I made an effort with is my hair and face.

“Toyota!” yells my way, and that just plonks me smack inside the center of attention as people turn to stare.

Paul is waving me over.

Ugh, thanks Paul. I owe you one.

Strolling through the dimly lit open plan interior, we finally make it down the steps into the dining room and out to the patio.

I remember when Brett ran right into these sliding doors and nearly cracked his face open. Tonight they're pushed wide to avoid accidents.

“If it isn't Spazmin,” sneers from behind my right.

Twisting a glance behind me, I notice Jennifer and all her cronies. Dolled to the nines, skirts too short and lips too red, the slut pod are already loitering for the drunk boys to wander out and find some action. They always wear cheap perfume that makes them smell like sugary cat pee.

Barf.

“Get lost,” I hiss, yanking on Sandi's arm to get out to Paul and them. Mumbling to Sandi, I say, “You can smell them before you see them. What are they doing here?”

She shrugs, uncaring, making a beeline for Paul.

He's chubby, but he's a nice guy. I'm never going to be popular and hot, and I'm never going to be such a loser you can classify me as a nerd, but I like my friends unpretentious. There's no pressure to smoke, or get drunk, or to get cornered by a horny playa who lives to smear your reputation the second he sobers up.

It's a relief to sit on the steps with Paul and TJ. Male backup is essential at these things.

“Hi guys,” I say as I sit, shoving my hands in my hoodie pockets and hunching, surveying the crowd.

Puffs of smoke mushroom into the night from dark corners laced in impenetrable shadows. Jeez, the evil contingent are already present down at the end of the garden.

“”What do you guys want to drink?” asks TJ, standing.

“I'll come with you,” I nod, standing too, knowing Sandi and Paul probably want the chance to snuggle and cozy up. TJ and myself are the spare wheels on this ride.

“Whatever,” Sandi says with a waft of her hand, dismissing us, already sucking on Paul's face.

TJ gives me that awkward 'we need to get lost for ten minutes' smile, grabbing my hand and linking me to his arm, he lets me hide behind his height as we navigate the congestion through to the kitchen.

“Wassup Taz,” smiles Ross as we enter the sliding door. He punches my shoulder, and ouch, it hurts.

“Hi,” I smile politely, nodding hello.

Ross watches us with his dark crew and I can tell he's trying to figure out if I'm with TJ or not. I'm single, I'm destined to always be single. Why is it only the freaks who ever want to date me? Nice guys are allergic to me, as if my deodorant is pepper spray for any guy worth looking at twice.

Pulled along through the melee, churlish pitched laughter hits my 'grate' nerve when we arrive at the kitchen doorframe. TJ waits for a gap to get to the tub of drinks while some chick saws through my nerves with her 'I'm so fabulous everyone notice me' laugh.

Stuck behind six foot of lanky male friend, I wait to see beyond him while people I don't recognize shove through the door, uncaring that some of us short folk bruise easily.

Finally we get a break in traffic and he pulls me through with him. The second my feet hit linoleum they glue to the floor because my legs seize and my knees lock.

There's that guy! That tall and gorgeous angel from the beach.

What's his name again?

The laughter belongs to Miss Universe.

Great, this is all I need. The perfect couple just stepped off the cover of Times to make sure the rest of us blend into the hideous tiles plastered to the walls in their avocado eighties chic.

“Toyota! Over here babes!” yells Carrie.

Staring at my second best friend, I go red hot with mortification.

That guy stopped talking to ogle and the only place I can look now is at the rubber tips on my Chuck Taylor's. I know everyone else wears Nike and Skechers, or whatever the hell is in these days, but I wanted my wheels more than I wanted trendy clothes. So here I am looking like a skater dweeb while the hottest guy in the world is staring at me looking like I muck stalls for extra cash and that's why I am hottie repellent.

The floor is sticky, the tread on my shoes is leaving obvious marks behind. Grateful for TJ, I hide on his dark side, shadowing him across the crowded room to Carrie. She hands me an Appeltiser and then offers me a smoke. Shaking my head to the cigarette, I try and unscrew the top off the bottle, slicing my finger open on the metal edge in the process.

Still looking down to pretend the rest of the eyes on me aren't really there, it's natural to suck the cut. Looking to TJ to ask for help, I'm alone! The moron just abandoned me to do the fifty finger handshake with David. David, the surfer magician who masters every wave as if he was born impaled on the end of Neptune's trident while presented to Venus on her clamshell.

Instead the tall guy next to me is
him
.

Clamping my mouth shut, the words already lurking in a  croak on my tongue, mute. I look to Carrie, who's smiling at him with all the confidence of someone who's already a little trashed.

We're way too young for these dudes. We can look, but dating them means messing up your education just to be popular and cool. I don't want to be cool, I choose to be smart. I want to get the education so I can earn the huge bucks one day. Being pretty can be bought, and so can popularity when you're earning the big money that these losers will miss out on because they're too busy getting laid, or getting high.

Not that Carrie is any of those things, she's not. She smokes just to annoy her mom. Her life is horrible and we're her only escape. She's not perfect but she's a fantastic friend. She's honest, straight up, and is always there for you. I love her to bits, and hey, if she's crazy enough to take on the venom of Miss Universe then she can flirt with the dude from the beach all she wants.

I'm sticking to my ideal that he's gay.

Looking his way again, my throat closes when I notice the guy standing next to him. There are two of them!

Confused, I look from one to the other, still holding an unopened drink, sucking on my finger like a junkie rubbing cocaine on her gums.

He smiles, indicating the doppelganger, “Tasmin, this is my brother Jowendrhan. Jo, this is Taz.” His gaze glances at my finger, then reengages my stare.

“How do you know him?” says Carrie too loud, smacking my arm for me.

I give her the 'shut up' look, “I don't
know
him. We just met.” Looking to his brother, I give a shy nod, “Hi.”

Jo smiles widely, looking at his brother and then back at me. I wish I could remember his brother's name. Now I feel just like 'Spaz'min because I can't introduce him to my friends. It's something like Seth. Except I know it's not Seth.

Damn it, think!

“I'm Carrie,” she preens, leaning over me from her perch on the kitchen counter, completely obscuring my ability to see a darn thing.

He shakes her hand, introducing himself because I'm too rude to do the honors. The last thing I wanted to do was make a fool of myself by calling him by the wrong name.

“...Seithe, and this is Jowendrhan.”

I'm so embarrassed I just want out.

Leaving her, having lost TJ completely, I decide to head back outdoors. Fleeing the kitchen without another word, I rush down the passage, through the lounge and TV room, hitting the dining room. I'm so close to freedom when an arm shoots up and a shoulder leans in, blocking my path.

His henchman mirrors the action behind me, the two of them boxing me in. “Toyota, where're you going in such a hurry?”

Shrinking back against the wall, I can smell the weed on his breath. He hones.

“Get lost, Ross.” I narrow my eyes to give him the warning stare while my stomach cringes all the way up to my neck.

We're at that age where the guys all look like they ate Jack's beans. They're so much taller that it makes me feel like I'm still twelve.

Darting my focus left, I note that his back up plan of thugs are leaning against the other wall, holding cans of brew with a casualness that belies the tension crackling between us.

“What do you want?” I snarl at him, choosing to ignore his hangers-on to try and intimidate the don of the pack instead. They take their lead from him. If he backs down, they will.

A hand intrudes between us and Ross is pushed away from me, giving me a foot of air.

“You okay Taz? These guys bothering you?”

“Who the hell are you?” says Ross, standing upright and flicking his greasy black fringe out of his eyes. When Seithe ignores him, he looks to me, “Toyota, who's the meathead?”

Grabbing Seithe's wrist, I pull him with me, escaping fast before this turns ugly. “Let's just get out of here.”

I give Ross the 'shrivel up and die' glare, rushing down the steps and heading toward Paul and Sandi when I halt, realizing too late they still need privacy. Doing a ninety degree diversion like a house fly, I go marching to the other side of the fire drum, sitting down abruptly and staring at the flames. The icy sea breeze hits the back of my neck and makes me huddle deeper into my top.

He sits next to me, extending his legs, holding out a hand, “Can I open that for you?”

Staring at the unopened apple soda, I nod, handing it to him. “Thanks.”

What the heck does he want? He's obviously a varsity dude, who happens to have a drop dead gorgeous girlfriend, and now he's hanging with me?

He probably thinks I've been stalking him considering how many times I've bodily thumped into him.

That was classic though, the way he makes tall and sleazy Ross look like a high school kid. Which he isn't, but he's used to being top dog. Three more drinks and he's likely to come out here to finish what he will perceive Seithe started.

“That was lej.” I give him a grateful smile when he passes my open bottle to me, perfuming the air with that sweet tart apple scent.

“Ledge?” he frowns at me.

“Legend. It's what we say when something is awesome. What you did back there was legend.”

He nods, looking from me to the door, where Ross is lurking with his stragglers. “So what was that about?”

“I dunno. He's just an idiot.” To buy time I take a sip of Appeltiser.

The dancing firelight tans his face with an ethereal glow and I'm struck again by how 'lish he is.

“Why do they call you Toyota?”

His voice is deeper too. He's nice. He really is
nice
. Nice doesn't wander through here very often. I shrug, smiling, grateful for the heat from the fire to shield my awkward blush, “There's a car called a Toyota Tazz. I can't remember who said it first, but it stuck.”

Way to go. Now I'll never have any cool factor on my chart.

“What do you prefer? Taz, or Toyota?”

“Obviously Taz,” I say, glancing his way. “Look, Seithe, thanks for saving me back there, but I don't want to get your girlfriend on my case. You should probably go back in there before all the guys hit on her.”

His laughter is fantastic! Wow. I didn't expect it, but it's the kind of laugh that fizzes your brain cells and turns you into  mindless mush. “She's not my girlfriend, she's my twin sister.”

Oh great. That cow is his sister? Now you're doubly off limits.

“Oh,” I mumble, examining my stinging finger that is still bleeding.

He lifts my hand, twisting it so he can see the cut with the fire's light. “You'll live.”

The way he's holding my hand as if he doesn't want to let it go, strong and secure, it thickens the air in my body and I suddenly can't swallow.

His thumb traces over the slice in my skin, the flames flaring in such a way that for a second it looks like his eyes are glowing from the inside.

I can't believe this is even happening to me. Come on, I have to be the most average girl here and he's sitting with
me
.

“There you are!” shouts across the moment, and he releases my hand, looking their way, sucking on his own finger as if in sympathy. He traced the cut with that finger and it's kinda cute when he sucks on it. His eyes catch the firelight again, glowing like reflective embers.

Following the noise, I smile at Carrie and Jowendrhan. TJ is still missing.

“So like, did you know these guys are here on holiday?” Carrie says, sitting on the tufty grass next to me, leaning her shoulder against mine, smelling strongly of cigarette.

“Oh?” I nod.

She flops Jo's way when he sits on her other side, the two brothers framing us. She snuggles right up, linking her arm through his and leaning her head against his shoulder.

“They're going surfing with Dave in the morning. They're mad.” Leaning forward to look at Seithe on my other side, she slurs a little, “Dude, there are great whites out there. You couldn't pay me to surf at our beach, plus it's frek cold.”

He's still sucking his finger and I watch when he fists his hands and crosses his arms, bunching wide shoulders to stare at her when he hunches forward, “Frack cold?”

“Cold enough to kill you. Frek means die.”

Jo laughs, and he sounds like Seithe, “You guys are so weird. I swear it's like landing on another planet. Your lingo is so strange.”

“Spazmin!”

The second I look up, across the fire toward the house, I notice the slut pod teetering our way on their prostitute shoes. Oh god, I should have known this would happen.

Flicking a 'help me' stare at Carrie, I watch Jenni and her entourage pose provocatively next to us, “Who's your friend?”

“Go away, Jenni. If he wants crabs he'll get a permit to catch them from the ocean.”

Carrie snorts, suffocating down her laughter.