The Secret Society of the Pink Crystal Ball (14 page)

I look up at the ceiling and I exhale. I have never felt so alive.

When I reach the edge of the crowd, a guy with short spiky hair and tattoos covering his entire neck gently lowers me to the ground. He raises his hand up, palm open, and I high five him.

“That was rad,” he says.

I beam at him, and as he disappears back into the crowd, Jesse and Samantha appear by my side.

“Oh my God, that was so awesome!” Samantha squeals. “I can't believe you did that!”

Jesse laughs. “You are officially the coolest girl I have ever met.” He looks me right in the eye, but I look away, not wanting him to see how flattered I am by such a designation. Especially since just a week ago I was Just a Boring Girl from AP Art History Class with Whom Jesse Is Being Forced to Work. “Hey, would you guys want to meet the band?” he asks. “'Cause RJ, the guy at the door, he slipped me four backstage passes when we came in.”

Samantha cocks one eyebrow. “Did you say
four
backstage passes?”

“Yeah.”

Samantha looks at me, her eyes shining. I know exactly what she's thinking.

“We'll be right back,” she says to Jesse. “Don't move.”

“I really don't think you should do this,” I caution—but it's too late; Samantha has seized my arm and plunged me back into the crowd. “He was such a jerk to you before!” I yell. “What makes you think he's going to be any nicer?”

Samantha's eyes are laserlike in their focus as she drags me to the other side of the club, toward Aiden and Trance. “Don't you see?” she shouts back. “This is it! This is the ball's doing. It has to be.”

“But what if he says no?” I shout to her. I can't help it. Even after Jesse, even after everything, I'm still skeptical. It's just how my mind works.

Samantha looks at me solemnly. “He won't,” she mouths.

We approach Aiden and Trance, who are sitting on a ledge along the side wall of the club. Aiden is furiously playing air guitar, mouthing the words to the song that the band is playing, and Trance has her arms crossed in front of her. She looks pissed off.

“Hey, Aiden!” Samantha yells to him. He doesn't hear her, so she taps him on the shoulder. When he sees that it's Samantha who has interrupted his guitar solo, he rolls his eyes. I suddenly wish I had a pair of gardening shears to cut off that stupid messy hair of his.

“I'm not giving you a ride home, so don't even ask,” he yells over the music.

“I didn't come over here to ask you for a ride,” Samantha shouts. She leans in toward him and cups her hand over her mouth, talking directly into his ear. His eyes widen, and he nods, then puts up one finger as he turns away from her to talk to Trance. Samantha grabs my arm excitedly and jumps up and down behind his back.

I watch as Aiden puts his hand on Trance's leg and leans into her ear to explain the situation. From the look on Trance's face, I can already tell that this is not going over well. Aiden points at me and Samantha, and Trance suddenly leaps up from where she's sitting and starts screaming at him. I can't really hear what she's saying, but I can see her gesticulating toward Samantha, and it's pretty obvious what's going on.

She gives Aiden the finger, then grabs her bag and storms off.

My heart sinks. Of course Aiden is going to run off after her, and poor Samantha is going to be devastated. But to my surprise, he just stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and watches her walk away, then turns back to Samantha and shrugs.

“Screw her,” he says, more to himself than to either of us. “Come on, let's go.”

The lead singer of the Flamingo Kids—I think Jesse said his name is Eric—is prancing around the stage, screaming into the mic (I wouldn't call it singing, exactly), less than ten feet from where we're standing in the wings, our backstage passes hanging from our necks. This is by far the coolest night of my entire life. I can't believe I almost didn't even come. I can't believe I thought I would prefer Barry Manilow to
this
.

Eric glances over in our direction, then quickly looks back again, as if to make sure that he'd really seen what he thought he'd seen. Which is, of course, Samantha: a vision in Hot Topic and knee-high boots. He crosses the stage and looks over a third time, and I notice that this time he catches her eye, causing the left side of his mouth to turn up into a little one-quarter grin before he turns back out to the crowd. I think Aiden must have noticed, too, because he immediately puts his arm around Samantha's waist and whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle.

As soon as the show is over, the other guys in the band leave the stage on the opposite side, but Eric makes a beeline for us. Well, not for us. For her. And now he's standing here, bare-chested and sweaty, his damp brown hair falling over one eye, his dark brown eyes dilated and wide with adrenaline. He has great swirling tattoos covering almost his entire torso, and across his chest it says “Pink Flamingos” in heavy Gothic letters. His body is long and lean, muscled but not bulky. He looks sinewy and hard. He looks like the kind of guy who would get you grounded until you're thirty.

A guy with an earpiece rushes over and hands him a towel and a cup of ice water. He downs the water in one long gulp, without ever taking his eyes off of Samantha. Instinctively, Aiden pulls her closer.

“I'm Eric,” he says, completely ignoring Aiden, and me and Jesse for that matter.

“Samantha,” she says, ignoring Aiden as well.

Eric nods. “Well,
Samantha
. What'd you think of the show?”

Samantha sticks her tongue in her cheek and looks him right in the eye, unblinking. “It was pretty good, but I would have ended on a better-known song. You should always leave your audience wanting more.”

Eric raises his eyebrows, and he looks surprised by the criticism. But then his mouth slowly breaks into that one-quarter grin. “That's funny. My drummer said the same thing.” He narrows his eyes at her just a little, looking more intrigued than ever. And who could blame him? Even I'm amazed by her coolness and confidence. Plus, she has Aiden right where she wants him. I suddenly have the feeling that I'm in the presence of a master, and I watch, wide-eyed, waiting to see how she's going to manipulate this situation to her advantage.

“These are my friends,” she says, suddenly. “Erin, Jesse, and Aiden. Jesse's a huge fan.”

My mouth drops open. She knows that Aiden is a huge fan too. Aiden is the only reason that she even wanted to come, and she's acting like he's not important. She's acting like he's not even here. Like she doesn't even notice that he has his arm wrapped around her like a python. Although I'm starting to think that that's kind of the point.

“Rock on, man,” Eric says. He makes a fist with his hand and holds it out toward Jesse, who fist bumps him back. “You want me to sign your shirt?”

Jesse looks like a kid on Christmas morning. “Yeah. That'd be awesome.”

Eric motions to the guy with the earpiece, who is still hovering nearby. He quickly produces a black Sharpie from his front pocket and hands it to Eric. Jesse turns around and bends forward slightly, and Eric leans on his left shoulder, writing with the Sharpie on his shirt. When he's finished, he hands the pen back to the guy with the earpiece, then looks back at Samantha.

“Me and the guys were thinking about going to an after-party at a club downtown. Do you want to come?”

An after-party? At a club? I wonder how old he thinks she is. She definitely could pass for eighteen, but twenty-one? I don't think so. I hold my breath as I wait to see how she's going to get around this one.

“I don't know,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I think I'm in the mood for something mellower tonight.”

Eric's eyes dart back and forth from Samantha's face to Aiden's hand curled around her waist, and it's obvious that he's having trouble figuring out the situation.

“I can do mellow,” he says with a shrug. “But I gotta know first, are you with this guy or what?” he asks, nodding toward Aiden.

Apparently he's finished making small talk and if it's not going to happen with Samantha, then he wants to hurry up and find someone who it is going to happen with before all the rest of the groupies take off. Samantha tilts her head, as if she has to think about it.

“I don't know,” she answers. She tosses her hair and then slowly turns her face toward Aiden. “Am I with you?”

Aiden smiles. “Hell, yeah.”

Samantha turns back to look at Eric. “I guess I am.”

Eric raises his eyebrows. “Good for you, man,” he says to Aiden, giving him a grudging nod of respect. Then he looks pointedly back at Samantha. “We're playing here again this summer. In case, you know, you're ever not with him.”

Samantha smiles coyly. “Good to know.”

***

Outside, the full moon is hanging so low in the sky that it looks like a prop in a school play: a wooden cutout painted iridescent silver, suspended from the sky by invisible nylon cords. The four of us walk out to the parking lot together, Aiden and Samantha slightly ahead of me and Jesse. Aiden has his arm draped across Samantha's shoulders, and Samantha is laughing and squealing. Every few seconds, Aiden pulls her toward him. To be honest, their PDA is making me feel a little uncomfortable with Jesse right next to me, sort of like how it is when I'm watching a make-out scene in a movie with my parents. Except…

“What is that about?” Jesse whispers to me after their, like, fifteenth kiss. I roll my eyes and shake my head.

“It's a long story. Not even worth your time.”

When we finally get to Aiden's car, Aiden pushes Samantha up against the passenger side door and makes out with her, his hands traveling up and down the sides of her body.
Ew
. I clear my throat loudly. Aiden stops kissing Samantha and gives me a sheepish grin.

“Right,” he says, reality dawning on him. “You guys came together, so you're gonna need a ride home, aren't you?” I nod at him, and Samantha grabs onto him by the belt loops of his jeans. “That's cool. Not a problem.”

I will admit that I am slightly surprised by this. I was definitely expecting him to throw a tantrum about having to give me a ride.

“It's all right,” Jesse says, stepping in front of me. “I can take her home.” Aiden looks at the two of us as if it has just occurred to him that we might be together, and he shoots me a concerned, big-brother-ish stare.

“Is that cool with you?” he asks me.

Again, not the Aiden I thought he was, and I can't help but wonder if maybe I've got him all wrong, and maybe Samantha isn't crazy for liking him so much.

“It's fine with me,” I answer. “I just need to talk to Samantha for a second. Alone.”

Aiden steps back and bows a little, holding his hands out as if he's making way for the queen. I grab Samantha by the arm and pull her away from the car.

“Can you believe this?” she whispers giddily. “That ball is amazing. It totally worked! He ditched Trance to hook up with me, just like I asked!”

I sigh. “Samantha, I will admit that he is being particularly nice to us right now, but are you really sure you want to do this? Just remember, he hasn't technically broken up with Trance. They only got into a fight.”

She looks at me like I'm crazy. “Are you kidding? He's going to forget all about Trance. And don't forget, it's working for you too. You're going home with Jesse now, so you're going to get to kiss him. And see his hot body, remember? It's
perfect
.” She plants a huge lip-gloss-sticky kiss on my cheek and starts to walk back toward Aiden, but I stop her.

“There's just one more thing.”

“What?”

I sigh. I hate that I feel like I need to be Samantha's mother. It's really not a healthy dynamic for a teenaged friendship. But her own mother just seems so incapable of doing the job, so…

“Listen, just be careful, okay? Don't do anything that you might regret in the morning.”

Samantha looks at me like I'm a lost cause and shakes her head, annoyed.

“Thanks a lot, Captain Buzzkill. Way to ruin the moment. Do you want to tell me how babies are made too?” I must look as hurt as I feel, because Samantha immediately leans in and gives me a hug. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn't mean that. I'm just so excited about everything that's happening, and, you know, I mean this in the nicest way, but you're always so serious and responsible, and it's kind of a downer. I mean, you just crowd-surfed! Go with that. Take a breather from being the voice of reason for once. Even if it's just for tonight.”

“Okay,” I say, trying to be peppy but still stinging.

Aiden honks his horn impatiently.

“Coming!” she yells, as she runs back to the car. She opens the passenger door and slips in, and Aiden leans over and kisses her again, grabbing the back of her hair. Samantha puts her head on his shoulder as he starts the engine, blowing me a kiss as they drive away.

***

“Are you okay?” Jesse asks, once we're in the front seat of his car, heading toward the highway. Now that we're alone together, a heavy awkwardness has settled in, and the small space between us in the car feels more like a gulf. I so badly want to sidle up next to him, the way Samantha did with Aiden. I want to fall against him and breathe him in, and I want to feel his heart beating under his T-shirt, fast and hard, like mine is. But it just seems too contrived now. Plus, in spite of the earplugs, my ears are still ringing from the concert, and my head is throbbing from replaying Samantha's words over and over and over again in my mind.

“Yeah. Why?”

Jesse chuckles. “I don't know. You're just clutching the door handle, and you like you're going to be sick any second.”

I look down at myself; I
am
clutching the door handle. God, I am such a dork. I remove my hand from the door and slide over—slightly—toward him. I remember a romance novel that Samantha once stole from her mom about a housewife and her hot gardener. I didn't quite understand what the narrator meant about the “sexual tension” that was always between them, like when she was sunbathing by the shimmering pool, caressing her smooth, tanned legs with oil, while he was kneeling just a few feet away from her, plucking the soft petals of the fading blooms with his strong, nimble fingers. Oh my God, it was the cheesiest thing ever. But boy, do I understand it now.

“Sorry,” I say. “I'm fine.” Jesse looks up suddenly, like he's just had an idea.

“Hey, what time do you have to be home?”

I glance at the clock on the dashboard. It's ten-fifteen. “Eleven-thirty. How come?”

He smiles. “I want to show you something.”

***

A few minutes later, we pull up to an old, run-down, rambling white house with an enormous wrap-around porch. The paint is peeling off of the wood and the floorboards are littered with rusting chairs and a couple of swings that hang from the rafters. Above the doorway is a white wooden sign that reads, “The Mansion House Inn, est. 1923,” in a neat, fading script. I can't imagine what we're doing here.

“What is this?” I ask as he turns off the car headlights.

He smiles secretively. “You'll see.”

We both get out of the car and he motions for me not to slam my door, so I close it as quietly as I can.

“Come on,” he whispers. “Follow me.”

We tiptoe around the perimeter of the house, until we come to a flimsy-looking wire fence. We follow it for about fifty yards, and then Jesse stops. He crouches down and puts his hands against the fence, feeling for something.

“Here it is.” He pulls on the wire, and a section of the fence opens out toward us, revealing a hole just big enough for a person to crawl through. He holds it back with one hand and puts his other hand out, motioning for me to go through. “After you.”

Warily, I examine the hole. “I don't know. Isn't this trespassing?”

Jesse laughs. “That's right. I forgot that you were a rule-follower. Do you remember the time in fourth grade when Joey Forlenza said he was going to steal our lunch money? Remember how fat he was? I told you to run. But you wouldn't do it, because there was a rule that no running was allowed in the hallways. And he got you, and he stole your lunch money, just like he said he would.”

I shake my head. “I don't remember that…”

Jesse nods, still laughing. “Yeah, you do.”

I can feel my face turning red. I'm glad that we're outside, in the dark, so that he can't see.

“Trust me,” he says, motioning to the fence. “It will be totally worth it.”

“The last time you told me to trust you I ended up being passed around a mosh pit on my back.”

“And you had fun, didn't you?”

I hesitate, not wanting to admit it. As I contemplate the hole, I hear Samantha's voice echoing through my head again.
Take a breather from being the voice of reason for once. Even if it's just for tonight
.

Okay,
fine
, I think.
But just for tonight
.

I get down on my hands and knees and crawl through the hole, pretending not to hear Jesse as he cheers me on, softly clapping in the night.

We make our way down a fairly steep embankment. After I trip on a tree stump and nearly kill myself, Jesse takes my hand to help keep me steady.