* * *
“Wow. This place is really busy tonight,” Carrie said, glancing around the crowded parking lot. She pulled the cuffs of her red waistcoat over her hands and shivered against the frigid air. It looked like she had a black lace-up corset underneath it. No wonder she was cold, but at least her long black skirt covered her legs, although the metal zipper that ran up the side of it was probably cold against her skin. I was suddenly thankful I’d decided to wear my sweater coat.
“Of course it’s busy.” Matt stepped between us and placed a hand on our shoulder. “What else are people going to do in good old Astoria besides clubbing and bar hopping?” He lifted his shoulders when we looked at him, as if to say, “Am I right?”
Astoria, Oregon was a city of ten-thousand people on the Columbia River. I loved Astoria. I loved the tall evergreen and spruce trees, the mountains, the river, the forest, and that it was only a few miles from the Pacific Ocean. Astoria was our home.
I flashed him an alluring smile. “I can think of a few things.”
Carrie giggled. “You’re bad.”
Matt stepped ahead of us and turned around, walking backwards. “Yeah, they’re either doing this”–he made a round circle with his right hand and stuck his left index finger in and out in a rapid motion–“or they’re doing this”–he made a fist with his right hand and jabbed it back and forth near his crotch–“but either way, they’re having fun.” He tilted his head to the side; his red and blue spikes shined beneath the yellow glow of the street lamps. Grinning, he waggled his eyebrows.
Carrie and I burst out in laughter.
Up ahead stood The Lion’s Den, dark and menacing, with its fake fog pouring out of the round stone entrance in waves. Bright red and orange lights flashed inside its mouth to the beat of the alternative music we now heard. The long ancient brick building housed several bars, but The Lion’s Den was dead center and alcohol free.
Matt turned around and sprinted toward the entrance. “C’mon, they’re playing my favorite song.” He waved over his shoulder.
The club smelled like wood cleaner and leather and was packed with teenagers. Most of them I knew and were friends with. I spotted Tree right away, on the dance floor across the room, jerking his head to the rhythm of the music, spurts of red and orange lights flashed across his black Mohawk. He saw us and waved.
Carrie pointed to Matt, and we laughed. He looked like he was doing a war dance. Some of the kids joined in, mimicking his moves, reminding me of aborigines. Tree was breaking away from the crowd, heading our way.
“Hey,” Tree said, practically yelling over the loud music, totally checking Carrie out.
“Hi, Tree,” Carrie said, her eyes still on Matt. “How are you?”
He shifted his weight back and forth. “Good, but these combat boots are hurting my feet.” His Mohawk was bone-straight and as tall as my forearm. When he looked at his foot, I saw a fake tattoo of a skull and crossbones on the side of his head. It looked totally awesome. “I guess I should’ve broken them in first,” he added.
Carrie tore her eyes away from Matt, and they widened when she dropped her gaze to his feet. “Those are cool boots! Where did you get them?”
Tree smiled. “I ordered them from Cheaper Than Dirt.”
“Cool.” She turned to me as if Tree wasn’t even there. “Let’s go dance.”
“We should go get a locker first,” I told her, disappointed she blew Tree off.
“There’s an empty one next to mine,” Tree said. “I’ll show you.”
I knew Carrie wanted to dance with Matt, so I offered to take her stuff and get us a locker. Tree stood there, staring after her, his face baring his hurt feelings. I hated seeing him like that and made a mental note to talk to Carrie about it. Tree was our best friend and just because she had the hots for Matt, didn’t give her the right to treat Tree that way. I mean, I loved Carrie, but sometimes I wanted to knock some sense into her.
“What’s the locker number beside yours that’s empty?” I asked him when we reached the counter. The kid behind it looked no older than fourteen. His blond hair was spiked up in all different directions, and he wore black eyeliner–thick around his dark eyes.
“It’s number fifty-five,” Tree told the kid.
The kid searched through a row of keys on a huge round key ring until he found the right one. I gave him two dollars as he handed me the key, and then we went to the lockers on the back wall beside the entrance. I took my sweater off when I spotted the large white number fifty-five on black metal. Tree opened his locker and grabbed his stuff.
“Are you leaving?” I didn’t want him to go like this–bummed and depressed.
“Yeah, my feet hurt, and I’ve been here for a while already.” He glanced over at Carrie dancing with Matt, and then his eyes fell back on mine. They were full of the same disappointment I’d felt earlier, and I wanted to make him feel better.
“Don’t go,” I said. “You can dance with me. Maybe she’ll get jealous and realize she still likes you.” It was difficult talking to him like this. We had to strain our voices over the music, and I found myself wanting to be in a quieter place.
He shook his head while putting on his leather trench coat and scrunched up his face. “I don’t think so. I know Matt is your friend, but I think he’s a douche bag.” He paused. “And if he ever hurts Carrie,” he added, his face now clouded with anger, “I’ll beat his ass.”
The hostility in his voice surprised me, causing my heart to flutter with jealousy. I mean, nobody cared enough about me to act that way. I looked away, gripped by loneliness.
He placed his hands on my shoulders. “I’d beat his ass if he hurts you too,” he said.
I squinted at him and laughed. “You’d use any excuse to beat his ass.”
“Yup.” He grinned. “Have fun, Ms. Reed. My little fairy.”
“Okay, bye.” I watched him throw one more glance in Carrie’s direction before heading outside. He towered over a group of kids coming in. All five of them stopped to stare at him, and I couldn’t blame them. He did look like he belonged in a punk band somewhere in Europe.
“Are you going to join us?” Carrie asked, tugging on my arm.
“Yeah, but I need to talk to you about Tree,” I said, still feeling bad for him.
“Okay, but later.” She took my hand, towing me behind her.
As we made our way through the crowd of moving bodies, my ears started to ring again. Okay, this was seriously getting on my last nerve, but then I reminded myself I was here to have fun and began swaying my hips when we reached Matt. My body automatically moved inside a bubble of energetic sound waves–free and unencumbered. I was no longer the freak with a mother who showed up when she wanted to and a father who had died when I was four. None of that stuff mattered, because in that moment I was one with the music and the pulsing lights. And as each song changed into pure techno melodies, I became more entranced, closing my eyes, swaying my body to the beat of the music, entering my own world.
Then something strange happened. The people around me were now far below me, and I was tethered to a silver cord attached to my dancing body. I wasn’t scared though, and found myself enjoying this sense of release. When I thought about the premonition, the fear I’d felt toward it earlier didn’t touch me, probably since I knew I wasn’t dead. I mean, hey, the silver cord remained attached to my body, so I was good, right?
As I took in my surroundings, a guy wearing a long black coat caught my attention. He was on the high platform overlooking the floor with his hands gripping the black railing. His hood concealed his face, but he appeared to be watching the people down below.
My eyes swept over the crowd and rested on Matt standing there staring intently on my swaying body. He took a step closer and leaned forward.
Was he sniffing me?
He looked up, searching for something.
At that exact moment, the hooded guy jumped off the platform, over the black railing, and ran to the da
nce floor. And then Matt’s eyes locked onto mine. They were pale and glowing.
I shivered.
The silvery cord rippled, and then yanked me toward my body, as if I was a balloon being pulled down by an eager child’s grasp. Everything rushed before me: the tables, the crowd of moving heads, and my own head moving in a figure eight along with my body. I closed my eyes and collided into a hard, confining surface, and that was the last thing I could remember.
Chapter Two
Confusion