Part 18 (1/2)

”There must be -”

”Stop arguing!”

”I am not going to kill anyone!” I yelp. ”Anyone I know! Forget it!”

”What are you up to? You're buying time.” She's menacing. ”You have a plan, don't you?”

”I wasn't . . .”

”You lie like s.h.i.+t. What do you think you're doing? d.a.m.n, man, you are . . . !”

”I have a respect for human life and -”

”Yeah? Go, girl! They don't have any respect for yours!”

”So you think I should just give up and throw in my whole life just so -”

”I think you're up s.h.i.+t's creek, is what I think!”

”- so I can go and dine with the d.a.m.ned!”

She glares at me. Her lips pull back and reveal her fangs. ”Not 'd.a.m.ned,'” she hisses. ”Just trying to live.” And with that she moves swiftly past me to the door. She opens it. ”Bat!” she calls.

I am used to having things happen to me, instead of me doing things. Now I realize that it is high time for me to do something quickly. Something escape-like. I have screwed up. She's looking angry, murderous, leaning out the door, her arm spread across it to bar my way. I crouch and fling myself into the hall. Bat is thumping down the hall toward me, bellowing like a Viking. ”Let's PARTEEEEEE! PARTEEEEE! OWWOWOWOW!”

Then he sees me.

”What's the -?” he asks.

She's pointing at me and shouting, ”d.i.c.kless here isn't going to -”

But I'm running low, trying to pa.s.s him.

He jabs his arm in my side. I slam against the wall and fall into a squat, but even then, I'm jumping forward toward the stairs.

I have to get into a large crowd. They can't risk a large crowd. He grabs at my shoe, but I'm slithering down the stairs like a snake, on my belly. Beer pools stain the carpet. Girls are screaming and standing up as I fall past them.

”. . . so G.o.dd.a.m.n drunk! drunk!” one sneers.

And I'm in the thick of the party at the bottom of the stairs, and Bat in his muddy Keds is clomping down toward me with the look of an animal in his face.

My brother has gotten out his video camera and is trying to capture the essence of the party for future generations and anthropologists; big Pete Gallagher is growling, ”Let me borrow it! Just one sec! Let me borrow it!”

”Come back here, weeeeee-zull! weeeeee-zull!” I hear Bat yell.

”Let me borrow it!” says big Pete Gallagher and he yanks at it.

”Stop!” says Paul. ”You're gonna screw up the picture!”

”Let me borrow it!”

”Okay, already. Here. Careful,” says Paul. ”The b.u.t.ton on the side -”

”This?”

”No, look. No, don't do that one! G.o.d! No, you've got to push . . .”

Bat is shoving his way through the crowd toward me. Pete swings the camera around the room, saying, ”Smile, man! Say 'Cheese!'”

Two of Pete's friends flex their muscles and say, ”Cheese! Cheese, Petey-boy!”

”Careful!” says Paul, tagging along at Pete's side. ”That's, like, an expensive piece of -”

”I'm careful! Be cool! I'm being careful!” says Pete, and he roars to Nicki Brown, ”Bark! Bark like a dog! Up close and personal!” and he sticks the lens in her face and she's so drunk she barks like a dog.

Bat is pointing at me and only me from across the crowd.

He mouths the word ”Die.”

”Hey, care-careful!” says Paul again.

And I'm working my way toward the door.

”And the lovely Miss Lolli!” says Pete. ”There's the lovely Miss Lolli! New aquaintance and playgirl of the month! Time for an up close and personal!”

”Careful!” says Paul. ”I paid for that thing!”

”Yeah, yeah.”

Lolli's just entered the room and they're clearing a way for her, and she's covering her face with her hand and saying, ”Don't take pictures of me with that thing! I said: Don't take my picture!”

Pete has it in her face and now Bat has one eye on me but he's working his way toward her instead, yelling, ”She said she doesn't like her G.o.dd.a.m.n picture taken! G.o.dd.a.m.n picture taken! That means,” he says, grabbing Pete's shoulder, ”she That means,” he says, grabbing Pete's shoulder, ”she doesn't like her G.o.dd.a.m.n picture taken! doesn't like her G.o.dd.a.m.n picture taken!”

”Pete, please,” mewls Paul. ”That's -”

”This is my a.s.sistant, Paul,” Pete explains to Bat, zeroing in on Lolli's chest. ”Paul likes doing films of slugs. We're making footage for science.” Everyone is laughing at my brother.

Paul still is hovering around the camcorder and Bat suddenly grabs it from Pete and yells at the top of his lungs, ”I'M GONNA BEAT THE c.r.a.p OUT OF YOU IF YOU KEEP TAKIN' PICTURES OF THAT GIRL! PICTURES OF THAT GIRL!”

I dart out of the room - Pete's friends screaming, ”Who the h.e.l.l are you?” and Lolli screeching, ”Get that thing out of my face!” and Paul whining, ”Please, just give me the camera!” and Pete and Bat, they're both hollering at the top of their lungs, hardly words, just sounds.

And I'm out through the den, where an unwatched television shows Pretty Woman, Pretty Woman, and I'm through the kitchen, tripping in the dark, and suddenly I see there's someone in there, against the sink - and I'm through the kitchen, tripping in the dark, and suddenly I see there's someone in there, against the sink - And by the light of the moon through the window, I see Hors d'oeuvre Asheleighe, her s.h.i.+rt open, and Trunk McIntyre is feeding on her neck.

For a moment, I'm transfixed in horror. Then, ”Run!” I scream hoa.r.s.ely. ”Run!”

Trunk and Asheleighe recoil in surprise; Trunk spins around. ”s.h.i.+t!” he exclaims. ”You watching? You little s.h.i.+t!”

And as I slam open the kitchen door and push my way through the crowd in the dining room I can hear her saying, ”G.o.d, that kid is, like, can you say schitzoid?”

And the dining room leads to the front door. I can hear them in the living room - ”I said get it out of my face and I meant get it out of my face!”