“Of course you are. Friends that want to be alone so they can suck face.”
Tim didn’t say anything and tried not to look too embarrassed. He’d been mildly attracted to Chelsea since the beginning of this last semester and tried not to let it be known. That obviously had not worked, and it was also obvious that Chelsea felt the same way, which was even more of a shock to Tim’s system. Girls had never liked him, mostly because of the bullshit rumors that had been spread by Heather Watkins and Emily Wynfield back in the seventh grade, but Chelsea was different. She hung out with their crew. She was as much a loner and outcast as he was.
They headed over to Susan Zimmerman’s home, which was on the other side of town. Unlike Tim and his friends, Susan wasn’t a social outcast, but then she wasn’t part of the social elite of Spring Valley High, either. Tim classified Susan as neutral in the whole thing. She was pleasant enough, and she often talked to him in class, but that was about it.
Susan lived with her parents and two younger brothers in a large two story McMansion on Sixth Street. When they arrived there were already twenty kids crowded in the basement rec room swilling punch and soft drinks. Susan’s mom, Cindy, was playing chaperone. She was standing by the refreshment table talking to Lisa Harman and Danielle Allegeny. Panic at the Disco was playing on the stereo. A group of kids Tim recognized from school were playing foosball. Other kids were huddled in groups of three or four, talking.
When they walked into the rec room several kids glanced their way. A few eyebrows rose in surprise, as if to exclaim oh my! The freaks are here! George grinned slightly. Tim was under the impression George was enjoying his new found status as a social outcast. In a perfect world George would have been among the social elite of the student body, with his good looks and athletic build. Instead, he’d chosen to not only be friends with Tim, he was actually enjoying being an outcast!
George nodded at several people as they entered and Tim did the same. With George and Al at his side he was filled with a sudden burst of confidence. Nothing could happen to them here. His friends had his back. He nodded greetings at several kids he knew, some of whom looked away. Others nodded back at them, kids Tim recognized as being neutral to the whole drama he’d experienced the past few years.
As they approached the refreshment table, Al nudged him gently. “Scott and his buddies at ten o’clock.”
Tim nodded. He was looking for Matt and Chelsea. They were nowhere to be seen.
Somebody said, “It’s Count Gaines and his followers.” A nervous laugh followed. Tim ignored them and smiled at Danielle as she greeted them warmly. George and Al made small talk with Danielle and her friends while he stood by and took subtle glances around the room, taking stock of who was there.
The source of the Count Gaines comment made itself known a moment later. Dave Bruce and Steve Downing. They were standing five feet away, hanging out with Scott Bradfield and Gordon Smith and another guy Tim recognized from the Spring Valley High football team. Dave grinned stupidly at him and raised his drink in a mock salute. He mouthed the word “Count” and Tim felt a sense of power surge through him. He grinned. He wasn’t intimidated by these losers anymore. They might be the source of all his problems, but he wasn’t afraid of them.
Gordon glanced their way and when he saw them, he looked away. Tim wondered if it was because he felt guilty about lying to the police about that book. As Tim accepted a glass of punch from Danielle and sipped it, he wondered how his copy of Back From the Dead wound up in the cemetery parking lot in the first place. The only thing he could think of was Gordon had to have left it there, whether by accident or on purpose it didn’t matter. Gordon was the only one who could have left it there, and that meant he was present when that grave was desecrated. The police could find no physical evidence of Tim, Al, or George being anywhere within the vicinity of that cemetery the evening the grave was vandalized, and they hadn’t even tried questioning Gordon again. Doug Fenner had tried suggesting to the police that Gordon and his friends be investigated, but the police dismissed it. It looked like the entire matter was going to be dropped, but that didn’t stop Tim from thinking that Gordon, and quite possibly one of his other loser friends, were the real culprits of the grave vandalism.
And if that was the case, why had they done it? Tim didn’t think they’d have the balls to actually steal the bones of a long interred dead person, much less desecrate a grave, just to frame him. That was going a bit too far.
Tim’s mind was just about to go into overdrive in trying to come up with a scenario for why Gordon and his friends would try to frame him, when George interrupted his thoughts. “Chelsea and Matt just got here.”
Tim turned to the door that led to the back yard. Matt and Chelsea were standing there, looking a bit apprehensive about entering a party composed entirely of kids they hated. Matt was short, with longish blonde hair, and Chelsea was small and slender with black hair that hung to her shoulders. Chelsea saw him and smiled. Tim grinned back.
“What’s up, Count Gaines?”
Tim whirled around and came face to face with Scott Bradfield.
Scott was grinning. Dave, Steve, Gordon, and that football jock framed him on either side. Dave and Steve had those same dumb grins on their faces, as if they were anticipating something. Gordon looked like he didn’t want to be there and wouldn’t meet Tim’s gaze. The football jock looked like he wanted to fight somebody.
“What’s up?” Tim said.
George and Al turned around, too. Al nodded. “Hey, what’s up?”
Scott ignored George and Al, his gaze directed entirely on Tim. “Never thought I’d see you here tonight, Count. Getting pretty brave.”
“I guess I am.”
“Congratulations on getting your new friends suspended from school.”
“Thank you!” Tim grinned.
“This the motherfucker that tried to throw you under the bus, Gordon?” The football jock glowered at Tim, his blue eyes fiery pits.
“He’s cool, John,” Gordon said, still not looking at Tim.
“Actually, you’re right, John,” Scott said. “Gaines has a nasty habit of practicing witchcraft and doing weird shit and then trying to blame his crimes on other people. I wouldn’t worry about him, though. He’s been put in his place enough times.”
“You best not be fucking with my boys, asshole,” football jock said. His gaze did not waver from Tim. For his part, Tim did not look away.
“Count Gaines knows not to fuck with us,” Scott said.
“That’s true,” Tim said, not dropping his own gaze. He smiled. “I have better things to do.”
Football jock blinked. He looked like he did not know how to interpret this.
Scott glanced at Matt and Chelsea. His smile grew wider. “We were just going to make our own party at my place. Want to hang out with us, Chelsea?”
“Nope,” Chelsea said. She was suddenly at Tim’s side. “Like Tim said, I have better things to do.”
Scott put on a mock surprise of hurt. “Aw, now is that any way to treat a guy who shows interest in you?”
“You show interest in all the girls, Scott,” Chelsea said. “And besides, what would Rebecca think?”
“She’s not here,” Scott said.
“How come she isn’t here?” George asked politely. “You two still going out?”
Scott shrugged. “You know how it is. Girls like to have the occasional night off from arm candy duty.”
Dave tried to hurl another insult Tim’s way. “But you wouldn’t know that, Tim.”
“You’d be surprised,” Chelsea answered for him.
Muted giggles rose from Scott’s band of nitwits. The old instinct to blush never came to Tim. Instead he felt strong, positive. “Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen.” Then he turned and, as if on cue, George, Al, Matt, and Chelsea followed suit. They headed toward the sliding glass doors that led to the back yard.