out of the booth.
“What’s the big deal?” Kelly teased. “It’s hardly even ten o’clock yet. We’re not in junior high anymore!”
“Except my dad’s already mad at me for losing track of time at work.”
They left the café, and as soon as they were gone, Arlette turned off the sign and pulled the torn shade down over the window in the door. They had started toward Michael’s motorcycle when a car pulled up and a voice called out to them.
“Hey, Sheffield! Who’s your girlfriend?”
Michael turned to the car and saw Buddy Hawkins behind the wheel of his five-year-old Trans Am, grinning mockingly at him. Next to Buddy was Melanie Whalen, who had been going steady with Buddy’s cousin Jeff only a couple of weeks ago.
“This is Kelly Anderson,” Michael replied uncertainly as a pickup truck packed with four other kids pulled up behind Buddy’s Trans Am. He recognized all the kids as being part of the crowd that hung out at the county park, and suddenly felt uneasy. What were they doing here? He warily introduced Kelly to Buddy and Melanie. “Where’s Jeff?” he asked Melanie, but she shrugged disinterestedly.
“We broke up last week. I’m going with Buddy now.” She grinned through the window and held up a can. “Want a beer?”
Michael shook his head.
“How ’bout you?” Melanie asked Kelly. “We got plenty.”
Kelly, sensing Michael’s sudden nervousness, shook her head, and Melanie’s lips curled into a scornful sneer. “What are you?” she asked. “A goody-two-shoes like Michael?”
Kelly, slipping her hand into Michael’s, felt him stiffen as the rest of the kids, now out of the pickup and gathered around the Trans Am, started laughing. Kelly’s mind raced—maybe if she played along with the other girl, the kids would leave them alone. “I like beer,” she said. “So does Michael.” Leaving Michael’s side, she walked over to the car and took the two beers that Melanie was now offering, then returned to Michael, handing him one of them.
“I—I don’t think I better,” Michael mumbled.
“Come on!” Kelly urged under her breath. “If we don’t have one, they’ll think we’re dweebs. Besides,” she added, even though it wasn’t really true, “I like beer.” She raised the can to her lips, filled her mouth with the bitter liquid and swallowed. A split second later she choked, and the beer that was still in her mouth spewed out, spilling down the front of her clothes.
“Been drinking long?” Melanie Whalen asked acidly, and turned to her friends. “Hey, you guys know who this is? It’s the crazy girl who tried to kill herself!”
Kelly froze.
So they knew. They’d probably been talking about her all week.
Another car pulled up. Soon a group of teenagers had gathered around Michael and Kelly. Kelly could feel them looking at her, sizing her up. “Come on, Michael,” she said softly, so only he could hear. “Let’s go.”
But Michael was glaring angrily at Melanie. “What do you want to say something stupid like that for, Melanie?” he demanded.
Melanie’s eyes glittered mockingly in the glare of a streetlight. “It’s true, isn’t it? She tried to kill herself, didn’t she?”
“So what?” Michael demanded. “You put out for every guy in town, but you don’t want everyone talking about it, do you?”
Melanie’s face darkened with rage. “You asshole!” she shouted. “Buddy, are you going to let him talk to me like that?”
The door of the Trans Am flew open and Buddy Hawkins positioned himself a few inches from Michael, his fist clenched threateningly. “You better get the hell out of here, Sheffield,” he growled. “And take your crazy girlfriend with you!”
Michael stood his ground, though Buddy was three inches taller, and outweighed him by at least thirty pounds. “It’s a public sidewalk, Buddy. We’ve got just as much right here as you do.”
“Well, you don’t have a right to insult my girl!”
“Who started it?” Michael shot back, his own anger building rapidly. “If you can’t do any better than Melanie Whalen—”
Before he could finish the sentence, Buddy’s arm came up and his fist smashed into Michael’s stomach. Michael felt the wind shoot out of his lungs, and doubled over as pain spread out from his stomach. But then, abruptly, he straightened, his own fist coming up to connect with Buddy’s chin. Buddy staggered backward, lurching into his car, where he hesitated a moment, eyeing Michael. Around them, the group of teenagers backed away, forming a circle.
“I’m gonna pound your ass, Sheffield,” Buddy growled, rubbing the spot on his chin that was already beginning to swell.
“Big deal,” Michael