Double Date (9 page)

“Are they going to pull the floor mats away so I have room to move?” Bobby demanded.

Paul groaned. “You're not going to dance around again, are you? I thought we agreed—”

“Whose band is this?” Bobby interrupted angrily. “No one named you leader, Paul.”

“We don't have a leader, remember?” Arnie chimed in, stepping between Bobby and Paul. “We decided.”

“We also decided we didn't want Bobby prancing around like a rooster,” Paul shot back.

“Is my hair okay?” Bobby asked Arnie, ignoring Paul. “How does this look?” He turned up the collar of the bright red shirt he was wearing.

“Lookin' good,” Arnie replied, giving Bobby a thumbs-up.

Bobby saw Kimmy Bass just then, leaning against the open stage door, glaring unpleasantly at him. “What's
her
problem?” he asked in a low voice. He glared back at her. “What's
she
staring at?”

“I don't think she likes you,” Paul commented, grinning. “Kimmy's been bad-mouthing you all around school.”

“Who—me?” Bobby stared at her across the dark backstage area. She didn't move away from the shadowy doorway.

“Kimmy's been telling everyone that you're a sexist pig,” Paul said.

Bobby laughed. “She's just jealous.” He shook his head. “Sorry, Kimmy,” he said in a low voice. “I wish I could give you a break. But I just don't have time for all the bow-wows in this school!”

Arnie laughed and slapped Bobby on the back. Paul started to say something. But he stopped when loud applause and cheers rose up from the auditorium.

The gymnastics display had ended. Kids were pulling away the floor mats. Mrs. McCuller, the show director, was shouting for everyone to get quiet so the band could come on.

“Here we go, guys,” Bobby said, adjusting his shirt collar as he headed onto the stage.

“Here come the Desperadoes!” Arnie exclaimed.

They were greeted by a mix of cheers and hoots as they stepped onto the brightly lit stage. Bobby turned to gaze out at the audience. But the auditorium was too dark to make out any faces beyond the first two rows.

Their instruments had been placed at the back of the stage. Bobby picked up his white Fender Strat and slipped the strap over his shoulder. He saw that Arnie had a nervous frown on his face as he climbed behind his drums.

Paul rolled his keyboard centerstage. Bobby bent to turn on his amp. It let out a low buzz. He turned it up nearly as high as it would go. It might drown out Paul a little, he thought, but so what?

He stepped in front of Paul. “Hey, move aside, man. You're blocking me!” Paul protested.

Bobby pretended not to hear him. He turned back to Arnie. “Ready?”

Arnie raised the drumsticks in one hand. “Let's do it.”

Bobby pulled a pick out of his pocket. He strummed the pick over the strings.

A hard jolt—like a punch in the stomach—sent him sprawling backward.

Stunned, he heard a loud crackle.

The crackle became a roar.

His arms flailed helplessly above his head as his body jolted again. Again.

I can't breathe!
he thought just before he dropped into a shimmering pool of deep, endlessly deep blackness.

B
obby blinked his eyes. Gray faces floated in the misty light above him.

Gray faces, open-mouthed, eyes wide with worry.

He blinked again. The faces didn't go away.

This is death, he thought. Floating gray faces. I'm dead.

“He opened his eyes,” someone said.

“He's breathing okay.” Another voice.

The mist swirled above him. The faces shifted and moved.

“Don't try to sit up,” someone said.

“No. Make him sit up,” another voice argued.

Bobby began to recognize faces. Mrs. McCuller, her features strained. Arnie, a strange, frightened smile on his lips. Melanie, staring down at him blankly. Kimmy, her face just as expressionless as Melanie's.

“Am I dead?” Bobby's voice came out a choked whisper.

Someone laughed.

“You'll be okay,” Mrs. McCuller whispered. “You had a bad shock. We've sent for an ambulance. Do you think you can sit up?”

“But am I dead?” Bobby repeated. The faces floated in and out of the mist. He had to get an answer to that question. He
had
to!

“You're going to be fine,” Mrs. McCuller assured him.

“Hey—check
this
out!” Bobby heard Paul's voice from somewhere in the distance.

The faces turned in the direction of the voice.

“The amp lead wire—it's been cut!” Bobby heard Paul exclaim.

Bobby sat straight up. Paul's words brought him back to life. The mist vanished. The faces floated back.

“What did you say?” Bobby asked, squinting across the dimly lit auditorium stage.

He saw Paul near the back, holding the amp wire in one hand, examining it closely. “The lead wire is totally frayed,” Paul announced. “Looks like somebody cut it.”

“No
wonder
you got shocked, man!” Arnie cried excitedly.

Why is he grinning like that? Bobby asked himself. Is he just stressed out because I got zapped?

Melanie and Kimmy stared down at him, their eyes narrowed, their lips in tight lines.

Bobby suddenly pictured the slashed tires in the
mall parking lot He stared across the stage at the frayed cord still in Paul's hand.

What's going on here? he asked himself, staring from face to face.

Is someone trying to
kill
me?

“Do you think it could have been Bree?”

Bobby pulled off his sneakers, cradling the cordless phone between his chin and shoulder. He listened to Samantha's gasp of surprise at the other end of the line. Kicking his sneakers across the room, he settled onto his bed, gazing up at the ceiling as he talked into the phone.

“Someone messed up the wire,” he told Samantha. “Someone really wanted to zap me.”

“Don't you think it could've been an accident?” Samantha suggested.

“The cord was cut,” Bobby told her, lowering his voice as his mother walked past his room. “It was a brand-new cord. It couldn't fray overnight like that.”

“Wow,” he heard Samantha murmur.

“So do you think it could have been Bree?” he asked her again. “I mean, do you think she could have found out about you and me?”

“I—I don't think so,” Samantha stammered. “I mean, I think she suspects something. But I really don't think …” Her voice trailed off.

“Well, if she did find out I was seeing you,” Bobby demanded, staring up at the ceiling, “she wouldn't do anything really—
berserk,
would she?”

“I warned you about my sister,” Samantha replied softly. “She—she really could do
anything!
”

Bobby started to reply, but a sound at his door made him stop and turn around.

“Bree!”

She was standing just inside his room, eyeing him intently.

Bobby's breath caught in his throat.

How much had she heard?

B
ree took a few steps into the room, her eyes locked on his.

“Talk to you later,” Bobby said into the phone. He turned it off and dropped it beside him on the bed. Then he swung his feet around and sat up. “Bree—hi! How'd you get in?”

“Your mom let me in,” she replied. “Who were you talking to, Bobby?”

“Just Arnie,” he lied. He studied her face, trying to read her expression, trying to figure out how much of his conversation she had overheard.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. I'm okay. Still a little shook up, I guess.”

“Oh, I was so worried!” Bree cried with sudden passion. She dropped down beside him on the edge of the bed and grabbed his hands. “I was so worried, Bobby. So worried. When I saw you collapse on the stage—I thought—I thought …”

“I'm okay. Really,” Bobby insisted.

Was Bree being sincere? Or was she putting on an act?

She threw her arms around his neck and started to kiss him. “Oh, Bobby,” she whispered. “You mean so much to me. So much to me …”

Bobby leaned over the bright yellow counter and sipped his Coke through a straw. Arnie, on the stool next to him, slapped him hard on the back, nearly making him spill the glass.

“Good guitar solo, man!” Arnie joked. “It was a little too short though.”

Bobby glared at his friend. “Not funny.”

“Hey—
short!
” Arnie cried. “
Short!
Get it? I made a pun and I didn't even know it!”

“You're not funny, man,” Bobby insisted moodily, swinging his weight around on the round stool. “Give it up. I could have been killed, you know?”

Arnie spun around to face Bobby. “I doubt it, man. Not enough power in that amp to kill you. Come on, what happened to your sense of humor, Bobby?”

They were sitting side by side at the counter at The Comer, a popular hangout for Shadyside High students. It was a summer-hot Monday afternoon. The booths were jammed with laughing, shouting kids. Bobby and Arnie were the only ones at the counter.

“I'm through with the band,” Bobby muttered, avoiding Arnie's eyes.

“Hey, no way!” Arnie cried. “You'll get a new guitar and—”

“You don't get it!” Bobby snapped, scowling at his friend. “I think someone tried to electrocute me, no
matter what you say. Someone is out to get me, man. First my tires. Then my guitar. I've got to be real careful!”

Strong hands grabbed his shoulders from behind.

Bobby screamed.

He heard loud laughter. He spun around to face David Metcalf, a big ox from the Shadyside wrestling team, grinning down at him. “Hey, Bobby, I
love
your band!” David declared. “You guys know any other numbers?” He let out a high-pitched laugh and squeezed Bobby's shoulders again.

Bobby glared angrily at him. “How come it's so funny that I almost got fried? What's the funny part?”

David didn't answer the question. “What do you guys do for an encore? Blow up the school?” Laughing, and shaking his head, David hurried to catch up with his pal Cory Brooks at a booth near the back. “Glad you're okay, man!” he called back to Bobby.

“Funny guy,” Bobby murmured sarcastically.

“You
can't
quit the band,” Arnie insisted. “Hey—there's Melanie. Tell her to sit here, okay? I forgot to call home. Be right back.”

Arnie waved to Melanie, then hurried to the phone booth at the back of the restaurant. Melanie made her way down the long counter. She let her backpack slide off her shoulder to the floor, and lowered herself on the empty stool next to Bobby. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine,” Bobby replied curtly.

“Maybe someone is trying to tell you something,” she said smugly.

He glared at her, then took a long sip of Coke. “Like what?”

“Like stop dating both Wade twins at once?”

The waitress mopped the countertop in front of Melanie. Melanie asked for fries and a Sprite.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Like to repeat yourself much?” he asked her sarcastically.

She frowned at him, leaning forward on the yellow counter. The door opened behind them, letting in a blast of warm air. “Look,” she said softly, “I've known the Wade twins since elementary school.”

“Thought they just moved here,” Bobby interrupted. He made slurping sounds with the straw, tossed the straw on the counter, and tilted the glass to his mouth to chew the ice.

“They did,” Melanie continued. “But our parents have been friends forever. Our moms went to college together.”

“Why are you constantly on my case?” Bobby demanded. “What business is it of yours?”

“I remember what it was like to be hurt by you,” Melanie replied, lowering her eyes. “I just don't want to see them hurt.”

“They're big girls,” Bobby told her. “They can handle it.”

“Bobby, you don't know what you're saying,” Melanie said heatedly, glancing around the crowded restaurant. “Look. Your tires have been cut, your guitar was tampered with—”

Bobby grabbed her wrist. “What do
you
know about that, Melanie?” he demanded. “What did
you
have to do with it?”

“Huh? Me?” She jerked her arm free. “Me? I don't know anything about it. I'm just trying to be a friend.”

“A friend?” Bobby's expression softened. “Oh. I get
it. You want me back. Is that it, babes?” He shook his head, laughing to himself. “Is that what all these warnings are about? You want Bobby the Man back, huh? I should've guessed!”

He leaned toward her and nuzzled her neck with his nose. “Maybe you and I should go talk about this, Mel. Somewhere private.”

Melanie let out a groan of disgust. “You really are a pig, aren't you,” she murmured, pulling away from him. “Well, Bobby, I know it's hard to believe, but I
don't
want you back. No way.”

Bobby jumped to his feet and tossed a dollar onto the counter. “I wasn't serious about getting back with you. I was just trying to make you feel good. Tell Arnie I said bye.”

He turned and strode out of the restaurant without looking back.

After dinner Bobby drove to Fear Street. Samantha met him a few blocks from her house. She climbed in beside him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I thought we'd just cruise around,” he replied. “Your mom didn't mind you going out on a school night?”

“She wasn't home,” Samantha replied, settling low in the seat, resting her knees on the dashboard over the glove compartment. She was wearing a silky blue tank top over white tennis shorts. “Bree wasn't home either. I think she and Mom went somewhere.”