The Nightworld - Jack Blaine [5]
I hate to admit it, but I saw that too. It was almost like sixth grade repeating itself, except that Lara didn’t seem to be interested in Donny, even though now he’s the quarterback for the stupid football team. Chem lab had been a sort of sweet torture, watching Lara from three stations behind, wishing I could get up the guts to ask to be part of her group for the final project, knowing I never would. At least Donny hadn’t either.
“Man, I guess I should have brought my jacket.” Charlie’s voice brought me back from my reverie.
“What do you mean? It’s . . .” I was about to say “It’s an awesome day,” but when I look out the bus window, I see what Charlie means. There’s a mean-looking storm cloud far off in the distance. It will take a while to reach us, but by the time the party’s over I bet it will be pouring rain. I didn’t bring a jacket either.
“Oh, well,” says Charlie. “We can steal Donny’s jacket.” He grins.
“Listen, Charlie.” I’m not sure how to get my point across without hurting his feelings. “Not sayin’ it will happen, but if by some miracle I get next to Lara . . .”
Charlie looks at me blankly, waiting for more. I can’t think how to put it in a delicate way. “I mean, if we were to, you know. . .”
“You mean you don’t want me around you at the party?” He looks a little hurt.
“It’s not that I don’t want you around . . .”
Charlie starts laughing. “Got ya.” He shakes his head at me. “Dude. Like I’m gonna hang on you if you get a chance with her? Tell me you know me better than that by now.”
Charlie may be a pain in the ass sometimes. But he’s still my best friend, you know?
Chapter 4
When we get off the bus, I look up at the sky and notice that the cloud we saw earlier has gotten even bigger. There’s something about it that makes me a little nervous, but I don’t have much time to think about it. I’m looking up at Lara’s building, and suddenly I’m nervous. It’s a fancy high-rise, with a doorman and one of those lobbies with more art in it than most galleries. Are we really going to do this? She did really invite me, right?
The doorman gives us a look, but nothing compared to the look we get from the guy behind the desk in the lobby. “Boys,” he says with the same tone Mrs. Martin uses when she has to explain dirty jokes in Shakespeare to the class. “Are you expected?”
At first I don’t know what he means, but Charlie does.
“We are, Jeeves,” he says, in a fake English accent. “We certainly are.”
The guy ignores him and turns to me. “Who might be expecting a visit from you?”
“Um, Lara . . . um, Hanover.” I wonder if I’m supposed to prove it somehow.
“I see.” He doesn’t sound like he approves. “Just so you’re aware, the building management is of the understanding that Ms. Hanover’s parents are abroad. We have instructions to limit the attendance of her soiree this evening.” He looks us both up and down. “Wait right there while I call up to see if you two are in the in crowd, won’t you?” He turns his back and picks up a desk phone, punches in some numbers. We hear some murmuring, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.
Charlie and I look at each other. We’re not in the in crowd. Never have been. I heave a sigh, get ready for the boot. Charlie gives me his best it-ain’t-over-till-it’s-over look and plants his feet more squarely on the marble floor.
“Well.” The desk guy turns back around, an irritated look on his face. “It appears that at least one of you is on the list. Which one of you is Nick?”
I raise my hand.
“You, my fair sir, are on the list.” The guy eyes me. “Your friend is not.”
I can see Charlie already deflating. I don’t like this guy. He seems to me to be like every guy I’ve ever known who wants to be sure you know you’re not up to par, that you don’t quite have what it takes. You just never know where you’ll run into one, but they’re all pretty much the same. That “Your friend