“Better luck next time, mate,” Frank said to Alex sympathetically, and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Move,” Kayla said, shoving Alex a little so she could get inside from the rain. She and I stood on the white tile floor of the threshold, dripping and looking around. There was a DJ in one corner — or rather a guy who looked like he attended IHHS but had his own portable equipment and probably a large van. But he seemed to be doing an adequate job of keeping everyone in the mood … him and the keg in the corner opposite him.
“Beer,” Frank said appreciatively. “Real beer!” He immediately began moving towards the line for the keg.
“Great,” Kayla said with a sigh. “Ditched for beer. Story of my life.”
“I can’t believe this,” Alex said. “No one recognizes me.” He looked down at himself. “Is it the shirt?”
“Oh, my God,” Kayla said irritably. “I liked you better before you died, when you were the silent, moody type. Ever since they revived you, you never shut up.”
“Maybe that’s it,” Alex said. “Maybe instead of an NDE, I’m a whadduyacallit? Oh, right, a revenant, and no one but you guys can see me.”
“Everyone can see you,” I assured him, closing the door behind us. “It’s just that it’s a party. Everyone’s too busy having a good time to care about anyone else.”
“This sucks,” Alex said sullenly. “If someone murders you and you get revived and come back to wreak vengeance on your killers, they could at least have the decency to notice you.”
I patted him on the shoulder in a manner I hoped he’d find comforting.
“Mr. Rector has a business office downstairs,” I said. “Since no one is paying attention to you anyway, why don’t you go break into his computer and look for proof of his dirty dealings?”
Alex stared at me blankly. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Like that he set up your dad to take the fall for his drug dealing back when they were in high school together. Or maybe that he uses his current business for money laundering. Something like that would be good.”
Alex brightened. “That’s an excellent idea,” he said. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.” He began to mill through the crowd, barking, “Move it,” in a deep voice that sounded to me like an imitation of Frank when anyone got in his way. Everyone was so drunk that they actually followed his command.
“Ladies.” Frank returned, carefully balancing three red drink cups in his hands. “Elixir of the gods, one for each of you.”
Kayla made a face. “Is that beer?”
Frank made the same face right back at her. “No, it isn’t. I know how you feel about beer, my fair young lass. I got the two of you punch, from right over there.” He nodded at a crystal bowl set up on a long narrow table along the lone wall that wasn’t made up of sliding glass doors. Beside the punch bowl were bags of chips and deli trays that might once have contained meat and crudités, but which now looked as if they’d been ravaged by hungry raccoons.
Kayla, who’d taken a sip of the punch, quickly spat the mouthful back into the cup.
“Don’t drink it,” she said to me, and dashed the cup in my hands to the floor.
“Kayla,” I said, looking worriedly down at the pale pink stain on the floor (pale pink because the rainwater from our dripping clothes had diluted it). “What’s wrong?”
I’d never been to a high school party before. After becoming an NDE, I hadn’t exactly been a social butterfly, and no one had invited me anywhere once they heard about the mess I’d gotten into with Mr. Mueller. He’d been incredibly popular, and I’d been incredibly not so.
Still, I was pretty sure it wasn’t socially acceptable to go around dumping your drinks out on the floor, no matter how wild the party or how huge of a hurricane was raging outside of it.
“It’s mystery drink,” Kayla said in a tone that suggested I should know what that was. When I looked blank, she explained, “Everybody brings whatever pills they find in their parents’ medicine cabinet and dumps them into a bowl of vodka mixed with Kool-Aid.”
She pointed at the empty prescription bottles scattered amidst the crumpled potato chip bags.
“Oh,” I said, thinking of all the warning labels written along the sides of the drugs I’d been prescribed after my accident: May cause drowsiness. May impair the ability to drive or operate machinery. I’d actually heard of this kind of thing before, but they’d been referred to as pharma parties. “I thought parties like this were a myth created by the media.”
“Like the Underworld is a myth created by the Greeks?” Frank asked.
“Good point,” I admitted.
“In Isla Huesos, nothing is a myth. Look.” Kayla pointed grimly at my chest. My diamond was as black as the night sky outside the wraparound sliding glass doors.
“Oh, my God!” The voice was so shrill it was easy to hear above the pulsating thump of the music.
A second later, Farah Endicott was in front of us, all stick-straight hair and cherry-red lip gloss.
“You came,” she cried, woozily waving a party cup as she spoke. “I was just saying to Seth that I didn’t think you were going to make it; the storm’s gotten way too bad.”
“Well,” I said to her with a watery smile. “We made it.”
“You sure did,” she said. “I’m so glad. And you brought your friends.” She said the word friends so it came out sounding like friendsh, then leered drunkenly up at Frank. “I’ve never met you before. I can guarantee I’d have remembered that.”
“And I you, fair madam,” Frank said, leaning forward to lift the hand in which she wasn’t holding a cup, then lightly kissing it on the knuckles.
“Oh, my,” Farah said, giggling, while Kayla rolled her eyes at Frank’s courtliness. “This party is getting better and better! And I see you came in costumes.” She glanced down at my belt. “I love your whip! It’s cool you respect the occasion. It’s Coffin Night, you know. You guys totally rock … not like some people.”
She glanced darkly in the direction of the coffin. There were several girls dancing on top of it, a risky proposition in their stiletto heels, especially considering the coffin was hollow and made only of plywood, sagging under their combined weight.
“We told them to guard it from juniors,” Farah said mournfully, “not trash it. Even though it’s not full-size, it took me ’n’ Serena all day to paint it.” She looked back at us. “You’re supposed to write your name on it with these gold pens.” She pulled a metallic marker from the back pocket of her denim mini. “We’re trying to get the signature of everyone in the class. But it hardly matters now. You can’t even see them.”
“Would you like me to go over there and knock those girls’ heads together?” Kayla offered, apparently finding Farah less offensive when she was three sheets to the wind.
“Aw, that’s so sweet of you,” Farah said, touched. Then her gaze seemed to focus and she really looked at Kayla for the first time. “Hey, you’re that girl with the big boobs Serena is so mean to online.” Farah’s eyes became misty with tears. “I don’t know why I’m friends with Serena. You’re super nice, and you look really beautiful in that dress. Oh, my God. Have you seen what the storm is doing to this place? Seth and those guys are over there making fun of it.” She gestured towards the group gathered in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far side of the room. “But it isn’t funny. My dad is going to lose all the money he invested in this development, and then he’s never going to be able to pay for me to go to college, and I’m not smart or athletic enough to get a scholarship anywhere.”