Free Deadly Offer by Caroline B. Cooney

where we didn’t have a while to take? Like breaking down on the train tracks. I pointed out that there are no train tracks. He didn’t care. He said I can’t drive a one-door car until I get it fixed.”
    “But he’s not going to get it fixed,” said Michael. “It would cost a fortune.”
    “So yesterday,” said Ryan, “I buried my servant, the car.”
    “It’s gone to that great junkyard in the sky,” said Michael.
    The boys stood reverently for a moment, hands on hearts, mourning the passage of a really good vehicle.
    Althea laughed helplessly, adoring them both.
    She had never been able to comprehend a girl who would dangle two boys. You would think the girl would choose the better boy, get rid of the crummier one, and settle into having a great time.
    Now she could see this was not such a great course of action.
    Here was Ryan: sweet and funny. Cute and built and bright.
    Here was Michael: all of the above, but more so.
    They traveled in a pair, obviously.
    She had her own car; she could drive Ryan; they could dispense with Michael. But what girl in her right mind would dispense with Michael? On the other hand, what girl in her right mind would dispense with Ryan, either?
    Ryan, Michael, and Althea drove around for a while, all three in the front seat. Althea was wonderfully crushed between their thighs, and when Michael took a sharp turn, his arm on the steering wheel brushed against her, and when Ryan leaned forward to talk to Michael, his shoulder pressed on hers.
    Althea thought that probably nothing, including sex or being elected president, could be as splendid as sitting in the front seat, Michael and Ryan talking to her at the same time, their wonderful masculine presence and scent and attitudes filling her with utter contentment.
    Eventually, they arrived at Pizza Hut.
    Of course Pizza Hut is a perfectly public restaurant, open to the world, and Althea had been there many times. And yet, if you walked in and passed the salad bar and went to the rear of the restaurant, there was a booth in the corner that was virtually a private club.
    The high school club.
    It was occupied continuously by one group or another, its numbers changing, diminishing, increasing, as one popular person drifted away, only to be replaced by another.
    Only six could actually fit in the booth.
    Usually seven or eight were crammed in, while several more sat at right angles in the adjoining, non-corner booths, which lacked the special status of the crammed corner.
    In her previous life, Althea would hardly have had the nerve to lift her eyes even to look toward this corner.
    In her wildest dreams, in her most desperate prayers, she had never hoped to be escorted to it by Michael and Ryan.
    They had hardly been seated, hardly begun to argue over whether the pizza should have peppers and pepperoni, when Kimmie-Jo and Dusty arrived.
    How interesting popularity is, thought Althea. I am with Michael and Ryan, and that is perfection, and everybody is envious, but the real stamp of approval is from the girls. Kimmie-Jo and Dusty will decide it. Boys come and go, but girlfriends stay, and judge, and count.
    Kimmie-Jo shrieked, “Hi, Althea, how’s your throat?” and slid into the seat.
    Dusty said, “Althea, thank goodness you’re here. There’s so much to talk about.”
    Althea laughed to herself, and when Ryan tugged her backward, so that she was leaning against his chest, she cooperated fully.
    Becky came into Pizza Hut.
    Althea was amazed to see Becky pause by the salad bar, unsure of herself. Becky’s eyes quickly scanned the booths, to see where she would be welcome. Michael, Ryan, Althea, Kimmie-Jo, and Dusty were in the corner booth. A bunch of juniors had taken the booth on one side, and some seniors the opposite booth. Becky, like Althea, was a sophomore. A cheerleader, yes, but not old enough, and with too little status to break into the Kimmie-Jo/Dusty booth.
    I’ve already moved ahead of Becky! thought Althea, seeing