Free Deadly Offer by Caroline B. Cooney Page A

popularity suddenly as a sort of board game, where a throw of the dice, or somebody else’s lost turn, had you whipping ahead, gathering points, heading for the winner’s circle.
    Althea waved to Becky, calling, “Come on over here, Becky, we have plenty of room.”
    Kimmie-Jo and Dusty frowned slightly. Becky came up breathlessly, her cheeks turning pink with excitement. Ryan and Michael acknowledged her politely.
    Becky was really only a fringe member of the popular crowd. Only being on the Varsity Squad had moved her onto that fringe. Only during games and practices would she really count. Here, at Pizza Hut, Becky was minor.
    Althea was overcome with a sense of power. She—who had been nobody! Nothing! Invisible! Inaudible! She could bestow popularity on Becky.
    Ryan said to Althea, “So when’s the next party? That one was so much fun.”
    Parties, thought Althea. She landed slightly, not all the way; part of her was still flying. But part of her was grounded. As Jennie had been. As Celeste had been. She had made two choices. And now Jennie was absent; Celeste was trudging. And for what? For a slice of pizza eaten in this corner instead of that?
    “I had a great time,” agreed Michael.
    “Me, too,” said Becky quickly.
    “I don’t know how often I can open up the house like that,” said Althea carefully.
    “I know just what you mean,” said Kimmie-Jo, although that seemed unlikely. “My parents get so anxiety-ridden when I even suggest a party that it’s pathetic.”
    Talk turned to parental rules. Ryan quickly lost interest and stood up, handing money to the cashier. “Hey, Mike,” he said, “you want to haul us back to the high school so we can get Althea’s car?”
    “Sure.”
    They got up. A trio. A successful popular trio. Althea was dizzy with it. “Bye, Kimmie-Jo,” she said. “Bye, Dusty.”
    Becky shrank down into the booth. She was excess baggage now. Her hostess had left; the rulers of this booth had better people to associate with.
    Althea cringed for her. “Becky?” said Althea quickly. “You want to sleep over one night this weekend? Saturday?”
    “Hey,” protested Ryan. “I’d like to sleep over one night this weekend.”
    Althea laughed, although her soul and body burned at the thought, and kept her eyes safely on Becky.
    “I’d love to,” said Becky, no longer shrinking. She sat tall and relaxed. Althea had spoken to her. Althea had included her.
    No wonder the ancient Greeks portrayed the god Zeus with a lightning bolt. Althea could have held electric power lines and made them do her bidding. She was popular now, and the words looked and sounded alike:
    Popular.
    Powerful.
    So Jennie was absent. So big deal. It was like any football game: You had some winners, and you had some losers.
    Althea had become the winner.

Chapter 13
    T HEY HAD TAKEN ONLY one step into the parking lot—a trio of dancers getting one beat into the choreography—when a gleaming black SUV drove up. Several laughing girls rolled down their windows and called, “Hi, Michael.
    Hi, Ryan.”
    The girls were seniors—and one of them was Constance.
    “Hi, Althea,” the girls chorused.
    Althea was awestruck. Her name was known to this set? Constance and her beautiful friends? “Hi,” she whispered.
    The black SUV rolled on, inch by inch; the driver had decided not to stop all the way, but to creep ever forward. Althea thought that was just right for the personality of this crowd: Nothing would stop them, and they would stop for nothing. They were the girls who would have it all.
    Oh, to be one of them!
    As the SUV glided past, Althea let a fantasy drift through her mind in which she mixed with this group, and laughed among them, and danced among them, and was the girl who had it all.
    Ryan stepped back, pulling Althea with him, but Michael stood still, as if waiting to be run down.
    Although the SUV slipped on, Constance opened the passenger door and leaned out a few inches. How lovely she was!