Free Deadly Offer by Caroline B. Cooney Page B

Constance deserved to be the only model for an entire magazine. Softly, as if alone with him in a shadowy room, Constance said, “Michael. How are you? I miss you.”
    Michael flushed and said nothing. He seemed unprepared, like a child among adults. What had happened between these two, to make Michael stiff with nervousness and Constance soft with hope?
    “May I join you?” said Constance, half out the door.
    Michael smiled courteously, opened the door the rest of the way, and said, “Of course.”
    Now the SUV stopped.
    Constance emerged. She was wearing a white wool skirt and a white silk blouse. A brilliant scarf lay carelessly around her throat. She looked the way every girl dreams of looking: beautiful, romantic, and mysterious.
    Althea felt dumpy and dumb. No longer even felt sixteen—maybe eleven. A little kid stumbling behind a beauty queen.
    The SUV moved on, circling Pizza Hut and vanishing. Michael got behind the wheel of his car with Constance beside him in the front. Althea and Ryan got in the back. It was an entirely different drive. There was no silly joking. Michael drove with great concentration, never looking at the passenger on his right. Constance sat sideways, stretching her safety belt out like a first-prize ribbon to be admired, and never took her eyes off Michael.
    Constance was trying to make peace. Over what rift, Althea would have loved to know. Michael and Constance were extremely courteous to each other. Their dialogue might have been heard a hundred years ago, in more elegant times, perhaps over teacups and lace doilies. Althea was glad they had not had to talk over pizza.
    She remembered Ryan and looked his way. Ryan was picking grumpily at some torn threads on his blue jeans. “Michael,” he said, “you’re just steering. You forgot about driving us back to get Althea’s car.”
    Michael grinned in embarrassment. He said, “I thought I’d circumnavigate the globe. Skip high school.”
    “As long as you don’t skip me anymore,” said Constance.
    For the first time Michael looked at his girlfriend and then rested his hand on her knee. She covered his hand with hers, and Althea sighed with contentment. True love had won.
    Michael and Constance both laughed a little, and then were suddenly self-conscious in front of Althea and Ryan. Constance smiled at the backseat. “I don’t know if Michael’s ready to be alone with me,” she said cheerfully. “I think we need you two in the backseat. So how are you enjoying Varsity, Althea? I was so glad you made the squad.”
    “I love it,” said Althea shyly. “I’m making friends already. I didn’t think I would make friends so quickly.”
    “We’re writing essays on friendship for English,” said Michael. “It’s a tough subject. The first essay was what friendship gives to you. You had to be specific and name three friends who gave you something: one from elementary school, one from a sport or an activity, and one who’s not your own age.”
    Althea’s hands were so cold. She felt as if blood had stopped circulating through her. Perhaps it had. Perhaps that was how the vampire migrated. Perhaps the vampire could dictate what they talked about, perhaps he could give out English assignments.
    What if I had to set down on paper what my last two friends gave me? she thought. They gave me popularity. Jennie’s the friend from elementary school, and Celeste’s the friend from a sport. They gave me this. They’re the reason I’m sitting here, with Ryan putting his arm around my shoulder, Constance smiling at me, and Michael talking to me.
    And that third category … a friend not your age. Could that be what the vampire wanted next?
    “Now the second essay, which I have to write tonight,” said Michael, “is what you give to others in a friendship.”
    What I gave, thought Althea, is unspeakable. Unwritable. Unthinkable. But I did it anyway. I did it twice.
    Ryan’s large smooth hand had encircled her now and was pulling her