Free The Party by Christopher Pike Page A

a residential area. Walking toward the stadium, Michael caught a glimpse of the scoreboard: Tabb High 0; Visitors 6. The marching bands and drill teams had taken the field. The snack bar was beset with thick lines. They had definitely made it for halftime.
    “Have you ever played any sports?” Michael asked Nick as they hurried up the steps that led to the entrance.
    “Nope.”
    “How about some pickup basketball games?”
    “Oh, yeah, we used to play those.” Nick chuckled. “But we never followed many rules. You had to knock a guy unconscious for a foul to be called.”
    “Have you ever thought of going out for the team here?”
    Nick looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think I’d fit in on a team.” He reached for his back pocket. “How much is it to get in?”
    “When you’re this late, it’s free.”
    Once inside the gate, they both caught a whiff of the hot dogs and decided they were starving. Nick insisted it would be his treat and went to wait in line while Michael made a quick stop at the rest room. He was heading back to the snack bar when he ran into Alice McCoy. She had a guy with her, a thin redhead who was literally dragging her toward the exit.
    “Mikey!” she called, disengaging herself from her date and running to give him a quick hug. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all night. Remember, I wanted you to meet my friend?”
    “Well, I’m here now,” he said cheerfully.
    She glanced back over her shoulder. Her date had turned away, staring into the brick wall behind the snack bar. Alice smiled quickly, nervously. “Did you have to work late?”
    “No later than usual. Do you have to leave now?”
    “Yeah. We—we have to go somewhere.”
    “That’s too bad. I can always meet your friend another time.”
    “No, I want to be there when you meet her.” Again, she glanced at her date, obviously trying to come to some sort of decision. Michael nodded toward the guy.
    “Is that your new boyfriend?”
    She didn’t seem to hear him.
    “Could you stay here a sec?”
    “Sure.”
    Alice walked back to the guy, spoke softly to him. First he shook his head. But as Alice persisted, he shrugged, pulling out a comb and running it through his long, thin red hair. Touching him gratefully on the arm, Alice returned to Michael.
    “I’ll go get her,” she said. “Stay here, right here. OK?”
    “All right.” Watching her disappear into the crowd, Michael wondered why Alice had not introduced him to her date. Ordinarily she was extremely polite. Something about the way the guy stood, his hands plowed into his pockets, completely ignoring everyone around him, disturbed Michael. He decided he’d introduce himself.
    “Hi, I’m Michael Olson,” he said, walking up and offering his hand. “I’m a friend of Alice’s. You’re Clark, right?”
    The guy had the brightest green eyes Michael had ever seen. They practically glowed in the dark. His gaze lingered on Michael’s outstretched hand for a moment before he lazily shook it.
    “I suppose,” he said. He had a deep southern accent, a disconcerting stare. His black leather biker jacket hung loose over his shoulders; Michael suspected there was nothing but skin and bone beneath it. The guy needed to see a doctor. His palm was warm and clammy.
    “Alice tells me you’re also an artist?”
    Clark found the comparison amusing. “She loves pretty colors. I like sharp lines, black and white.”
    “Huh. What’s that mean?”
    “That I’m unique.”
    What does she see in him?
    The question made Michael pause and consider how well he knew Alice. From day one, he’d neatly classified her as a carefree darling. He should know better by now that no one was that neat, or that unique.
    “She told me you’ve had a big influence on her work?” he asked.
    “She’s talked about me?”
    “On occasion.”
    “Alice doesn’t work. Alice’s got too much money to work. Alice’s got too many dresses.” He grinned suddenly. “Do you