Free Snared by Stefan Petrucha Page B

next door as she waited for the machine to boot. She sipped her coffee and heard her parents moving around in the hall at the top of the staircase.
    She settled in to read through emails when herdad knocked on the bedroom door. He waited for her to say “Come in,” before poking his head in the room.
    â€œJust want to make sure you’ve got everything you need before we head out.”
    â€œI’m fine, Dad.”
    â€œOh, and I want you to be careful if you decide to go swimming. A young man drowned last night.”
    â€œYou’re kidding?” Lindsay said, horrified. “Here?”
    â€œDown the beach by the rocks,” her dad replied. “The news made it sound like he was some kind of druggie, and he just got caught in an undercurrent or something. Couldn’t fight it because he was high. Anyway, just be careful.”
    â€œI wasn’t planning on swimming anyway. But thanks. You and Mom have a good time.”
    â€œWell, we’ll have your mom’s cell.”
    â€œDad,” Lindsay said, smiling and shaking her head. “It’s not like you’re going to Canada or anything. The beach is like five feet away.”
    â€œI just thought that if you changed your mind, it’d be easier to find us.”
    â€œEasier than stepping out on the porch andlooking for the biggest dork on the beach?” she asked, just joking.
    â€œHey,” her dad said. “You shouldn’t talk about your mom that way.”
    â€œYou can leave now,” Lindsay said with a laugh.
    Alone in the room, Lindsay felt a pleasant kind of sadness. She knew this feeling had a name but couldn’t remember what it was called.
    As she glanced out at the house next door, she remembered her childhood visits to the beach. Back then the vacations were exciting. Despite her uncle’s noisy friends and his smell, she really liked the family trips. In the mornings they all sat around the table and ate a big breakfast of pancakes or eggs with tons of sausage or bacon and lots of English muffins just waiting for gobs of jelly. Pleasantly stuffed, she went with her parents to the beach and played in the sand and surf, building little fat castles and digging ditches to create medieval landscapes for her dolls to roam. In the afternoon her parents would take her shopping or to a movie at the theater in town. And every night, just around sunset, while her mom and her uncle cleaned up the dinner dishes, her dad took herhand and led her back to the beach, right up to the shoreline to collect shells and pretty rocks. Once she’d had boxes of the souvenirs tucked under her bed at home.
    She tossed most of those out last year, except for three really cool shells that sat on her bedroom windowsill. Like her anticipation of the vacations, her interest in the souvenirs had faded.
    Already this morning, she’d received six emails from Kate, three from Trey, and several from other friends. Apparently, Kate’s party had turned into a full-on crisis. Four of the popular boys from school, including Nick Faherty and his brother, got so drunk they were puking in the kitchen sink. Kate got into a big fight with Constance Turner, who was making out with Chad Olivieri on Kate’s bed. Of course, Kate liked Chad, so that made it blow all the more. Matt broke a lamp—“which is totally irreplaceable”—and Funkster, Kate’s terrier, got out and disappeared until morning. The police even showed up because the Jacksons next door complained about the noise. In later emails, Kate wanted to know where Lindsay was and why her cell phone was turned off: “I so need to talk to you!!!”
    Trey reported on the party as well. He thought it was the coolest party EVARRRR ! But of course, he didn’t have to clean up the house or endure the wrath of Kate’s parents.
    Lindsay looked away from her computer, and her heart beat faster. Kate and her party were forgotten.
    The shade