Buzz Kill (34 page)

“
SO THAT PRETTY MUCH
sums up my summer at camp.” My best friend Melinda Sue Stankowicz sighed, pulling open the heavy glass door to Woodrow Wilson High School. “Homesick kids, sunburn, poison ivy, and big spiders in the showers.”

“Sounds like being a counselor was awful.” I sympathized as we entered the familiar hallway, which smelled of cleanser and fresh floor wax. “If it helps, I gained at least five pounds waitressing at the diner. I just kept eating pie every time I got a break.”

“You look great.” Mindy waved off my complaint. “Although I'm not sure about your hair . . .”

“Hey!” I protested, smoothing down my unruly curls, which did seem to be rebelling in the late-summer humidity. “I'll have you know I spent an hour with a hair dryer and this ‘straightening balm' that cost me a week's tips . . .” I trailed off, realizing that Mindy was distracted, not listening to me. I followed her gaze down the hall and toward the lockers.

“And speaking of looking great,” she said.

Jake Zinn, who lived on a farm near my family's place, was struggling with his new locker combination. Frowning at a scrap of paper in his hand, he spun the lock and rattled the handle. An obviously brand-new white T-shirt made his summer tan look especially deep. The sleeves hugged tight around bulging biceps.

“Jake looks
amazing,
” Mindy whispered as we approached my neighbor. “He must have joined a gym or something. And did he get
highlights
?”

“He lugged hay bales all summer in the sun, Min,” I whispered back. “He doesn't need a gym—or bleach in his hair.”

Jake glanced up as we walked past, and smiled when he saw me. “Hey, Jess.”

“Hey,” I replied. Then my mind went blank.

Mindy chimed in, preventing an awkward silence. “Looks like they gave you the wrong combination,” she noted, nodding at Jake's still-closed locker. “Did you try kicking it?”

Jake ignored the suggestion. “You didn't work last night, huh, Jess?”

“No, I'm done at the diner,” I said. “It was just a summer job.”

Jake looked a little disappointed. “Oh. Well, I guess I'll have to catch up with you around school, then.”

“Yeah. I'm sure we'll have some classes together,” I said, feeling my cheeks get warm. “See ya.” I sort of dragged Mindy along with me down the hall.

“What was
that
all about?” she demanded when we were out of earshot. She glanced over her shoulder at Jake.

My face grew warmer. “What was
what
all about?”

“Jake looking all sad that you quit the diner. You turning bright red—”

“It's nothing,” I advised her. “He came in a few times near the end of my shift and gave me a ride home. We hung out a little . . . And I am
not
red.”

“Really?” Mindy's smile was smug. “You and Jake, huh?”

“It was no big deal,” I insisted.

The gleam in Mindy's eyes told me she knew I wasn't being completely honest. “This is going to be a very interesting year,” she predicted.

“And speaking of interesting . . .” I started to tell my best friend about the scary stranger at the bus stop. But the moment I thought of him, the hair on the back of my neck prickled, almost like I was being watched.

“
Antanasia . . .
”

The low, deep voice echoed in my brain, like a half-remembered nightmare.

I rubbed the back of my neck. Maybe I would tell Mindy the story later. Or maybe the whole thing would just blow over and I'd never even think about the guy again.

That was probably what would happen.

Yet the prickly sensation didn't go away.

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B
ETH
F
ANTASKEY
spent the summer before fifth grade reading every Nancy Drew novel her local library offered and longing to be a teen sleuth. Today, she's content to live in Pennsylvania with her husband and three daughters. She is also the author of
Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side, Jessica Rules the Dark Side,
and
Jekel Loves Hyde
.

 

www.bethfantaskey.com