Right on cue, we arrived at the Ravens’ Cliff Overlook parking area. The lot was empty except for a pea-green Volkswagen bus covered in rainbow dancing bears and surf stickers. It belonged to the Jacobsen brothers, Vista P’s resident clan of surfing demigods. Pres and I liked to surf, but the Jacobsens were surfers: shoeless, sand-covered, hand-wiggling, “chaka brah” surfers. If the ocean was right, you never saw them at school before lunchtime.
I shut off the engine and looked toward the water. In the distance, the dark blue of the Pacific met the lighter blue of the sky. A seagull swooped low, dive-bombing the waves in search of a fish. I turned toward Parvati. It was always a little awkward, those few seconds before we started hooking up. “How was newspaper?” I asked, not caring remotely about the answer.
“Scintillating,” she said, wiggling her way out of a black cardigan sweater. Underneath, she was wearing a form-fitting T-shirt with the word “Succubus” printed across her chest and a pair of gray leggings.
My eyes followed the curve of her thighs. Skintight pants had a way of burning through the awkwardness. I leaned over and nuzzled my lips against her collarbone. “I find you pretty scintillating.”
“Oh yeah?” She reached down with one hand and reclined her seat, extending her neck to give me better access. “Any particular parts?”
I tugged at the collar of her T-shirt. “Maybe.” My hand inched the shirt downward, my lips trailing after it.
She squirmed as if I was tickling her. “You’re bad.” She lifted my mouth to hers, biting my lower lip softly as she snaked her arms around the back of my neck. My fingers reached up under her T-shirt, fumbling with the clasp of her bra. She kissed me harder. The windows got foggy. An hour and a half passed in an instant and my phone alarm chimed.
I sighed. “It’s time to go back.” We couldn’t be late. If we were, Colonel Dad would probably scramble a squadron of recon jets to find her. Her parents had threatened to send her to Blue Pointe Prep, a military school on the East Coast, if she got in trouble again. Being caught with me would be enough for them to make the call.
Parvati nodded, raising her seat back up. She reached beneath her shirt to hook her bra. “I know this sucks, Max. I’ll work on my parents, all right? Worst-case scenario, Mom and Dad said they’d shell out for a private room at USC if I behave until then and declare myself prelaw.”
“Great, so ten months from now you and I might get to be alone together.” I started the car and backed out of the parking place. “I thought you were going to major in Arabic or something.”
She leaned over to check her reflection in the rearview mirror. She finger-combed her shiny hair. “You can be prelaw and major in Arabic,” she said. “I’ll play along for a while.”
I turned onto the road that led toward school. “More playing along,” I muttered.
Like the way she had convinced her parents that she and I were over by going to homecoming with Preston. Pres had called to make sure I was okay with the idea. He didn’t actually want to go to the dance any more than I did, but as the Vista Palisades football captain he was expected to show up. Parvati had actually wanted to go, which surprised me, but I guess even the coolest chicks get sucked in by stupid shit like high school dances. It had turned out to be no big deal and we all got drunk later on at Preston’s after-party, but she set up her “date” without even telling me, and I still got pissed when I thought about it. She never even apologized. “Sorry” wasn’t part of her vocabulary. She thought apologies were for the weak.
Parvati ruffled my messy brown hair, pushing my bangs back from my eyes. “Speaking of playing along, my parents said I could go to Preston’s party next week.” She blinked her long eyelashes innocently.
Of course they would say that—they loved Preston. Colonel Dad had no idea Pres and Parvati got expelled together from Bristol Academy. Senator DeWitt had donated a truckload of cash so Preston could finish out the semester and then announced that Pres was switching to Vista P for his senior year to play for a bigger football district. Parvati’s dad would probably shit a hand grenade if he knew the truth.
“What party?” I asked. “I thought he couldn’t have parties anymore.” Senator DeWitt apparently had a shot at being appointed to the Presidential Cabinet next year, and he’d started cracking down on any activities that might be detrimental to his political career. He didn’t want any scandals.
“The one I made up so we can hang out.” Parvati winked. “I told my parents it was a Halloween party. Maybe Pres will let us haunt one of the spare bedrooms for an hour.”
“Yeah, maybe.” It wasn’t like Parvati and I would be the first high school kids to get it on at Pres’s house, but it felt a little sketchy. What was he supposed to do while we got naked?
“Oh, come on, Max.” Parvati forced the corners of my mouth upward with her spangly blue fingernails. She leaned over and ran her teeth along my earlobe, sending a shot of chills down my spine and into my lap. “I promise to make it worth your while.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” I said, my face relaxing, “how can I refuse?”
FOUR
October 28th
PRESTON OPENED THE DOOR WEARING ripped jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with a pot-smoking zombie. A half-empty bottle of Irish whiskey dangled from his left hand. “Welcome to the party,” he said in a slightly slurred voice. He made air quotes around the word “party.”
“Nice hair,” I replied. From the neck up, he looked like he was ready for basic training. He must have spent the time between football practice and now at the salon, getting what I jokingly referred to as his weekly trim.
“Fuck you, Max Factor. My helmet wouldn’t fit right if I let my hair get all long and girlie like yours.”
He disappeared into the cavernous living room, and I followed him through it and down to the basement, where a movie was playing on the big-screen TV. Parvati was stretched out on the sofa in a black dress and knee-high socks patterned with glow-in-the-dark skulls. She sat up when she saw me. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she purred, but her voiced hitched slightly and the words sounded forced.
“Me too. Now she’ll quit talking so much.” Pres took a slug from the bottle of whiskey and then started fooling around on his computer. I flopped down on the sofa and started fooling around with Parvati.
As she crawled into my lap, I smelled alcohol on her breath. I wondered how long she’d been here, how long she and Pres had been drinking together. She glued her lips to the place where my neck met my shoulder and proceeded to suck hard enough to leave a mark. She pulled her head back for a second and admired her handiwork. Then she pressed her mouth to my skin again.
“I should be charging you for this,” Preston said. “You can be Liars, Inc.’s first official customer.”
“My parents aren’t the ones threatening to send me to military school,” I said. “It’s her alibi. Charge her.”