Sweet Evil (The Sweet Trilogy #1)

I slipped into my own class just in time, blinking at the roomful of floating mists around my classmates. Those were going to take some getting used to. It was World History, and we were assigned group work. I had this class with Gene, so I decided to take advantage of the mild chaos of desks being moved and people shuffling places.

“Hey, Gene?” I whispered.

He looked up and gave me a nod. He was short and muscular, like Scott, from wrestling, though Gene was in a lighter weight class.

“My mother, um... she kind of wants to talk to your mom about the party. To make sure it’s going to be supervised and all that.” I tried not to cringe. His eyebrows went up for a second.

“Yeah, I hear you, girl.” He tore off a corner of his paper. “Have her call this number the day before the party. Just tell her that my ma works crazy hours, so that’ll be the best day to reach her. Cool?”

I felt giddy as I thanked him, slipping the paper in my pocket and heading for my group.

CHAPTER FOUR

LAKE PARTY

The next Friday was our last day of school, and it was sticky-hot. Dusk brought little relief from the muggy heat. The air conditioner in Jay’s car pushed out lukewarm air even on its coldest setting. My feet were propped on his dusty dashboard on our way to Gene’s lake house. I fanned us both with an old french-fry box from the floor that still smelled like grease.

I’d never been to a lake house, though I’d been to the lake plenty of times for church picnics, or afternoons with Patti. I always enjoyed the serenity of the winding drive thick with trees.

We turned down a bumpy gravel road and made our way toward the lights of other cars and a beautiful, massive log cabin. It was getting darker now as we parked and got out. Crickets, frogs, and cicadas serenaded us from all directions in the moist, warm air.

The house was brightly lit, but our path was not, so I extended my sight to be sure I didn’t trip on any rocks or fallen branches along the way. Along with being able to see far away, I could adjust my sensitivity to light. I liked to think of it as “night vision.” The moon was a crescent sliver and wouldn’t have been bright enough for normal eyes to see by, but it worked for me. Our feet crunched the gravel as we walked.

“Get a load of this place.” Jay gawked.

“I know. It’s huge.” The house had three vast levels with wraparound porches and a vaulted roof. It looked like a lodge.

I pulled my sight back in as we reached the porch rimmed with lights. Voices and laughter were mingling with loud hip-hop music inside. When Gene answered the door, the change in volume hit us hard.

“No way! Look who’s here, y’all! What’s up, Jay?” They smacked hands in a clasp, then Gene looked at me. “Anna Whitt in the house!” He leaned in and we hugged, giving me a strong whiff of alcohol on his breath. He must have been sneaking drinks while his parents weren’t looking.

We walked through, bumping shoulders with the steadily growing crowd. Jay was greeted by everyone he came across. Gene’s family room had been turned into a darkened dance floor, stereo blaring. The dining room was full of kids standing and cheering, playing some kind of game. Jay and I stopped.

Girls and guys stood across the table from one another, placing their plastic cups at the edge of the table and trying repeatedly to flip the cups over one-handed. It was a race. Kristin Miller’s cup finally landed upside down and she threw her arms up in victory. The girls jumped up and down screaming while the boys moaned and shook their heads.

“That looks fun,” I said to Jay as we watched from the doorway.

“It’s a drinking game,” he explained. “Flip Cup. You gotta drink whatever’s in the cup before you can flip it. No fair being sober.”

“Oh.”

We moved to the gigantic kitchen, where the soaring vaulted ceiling loomed high over stainless-steel appliances and terra-cotta tiling. The entirety of the massive granite kitchen island was covered in bright-colored plastic cups, juices, sodas, beer cans, and bottles of alcohol. My stomach tightened. His parents were allowing blatant underage drinking?

A group of people stood in front of a huge window overlooking the water. Gene turned from the group and came over.

“Whatcha drinkin’?” He hitched a thumb toward the island.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said. I sensed Jay’s hesitation. Be strong—you don’t need it, I silently urged him. He made eye contact with me and sighed before answering.

“Nah, nothing right now, man.”

“You sure?” Gene eyeballed us in disbelief. “My sister just turned twenty-one, so we all put in money and told her to buy out the store and keep the change.”

“Where are your parents?” I asked, glancing around.

“Bahamas.”

“Bahamas?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice.

“Yeah—that was my sister’s cell your mom called. She can pull off the parental voice dead on. I can’t believe y’all aren’t drinkin’. Better get it before it runs out.” The doorbell rang and he darted away, sliding on socked feet into the hall now swarming with people. I was dumbfounded.

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