She stopped. The boy was holding out the box to her. Jenny hesitated, nonplussed.
"You can hold it if you want," he said gently.
"Okay," Jenny said, embarrassed, her vehemence fading. She took the glossy box gingerly between her palms-and forgot everything else. It was cool and just weighty enough to be intriguing. Something inside rattled slightly, mysteriously. There was a quality about it that Jenny couldn't describe, a sort of electric current that ran up her fingers as she held it.
"We're closing," the boy said briskly, with another of his arbitrary mood swings. "You gonna buy it?"
She was. She knew perfectly well anybody crazy enough to buy a box without looking inside it deserved whatever they got, but she didn't care. She wanted it, and she felt a strange reluctance to take the lid off and peek in. No matter what, this would make a great story to tell Tom and the others tonight. "The craziest thing happened to me today. ..."
"How much?" she asked.
He went to the counter and hit a key on an antique-looking brass cash register. "Call it twenty."
Jenny paid. She noticed the cash drawer was full of odd-looking money all jumbled together: square coins, coins with holes in the center, crumpled bills in pastel colors. The wrongness of that cut into her pleasure in the box a little, and she felt another chill, like spiders walking on gooseflesh.
When she looked up, the boy was smiling at her.
"Enjoy," he said, and then his heavy lashes drooped as if at a private joke.
From somewhere a clock chimed the little unfinished tune that meant half past some hour. Jenny glanced down at her watch and stiffened in horror.
Seven-thirty-it couldn't be! There was no way she could have been in this store for over an hour, but it was true.
"Thank you; I have to go," she gasped distractedly, heading for the door. "Uh-see you later."
It was just a politeness, not meant to be answered, but he did answer. He murmured what sounded like "at nine" but undoubtedly was "that's fine" or something like that.
When she looked back, he was standing half in shadow, with the stained glass of a lamp throwing blue and purple stripes on his hair. For just a second she caught something in his eyes-a hungry look. A look completely at odds with the indifferent manner he'd worn while speaking to her. Like-a starving tiger about to go hunting. It shocked Jenny so much that her "goodbye" froze in her throat.
Then it was gone. The boy in black reached over and turned the acid house music on.
Terrific soundproofing, Jenny thought as the door closed behind her and the music was cut off. She gave herself a mental shake, throwing off the lingering image of those blue eyes. Now if she ran all the way home, she might just have time to throw some Cheez Whiz in the microwave and shove a handful of CDs in the player. Oh, God, what a day!
That was when she noticed the tough guys.
They were waiting for her across the street, hidden in the blue-gray shadows of dusk. Jenny saw them coming and felt a jolt to her stomach. Swiftly and automatically she stepped backward, reaching behind her for the doorknob. Where was it? And why was she so stupid today? She should have asked the guy in black if she could use the phone; she should have called Tom-or Dee-Where was the knob?
They were close enough that she could see that the one in the flannel shirt had bad skin. The one with the bandanna was grinning in a very creepy way. They were both coming toward her and where was the freaking doorknob? All she could feel behind her was cool, painted concrete.
Where is it where is it -
Throw the box at them, she thought, suddenly calm and clear. Throw it and run. Maybe they'll stop to investigate it. Her mind, utterly practical, ordered her hand to stop searching for a doorknob that wasn't there. Waste of time.
With both hands she lifted the white box to throw it. She wasn't sure exactly what happened next. Both guys stared at her and then-they turned around and started running.
Running. Flannels was in the lead, and Bandanna just a length behind him, and they were running like deer, with an animal grace and economy of motion. Fast.
And Jenny hadn't thrown the box after all.
My fingers ... I didn't throw the box because I couldn't let go because my fingers ...
Shut up, her mind told her. If you're dumb enough to care more about a box than about your own life, okay, but at least we don't have to dwell on the subject.
Walking quickly, sweatered arms cradling the box to her chest, she started for home.
She didn't turn around to see how she'd missed the
doorknob with all her behind-the-back fumbling. At the time she simply forgot.
It was ten to eight when Jenny finally neared her street. The lighted living rooms in the houses she passed looked cozy. She was out in the chill dark.
Somewhere on the way home she'd started to have misgivings about the game. Her mother always said she was too impulsive. Now she'd bought this-thing-without even knowing exactly what was inside. Even as she thought it, the box seemed to thrum slightly in her arms as if charged with hidden power.
Don't be silly. It's a box.
But those guys ran, something whispered in the back of her mind. Those guys were spooked.
As soon as she got home, she was going to check this game out. Examine it thoroughly.
A wind had sprung up and was moving the trees on Mariposa Street. Jenny lived in a sprawling ranch-style house set among those trees. As she approached it, something slunk furtively by the front doorway. A shadow-a small one.
Jenny felt a prickling at the back of her neck.
Then the shadow moved under the porch light and turned into the ugliest cat in America. Its fur was mottled gray and cream (like a case of mange, Michael said), and its left eye had a permanent squint. Jenny had taken it in a year ago, and it was still wild.
"Hey, Cosette," Jenny said, darting forward and petting the cat as relief swept through her. I'm really getting jumpy, she thought, scared by every little shadow.
Cosette put her ears back and growled like the possessed girl in The Exorcist. She didn't bite, though. Animals never bit Jenny.
Once in the front hallway Jenny sniffed suspiciously. Sesame oil? Her parents were supposed to be leaving for the weekend. If they'd changed their minds...
Alarmed, she dumped her backpack-and the white box-on the living room coffee table as she galloped to the kitchen.
"At last! We were beginning to think you weren't coming."
Jenny stared. The girl who'd spoken was wearing an army fatigue jacket and sitting on the counter, one incredibly long leg braced on Jenny's mother's blondwood kitchen table, the other dangling. Her hair was cropped so close to her head it looked like little nubs of black velvet on her skull. She was as beautiful as an African priestess, and she was grinning wickedly.
"Dee ..." Jenny began.
The other inhabitant of the kitchen was wearing a black-and-white houndstooth-check jacket and Chanel earrings. Around her was spread a sea of utensils and ingredients: metal cleavers and ladles, eggs, a can of bamboo shoots, a bottle of rice wine. A wok was sizzling on the stove.
"... and Audrey!" Jenny said. "What are you doing here?"
"Saving your butt," Audrey answered calmly.
"But-you're cooking!"