“Volkswagen Beetle,” he answered. “Circa 1972. It sends my father right up the wall-not only is it imported, but it’s the sort of car ‘those damn hippies’ used to drive.”
She nodded in sympathy. “I like the dragon on the door,” she said.
“Yeah, Jem did it for me.” His eyes widened. “Hey, maybe you could paint something, too. You’re an artist.”
She stroked her lower lip and watched him watching her do it. “Maybe.”
He grinned. “Hop in, we’ll be late.”
The curtain on her front door window dropped when she looked over.
Nosy, nosy, she thought smirking, and walked casually around the front of the car to the passenger side.
The car smelled of banana and old plastic. There was a book called
Witchcraft for Tomorrow on the floor. The seat groaned as it swallowed her, and her dress rode high. She wondered how she would ever get out gracefully when the time came. The look on Aiden’s face as he gazed dreamily at her legs made her realize he hoped she didn’t figure out how.
Touch me, she thought.
“Are we leaving?” she asked, smoothing her hands down her thighs.
He blinked and paid attention to the wheel once more. “We’ve got to pick up Quince,” he said as he ground the gears and the car jerked away from the curb. He cranked up the radio and she relaxed, happy to enjoy the sweet sweat of him, the light fur of his legs, and the way he flashed her smiles like heat lightning.
Quince lived in a brick rambler near the university. Vivian had to get out so he could jam himself past the folded-down seat and into the back. She swallowed a chuckle when he actually blushed at her leggy exit, but she wished she didn’t have to share Aiden with him. She listened to Aiden and Quince yelling back and forth above the rumble of the engine and the roar of the music-who was going to the concert, who wouldn’t be there-and tried to picture what was in store for her this afternoon.
The parking lots at the university were packed. Aiden finally parked on a field that had been roped off into temporary aisles. He took her hand, pretending to be casual, although she could smell in his sweat that he wasn’t calm; then they followed the noise of the warm-up band until they found the outdoor arena. They wound their way around the patchwork of body-strewn, multicolored blankets laid on a gently sloping lawn, down to a semicircle of tiered stone seats that faced a stage laden with a confusing melodrama of scaffolding, wires, lights, and amps.
“There’s Kelly,” Quince yelled over the music, pointing to their left. “Keh-LEY!” he boomed, waving his arms above his head.
The small, dark-haired girl who’d been with Aiden at school waved back, and two other girls camped out with her on the top tier cheered. Vivian and the boys picked their way around the perimeter of the theater, trying not to step on hands or knock over bottles.
“Women!” Quince yelled, and flung himself upon the two nameless girls, biting necks and squeezing as they exploded in giggles.
“You remember Vivian, don’t you?” Aiden asked Kelly.
“Yeah,” Kelly said, not bothering to look at Vivian. She wore a black T-shirt, black shorts, and low black boots. Vivian hoped she sweltered.
“Hey, man.” The hipster with the lopsided haircut she’d seen with them the other day joined them. He turned out to be Jem, the dragon artist. He doled out sodas from an oversized cooler. Aiden grabbed two Cokes and collapsed onto the stone ledge, flicking his hair back. He handed Vivian one when she sat beside him. Vivian was annoyed that Kelly was on his other side talking incessantly, so she sat close, almost touching, and let him feel her breath on his neck. His head turned, his eyes questioned, and his breath mingled for a moment with hers.
“Jeez, they suck,” a tall redhead said, climbing over the seat on Vivian’s other side and nodding toward the stage. “Yo, Aiden.” He slapped Aiden’s hand.
“Go home!” his pudgy sidekick yelled at the band. Some kids behind him told him to sit down, and he made a rude gesture at them with little malice attached.
Another girl, a blonde with a nose ring and a pimple on her chin, was close behind them. “Yeah, sit down, shut up, and gimme a beer,” she said.
“Christ, Bingo, you’re gonna get us thrown outta here,” Jem complained. Vivian didn’t know if Bingo was the girl or the pudgy guy who pulled a red-and-white can from his backpack.
“Bingo!” Aiden held out his arms to the blonde, and Vivian’s eyes narrowed.
The blonde leaned over and planted a fat, sisterly kiss on his forehead. “Hiya, douchebag.”
Vivian relaxed.
Bingo noticed Vivian. “Hey, new girl.”
Vivian raised two fingers in acknowledgment and said, “Hi.” That was good enough for the blonde; she climbed into the row in front and went back to teasing Pudgy Boy.
A crashing chord filled the air, and the band onstage filed off. Some in the crowd applauded, a few whistled, but most seemed to be of the same opinion as the redhead. “Vi-sions, Vi-sions, Vi-sions,” some kids in front chanted, impatient for the next act, and others took up the call, but no new band came out. Instead, fuzzy loud rock blurted out from a nearby speaker.
“You go to Wilson?” one of the giggling girls asked.
“Yeah, she does,” answered the redheaded boy. Vivian was surprised he knew.
“Who do you hang with?” the girl asked.
“No one really,” Vivian answered.
“I’ve seen you with those hard-core types down by the park,” Kelly said, a sneer in her voice.
“You mean the Five,” Vivian answered, unwilling to disown them in the face of Kelly’s scorn, no matter how she felt about them right now.
“Is that what they call themselves?” Kelly laughed.
“It’s what my family calls them,” Vivian said. “They grew up together.”
“You’re related to them?” Kelly asked, seeming shocked.
“They’re cousins, sort of.”
“Ooh, they’re cute,” said the other giggler. “Especially that one with the little beard.”
“Stay away from him; he bites.”
The girl giggled louder.
Two boys in baggy shorts, high-tops, and loud T-shirts showed up and slapped hands with the other boys. “This is Vivian,” Aiden said, slinking a firm arm of ownership across her shoulders in response to their covetous gazes. Vivian’s toes curled with pleasure at the pride in his voice, and she glanced Kelly’s way. She liked the way Aiden made her feel like a treasure others should envy him for having. If one of the Five had acted that way she’d have been annoyed, but Aiden made it seem right.
“Welcome to the Amoeba,” one of the boys said.
“The Amoeba?” she asked Aiden.
“The gang,” he said, tossing his hand to indicate all around. “My people. A large amorphous mass that keeps on changing size, hasn’t much apparent use, sometimes makes you sick, and occasionally breaks off into smaller parts that act exactly like the parent.”
Behind her laughter Vivian inspected him with interest. He had a sense of pack. She liked that. In fact, despite Kelly, she liked his pack. They hadn’t challenged her, they had accepted her. Get more than one of her people together nowadays and the sparks flew. This comfort was a relief.
Kelly stood up. “We’re going to the bathroom.” All the meat-girls followed her obediently; she was head bitch.
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