Fearscape by Nenia Campbell Page A

parents didn't think they had the dating appeal of a slug.
    “ Oh, come on. Don't huff. Spill. I'm dying of curiosity.”
    Val was tempted to torture her some more — she was still quite mad about her mother's assuming that she couldn't find boys on her own, mostly because it was starting to look as if it might be true — but she was too excited to keep quiet much longer, and her mother's enthusiasm was hard to resist in the wake of Lisa's cutting skepticism.
    She managed to hold out for another block until blurting, “He's a senior.”
    Her mother's expectant smile slipped. “Oh … dear. So he's eighteen. That's quite old.”
    So are you . “That's only four years older. We go to the same high school!”
    “ And next year he will be in college whereas you, little missy, will still be a high school student.” She rolled her eyes at her daughter's expression. “Okay, I get it. We'll discuss that later. So he's a senior. Is that all you know about him?”
    “ He's in my art class.”
    “ Mm-hmm.”
    “ He works at Petville.”
    Mrs. Kimble lifted an eyebrow.
    “ Mom!”
    Mrs. Kimble demurred. “I didn't say anything.”
    “ You looked at me.”
    “ Oh, Val, for God's sake. I looked at you? How old are you?”
    There was a silence.
    “ Well, Miss Huffy? What's this boy's name?”
    Val didn't answer.
    “ Should we call him M&M, for Mystery Man?”
    Oh god, the horror. “His name is Gavin. Gavin Mecozzi.”
    “ That sounds Italian.”
    “ Probably because it is.”
    “ I knew an Italian boy growing up,” her mother said thoughtfully. “He was a distant relation of a mafioso. He used to brag about that. It drove the girls crazy — that, and the fact that he looked like a young Eduardo Versategui. He also drove a Harley, as I recall, and wore a Ferragamo leather jacket.”
    “ Gavin is not in the mafia.”
    “ And what does Mr. Mecozzi do, then, in his copious free time?”
    This Val could answer, to her relief. “He plays chess. He's a grandmaster.”
    “ Well! That's certainly impressive. Your uncle plays chess. Did I ever tell you that? He used to call it 'the intellectual sport.'” The minivan pulled into their driveway. Val hopped out, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. “Your father played, too, though Charles was never as good as Earl.”
    “ I remember. Dad tried to teach me when I was younger.”
    “ Did he? Oh, yes, I'd quite forgotten. That all seems so long ago.” As she fished in her purse for the keys, she said, casually, “What does Lisa think about this Gavin?”
    “ Lisa is dumb. Just like James.”
    As soon as her mother got the door open, Val made an immediate beeline for her room. The first thing she did was change out of her school clothes and into some flannel pajama pants and a tank top. The second was to wash off her makeup, which was starting to feel stiff and itchy. The third was to go on her computer, where she planned to stay until she was called down for dinner or ended up tired enough to take a nap on her bed.
    James had finally decided to send her a message. The header was entitled, simply, “sorry.” How original. Val deleted the message without reading it. She knew if she did read it, she would either feel sorry for him or get even more annoyed than she already was, and either one of those things had a high likelihood of making her act stupidly, herself.
    Besides, he's probably only apologizing because Lisa made him.
    Val had been Lisa's friend first, before Lisa really knew anyone else in the school, and she resented the fact that Lisa had gotten so tight with James lately. Especially since she was fairly sure that the two of them hung out together far more often than they bothered to include her.
    Not that she wanted to hang out with such stupid people, but they could have at least offered.
    She had another message, aside from James's. Val sat up a little straighter. It was from that weirdo in the Victorian outfit again.
    What do you desire? And how far