The Party by Christopher Pike Page A

variousshaped teenage boys came storming down the sidewalk. They had appeared from around a corner, and there was only a second to get out of their way. Russ Desmond watched them pass without a great deal of interest.
    “Do the guys migrate at Tabb or what?” she asked, getting back down from the steps where she had run for safety.
    “We’re just having a little race is all. What did you mean, I must have seen you at lunch? What happened at lunch?”
    It hit Sara then what was going. “Wait a sec, you’re in the middle of a race?”
    “That’s what I just said.”
    “No, I mean, you’re in the race?”
    “Yeah.”
    “But you were winning!” She looked down the sidewalk in the direction of the rapidly vanishing group of crosscountry runners. “Get going. Go after them. Hurry!”
    “I will,” he said, sounding vaguely annoyed. “In a minute. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
    “I’m all right. Get out of here.”
    “First tell me what happened at lunch?”
    “I gave a speech. Didn’t you hear my speech? It doesn’t matter. I’m sure someone taped it. You can listen to it after your race. Now get out of here. Go. Scoot. Goodbye.”
    He nodded, gave a quick smile. “You’ve wrecked my time, Sara.”
    Watching him run off, pulling leaves from her hair, she muttered, “Well, you wrecked my makeup, Russ.”
    Russ Desmond.
    Polly and Jessica showed up a few minutes later. They were talking about Alice’s party, or rather, arguing about it. Sara loved arguments. She hated to simply discuss things.
    “Food doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Jessica was saying. “We don’t have to feed everyone dinner for god’s sake. All we need are a few sweet and salty dishes, and plenty to drink. Isn’t that right, Sara?”
    “That is true.”
    But people are going to be showing up with beer,” Polly said. “You remember what happened at Alice’s last party? Claudia Philips got drunk and threw up all over Kirk Holden.”
    “So we won’t invite Claudia,” Jessica said.
    “Or Kirk,” Sara added.
    “And we can put on the invitations that no alcohol will be allowed,” Jessica said.
    Polly grimaced. “We have to print up invitations?”
    “Of course,” Sara said. “We have to show these barbarians we have class.”
    “Who’s going to pay for all this?” Polly asked. “Me?”
    “No, of course not,” Sara said. “Alice will.”
    “Alice has the same account as I do,” Polly complained. Then she paused, staring at Sara. “What happened to you? You have leaves in your hair, Sara.”
    “Well, you have a fat ass, Polly. And this evening I’ll wash my hair and look just wonderful, and you’ll still have a fat ass.”
    “You wouldn’t look wonderful if a car full of plastic surgeons ran over you on the freeway,” Polly retorted.
    Sara wrinkled her nose. “Huh?”
    “Stop it, you two,” Jessica said. They had reached Jessica’s and Polly’s cars. Jessica had a Toyota; Polly, a Mercedes. Both cars were brandnew. Sara had had a nice car once, before she had run into a stupid telephone pole. Jessica continued, “We have to decide whether we want to make it a swimming party or not. What do you think, Sara?”
    “Definitely. We can go skinnydipping.”
    “We’re not going skinnydipping,” Polly said. “It’s against the law.”
    “Only when you’ve got a fat—” Sara stopped, looking around. “Where’s Alice?”
    Jessica and Polly glanced at each other. “She went home early,” Jessica said.
    “What’s the matter?” Sara asked. “Does she have cramps?”
    Polly hesitated. “Yeah.”
    “That’s a shame,” Sara said. She liked having Alice around. That girl could take an insult better than anybody; she always just laughed.
    Jessica yawned. “Let’s talk about this later, at the game. I’ve got to take a nap now or I’m going to turn into a pumpkin.” She opened her car door. “You want Polly or me to take you home, Sara?”
    “I’ll go with you.”
    “I can