Silver Bullet

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

[In which I learn the art of flirting... by my sister]

"Evan?" I asked stupidly, though it was pretty clear it was him.

A thousand thoughts went through my head, most of which included throwing the phone to the ground and running a million miles away. Then I composed myself. "Hello," I said calmly- or as calmly as I could get with Gwen smirking at me two feet away. I just knew she'd told him, the sneaky little fox.

His voice sounded far too amused as he said, "As you invited me to your party-"

"What? First of all, I didn't invite you. Gwen the idiot did, though I don't even know why of all people she would. Second, I don't even know you, and-"

"I need to know your address," he said, speaking over the interruption.

What did this boy not know about 'minding your own business before I bash your head in?' "My parents don't know your parents, and I don't even know you personally from school or anything. Now, If you'll excuse me, I need to-"

"I don't have parents," he said softly, an odd tone in his voice. "I've been living at the orphanage for two months now."

For several long minutes, I stood there. "What happened to them?" I asked, horrified dreading the answer.

Evan's velvet voice seemed rough with sadness as he spoke. "They were murdered."

                                                                  ________________

Curse my soft heart, curse my kindness! Why was I so stupid? Why had I ended up inviting him, not only to the party, but to dinner as well?

I had a good answer to that: Peer pressure.

Gwen had dragged me into this, and there was no stopping her. I winced as I remembered calling my parents, who were always a sucker for Gwen. They had immediately agreed to the idea of inviting him, and my mother had even gone far enough to bring him along to dinner. It seemed as if everybody was out to get me today.

Now I was sitting awkwardly between Evan and my mother, trying hard to look as if I was actually enjoying the salad my parents had cooked up. Evan wasn't eating anything either- he was staring intently at his fork. My mother was making small talk, which would sputter out as soon as it started, and my father would eye Evan warily. "So, Evan," my mother said as another lame attempt to lessen the tension. "How did you and Roxanne meet?"

That made it worse as I remembered the events in the Nike shop, and my face flamed red as I bent low, pretending I had dropped my fork. Evan was smirking when I came back up, and said slowly, "Well, Ms. Sift, I really don't know. It was a bit of a- what shall I call it?- an accident that we met."

I stared pointedly at the table, which was a mahogany color, and had a blue tablecloth over it as Evan continued to talk. "We were at the mall-"

I got up, not wanting to hear any more of it. "If you'll excuse me, I need to-"

My mother glared at me as I tried to exit quietly. "But we haven't had dessert!" She said loudly. "Richie, why don't you get the pie?" When my father exited the living room, walking to the kitchen, my mother hissed furiously, "Roxanne, you were the one who wanted to invite him-"

I wanted to crush the glass I was holding in my hand from frustration. "Me? Invite him? You were the one who wanted to-"

"And further more, he seems like a perfectly polite, young, man. I've been telling you for years you ought to get a boyfriend, date a little. Ken was nice enough, but he wasn't your type. I think, though, Evan and you will do nicely, but you'll have to come back after midnight, or-"