This choice: Go to the warehouse with Karl • Go Back...Chapter #30Party Girls by: Seuzz   "The Warehouse?" you exclaim. "That sounds awesome! But what can we do until then? Just the three of us?" You bite on your lower lip and grin at Karl.
His Adam's apple wobbles hard. The sight gives you a thrill: It's so much fun to fuck with a guy. "I don't really have any plans until going out, and that, uh, that won't be until around eleven."
"Then that gives us lots of time to do something on our own." You pluck at the front of his sweatshirt again. "You want to go check on your spaghetti? It smells like it's—"
It smells like it's burning to the bottom of a pot, and with a gurgling gasp Karl hurries into the kitchen. Your co-conspirator takes advantage of his distraction to sidle in close. "So how about we pop him with the mask when he gets back in here and—"
"What's the rush? This is fun. He's totally into me."
"You're acting like you're totally into him. We should get the mask on him before—"
"Let's wait until we're on our way to the Warehouse, or until we're there. That'll make it—"
Karl calls from the kitchen: "If you guys want some of this, I'll have to open up another can!"
"That'd be so sweet of you," you call back. "Thanks!" To Eva: "It'll be a huge scene if we jump him right away, right now."
"We made a big scene last night," Eva points out. "Why don't you want to make one now?"
"Because we just got invited to supper. You don't want to be a bad guest, do you?"
Eva looks at you as though you've just sprouted an extra head, a pair of wings, and maybe something worse. You smile at her sweetly and stride off into the kitchen. Karl's standing over a stove, emptying a can of gooey pasta into a sauce pot.
"I like a guy who can improvise with the basics," you say, and stroke his back. He tenses. "I can help? What else did you want to put with it?"
* * * * *
There's not much in the Hennepin pantry or refrigerator to make a meal, so for accompaniment you're only able to make a very sad kind of garlic bread and a cheap salad. You're the one who has to come up with the ideas and execution, because Caleb just sits in the living room, and Karl turns out to be totally useless. But you still flatter him for his ability to make a good meal from unready materials: Hannah's instincts give you that insight.
Conversation—held on the floor as you and Eva sit cross-legged; Karl splays out across several square feet—ranges over lots of topics. Zoology (which Hannah and Karl share): "Is it just me," you ask while wrinkling your nose, "or is there, like, a weird smell in that classroom?" Other teachers: "Oh God, Mr. Hagerman? He is so much hotter than the English teacher I had last year at Eastman." Hannah and her reasons for moving to Westside: "We moved west of the river, you know? Out close to the country club? And it would have been this completely lame commute to get back to Eastman, and I can still see my friends whenever."
Mostly, though, you keep the conversation on Karl: flattering him and teasing him and making him feel like he's super attractive to you. "Why aren't you on the basketball team? You're so tall!" and "I heard you write poems. Are they awesome? Can I read one? Can you write one for me?" and "I bet you'd be really good at an instrument. Can you sing? Is there a band at the Warehouse you could join up with?" You help him wash the dishes, standing side by side at the sudsy sink. The time passes quickly, and by eight o'clock Karl has not only lost that dazed look, he's leaned in to ask if Eva can drive out separately to the Warehouse, leaving you and him to drive together. Maybe she can leave early, leaving just the two of us here? seems to be an unspoken subtext to his suggestion.
Two-timing son of a bitch, you think even while grinning back at him. If Kelsey knew you were trying to get Hannah into your bed—
At no point have you heard anything from Justin about whether "Will Prescott" can get away for a sleepover. That changes after you and Karl have flopped back onto the living room floor, and while you're trying to figure what—if anything—to say to Caleb, who has gotten increasingly impatient and irritated. Your phone alerts you to a text: Justin, reporting that despite all pleading and promises, your dad won't let his son out past midnight; and he asks you to meet him to do a switch back.
Now you're glad that you delayed action against Karl, and text back that you're still trying to get a new mask onto someone. That done, you turn to Hennepin with a toothsome smile and a meaningful look that you hope he'll interpret correctly. He does, and excuses himself to the bathroom. You scoot over next to Eva.
"Sounds like the party's off tonight," you tell her in a low voice. "Justin's stuck at my house, so there'd only be three of us anyway. We should totally hit the Warehouse with Karl, do the thing there, make it look like he's passed out."
"People will see us!" she hisses. "Hell, Eva and Hannah might be there!"
"Will they?" You cock an eyebrow. "Does Eva go out there ever?"
"Okay, not a lot, but if we get spotted there—"
"We won't be there long, and who cares what a bunch of drunk party-goers say about Eva and Hannah being there? But if you don't wanna go, that's fine. Go hook up with Connor at Starbucks. I'm trying to get rid of you anyway, so me and Karl can get some quality alone time before heading over there."
"Are you crazy?" Her voice is practically a shriek. "You're going to—?"
"Shh! No. Or not all the way. Just enough to get his guard down."
"I'm not leaving you alone with him!"
"What business is it of yours? Okay, fine, let's tell him we want to head out to the Warehouse early. The good stuff won't be getting started until eleven or midnight, but there'll be some people and some fun there now."
"How do you know?"
"Hannah knows. Doesn't Eva? Anyway, if I can get him in a corner, get a beer or two into him, we can get the mask on and off him and be out before too many people show up."
Caleb grumbles, but gives in suddenly when you hear a toilet flush and a door opening. When Karl comes around the corner, you turn on those high-beams and suggest making an early start of the evening at the Warehouse. He's okay with that, more so after you announce you'll get a ride with him while Eva drives out by herself.
* * * * *
The Warehouse is not the only warehouse in Saratoga Falls, but is the only one like it.
There's nothing special about it as a warehouse. What's special is what it's used for. It's the setting for a kind of permanent high school party.
Or, that's what you understand now, with Hannah's brain and inside Hannah's body, as you buckle yourself into Karl's car. You yourself have never been out there, and have only heard of it as a sometime hangout for the more bohemian crowd, and as the stage for musical acts and improvised nightclub stuff on Friday and Saturday nights.
Hannah knows that if it's a nightclub, it's a nightclub that never closes. Only the nature "customers" and the nature of the "refreshments" changes from hour to hour and day to day. Hannah has only ever been there on weekends, when it's relatively safe in a crowd of mostly respectable high school students. But she knows kids who go on weeknights, or who hang out there during daylight hours. And though she might feel safe with some of them, she's not much interested in what they do.
"Who's playing tonight?" you ask Karl. "Is it Slow Fast Hazel? Oh my God, they are, like—" You sway in time to a beat only you can hear, the fast, complex rhythms of one of the best of the high school bands.
"I think it's the Hi-Hats tonight."
"Oh God, no. Well, I guess it'll be okay."
"You don't like them?"
"They're okay. No, they're actually really good. Just the girl who runs it. Chris Yves?"
"She's a lesbian, right?"
"Oh yeah." For some reason Karl's forthrightness makes you feel warm and fuzzy toward him; it's a sign he's now totally relaxed and comfortable with you. "Not that I mind that. I mean, I've kissed a girl before." You giggle at the way Karl's mouth falls open, though he keeps his eyes on the road. "But she and I— Like, I told you back at your place how Jenny Taylor and I didn't get along. Kind of the same thing with me and Chris Yves. You don't mind a strong-willed woman, do you?" You're surprised yourself by the bluntness of the question, and being so caught up in the pretense you don't yank your hand back when it slides over to rub up and down Karl's thigh. Turning a guy on really isn't hard, but the buzz from being able to do so is a real rush.
The lot next to the Warehouse is mostly empty, so Karl gets a prime spot up near the door. The site is surrounded by a tall cinderblock wall on all sides, which gives it some privacy. A thumping beat so low that it's inaudible—it can only be faintly felt through the air—comes from the wall of the Warehouse. Karl puts his arm around your shoulder as you approach the doors leading inside, and you put your arm around his waist.
The dance floor and musical stage are inside and to the left; to the right is a makeshift bar. Idly you wonder how it gets stocked and whether it makes a profit; it seems strange that high school kids should have organized a makeshift business. Karl jerks his chin at the shrimpy kid with long blonde hair who's manning it. "My credit good with you?"
"No, I don't give a shit either." The kid eyes you openly. "Buying for two? Whaddaya want?"  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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