Dark Secrets 2: No Time to Die; The Deep End of Fear Read Free Page A

anyone want to do that?

Chapter 3
    By the time I had picked up my suitcase, dragged it around the building, and crossed the street, the guy in black had disappeared among the other kids gathering at the four houses. Drama House, which had a sign on it, was the best kept of the three-story homes. Covered in pale yellow clapboard with white trim, it had a steep pyramid-shaped roof, gables protruding at different angles, and a turret at one comer.
    A guy about my height and three or four times my width blocked the sidewalk up to Drama House, two stuffed backpacks and a battered suitcase resting at his feet like tired dogs. He gazed toward the porch, where a flock of girls chattered and laughed. "She's beautiful," he said.
    I peeked around him, hoping he'd notice I wanted to get past, but he was lost in wonder. "Which one?" I finally asked.
    He blinked, surprised. "What?"
    "Which girl?"
    He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked embarrassed. "I—I was talking about the house. It's a Queen Anne, the style built at the end of the 1800s.
    Look at the way they used the different shapes—triangular, rectangular, round, conical. Look at the texture in the roof and front gable."
    He had a strong Bronx accent—the kind I associated with beer vendors at Yankee Stadium, not an admirer of nineteenth-century architecture. I stifled a giggle.
    "If I was painting it, I'd use colors with more contrast," he went on. "Red, gold, green. Lime, maybe. Yes, definitely… lime." He swallowed the last word self-consciously. "I'm supposed to be over there," he muttered, slinging on his backpacks, then reaching for his suitcase. He started toward a peeling gray house that had a stuffed plaid sofa and purple coffee table on its front lawn. Obviously, a fraternity.
    "Now, that house," I called after him, "could use a paint job."
    He turned back and smiled for just a moment. Despite his thick dark hair, bristly eyebrows, and nearly black eyes, his round face looked almost cherubic when he smiled.
    As he hurried on to the frat, I continued down the sidewalk to Drama House and up the steps of its wraparound porch. Four girls were gathered there in a tight group, talking loudly enough for three others to hear. I joined the quiet girls.
    "So did you get yourself expelled?" asked a girl whose head was wrapped in elegant African braids. Her cheekbones were high, her dark skin as smooth as satin.
    "No, Shawna, I did not," another girl replied, sighing wearily.
    "How come?" Shawna asked. "Did they keep giving you second chances?"
    "Something like that."
    Shawna laughed. "Well, how many times did you try, Keri?"
    "Not as many as I'd planned. I found out who went to the school where my parents threatened to send me. It would be entertaining for a while, but it'd get old."
    As she spoke, Keri combed long nails through her hair, which was cut short and dyed, a high contrast job in black and white. Dark pencil lined her pale eyes—sleepy, half-closed eyes. I knew that look: Liza had used it occasionally to let others know they had better do something if they wanted to hold her interest.
    "Hey, Keri, Paul's back," said another girl.
    "Is he?" The bored expression disappeared.
    "Still hot for Paul," the tall, thin girl observed.
    Shawna shook her head. "I just don't understand you, girlfriend."
    "Keri doesn't want to be understood," said the fourth girl of the group. She had long black hair and velvet-lashed, almond eyes.
    "I mean, he's good-looking," Shawna began, "but—"
    "Oh, look who's headed this way," Keri said coolly.
    "Boots," muttered the thin girl.
    All of us quiet ones turned to see whom the others were eyeing. I figured it was Brian's mother, a.k.a. Army Boots.
    From a distance she appeared theatrical, with a wide scarf wrapped around her thick, bleached hair and a big gold chain around her waist, but as she got close, she looked more like a P.E. teacher and mother—with a strong jaw, a determined mouth, but lots of little worry lines around her