The Gathering (Darkness Rising 1)

"Just, well, if you're going with Rafe, and Hayley finds out I knew about it ..." A deep breath. "I'll have to tell her. She'll be really mad if I don't." Another pause. "And she'll be really mad if I say you invited him."

"Which has nothing to do with you."

"I know but ... maybe I just won't tell her."

Fair or not, Hayley would take it out on Nicole. If any of the kids had a problem with small town life, it was Hayley. You can't be a convincing mean girl without an entourage. Stuck with a meager selection, she'd decided to convert Nicole. I hated how she treated her--best friends one day, ordering her around the next. Nicole didn't seem to like it either, but with Serena gone, I guess she'd decided Hayley would have to do, since I didn't seem to be interested.

I looked out at the lake. I could use a girlfriend. A real one I could talk to, not just someone to hang out with. How could I push Daniel to replace Serena in his life when I wasn't ready to?

When would I be ready to?

I didn't know. Just not yet.

Nicole came to my place for lunch, then we hung out, but it was awkward. I was used to being with her as part of a group, and it wasn't long before she "remembered" a singing lesson, and I spent the rest of the afternoon with my animals.

When Dad took me to the party that evening, I still hadn't shaken my mood. If anything, it'd gotten worse. I couldn't stop thinking about Serena. Couldn't stop thinking this was my second birthday without her. The first party, though. She'd died at the end of August and even by October, I hadn't been ready for a party without her. Now I realized I still wasn't.

We were halfway down the wooded road to Daniel's place when Dad pulled over to the side.

"You don't look like a girl heading to her sixteenth birthday party," he said.

"It'll pass. I'm just ..."

"Serena?"

I nodded. My eyes filled and I pushed my palms against them. "Great. I knew I should have bought the waterproof mascara."

Dad pressed a tissue into my hand. I carefully wiped my eyes, then flipped down the visor mirror.

"You look beautiful," he said.

"You're parentally obligated to say that."

"True."

I made a face at him, then adjusted my seat belt, and said, "Carry on, Jeeves."

"Jeeves is a valet, not a chauffeur."

"We can't afford both, so you're stuck with double duty."

He stopped in front of the house. The windows were dark.

"Oh, please," I said. "Not the surprise party thing again."

"Better work on your surprised face."

I opened the door. "No final words of warning?"

"I trust you."

I sighed. "That'll be my epitaph someday. So trustworthy. So honest. So boring."

I headed up the walk. Like all the houses in Salmon Creek, the Bianchi home is owned by the St. Clouds. This one is two stories with four bedrooms, one for Daniel's parents and one for each child. No matter what your job is, your house is just big enough to fit your family comfortably. They're all nice, though, not cookie-cutter military base houses. The Bianchi place is modern Victorian, with gabled windows and a big front porch that cries out for a swing. Yet there's no swing. Never has been.

The front door was locked. All part of the show, given that I knew where the key was. I unlocked it and let myself in.

"Oh my, no one's here," I called. "Could I have the wrong day? Maybe they all went someplace else to party without me."