6
For a second, for a split, pure-perfection second, Evan had believed that Teena was taking him to a secluded area to make out. In that second, he’d managed to thank God for the fact that he’d blown money on a sweater that Teena had already touched twice and that he’d had money left over to stop and buy the chips and dip. He’d also managed to put God far, far out of his thoughts as his brain took in every inch of Teena in her tiny red dress.
But that split second was way over. Evan might have been naive, but he wasn’t stupid. As soon as he saw the unlikely duo of Leo Starnick and Sarabeth Lewis standing on the stairs waiting for Teena to open the big metal door, he knew she was planning to lock him down here. Effing calculus, he’d thought, not yet able to think profanity, even if he’d already been thinking profanely.
That second, that door-opening second, was over for everyone. Because now it wasn’t just Teena’s hand-selected crop of punishees locked down here. Teena herself was trapped, too. She was frantic, her eyes darting back and forth around the low-lit space, pacing on her heels, each click sounding like gunfire. She was either looking for a key or having a fit. She scanned the highest parts of the room, as if seeking answers from above, or hoping someone at the party overhead would sense that their hostess was trapped underground.
Sarabeth Lewis was the opposite. Still and calm, she simply sat on the bottom step, as if resigned to this new fact of her life. She pulled out her cell phone and stared at the screen. “No signal,” she said plainly, even though no one seemed to hear her.
Leo Starnick just wore an amused grin, enjoying the strangeness of the moment. Still standing on the staircase, he looked down at the rest of them as if deciding what to do with them.
Evan wondered what his own face looked like at that moment. If Teena’s parents were away for the long weekend, and Teena’s key was on the other side of the door, then they were trapped down here until Monday. Monday, so he’d miss Sunday services. He’d be caught in his lie for sure. On the bright side, he was trapped with Teena. For tonight, Sunday, and part of Monday, at least. That was true get-to-know-you time. But … shit. He was trapped. With. Teena. What if he fell asleep and had a dream about her and talked in his sleep? What if he farted? Or woke up with morning breath? Or had a wet dream? In front of Teena? In his brand-new overpriced jeans?
“Is there another way out of here?” Sarabeth directed a hostile look at Teena before averting her eyes.
Teena dragged a stool over to a cabinet filled with canned goods. She stepped on it, wobbling slightly in her heels, and began feeling around on the top shelf.
“Let me do it,” Evan said, standing up and glad for the chance to do something. “What are you looking for?”
Teena rolled her eyes as she stepped down, clattering past him. She violently pulled a bottle of wine from one of the lower racks and sat down on the stairs next to Sarabeth. “Nothing. I’m already done. I thought my dad might have an emergency keycard there.”
Leo, who was still holding the bottle of expensive wine, shrugged. “You’re all too worried,” he said. He hopped down the last few stairs and ducked into the room to the right of the staircase, opposite the wine cellar. Evan followed him in. Inside were a set of brown couches, a flat-screen TV with a built-in DVD player, a coffee table, and a tall bookshelf containing an assortment of board games, several rows of DVDs and CDs, and a meager selection of books that Godly Jim would be happy to see contained a copy of the Holy Bible. A massive generator stood in the far corner, apparently to power all this equipment if ever the need should arise.
Leo flopped on a couch with the wine and closed his eyes. Evan tentatively took a seat, too, still holding the chips and dip. The girls soon followed, until everyone was seated around the coffee table, like they were all friends hanging out at some ski lodge, waiting for hot chocolate—rather than completely mismatched classmates trapped in a basement.
“Teena, won’t one of your friends figure out that you’re not there anymore?” Evan put the snacks on the table and opened a bag of corn chips.
Teena put her head in her hands and laughed. “You bring chips and dip to a party where the only thing on anyone’s mind is beer and shots, and you seriously think anyone cares if I disappear? My being gone just means they can burn the place down. My parents are going to kill me.”
Sarabeth spoke up. “No one is going to mess up your house any more than you’d already let them.”
“You’re lucky you’re even invited,” Teena shot back.
“Oh, yes, thank you, Teena, for inviting us to a party so you can trap us in a bomb shelter for an entire long weekend,” Leo said sarcastically. He stood up and held the bottle of wine like a gavel. “I want payback. So I say we open this bottle of wine and try to make the most of tonight. For a toast, we’re going to clink glasses and say, ‘Fuck you, Teena.’ Corkscrew’s in here, I’m guessing?” He stopped near a glass-front cabinet holding wine glasses and various implements.
Teena sprang up from the couch and had Leo’s arm in a tight grip within seconds. “You’re not opening that bottle,” she said gravely. “Put it back, Leo.”
“What do you mean? If we try it and don’t like it, there are dozens more bottles to choose from. Don’t be a party pooper, Teena.” He held up the bottle with his other arm and examined the wrapping on the neck. Teena pulled at his elbow.
“I like Leo’s idea,” Sarabeth said calmly. “I could use a drink.”
“Not from this bottle,” Teena protested, yanking Leo’s arm with both hands.
“I think you’ve given up your right to play sommelier,” Leo said, trying to pull his arm away from Teena.
“Give it back!” Teena squealed.
Evan debated whether he should step in and take the bottle from Leo. But Leo had given him free pizza at the mall. And even if he wasn’t that mad about being locked down here, Teena’s insult had stung. So what if he’d brought chips and dip? It was thoughtful.
On the other side of the coffee table, Teena managed to wrap her hand around the bottle’s neck. Leo held on with both hands. Evan and Sarabeth watched the tug-of-war. Leo smirked as Teena strained.
“Just give it to me!” Teena finally yelled, putting her whole body into giving the bottle a single, solid yank.
It flew up in the air and seemed to hang, suspended, above their heads. Everyone watched as it turned three-hundred-sixty degrees in slo-mo, before beginning its long descent to the cold concrete floor. The bottle collided with the ground, and there was a huge crash. Everything shook.
And then, an explosion ripped through the room, louder than any kind of wrath-of-God shit Evan’s stepdad preached about. Timber snapped above them, and the floor shook below them. The staircase to the cellar cracked in half, like something had unzipped it down the middle.
Evan felt himself lift from the couch, the bag of chips still in his hand, and crash to the floor. He hit his head, hard, and felt the cool concrete under his cheek. He couldn’t move as he watched a torrent of debris from the house above come down the stairs in a tidal wave. He closed his eyes as particles of dust flew at them. From the next room he heard a symphony of wine bottles bursting.
Evan tried to push up from the floor, but another crash rocked the room, forcing him back down. The world felt like a capsizing boat as it swayed beneath him. He kept his eyes closed as it rumbled again, less violently, then swayed gently, almost like it was trying to rock him to sleep.
Then, nothing. Everything was still. Evan opened his eyes.
Sarabeth was on the floor across from him, rubbing her head. Her green sweater was coated with gray dust and had a hole torn in the elbow, a large red scratch appearing in the gap. Teena was stomach-down on the floor. She lifted her head, her blond hair caked with ash. Leo was on his back at the center of the couches, staring blankly upward. Was he dead? Evan wondered. Then he saw Leo’s chest rise and fall as he took a breath.
This reminded Evan to breathe, a cloud of dust finding its way into his lungs. He coughed, feeling aches all over his body from the fall. Next to him, Leo was sitting up, intensely staring into the sky. Evan followed Leo’s gaze upward. The others did the same.
All they could see—all that was left—was the night sky above.
Teena’s house had been ripped from its foundation. More than half was completely gone. Only the kitchen and part of the upstairs remained. A keg rolled back and forth. A chunk of countertop lay on its side.
Evan’s eyes fell on Dahlia Dovetail’s trademark elf boots, the ones he’d seen clasped against Brad Michner’s back on the way in. He followed the boots up to her legs, still wrapped tightly around Brad.
But her top half was gone.
Evan struggled to get to his feet, his legs like rubber bands. He took two woozy steps backward, reeling as he tasted Phat Phil’s pepperoni return to his mouth. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dahlia’s intestines, dangling like giant strands of spaghetti.
He looked into the open bag of corn chips still clutched in his sweaty hands and vomited into it.