Games of Fire by Airicka Phoenix Page B

car started down the street. “You look so pretty!”
    Sophie smiled, straightening in her seat. “Thanks!”
    At Lauren’s house, Sophie did the same, ducking out of sight while the girls ran inside. Seconds passed, turning into minutes that shoved red hot needles into Sophie’s curved spine. The bones in her bent legs protested the position and she was sure her dress was getting rumpled, but she stayed that way until the night was split by the shriek of unoiled hinges being pried open. The car shuddered as weight shifted in the front seat.
    “Sophie , you all right?” Jessie hissed, keeping her voice low.
    “Uh, kinda cramped. What took so long?”
    The car doors banged shut. The light overhead flickered off and Lauren put the car into drive. She made a U-turn in the middle of the deserted street and headed back toward Jessie’s. Mrs. Woodrow must have been watching from the window.
    “Mom was asking a million questions,” Lauren mumbled.
    Sophie pushed back into her seat, grateful to unfurl her limbs. “Does she suspect—?”
    “Nah.” She made a sharp turn left. “She always does. We’re good.”
    But the tension in the car was palpable. No one spoke as they circled back in the direction they needed to be going.
    Roy’s house was with all the other expensive houses at the north end of town. It wasn’t the largest, but compared to Sophie’s house, it was almost twice the size. Ivory columns guarded giant oak doors. Light spilled from every window, a yellow beacon in the dark. The surrounding houses, each about a football field width apart, sat cloaked in the night, shadowed by the bright glow. Cars filled the road, parked anywhere a spot could be found. An Audi sat on the lawn and Sophie had a feeling Roy’s parents weren’t going to be pleased when they return home. Music, something loud and choked with base poured over the neatly manicured lawn, filling the air with its piercing hum. Lauren parked behind a Toyota, cut the engine and turned to grab her bag from the backseat.
    “Sophie, keep watch.” Then she and Jessie were forcing their way into the back, kicking Sophie out into the cool night. She huddled next to the car, arms folded in a pathetic attempt to keep warm. She shifted feet, standing on one then the other as the straps pinched her feet. She prayed they wouldn’t blister. Hobbling around wasn’t how she planned to spend her night.
    From the house, something crashed. Glass shattered. People cheered. Sophie tried to see into the bay windows, but someone had drawn the blinds. In the room upstairs, the lights flickered on, then off, then on again as if someone was playing with the switch. Something sparked like a light bulb popping. An anxious sort of dread twisted in her gut as she tried to imagine just how crazy things were inside and how bad it may get as the night progressed. If things got too out of control, would someone, one of the neighbors perhaps, call the police? She let her gaze wander over the other houses, enormous mountains of polished ivory, stone and expensive wood and tried to imagine one of them standing in the window, clad in their housecoat, phone pressed to their ear, ranting about the lunatics next door. She shuddered.
    The backdoor swung open and Lauren and Jessie emerged, both changed and fully dressed for a killer night out. Lauren looked dazzling in a silk dress in a pretty emerald green. Her hair was piled stylishly on the top of her head, tiny curled braids falling precisely around her face. A diamond-shaped pendant glinted at her slender throat, pinning the collar of her dress into place. The fabric hooked around her neck, leaving her back completely exposed. The hem fell several inches too short of being modest. Jessie wore a cute jean skirt that fell modestly to her knees and a frilly blouse with flowers all over it. On her feet, she wore white cowboy boots where Lauren had on a pair of kickass boots.
    “You ladies ready?” Lauren asked, placing a hand on