Played by Dana Davidson CHAPTER 1 "This party is played, man," Ian Striver complained to his friend Michael. "Oh, baby!" Michael yelled. He scanned the Cross cafeteria, now decked in strobe lighting, spinning reflective balls that hung from the ceiling, and dim blue lights. "Damn, you're already blowed!" Ian said. "Hell, yeah. I wouldn't come to one of these things any other way." "You're sick, fool, sick." "Well, let me tell you, I'm gettin' better all the time," Michael said. Ian just shook his head and looked around the winter dance. The winter dance was the party that Cross High School threw each December. Students crowded the floor, dancing to the beat, while teachers patrolled and talked to one another on the sidelines. Ian and his crew had shown up as a joke, really. After stepping through here they were planning to hang out at the Cradle, a dance club for teens, off East Jefferson Avenue. "Why are we here, Mike?" Ian asked. "I don't know, man. Just relax. Check out the honeys. We might see something good." "Ain't nothing much up in here, man. All these young things. Too easy." "Easy, huh?" "As one and one," Ian said. Several girls came over to where Ian and his boys stood. "What's up?" the shortest one asked Dante. "You, girl," he answered, looking her up and down slowly. "Yeah, right," she answered, her tone sexy, "that's why I never got your call, huh?" "I'm gonna call you, for real," he said. "A brother's just been busy, you know. But I'm about to ring you." "You'd better," she said. She leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and all the guys watched as Dante slipped his hand from her waist to her hip. When she pulled away, he released her and smiled. "Bet," he told her, "you got me curious now." "That's how I want you," she said. Then she and her girls turned and walked away. The guys watched them melt into the crowd. Then Dante turned to Ian and said, "but can you do it like that, young pledge?" "That was good, I have to admit," Ian said. "But I think I can at least match that." "I guess you think you're the original player, huh?" Michael said. "I didn't say all that, but since you said it. . . ." Ian chuckled. His eyes roved over the dance floor, lingering for a few moments on a girl near him who danced fast and nasty. She saw him looking, and they held each other's eyes for several seconds. She was just the kind of girl he liked, pretty and loose, dressed to impress, with a little bit of snob thrown in to make her a challenge. "Well, man," Michael said. "If you're all that, prove it." "I don't have to prove it to you or anybody else. I've never had a problem gettin' a shorty to give some of that up." Ian flicked his eyes over the dancing girl once more before he looked back at Michael. "Yeah, I don't know why all those girls like your ugly butt, anyway," Michael laughed. Ian's hazel eyes flashed as he lifted his finely chiseled chin. "Don't hate me, man, you know I'm pretty," Ian joked. "Whatever. I'll hit you with fifty bills, though, if you prove it," Michael said. Ian looked at Michael closely to see if he was serious. "Serious?" "As a fat man's heart attack." "What do I have to do?" "What do you think? What do players do?" "I just want you to make it clear. I don't want you backing out later, saying you can't give me my money 'cause that ain't what you meant." Michael laughed because Ian was right, he would try to pull some mess like that. "You ain't right, man." "Whatever." "You gotta get a little nobody to give up the nasty." Ian felt some nervous excitement, but he just nodded his head as though what his boy said didn't touch him. "Okay." "Bet. But I get to pick her." "Naw, fool!" "Hell, yeah. It's my money at stake." "And my thang." They both laughed. "Don't pick out a flat-out dog, Mike, man." "All right. But she's gotta have a little puppy chow in the mix, or it won't be any fun for me." "And she's gotta be clean, Mike." "Hell, yes!" They gave each other plays. "I'm gonna pick her for you, Ian." Ian rubbed his palms discreetly on his oversized designer jeans and Michael began prowling the dimly lit cafeteria. He'd point at a girl who was totally out of the question, and he and the other FBI guys would fall out laughing as Ian violently waved him on. Finally Michael came up on a group of girls who were all standing together, wearing tight jeans and even tighter tops. Ian evaluated the group. They looked young, like ninth- or tenth-graders. There were a couple of cuties. One had short hair, light skin, and a shapely body. Another was tall with long hair, chocolate skin, slanted eyes, a tiny waist, and a big butt. Pick one of those, Ian thought. The third girl had brown skin, narrow hips, small breasts, and medium-length hair with way too much gel holding it into a tired, hard ponytail. Her jeans and T-shirt were so tight that they didn't look seductive; they looked painful. Ian groaned. She's the one, he thought. To confirm his fears Michael pointed her out for him and nodded his head. "It's all yours, player," Michael said when he came back over. "Damn, man." "I know," Michael said laughing. "But, it shouldn't be hard for a player like you to squeeze up on that." "God, she doesn't look like she's ever kissed anyone, much less had sex." "What Ian, are you scared to tap a virgin?" Tamar asked. "Please, a virgin would only make it sweeter," Ian said, eyeing the girl across the floor. "How much time you giving me?" he asked Michael. "For you? You're kinda young, so I'll extend the normal time." The boys grinned at one another. "Three weeks." "Three weeks!" "I'll tell you what," Michael said, really getting into it. "A real player could do more than get in the panties, he could make her fall for him. I'll give you a hundred dollars if you get her to give it up and fall for you." "In three weeks?" "Three weeks. We'll make this your third and final challenge," Mike added. "You get us the proof that you completed it and you will definitely be at the Freak Fest a month from now." Ian's heartbeat picked up and a smile crept onto his face. The only way for him to get to the Freak Fest was to be an FBI member. Ian was popular, but he wouldn't be one of the few guys invited to that party of about 100 kids if he wasn't FBI. The invitations, only went to about thirty-five guys from Cross: top jocks and the extremely popular. The rest of the guests would be some of the finest and freakiest girls Ian had ever met. This year the Freak Fest would be at Michael's parents' lavish six-bedroom mansion. Ian looked across the dance floor at the girl again. Damn, he thought, I don't even know her name. Plus, as he looked at her, he realized that he felt absolutely no attraction. For a moment he thought he should just get out of this stupid bet. But he knew he wouldn't. Ian had just made it into the induction phase of FBI, Freaky Boys Incorporated, in October. It was an exclusive fraternal group at Cross composed of juniors and seniors. Ever since ninth grade Ian had longed to be in FBI. They were some of the best-dressed, best-looking, and most popular boys in the school. The catch was, you had to fit in. Too much thinking for yourself, and as far as the FBI was concerned, you could be by your own damn self. Michael was a senior and second in command. His dares were pretty much tests. Meet 'em or get to steppin'. "Quit stallin', Ian. Make your move." Ian sighed and moved away. Mike was right. It was time to do this. But he wasn't enjoying it. It wasn't the first time he wondered why he did some of the stuff he did to be in the FBI. Still, he had gotten picked by the best crowd, and now, he was nearly in. He didn't want to jeopardize that by acting like he didn't want to hurt some girl's feeling. And this wasn't the worst thing that he could do. It wasn't drugs, it wasn't stealing or something like that. It was sex. Hell, that couldn't be all bad. Not at all, Ian reasoned. Ian circled the dance floor and stopped behind the trio of girls. He leaned over and spoke into the plain girl's ear. "You wanna dance?" She turned around and peered at Ian in the dim lighting. Ian's small hope that she might be cuter up close fell flat. "Yeah, sure," she said. Ian led her out onto the dance floor and fell into his dance steps. He stood fairly close to her, feeling her out, seeing how she reacted. She didn't move away from him so he moved in a little closer. Even if the party was weak, the music was tight, and Ian noted that the girl did know how to move. Ian's next steps brought him in up close to her, and he allowed the rhythm of his dancing to cause him to bump and grind against her. She extended her arms above her head, moved to his rhythm for a few moments, and then discreetly moved away. Ian smiled to himself. He could respect that. He figured that if she let grind up on her it would be that much easier to get her to give it up. He didn't try to press up on her again. Instead he kept it close, but not too close. When the song ended Ian led her away from her friends, over to a less crowded part of the cafeteria. He looked over in Michael's direction and found him watching. Michael smiled when Ian caught his eye. Ian nodded, then turned to the girl. "What's your name?" Ian yelled above the pounding music. "What?" she yelled back. "What's your name?" "I can't hear you!" she said. "Come on," Ian said, and led her out into the hallway where it was well lit and a lot quieter. As they stood in the hall Ian looked her over more carefully. She wasn't bad, really, he thought. But he preferred them fine. He noted that her hair and clothes were messed up, her body wasn't inspirational, and her face wasn't even that interesting. But her eyes were nice. They were black, black, black. They absorbed light. They were like velvet, a flat, deep, luxurious black. "What's up?" Ian asked. "Nothing." "What's your name?" "Kyle." "I'm Ian." "I know." "You know, huh?" "Yes." "How do you know my name?" Ian asked, fishing for a compliment. Kylie wasn't helping out. "I don't know." "Well, I just wanted to ask you if I could have your number." She looked at Ian for an extended moment, studying him mildly. Then she said, "Sure, okay." Ian didn't know what to make of her less-than-enthusiastic attitude. He got the number anyway though, and walked her back into the dance. "Was that so bad?" Michael asked when Ian returned. The other guys laughed and gave each other plays. "Whatever, man," Ian said. He was taking one last look around the dance. "Let's bounce." "All right," Michael said, and they all left. * * * Dez and Tracy had been watching when Kylie and Ian came back into the dance. When Kylie came to stand next to them again they were about ready to burst. "What's up, girl?" Dez asked. "What?" Kylie said stalling. "Don't 'what' me, Kylie. What's up with this Ian thing?" Dez asked. "I don't know. There is no 'Ian thing,'" Kylie said. "He asked me to dance. Then he asked me for my number." "What's this about?" Dez now directed her question to Tracy as though Tracy might prove a better source of information. "I don't know. Have you two been talking or something?" Tracy asked. "No." Kylie watched as Ian and Michael left the dance. "We've never said a word to each other." "I guess you caught his eye," Dez said. "I guess," Kylie said thoughtfully. "I guess."