My phone rang. I answered it (obviously, what did you expect?), “Hello?”
“Hey,” a low voice replied, “Look, this is really weird, but we were having a party and the stupid Guitar Hero broke. Michael said you could probably fix it. Do you mind?”
I blinked, glancing over at my unfinished trigonometry problem… then I thought about the possibility of Brit being there, and I accepted.
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound casual.
“Good, thanks Vaughn, you rock.We’re at Nathan’s house. On Tamaya Street. Can’t miss it,” he slurred.
The low voice hung up. When I got there I realized what he had meant. There were cars everywhere, and music and drunken people were pouring out of it.
I sighed at cut my engine, entering the possibly dangerous house. The Guitar Hero was easy to fix, and Mr. Low Voice was so pleased he gave me his beer. I threw it away when he wasn’t looking. As soon as I had detached myself from the heavy gamers I went looking for people I knew. Then I saw Brit and Cooper on the porch, smoking together.