Jules realized that he could do two things at once. Watch Belle, yes with his peripherals, and smile at Hobbit. “I don’t want to pretend you’re David,” he said.
“It’s another acting technique,” Hobbit explained, “that I thought might?—”
“Yeah,” Jules said. “But no. Thanks. I really don’t have to pretend to enjoy your company.”
“Well,mycharacter is totally in love with you, and you justcompletelymade his night,” Hobbit said.
A big burst of laughter from over near the keg made them both glance up and over, and yeah, Belle was in the thick of a crowd that appeared to be growing. And shit, okay, the soccer team was out there now, getting refills.
Jules took a deep breath and smiled at Hobbit, keeping both his face and his entire body relaxed. “The soccer jocks that are here.” He’d been meaning to ask Hobbit about this, since they’d gotten that sneer from Rodney in the living room. “I’m still so new and don’t really know them... Are they all local, or...?”
Hobbit gave them another glance. “Not this group. At least three of these guys aren’t from our school.”
“Yeah, I figured that you’d... know them well enough to...”
“I don’t know if they’re necessarily from Ottersfield,” Hobbit said. “But Belle’s talking to them right now, so... I’m sure she’s finding that out.”
Jules risked another glance, and yes, she most certainly was talking to the entire group of them. He found himself looking over toward the thicket of mountain laurel and other still-green bushes behind which Tom was lurking. If this was hard for him, what was it like for Tom? Or for Shelly, who was quite possibly watching a replay of the crime that she’d survived.
“Peas and carrots, peas and carrots, peas and carrots,” Hobbit leaned in slightly to Jules. “That’s what you mouth on stage when you’re in the chorus, in a crowd scene, when it’s supposed to look like you’re talking to the person sitting next to you.”
Because, yeah, sitting here silently could out them as the guard-dogs that they in fact were. Jules made himself laugh as he leaned forward, too, and brushed a piece of a leaf off of Hobbit’s sleeve.
Across the yard, Belle laughed, too, long and hard—the forced laughter of a girl desperate to have fun.
She really was remarkably good at this.
“Peas and carrots, huh?” Jules said. Or they could just have a conversation. “So you know how to shoot. Guns.”
“I’m a Clark,” Hobbit said. “Firearms training starts at an early age. I’m pretty good at it—marksmanship. I’m not so good at the killing-Bambi thing, though.”
“Yikes,” Jules said. “Your family really goes hunting?”
“Yup. Throwing up in Dad’s truck was one surefire wayto never get invited back to that party, which was fine with me,” Hobbit told him. “Although I’m sure theI’m gay—” he gave jazz hands “—announcement played into the decision. Okay,whatis she doing?”
Jules turned, because yes, holy ignore-the-rules-Batman, Belle was making a beeline for the back door into the house. Some girl was with her, hustling her forward. “Who is that?” he asked, already standing up to follow them both.
“Mindy,” Hobbit said. “Or Mandy or... She’s in band. Flute player. Junior class.”
Jules was halfway across the yard when he realized that Rodney and his many idiots were heading directly toward the table where Hobbit was still sitting. Oh, crap, that wasn’t good. He looked back at Hobbit who was clearly bracing for the incoming abuse—definitely verbal and possibly physical.
Jules stopped short and Hobbit gave him a strong look that could only be described asWhat the hell are you doing?!
Go, Hobbit mouthed, glancing pointedly over at the brush where Tom, Shelly, and Sadie were hiding, right before he smiled grimly up at Rodney and the team.
Yes, he was right. Tom and the Esses would come to Hob’s rescue, if need be, while Belle was in the house alone. Butshit.
Jules ran for the backdoor, pushing his way inside just in time to see Belle somehow cutting the long line and going inside the little powder room as the girl who’d been in there came out. Whatever Belle had told the girls who were waiting impatiently to pee, he could only guess.
She was, after all, Belle.
Although how and why had she forgotten about their code? Was she already impaired? What if she went into the bathroom and passed out? How long should he wait before he went over there and pounded on the door?
Five minutes?
Ten?
It had only been about thirty seconds so far.
