evening. I had to admit to myself it was one of the weirdest situations I could remember being in—surrounded by people who were looking forward to a good party while also wondering if they’d make it home in one piece that night for reasons other than alcohol.
I only had to glance around the room to deduce that most people had come prepared to treat this like any other party, at least before a hint of trouble. I couldn’t see one person who hadn’t dressed up for the occasion, just like they would with any other party. Most of the guys looked much the same as Peter, James and I, although Sebastian had died his hair a ridiculous colour green for the occasion—I could only assume this was meant to advertise his availability. Unsurprisingly, the girls had gone all out for the night. Nicole, Jessica and Felicity’s efforts to have their hair done could almost be considered tame compared to what some of the year-nines had done. Katie, in particular, was looking absolutely stunning. Lucky boy, Harry, to have a chance to dance with that.
At about twenty to 8, Marc waved for quiet again, and beckoned us to follow him. We ascended the stairs and came out in front of Marc’s house on his still very-dull lawn. He and Lucien led the procession through the quiet streets of Chopville under the setting sun, across the bridge and into the stretch. I looked around as we entered, but couldn’t see any signs of life anywhere, not even over by the river where we would often jump from the bridges. Marc and Lucien weren’t phased by the lack of people, though; apparently Stella had given them directions as to exactly where to go.
We turned off the path after them and moved deep into the trees. I wondered for a moment if we were heading for the hole I had seen Rob and Bob digging here a few weeks ago; after all, the party was underground. But it seemed I was wrong because we didn’t go in that direction, but off in the general direction of the school, although I knew we couldn’t actually get to the school from in here—there was a street lined with houses between here and there. I had never been this far in this direction through the trees before, and the compressed darkness made me very nervous. Surely this would be an ideal time for anyone to attack …
Suddenly, a line of people came into view. None of us could see in the dim light what they were lining up along, but Marc and Lucien joined the back of the line, so the rest of us took it that this must be where we would get in. The queue moved fairly quickly compared to what I had expected, and when we got close to the front, I saw that a door had been propped up against a thick tree trunk. Suddenly it all made sense. I’d seen Stella create doors like that on camp, and she had told us that we were going to an enchanted place.
Standing in front of the door was a security guard about the size of the average semi-trailer. He was taking the cubed objects from people and scanning them before allowing them to enter behind him. One person, however, apparently did not have validation, for whatever reason, and the guard discarded him by seizing him one-handed around the waste and tossing him lazily over his shoulder. The young man flew through the air, his yells echoing in the night, before landing painfully in bushes some way away. I shuddered; these things Stella had given us better work.
Lucien was the first of us to reach the front. He had his validator scanned and was let through with no trouble at all. When Marc attempted to follow, the guard paused, staring at him with a look of recognition on his face, and I wondered whether the Hammersons had asked him to hurt Marc if he turned up. But a moment later, he was accepted and followed his brother through the door and out of sight. The rest of the Young Army got through without much trouble. Well, the guard showed the same signs of recognition when he saw Amelia, but he didn’t reject her.
I got in with no trouble at all and followed Peter through the door. I had the distinct impression that the stairs down which I was walking were already underground, perhaps nowhere near the stretch. Stella had the previous week created doors that transported us around Rock Haulter, and I suspected that the same brand of magic had been used here. The stairs circled downwards for quite a while in almost complete darkness until, finally, we reached the bottom, where a long hallway stretched ahead of us, no end visible.
“Not much of a party so far,” Peter muttered from in front of me.
We continued along the hallway in silence for some time. It was full of people, including plenty of Hammerhearts, so none of us wanted to draw attention to ourselves. Eventually, however, sounds began to reach our ears; sounds of talk, laughter and an unmistakable party atmosphere. The source was revealed as we rounded a corner and walked through a door, where it was all laid out in front of us.
The place was massive, and already full of people. I would never have guessed it was a Hammerson event, given that I couldn’t see a single person wearing the uniform Lucien had shown us two weeks earlier. In fact, many had gone to greater trouble than we had to dress up for the event. I couldn’t see anyone I recognised, apart from those in the Young Army, all of whom were gathering to one side, not wanting to be conspicuous. They were doing a very bad job of it.
I could see the features Stella had described—a long bar stretched along the far right wall, and several queues were spaced along it, for people getting food and drinks. The middle of the room, stretching across to the far left wall, was an eating area packed with tables, each for six or so. The dreaded dance floor was surely the wide open area on the opposite side of the room. There was no music playing as yet, but I was sure there would be later; I could see large speakers in every corner of the room.
“Don’t stand around like that,” Lucien hissed, hurrying across to us and looking panicky. “People will notice if you’re not fitting in. Spread out a bit.”
“Let’s go sit down,” I suggested, and we picked a table reasonably close to the bar to observe the Hammerhearts picking their dinners. Peter joined me at my table, followed by James and Erica. With two seats left, I looked wildly around, hoping that Lena or Natalie wouldn’t sit down; I didn’t feel ready for either of them just yet. Unfortunately, however, Nicole, Felicity, Jessica and Lisa had dragged Marc and Daniel to their table, their intentions very clear. Natalie was quick enough to pick up on the hint, but so was Tommy, and he jumped on our table before Lena could get near enough.
Not wanting to look at either of them, or James and Erica, who were holding hands, I stared at the bar, wondering if I was going to see Hignat or Wilwog in their finest; or perhaps one of the Hammersons themselves. Tommy was doing the same, perhaps looking for the young girl who had shot him before the camp. Nobody was at all hesitant about taking ample amounts of food, and many were returning for second helpings. I was still unwilling to follow suit, but I could see plenty of the Young Army, including Marc and Lucien, loading their plates with delectable-looking dishes. Finally my growling stomach overpowered my brain, and Peter and I hurried over to grab some food.
It was a torturous meal. Peter and I spent much of it looking over people’s heads for any potential threats, and always looking over at Marc to check that he was okay. I couldn’t see Stella anywhere but I wasn’t bothered by that—she could take care of herself. Natalie was trying very hard to make conversation with me, and had I been less preoccupied with our surroundings, I may have given in to her. She was certainly doing her utmost to make me look at her, and whenever I did spare her a glance, I found it difficult to look away; she was looking as good as I had ever seen her, even better than she had in her bikini all those times we had been swimming together—and that was saying something.
Had I been less preoccupied, I may have also noticed that the longer this pattern continued, the more my chances with Natalie were slipping away. Tommy was paying her the attention she was seeking from me, and although she returned it sparingly at first, eventually she began talking to him more than to me. Their conversation was quite intimate too, considering they were talking quietly about James and Erica, who were behaving in a most discomforting fashion indeed. Apparently, Tommy wanted Natalie to associate him with intimacy, at least sub-consciously. Was that a legitimate way of getting in a girl’s head?
By the end of dinner, I was very grumpy and considering just getting out of there and getting an early night, but when I suggested it quietly to Peter, he shook his head.
“They might be still up at home, and if you turn up without us, they’ll probably … well, you know.”
He was