Phantom [h.s]

Nine

"Where are you now?"

"Corner of Windsgrove and Flagstaff."

"Okay, take a left and keep going straight. You'll see it on your right."

"All right."

I hang up my phone, repeating the directions under my breath that Jenna just spoke to me. I turn the corner and immediately step on the brakes of my car.

Almost the entire street is lined with cars, with people meandering around the vehicles, most moving towards a grand house sitting a bit up on a slope. The house looks to be two stories high, with a huge driveway in the shape of a C, connecting to the street twice. A grand staircase rises from the driveway to the front door, which is thrown open as more and more people file in. The many windows are lit up, and music can be heard from inside. Ria and Jenna spoke the truth-it almost does look like a hotel.

I drive down the street and park my car around the corner, where more cars have begun to cram into. It's barely six o'clock, and it seems that the entire teenage population of Castle Hill is at Nate's house.

I make sure to lock my car doors before walking towards the house, nerves beginning to build inside of me. I keep reminding myself that the only reason I'm here is to find answers for Harry, since he deserves them. If I was in his position, I'd want someone to help me out, too.

I walk up the steep driveway and up the stairs. Cadence Manor seems almost like a doll's house compared to this one. I wonder what Nate's parents do that allows them to afford a complex as grand as this one.

I step through the large oak doors and into the house.

Crowds of people move throughout the house, drinks and cigarettes in their hands. I hear the music from the other room along with laughter and shouting. I search for familiar faces, but there are so many people that it's difficult to focus on any one face.

Someone grabs my arm and I turn to face a smiling Max. He wears a green plaid shirt and jeans, his dirty blonde hair styled up. He holds a red cup in his hand.

"Jane Alison, didn't expect you!" He says over the loud chatter.

I chuckle lightly at the use of my middle name. "Hi."

"You're looking lovely," he says, smiling when a slight blush rises to my cheeks. He leans over and sets his cup down on a small table. "Come on, all of us are over here." He closes a soft hand around my wrist and tugs me lightly through the crowd in the foyer.

He guides me up a staircase and to the second floor, opening a door to a room that I decide must be a parlor. The floor is tiled salmon pink and the wallpaper is crème colored, with grey couches and a minibar positioned off to the side. Jenna and Ria sit with a boy I don't recognize, and Ava is sat in an armchair, picking at her nails. Another boy stands at the minibar, surrounded by bottles of alcohol that he mixes and shakes.

"Look who I found!" Max says, letting go of my wrist.

A chorus of hellos sound and I lift my hand in a small wave.

"That's Adam." Max gestures to the boy on the couch. "And that's Oliver." He nods to the boy behind the minibar. Both of them lift their heads and speak a greeting to me.

"You are?" Oliver asks, stirring a clear drink in a cup. His tone is friendly, along with his smile.

"Jane," I say and he nods, scooping some ice cubes into his cup.

"I'm going to look for Estella and Nate," Max announces and everyone nods as he turns and exits the parlor.

Ria pats a place on the sofa next to her and I gladly take a seat, relieved that the attention is shifted from me as everyone begins talking again.

"What happened to parties not being your thing?" She teases.

I shrug, settling into the comfortable couch. A bowl of maraschino cherries sits on the coffee table before us, and I watch as Ava leans forward and pops one into her mouth, the color of her lipstick matching the vibrant fruit.

I consciously reach my hand up to the skull and crossbones charm hanging around my neck.

Ava twirls the cherry stem between her teeth, looking over at Oliver who begins to ask her something.

I unclasp the chain and drop the necklace into my pocket.

Ava's eyes move back to me.

She's vindictive and nosy, I recall Harry saying. And definitely the jealous type.

I quickly avert my eyes from her, pretending to listen to the conversation Ria is having with Adam.

I begin to think of who I should talk to first about Harry. Max seems like kind of a long shot right now, with him having been Harry's best friend and all. Jenna is getting drunk, which is made obvious by the two empty cups in front of her and the third one in her hand. She giggles loudly at every other word Adam says.

And I most definitely can't talk to Ava. Not when she stares at me with a distasteful glint in her eye, already seeming suspicious of my skull necklace.

I turn my head to look at Ria.

Harry mentioned that she tutored him on Sundays, and that they were good friends. Maybe she's my way in?

"Jane."

I look up at Oliver, who is handing Ava a drink. She takes it from him and slides back into her seat, taking a long sip from the red plastic cup.

"Can I make you a drink?" Oliver asks.

"Yeah, sure," I say, smiling slightly.

"What can I get you?"

My eyes scan the rows of liquor bottles that line the minibar. "What do you recommend?"

He half smiles. "I make a pretty good White Russian." His light blue eyes contrast with his black hair and his smile is friendly.

I smile. "Sounds great."

He immediately begins mixing drinks, pulling bottles from all over the minibar counter.

Jenna taps Adam on the shoulder and starts to say something when she is overcome with a fit of drunken giggles, leaving Adam to laugh with her.

Ria turns to me.

"How're you enjoying yourself?" She asks, smiling.

"It's a lovely house," I say.

"Yeah. I'm here most every weekend; Nate and I study together."

Oliver hands me a cup and I thank him before taking a large sip.

The familiar burn of alcohol spreads through me and I remind myself that I want to ask Ria about Harry before I get too drunk to think.

I bring my cup to my lips and survey the room quietly.

Adam and Jenna still hold a loud conversation laced with hearty laughs, and Oliver is still behind the minibar, flipping through channels on a sleek flatscreen TV behind the bar. Ava plucks another cherry from the dish on the coffee table.

As I'm about to turn back to Ria, the door to the parlor opens, and in walks Max, Nate, and a platinum blonde girl in leather shorts and a lace top.

The blonde walks over to Ava and squeezes into the armchair next to her, taking the plastic cup from Ava's hand and downing the rest of its contents.

"Estella hasn't had a drink all night," Nate almost laughs. "She lost a bet."

"That's no excuse for taking my drink." Ava smirks, snatching the now empty cup back from Estella.

"Screw you and your bet," Estella says to Nate. "Oliver, can you make me something?" Her dyed blonde curls bounce on her shoulders as she leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees, her chin resting in her palm.

Oliver looks over his shoulder at her and drops his hand from the channel changer on the television. "Yeah, sure," he says to her. "Nate, come find something worth watching."

Max and Nate migrate over to Oliver and the noise in the room heightens as everyone bursts into conversation.

I wonder if who I am with now is the group of people that Harry associated himself with when he was alive. It seems that they all come from wealthy families, much like Harry did. What secrets do they hold?

I swallow more of my drink and set it on the coffee table.

"Ria," I say.

She smiles at me, pushing a lock of dark hair out of her eyes.

Now's my chance. I need to do this right, or I could ruin this for good. I need to be crafty, and make my inquiries as unsuspicious as possible.

"Do you know anyone named Henry?" I ask her.

She looks at me almost crazily, furrowing her brow. "Henry?"

"Yeah," I say. "I've heard some rumors about someone named Henry...but I might have the name wrong."

"Henry..." Ria taps her chin. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"Maybe it wasn't Henry," I say, bringing my cup back to my lips. "Henry, Harold..." I furrow my brow and look at the ceiling, setting my drink down and pretending to be deep in thought. I snap my gaze back to Ria, acting as if I've had an epiphany. "Harry! Yes, that was it-Harry."

I'm glad that the noise in the parlor is loud enough so no one is paying attention to our conversation. If Harry was as popular as he made it seem, surely people would recognize his name.

Ria's smile twitches so slightly at the mention of the name that I almost don't notice it, but I do. Her eyes flicker with something I can't catch in time before she reverts back to a wide smile.

"Oh, Harry," she says, blinking a few times too fast. "I used to know someone with that name, but not anymore."

"Oh." I nod. "Why don't you know him anymore?"

Ria takes a large sip of her drink. "Things change, you know?"

"Sure." I nod again. "I was just wondering, I guess. I keep hearing that name everywhere."

I've never seen Ria look so uncomfortable. She shifts in her seat beside me and takes a long breath, her eyes darting around the room.

Telltale signs of a liar.

I need to get some sort of information from her. Ria is smart, and she must know something about what happened to Harry if she saw him every Sunday.

Harry was killed on June eighth. That's the key day I need to ask about, but I need to get through to Ria first.

"Hey," a voice says, startling me out of my thoughts. I look up at Estella, who twirls a bleached blonde curl around her finger. Ava is still squished into the armchair with her, her elbow propped up on the armrest and her chin in her palm. Her eyes are locked on me.

"Hey," I say, trying to ignore Ava's glare.

"I adore your shoes," Estella says, her bubblegum pink lips lifting in a smirk.

I look down at my black flats. "Thanks," I say, forcing a smile back.

"Do I know you?" She asks.

"No, I'm new," I say.

"Oh." She leans forward, smiling. "I'm Estella."

Her smile looks fake. At least I know how to make mine look remotely believable.

"Jane," I introduce myself.

"Pretty name," she says, leaning back again.

I smile. "Thank you."

Estella smiles back.

Ria excuses herself to the restroom.

Ava lights a cigarette.

Max takes Ria's place on the couch next to me.

"How are you doing?" He asks me, smiling.

"Fine," I answer, smiling back.

"I see you've already drained a drink," he says, gesturing to my empty cup on the table.

"Yeah," I say. "Oliver makes a killer White Russian."

Max lets out a laugh. "He really does, doesn't he?"

It finally sinks in that I'm speaking to Harry's former best friend. Max is so carefree and happy; he doesn't act like his best friend was murdered three months ago. But I guess that's how some people deal with grief, although I would deal with it in a very different way.

Max must know something. But now isn't the time to talk to him. I need to get information out of Ria first, and go from there. She's the easiest way in, and I'm sure Harry will want to advise me on whom to talk to from there.

"You alright, Jane?" Max waves a hand in front of my eyes and I shake my head.

"Yeah," I say. "Just thinking."

I look around for Ria but she's not back from the restroom.

"Where is the bathroom?" I ask Max.

"Third door on the left," he tells me and I nod, standing and shooting him a small smile.

"Thanks. I'll be back."

I feel dizzy for a moment when I stand up, my vision blurring slightly. I know it's from my alcohol intake, even if I didn't drink that much. I regain my composure and walk out of the room.

Just as I step down the hallway and toward the restroom, the door opens and Ria steps out. Her makeup is slightly smudged and she looks flustered.

"Ria, are you alright?" I ask her.

She blinks, shaking her head slightly. "I'm fine," she says.

I look over my shoulder before taking a step toward her. "I know you know more about this Harry person than you led on," I say, my voice lowering.

She narrows her eyes. "What makes you think that?"

I cross my arms over my chest.

We stare at each other for a few moments, challenging one another. Ria's honey colored eyes are dark, with traces of worry in them.

She'll give in.

After another moment, I'm proven right.

"Fine," she hisses. "But not here."

She opens the door to the room next to her and beckons me inside. It's a bedroom, not much larger than the parlor. Ria crosses the room to a glass door facing the back of the property, opening it and stepping out onto a small balcony.

I follow her and watch as she shuts the door behind her, turning back to look at me.

I knew she would be the right way into this. She wants to be secretive, but she's easily convinced and I know I made the right decision by approaching her for information first.

Ria may be smart, but she is no liar.