The Spectrum Force by Heather Ray (summer books .TXT) 📖

index finger felt so naked without the silver band and red crystal he had grown accustomed to wearing.

With a heavy sigh, Keith rose from the stool upon which he was planted, and walked out of the kitchen. Wearily, he made his way up the large carpeted staircase to the second floor.

He pushed open the door, and stood at the threshold of his bedroom.

A numb smile crossed his lips as he absorbed the overall simplicity of the room. His bed was perfectly made, and the room was in infallible order. Of course, no one has lived in this room for quite some time. A comfortable blue plaid bedspread hung over the full sized bed, which was placed between two nightstands, each beneath a window. The shades were closed, but still the powerful afternoon sun crushed the darkness through the narrow space between the shade and the edge of the window. Atop the nightstands sat a lamp, a digital clock, and a box filled with CDs. The majority of his music collection was in his apartment, but the ones that he had gotten tired of remained at home, here in a cardboard box. On his dresser sat various trophies and awards for karate tournaments, sitting proudly in a row with the tallest ones furthest from the center.

Keith relaxed the urge to knock those trophies from his sight. He knew he didn't deserve them.

He laid upon his bed, staring at the white walls of his room. He still had some posters decorating the planes, of sports heroes as well as action stars. They were his heroes throughout his youth, but the thought of them offered no comfort. They were all successes. He was a failure.

"There's no peace anywhere," he moaned, pulling himself into a sitting position. He lowered his head, and thrust his balled fists into the soft mattress. "I've gotta clear my mind."

After the decision was made, Keith rose from his bed, and began rummaging through his cardboard box of CDs. Although the majority of his collection was in his L.A. apartment, he was sure he'd find something suitable.

After a few moments, he blindly pulled out a CD. His breath caught in his throat as he examined the jacket.

"Holy..." he whispered, staring at the soundtrack. He blinked in absolute astonishment at the rare find, which instantly sparked a cherished memory.

The irony of the situation struck him like a slap in the face. There he was, trying so desperately to leave Langstrum Alps behind him, and suddenly he was faced with something that he hadn't seen in months, that he would never forget.

In silence, he pulled out the silver disc, and took a seat on the edge of his bed. As he gazed at his own reflection in the metal, his mind drifted to another time.

It was the Halloween of his junior year, about eighteen months ago...
Chapter Two

Tuesday, October 31, 1995

"There!" he declared, holding his hands upon his hips and admiring his reflection, "It's perfect!"

Keith whirled around dramatically, puffing out his chest. He wore baggy black pants, which where tucked into knee-high brown leather boots that adorned his feet. His shirt was white with wide red stripes, also loose-fitting and tucked into his pants and tied with a broad red sash. A gold chain hung from his neck, and a stuffed parrot sat on his shoulder. A handkerchief was tied at his brow, and a short blonde ponytail hung from the bottom. Finally, a black felt eye patch hid his right eye, and a flowing black beard hung from his chin.

"Hey Craig!" Keith called, knocking on his roommate's bedroom door, "You ready yet? The Phi Sigma Epsilon party is gonna start in twenty minutes!"

"Just a minute!" Craig's voice replied, as the door swung open.

Keith released a powerful laugh when he saw his best friend step out of his room, a large white sheet covering him completely with the exception of two holes cut into the top.

"A ghost!" Keith managed to state between gasps for breath, "Isn't that a little grade school-ish?"

"You should talk!" Craig defended, folding his arms beneath the sheet, "I mean c'mon! A Blackbeard with blonde hair?"

Keith's smile fell as he reached back and clenched his little stub. "Hey! This is a genuine ponytail! It's finally long enough to reach the band! Don't mock the hair!"

Craig tilted his head to one side. "Besides, I'm not a ghost. I'm a bedsheet

."

The pirate's smile quickly returned. "Now that's

pretty original."

Craig reached out from beneath the blanket and grabbed his wallet from the table. "Let's move. Rachel's gonna meet us downstairs."

After a quick elevator trip to the lobby floor of the High Rise, Keith and Craig arrived at the entrance to the building, where a witch in a sleek black gown with jagged hem stood, leaning against a scraggly wooden broom.

"Hey, Ray," Craig called, as he and Keith walked towards her, "Lookin' pretty good."

"Especially for a witch," Keith added, his eyebrow raised, "Aren't witches supposed to have warts or something?"

Rachel's eyes widened in disgust at the suggestion as she lifted her hand to straighten her flowing ebony wig. "This is

a frat party, Keith. I don't want to look repulsive!"

Her dark gaze turned from Keith to Craig, and a smile tugged at her devil red lips. "And are you a ghost?"

Craig shook his head. "Give me a little credit, Ray. I'm a snowman."

Keith gazed at his friend for a moment, his brow wrinkling in confusion. He then shrugged his shoulders, and laid his hands on both his friend's backs. "So, shall we get going?"

The trio began their stroll to the party site. While they walked, Rachel dug her fingers into her purse, careful not to damage her long press-on nails. After a few moments she finally pulled out three slips of paper.

"Here're your tickets," she declared, handing one to each of her friends.

"Cool," Craig said, his hand disappearing beneath his blanket.

"So, where did you get these from, Ray?" Keith inquired, staring at the little ticket for a moment, "I thought these frat parties were totally exclusive. You're not a member."

"But my roommate Lydia is," Rachel pointed out, "She's a member of the sorority chapter that throws this party annually in conjunction with Phi Sigma Epsilon. Each member gets five tickets to give to friends. She kept two for her boyfriend and herself, and gave me the other three."

"That's nice of her," Craig remarked.

"She's a great person," Rachel commented, "And get this! Lydia told me she's applying for the study abroad program for next year! If she gets accepted, she'll be in Argentina for spring semester next school year."

"That's actually pretty cool," Keith said, "I've been thinking about applying for that study abroad opportunity in Japan. It's a one-semester session, from October to March."

Craig frowned. "March? But the spring semester begins in February!"

"I'll have to talk to my advisor about it, but I'm pretty sure I can start classes while in Tokyo. I can have my assignments forwarded to me. I'd only miss the first few weeks of class. There won't be any exams I'd miss or anything."

"So, I guess both of us will be down a roommate next year," Rachel said, nudging Craig."

Craig grimaced. "I just hope the school doesn't stick me with some freshman next year."

"Why?" Rachel inquired with interest.

"Freshmen are all so anal about schoolwork. Especially the ones with really tough majors, like pre-meds or something."

Rachel giggled slightly. "Maybe you should adopt one, and teach him how to enjoy his time at U.C.L.A.?"

Craig scoffed. "I'm not patient enough."

The trio quickly reached a small, two-floor house just off Hamilton Walkway. The pulsing sound of dance music and brilliant array of vibrant lights poured through the partially open door, and a long table was placed just outside the house, with a vampire and Marilyn Monroe seated behind it.

"Hey, Lydia," Rachel greeted, smiling widely at her roommate, "How long do you have to be out here in the cold?"

The woman with the full platinum blonde wig shivered slightly at the comment, and rolled her deep brown eyes. "My shift's for half an hour, which isn't too bad." She reached out and took Rachel's ticket, tearing it in half and returning the stub. "Make sure you're ready to show that stub in case you leave tonight," she cautioned.

"Hey, Lydia," Craig said, handing her the ticket from beneath the bedsheet, "Nice likeness."

Lydia beamed at the compliment. "And what are you, anyway?"

"A ski slope," he responded matter-of-factly. Keith stared at his friend in absolute bewilderment, as he handed in his ticket.

"Okay, kiddos, here are the rules," the vampire said, rising to his feet, "Once you step inside the party, you shirk your real identity. You can only refer to yourself, and be referred to, as your costume. You can't take off any part of your costume, or divulge your real name. Total anonymity is part of the tradition of the Phi Sigma Epsilon Masquerade!"

"We got it, Dracula," Keith said with a mock salute.

"Take a deep breath, guys," Craig said, pulling open the door, "and get ready to dive in!"

Craig stepped into the frat house, and the loud music and pulsing red lights hit him like a wall. A wide grin spread onto his lips.

"This is gonna be awesome!" he declared, jerking his neck to the beat of Montell Jordan's "This is How We Do it." He paused when he saw the refreshment table, covered with assorted beverages and snacks.

"Hmm," he pondered out loud, "I wonder if they have Heineken in the keg? Those domestic brews just don't hold a candle..."

"Cra- uh... Snowman," Rachel said sternly, folding her arms, "You promised-"

"I promised I'd drink responsibly

," he pointed out, wiggling his finger in Rachel's face, "A single beer won't hurt anyone."

"Well, I'm not carrying you home," she argued.

"Hey, Wicked Witch of the West, I've only been drunk once

in my whole life, and that's because they spiked the punch at my first frat party."

Rachel rolled her eyes as Craig weaved his way through the crowd. "Famous last words," she muttered under her breath. She sighed as she felt a hand fall upon her shoulder.

"Loosen up a bit," Keith advised, "Seriously, Craig rarely drinks. And he never

gets drunk."

He then grinned. "Care to dance?"

Rachel smirked as she gazed at the thick crowd of costumed people on the floor. "Don't you even want to scope out your options, Blackbeard? A masquerade like this is the perfect time to let yourself get wisked away into a fantasy! You