Dancing With the Devil by Katie Davis

surprised!”
    â€œSURPRISE!” Frankie jumped out of the hall closet just as Charlie walked in from the kitchen eating a piece of cake.
    â€œYeah, surprise,” he said through a mouthful.
    â€œUch!” Frankie made a disgusted sound and frowned. “Charlie, you are like, be-yond .”
    Dante turned to see what the fuss was about. “That’s not even your cake.”
    Charlie managed to look slightly sorry. “I couldn’t help it. I was starving. She took too long to get here.”
    Mac was surprised. She never expected this.
    â€œIt’s no biggie,” Dante said, guiding her into the kitchen. “Just a small party. Teensy, actually. Itsy bitsy.”
    â€œLike the spider,” Charlie said. Dante stuck his tongue at him. Charlie harrumphed back and peeked out the window. “Well, turns out it might be slightly larger than bitsy,” he said. “I kind of mentioned it to a couple of people.”
    Dante looked horrified. “You what? This is just for us. You’re barely here on a pass, Charlie. Besides, my parents are gone.”
    Charlie gave him a look that said that’s the whole point.
    The doorbell rang. Charlie went to answer it, but Dante planted his outstretched hand in the middle of Charlie’s chest and stopped him mid-stride. “ My house.”
    It was two girls from the middle school. They giggled when Dante opened the door. “We heard there was a big party here tonight,” one girl said.
    â€œYou heard wrong,” Dante replied, and closed the door. Turning to Charlie, he said, “Tell the same thing to every person that rings that bell, you hear me? Frankie and I are going upstairs to give Mac the thing.” He glared at Charlie, daring him to ruin that surprise, too.
    The three of them started making their way up to Dante’s room. He lived in a big Victorian farmhouse that had a finished attic. Dante had taken it over for his room, and it was the perfect hideaway, even though it was four steep flights up.
    Winded, Frankie said, “No wonder you’ve got such excellent endurance. I should’ve come here and run these stairs to get in shape for the trip.”
    â€œI know, but it’s totally worth it. I can blast my music and never get ‘turn down that noise!’”
    Frankie snorted. “I have no idea what that would be like. Dude, I can’t listen to anything without them doing this,” she said, twisting her hand as though it were turning an invisible knob. She cranked the imaginary dial around and around until she stopped, held it in front of her, and said, “Oops. I broke it off.”
    The last flight of stairs led to a small sitting room. “This is awesome, D,” Frankie said, looking around. “Whoa, you have your own living room. Do you, like, sleep in here?”
    Dante pointed to a door behind a column in the back of the room. “That’s my bedroom. This,” he said with a sweep of his arm, “is where I entertain my guests.”
    Frankie smiled and turned to Dante, and gave him a little shoulder shove. “You are too school for cool, D.”
    They sat on the purple shag rug and leaned against the little sofa he’d lugged up there from the Salvation Army and reupholstered with duct tape.
    In front of them was a mini pillow fort. Three green pillows leaned on each other in teepee fashion, and an old teddy bear lay face down over the top. With a great flourish, Dante whipped away the bear to reveal a brown cardboard shipping box. Frankie handed the gift to Mac. She squinted at the tiny words written all over it.
    â€œFrankie, this is you, right? You’re the only one I know with handwriting in, like, a size six font.”
    â€œYeah, well,” Frankie said, “we all wrote it, I’m just the one who took the dictation.”
    Mac read aloud, “To our fearless, fearsome leader, Mackenzie ‘Skater’ Douglas—thanks for