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than it was when he parked it.  All four tires had been slashed.
    His true expletive vocabulary came out.  While kicking the tires repeatedly he ran out of words and started to repeat the string of curses.  He raised his hand to punch the car, or anything else near, but the pain reminded him to be careful.
    “Where are you, you son of a bitch?”  He thought of the man who had set him up and imagined his fists bashing the bastard’s head, broken hand or no.  “Where are you?” he shouted, but the only ones in the parking lot were a few late comers to the concert rushing toward the entrance. 
    “What’s the matter with you?” Lisa asked.  “You’re acting crazy.  Just change the stupid tire and take me home.  I swear.”  She rolled her eyes.
    “Oh sure, I’ll pull my four spare tires out of the trunk and change those right now.”  He kicked the nearest tire once more and took out his cell phone.  He dialed 411 and pressed the Call button.  A message told him he had no cell service.  He tried again with the same results.  Brennan’s number resulted in the same message.  Even when he dialed customer service he couldn’t get through. 
    Tyler swore at the phone, threw it on the ground and stomped it into the asphalt.  He felt his face burning even redder than his hair.
    Lisa’s eyes were wide.  “Missing the prom for this?  What a freak.”  She took her own cell phone out of her purse and dialed.
    Thirty minutes later the two sat in the back seat of her dad’s Chrysler.  Lisa’s mom rode shotgun and was somehow even more upset than her daughter. 
    Tyler had hoped to get Lisa in the back seat by the time the night was over, but this was not at all what he had in mind.
     

 
Chapter Nine
     
     
    Why am I scared to chip a tooth? thought Lisa, trying to keep her teeth off the barrel.  In a few seconds it won’t matter . 
    Her eyes were still closed.  The trigger didn’t give to her thumbs so she squeezed harder and heard a knock at the door.
    Lisa paused with the gun between her lips.  Had she imagined it?  Maybe she was dead and the door was the way out of this world.  Maybe it was death coming for her. 
    No, it can’t be Death.  Nothing ever works out for me that good. 
    With the iron-tasting gun in her mouth she waited.  A few seconds later the knock came again, louder this time.
    She went to the window and lifted the corner of the flannel blanket.  Hoping to see a sickle and black cloak, she was convinced she’d see a beer bottle grasped in a flaccid hand with the accompanying drunk swaying on her doorstep. 
    You picked the wrong time to come back home, Buck, you P.O.S.
    What Lisa saw was neither a sickle nor beer bottles, but sneakers.  A man or teenager stood at her front door.  Teenager, judging by the DC tennis shoes.  She tucked the gun behind her back and cracked the door.
    A boy from school, Charles or Charlie, was standing outside.  “Lisa?  Is that you?”  He squinted into the murky apartment.
    “Yeah,” she replied opening the door one more inch.
    “Lisa, I scored some tickets to an amazing show tonight.  It’s the tribute to Nirvana in Buffalo.  A bunch of huge bands are going to be there—Green Day, Sheryl Crow, Alicia Keys.  MTV is even doing a special on it.”
    Her grip tightened on the revolver.  Why couldn’t life just leave her alone? 
    “You can go to hell and die,” she told him, startling herself.  She had never used profanity when talking to another person, but she had had enough.  “And take Tyler O’Hara with you.”
    Charlie had always seemed like a nice guy.  No one would call him a dork, but they wouldn’t say he was one of the cool kids either.  Maybe because of his acne.  He had some friends who were cool and some who were nerds, but he never seemed to care about social status.  Why would a nice guy like Charlie agree to some idiotic plan to humiliate her?
    His eyes grew wide and he said, “Oh, I’m, I’m