Silence - eARC by Mercedes Lackey, Cody Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

sore and she was hungry, so she tucked her phone back in her pocket and moved to the town side of the bluff, staring down at it.
    The diner, the pizza joint, or the drive-in? She could see the roof of the drive-in from where she was standing. It was pretty obvious what it was, since she couldn’t think of any other building that would have six covered walkways radiating from it like spokes on a wheel.
    At least the drive-in would be new. And she might run into some of the local kids there, and get some sort of feel for them. Maybe she’d see Beth there? She climbed on the bike and headed back down into town, grateful that going downhill was a whole lot easier than coming up had been, but still dreading the return leg.
    About halfway down, it occurred to her that she was going to look unbelievably lame, turning up at a drive-in with a bike. Who did that? Nobody, at least not in any of the movies she had ever seen.
    Her fears about looking lame vanished once she got closer to the drive-in. It was certainly not like any of the ones she had seen in movies, or anywhere else, for that matter. Staci should have known better; it was exactly like the rest of this town. Worn out, run-down, and old as dirt, and riding up on a bike was probably no different than walking up.
    The circular “hub” of the drive-in had inside seating, and a bike rack with two other bikes in it, so she obviously wasn’t the only one who came here on a bike. And— oh my God! —it was actually called the “Burger Shack”! Clearly it had not been renamed since it was built. She locked her so-called “ride” into the rack, and went inside.
    Once again, it was 1950s throwback time, but it would take someone who was really, really into the ’50s to get excited about this place. There were vinyl-upholstered booths at the windows around the curve of the building, with a no-kidding jukebox at the far end of the dining area, and a curved lunch counter with circular stools along the inner wall. It was done up in turquoise, chrome, and black-and-white checkerboard—but the turquoise was all sun-faded, the vinyl of the seats was cracking and patched with tape, the chrome cloudy with age, the linoleum of the floor faded and worn, and the only things that looked new (or at least, not faded) were the black and white ceramic tiles of the trim. When she sat down at a booth and the carhop, who evidently serviced the inside and the outside, brought her the menu, it too looked to date from the ’50s. It was a single plastic-coated sheet, the paper inside faded with age so that the colors of the food pictures were an unappetizing greenish and bluish, and the prices had been redone with little white stickers that had been stacked on top of each other over the years. It wasn’t hard to choose, since the limited menu was “burgers and fries” with a “fish sandwich” and “grilled cheese” stuck over by themselves, like exiles. So that was the main difference between here and the diner; the diner served “meals” and not burgers, and the Burger Shack served burgers. The diner closed after lunch, the “Burger Shack” was evidently open until the crazy hour of 10 P.M.!
    And after ten, they roll up the sidewalks and chase everyone home, she grumbled to herself, after ordering. She looked out the window at the kids in the two cars she could see from her vantage, then glanced at the two groups of four that were in booths and the two that were at the counter. They kind of all looked a lot alike…for a minute she couldn’t put her finger on why, but then it hit her. They were all, every single person save for the drive-in staff, dressed pretty much alike. And not like her. Jeans, and not cool brands, more like the ones you got off the cheap rack at a big box-store. Faded plaid shirts, over T-shirts. Girls and guys.
    Looks like a retro grunge-band convention. Did every kid in this town dress that way?
    On reflection, she thought probably not. The Goths wouldn’t be