He looked up at her then, hair falling back from his angular bones, thin smile looking darkly amused. “The family business,” he said. Then he laughed like that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.
Evie stared at him. Could that be true? Did he mean biker business? And what even was that besides riding around on motorcycles looking cool, like Charlie Hunnam?
Then Alex leaned forward, patting his chest pocket. “I got some shit that’ll bomb you till Tuesday, if you’re interested.”
Evie coughed and glanced around. “At school?” she hissed.
He just laughed again. Then he shrugged and shoved back, off his chair. “I’m going to the hill. Come if you want,” he said.
She stared after him for a second, then stood and gathered up her books, following his bony legs out of the room.
Outside, she blinked in the bright sun, feeling like a total poser. It was not her following Alex Janes out to the hill. This was some other Evie. That wild one. Floating in the lake, staring at the stars, waiting for something, anything, to come pull her out from the mess of her life.
Alex threw himself down in the grass, shoulders propped against his backpack, and started rolling a joint between nimble fingers, using his T-shirt as a table.
Evie sat next to him, cross-legged, looking down the grassy hill. It was a beautiful day. Summer, officially. She leaned back with butterflies in her belly—what were they doing, getting high on school property in the middle of the day? It was nothing new for him, she was sure. She tried to feel as relaxed about it as he looked.
Alex flicked open a silver Zippo and lit up. Around a mouthful of blue smoke, he said, “D’you know what he was like?”
He licked his finger and spread orange chip-spit along an edge that burned too fast, then handed the joint to her.
“Who?” she asked. She put the thing to her lips and inhaled, choking on the awful taste. She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face like it would help, her eyes instantly full of water. She handed the joint back to Alex, feeling like a complete amateur.
“Shaun,” he said, sucking hard and holding his breath for an impossibly long time. Finally, a massive cloud unfurled into the breeze. “Shaun was like Chuck frickin’ Yeager, man.”
“Who?” She coughed again.
“Some guy in a movie about astronauts,” he said. He took another haul and passed it back to her.
“Everyone else in that movie got dealt a better hand,” Alex explained, lying back and looking at the sky. “But Chuck was the damn best. He shoulda gone to the moon.”
Evie just stared, no idea what he was talking about. She passed the joint back.
Alex took it and raised it into the air, making rocket noises, ferrying the burning end across blue sky. Then losing altitude, plummeting to earth as Alex whistled through his teeth. His other hand burst open in an explosion, then fell back to his chest.
He sucked the joint again and passed it back to her. She shook her head no.
“Suit yourself,” he said, stubbing it out.
Evie lay back, stretching her legs out in the prickly grass, thinking about Chuck Yeager. She pictured a blond-haired guy doing skate tricks in the sky, laughing down at all of them. Going to the moon, stardust and strands of gold all trailing behind. She closed her eyes, lulled by the sun and the sound of Alex breathing steadily beside her, and she slipped away.
“Dude, wake up.”
Somebody shook her, pulling her back through the clouds. She groaned, fighting it. When she opened her eyes, she saw Alex leaning over her with a huge grin.
“We slept right through third period!” He laughed.
She sat up slowly, swallowing at the wreck of her mouth. Her whole body felt overcooked. She blinked and squinted in the sunlight. “What time is it?” she croaked. Her throat had never been so dry.
“After two,” he said thoughtfully, clasping his hands together around his bent knees. “No point in going to class now.”
“I guess not,” she agreed.
She couldn’t tell if she was still high or just sunbaked. Heat seemed to buzz under the surface of her skin, inside the shell of her ears. Then a bright, sharp pain slid through her skull, and suddenly she was afraid she might vomit.
“Hey, you okay?” Alex asked, peering at her closely.
Evie held her breath, unable to answer.
She stood, wobbling a little, and walked down the uneven hill, blades of grass stuck to the backs of her bare legs, her dress damp and sweaty and clinging to her skin. She stumbled over her boots back down the hill to the parking lot, praying, Don’t puke, don’t puke…
Sleep trailed after her, teasing, wanting her back. She fought to keep her eyes open.
In the parking lot, she found the rusty blue Buick, its chrome shining in the bright afternoon sun. She yanked the door handles, but they were all locked.
“Hey, Ev…” Alex appeared behind her, holding her backpack. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She crumpled against the passenger side of Ré’s car, knees folding, butt hitting the pavement.
“Oh shit,” Alex said, wide-eyed. “Okay. Stay here. I’ll be back. Don’t move.”
He dropped her backpack at her feet and bolted, leaving her alone on the ground beside the car. She gathered up the bag, hugging it close and resting her head on the bundle. Sleep won the battle swiftly, dragging her back the second her eyes were closed.
11
E
“Ostie d’crisse!” It was Ré’s voice, low and gruff. Evie’s brain swam around the words, trying to make sense of them in her sleep. She felt a gentle hand on her cheek, turning her flushed face up, and another pushing back her damp hair.
“Evelyn,” Ré said. “Wake up.”
She lifted her hand to cover his and pressed it to her cheek as she leaned into his touch, still dreaming.
“Ev,” he said again, pulling his hand away. “You gotta get up, girl.”
As he tugged her to
