The answer was taken away from her when she heard the roar of a sparking engine and saw car taillights flash red far ahead. A car was backing out and turning toward her. Moments later, a dark blue Mustang, Race Stillwell’s car, came right at her, headlights blinding. She would have melted into the hedges if she’d been able, but as it was, she was pinned in the twin beams, frozen like a deer.
The Mustang’s engine rumbled beside her. The passenger window rolled down, and Dug Douglas threw out a cigarette butt. It was late October, dry as a bone, and Jamie immediately stamped out the ember even though it had landed on the asphalt.
“What’re yer doin’?” Dug slurred.
A million excuses raced across Jamie’s brain, but in the moment, she just said, “Walking.”
“Go on up to the party,” Race said, leaning past Dug to get a hard look at her. “Who’re you?”
“Emma’s sister. Jamie.”
“Well, there’s booze up there. Help yourself. We gotta little thing to do,” Race said. “Later.”
And then they pulled onto the street and roared away.
Jamie trudged the rest of the way toward the house. SUVs, sedans, and one or two minivans that had to be parents’ cars were parked along the drive. She heard the thump of music from outside, the bass resonating inside her, as she let herself in the front door. Kids were standing around holding red Solo cups full of drinks. They eyed her as she walked by, into the kitchen. All her desire to attend, the raging torrent that had been building inside her ever since Cooper asked if she was going, was leaching away, and she was almost embarrassed to be there. For hours, all she’d thought about was being at this party. Now all she wanted to do was turn tail and leave.
But not before finding out where Cooper was.
“Beer?” a guy in the class ahead of her, Ken somebody, asked. He was standing by the keg, leaning an elbow on the counter.
“Sure.”
It was a relief to be treated as if she had a right to be there.
He straightened to pour her a foamy capped cup of beer. She accepted it and stood to one side for a few moments. Icky Vicky, one of the girls in Emma’s friend group, was making out with her boyfriend in the corner by the back windows. His hands were running all over her and she was riding his thigh. There was a lot of heavy breathing, smacking noises, and moaning.
Half-embarrassed, Jamie sidled out of the kitchen and up some back stairs, hoping Vicky wouldn’t notice her. If Vicky recognized Jamie, she’d probably make a big deal of it, because she was fierce about keeping the line separated between grades. She’d pretty much slept with all the senior guys when she was a sophomore and had been excoriated by all the senior girls for poaching, so she wasn’t about to let any underclassmen get away with what she already had.
Jamie wandered the second floor, looking for Cooper, then went back downstairs and checked out all the rooms down there as well.
“Looking for something?” It was Race’s younger brother, Deon. He was a junior, one year behind Race. And he was smaller and meaner and looking at Jamie with cold suspicion.
“I was hoping Gwen was here. Gwen Winkelman?”
“Don’t know her.”
Of course he did. Everybody knew Gwen. She’d made a name for herself by reading fortunes and selling crystals. Normally, Jamie steered clear of her one-time grade school friend because she was so odd, but now she was desperate to make a connection.
“I don’t see her,” Jamie said, moving away. She yelped in surprise when his hand shot out and he dragged her to him. His other hand went right to her crotch. “Hey!” she snapped, immediately grabbing that hand and flinging it away from herself.
“Babe, you asked for it.” He leered, white teeth gleaming.
She wrenched herself out of his grasp and practically ran out the front door, shaken. No Cooper. She stood at the front of the house, drew several deep breaths, then looked up at the white, three-quarter moon. October 21, or maybe 22 by now, and all she wanted to do was be home in bed.
And then Gwen suddenly appeared. Running up the driveway, laughing, her long, brown braid swinging behind her, a guy chasing her whom Jamie didn’t immediately recognize. “Hey, Jamie!” she said in surprise and delight. “What’re you doing here?”
Now she saw the guy was their classmate, Nathan Farland, and he said, “Where are your books? There must be some test to study for.”
“Shut up,” Gwen said good-naturedly. “Jamie doesn’t study all the time.” She grabbed Jamie’s arm to propel her back inside. “What’re you having? Beer? Nah. Let’s have some vodka. Nate’s got some.”
“Sure,” he said.
Jamie really didn’t want to go back inside with them, but she didn’t have a ride home, and it would feel like a lot longer to get to her house alone in the dark than the trek she’d just made to get here. She’d had some hazy idea about cadging a ride, but that hadn’t been looking so good until Nate appeared. He had a driver’s license and an older Toyota Celica.
Back in the foyer, Jamie made certain to steer clear of Deon Stillwell. She hung close to Nate and Gwen, who was really being nice, which made Jamie feel kind of bad for thinking she was such a weirdo.
Hours slid by. At one o’clock, Race Stillwell returned alone, his Mustang roaring back up the drive just as Jamie, Gwen, and Nate were getting ready to leave. No Cooper. Jamie had consumed one beer and two glasses of vodka and Sprite, but the slight buzz she’d gotten had already worn off.
Race was wild-eyed as he burst into the room.
“What the fuck?” Deon muttered. He was waaayyy loaded and staggering by then.
“Shit. The cops. Get everybody out. Everybody out!!” His bellow reached to the upper floor. The smart kids, the ones still sober enough
