I close my eyes and listen to the caws of the birds as they glide over the pond and the soft breath of the wind whispering over the waves. Without opening my eyes, I grab William’s hand and squeeze it tight.
I hear him sigh, contentment settling deep in his chest as he joins me, letting himself fall for the siren call of summer.
The dream shifts abruptly, cruelly ripping me away from the good memory and propelling me forward.
I am in my room.
William isn’t home yet, and it’s fifteen minutes until midnight. We were supposed to go to Doc’s, and he forgot. My heart stings a little from the hurt. He’s only four minutes older than me, yet we might as well be decades apart.
He must be with his friends because he won’t answer my texts and I stopped leaving voicemails after the third call. Mom and Dad went with our grandparents into the city tonight, so it’s just me and Daisy, our family’s adopted mutt who looks like a cross between a bulldog and a daschund with her squished face and long body. She is asleep against me, snoring as we lay in my bed.
I never do this, but Mom has threatened to revoke not only our cellphones but also our cars and any bit of freedom we have if William and I aren’t home for curfew, which is midnight. I open the Find My Friends app on my iPhone and find his location.
William is 9.7 miles away at Blaze Lahey’s house.
I roll my eyes, peeling myself out of bed. I better go get him. No doubt he’s already drunk, and Mom will kill him when she realizes he’s been going over there again.
Blaze is known for throwing kick-ass parties where the terms “underage” and “cut off” don’t exist. He’s the king of our high school, a sophomore just like us, an all-star baseball player already being recruited by the NBL.
His parents are rich, born into a long line of wealth, and they give him free rein of the house. I guess they decided he might as well have parties at their house rather than somewhere they don’t know and can’t control.
Not that they control much of anything about Blaze. He lives up to his moniker, and no amount of parental guidance could ever extinguish his inner flame.
William has adored Blaze since we were in middle school, when the three of us were inseparable, when we snuck into R-rated movies and played paper football across the aisles in homeroom. He wants to be Blaze, which is crazy, because William and Blaze are cut from the same cloth. Both are popular, smart, and witty, and while I have a tongue that will lash back when provoked, they can make a classroom burst at the seams with laughter at any moment.
I change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pulling on my running shoes. Not that I ever run, but William swears he will make a runner out of me yet. I don’t think I have seen him miss a run in the past three years, every morning like clockwork.
I grab my phone and my keys and hop in the car. I forget my wallet, but I’m not going far and I have to get to William before my parents realize where he’s holed up. I back my Honda CRV, a gift from my grandparents, out of the garage and down the driveway.
The drive to Blaze’s house takes less than 10 minutes. I don’t turn on the radio, preferring not to disturb the hum of the engine. I see a parking lot of cars overtaking Blaze’s front yard. The music is so loud, it pierces the armor of my car and thumps a steady rhythm inside the hollow of my chest.
The place is so packed I have to park near the freakin’ mailbox.
The house is gigantic, a stuccoed Mediterranean-style mini-mansion, three stories tall and with a balcony overlooking an infinity pool. I have been here before, but in recent years, it has only been to drag William home before our parents find out.
Blaze is a good guy, but there are always people around him. Being near him means you constantly have to put on a show, one kid outdoing the next as they fight for his attention. It is absolutely exhausting to watch, and I prefer to not exist on center stage.
I walk the long drive up to the house, the lights built into the concrete leading the way. I pass a couple practically doing it on the hood of a black muscle car. The guy has lost his shirt somewhere, and the girl’s pants are around her ankles. I avert my gaze quickly, blushing. It doesn’t surprise me though. Blaze’s parties are always raunchy.
I walk up the steps and swing open the double doors. I am greeted by the smell of beer and sex and warm bodies. A platinum and glass chandelier sprinkles a million tiny suns down onto the marble floor.
Ollie? Ollie…Crap. I don’t even remember his last name. Ollie, our resident high school stoner, smokes a joint in the den to my left, passing it around to his friends on the couch. Smoke clouds the room and hangs in front of their red-eyed faces. They are so high, I doubt any of them will be able to tell me where William is.
I hear Blaze’s laugh, loud and boisterous like he doesn’t have a care in the world, probably because he doesn’t. Giggles quickly follow, which is to be expected. I step over crushed red solo cups and a puddle of what I hope is beer as I leave the foyer and walk into the kitchen.
Blaze spots me immediately, which isn’t surprising given he is ridiculously tall even at sixteen years old. A mop of dirty blonde hair
