She kept one eye on her roommate at all times, rotating around the crater as Callie made her way through the crowd, in order to not run into her. They’d been avoiding each other in their room, too, which was relatively easy now that Callie spent all her free time with Easy. Jenny filled a plastic cup from the newly refreshed tub of Jungle Juice. She pressed her fingers into her alabaster skin, rubbing her arms to ward off a chill brought on by the dropping temperature and by the ice-cold cup in her hand.
“Cold?”
Jenny whipped around, catching a tendril of curly brown hair in her eye. She’d hoped to find Julian standing next to her. Instead, it was Easy Walsh, who hadn’t said a word to her since he’d broken up with her last week. She’d seen him around since then, of course, but it was fairly clear that he’d been avoiding her. She took a sip from her plastic cup and held it to her lips longer than necessary, waiting for him to state his business or walk away.
“Heath’s outdone himself again, huh?” Easy’s dark blue eyes scanned her face nervously. It was nice to see him nervous. She’d never had the upper hand in anything, and she was determined not to give in to Easy Walsh the way everyone else did. Even though he did look kind of adorable in his orange US shirt, which was already grass-stained. From what? Rolling around in the woods with Callie?
“The bonfire was a bold touch, I’ll give him that,” Jenny answered, scanning the crowd for people she actually wanted to talk to. Brandon was over by the fire, but his head was turned toward Sage Francis and they seemed to be deep in conversation. Brett hadn’t arrived yet, and Kara was lying on the ground, staring up at the stars through the opening in the treetops—with Heath. That was a little random. Alison was kneeling in front of the fire with Alan right behind her, toasting a marshmallow on a long stick. It looked like Julian hadn’t arrived, either. There, Jenny thought, that was the extent of the people she wanted to talk to. Six weeks at Waverly and she could count her friends on one hand. And she’d thought she was doing so well.
“I was hoping I’d see you here,” Easy said, his voice sounding a bit strange.
Jenny couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by that.
Why, so you can humiliate me again? So you can pretend to like me until your ex-girlfriend comes back? So you can blame me for the fire?
She decided against them all, punctuating the silence with a simple, “Oh?”
Easy pawed at the ground with his already-filthy, on-the-verge-of-disintegrating brown Camper bowling shoes. He scratched the back of his neck, the growing bonfire reflected in his dark blue eyes.
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about everything.” He bent over and picked up a long stick from the ground, trying to twirl it in his fingers.
Jenny turned to face him for the first time.
“I never, uh,
wanted
to hurt you.” He dropped the stick abruptly and ran his hand over his face. He lowered his voice so that Jenny had to lean in a little closer to hear him. “And I really didn’t want you to find out about me and Callie … like that,” he went on, his face flushing, probably at the memory of the two of them fleeing the burning barn half naked in front of the whole campus. “I’m sure that was really terrible for you. I can’t imagine… .” He struggled to complete his sentence, bailing himself out with a swig of Jungle Juice from his red Solo cup.
“Yeah, well.” The apology meant a lot to Jenny, but she couldn’t fully absorb it with the mayhem around them. Ryan Reynolds brushed past, chasing a sophomore girl in a short skirt and shouting, “I’m a suspect, too! They just forgot to get me a shirt!”
“And I know Callie is being a total pain in the ass right now,” Easy added, lowering his voice a little. “With the fire and all.” He coughed, still speaking quietly. “She is totally paranoid that uh, you got us on the list, to uh, cover the fact that you actually started the fire.”
Jenny stood there quietly, smoldering.
“I didn’t realize how stupid that sounded until I said it out loud. I know you’d never do anything like that.” Easy looked at her, and for the first time since they started talking, Jenny met his gaze. She could tell he really did think Callie’s theory was nuts, which made her feel a bit better. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “God, this is all so fucked up.”
Jenny felt the cloud of the last few days lifting. If Easy was on her side, maybe things would turn out all right in the end after all. “Thanks for … telling me all this,” she said. It struck her how much she missed talking to him. Easy was the kind of guy you just wanted on your team. “That really means a lot.”
Callie glared at Easy and Jenny from across the bonfire, unsure whether it was the heat from the flames or the sight of them together, speaking so earnestly, that made her face burn. All she could think about was how just a few weeks ago Easy had dumped her for that little slut. There was no doubt at all in her mind: Jenny had to go.
She poured the remainder of her cup of Jungle Juice out carelessly on the ground, her head already buzzing from the alcohol. Then she scanned the party, looking for the one person whose presence would comfort her. Her eyes finally landed on Tinsley. Her dark-haired friend was standing with Chloe by one of the punch bowls of Jungle Juice, handing the girl an over-flowing cup. Callie smiled and headed in that direction. Tinsley would be happy to know she was back on board, ready to get Jenny kicked out once and for all.
“Name?”
Brett jumped, not realizing she’d almost stepped on Sam, who stood guard over the scene behind him, holding a clipboard. She noticed a few orange T-shirts emblazoned with us in black letters across the front and usual suspect across the back—she spotted Brandon in one, and Benny. Sam’s was the same color as the others’, but the letters dm were painted on the front. Huh? What did that stand for? Sam turned to harass two sophomores not on the guest list. Brett read the words deflower me on the back. She rolled her eyes.
“Here’s your T-shirt,” he told her flatly, turning back to Brett and handing her a plastic bag with the party T-shirt inside. “You can change in the tent.” He paused. “Or you can just change right here.”
Brett rolled her eyes again as someone she vaguely recognized from first-period Latin stumbled by and handed her a red-and-orange drink. She immediately flashed back to her awful first party at Waverly, which was also at the Crater. That night, she drank three Tequila Sunrises without realizing they were full of tequila, and spent the rest of the night hugging a tree trunk. She sniffed the contents of the plastic cup and a strong odor of vodka filled her nose. She took a sip and tasted the familiar tang of Jungle Juice, one of Heath’s favorite elixirs.
Brett scanned the party, hoping to find Kara’s familiar head of brown hair. She really wanted to apologize for her moody fit earlier today, but she couldn’t make Kara out in the mass of bodies gathered around the flickering light of the bonfire. Verena Arneval was getting into the now-or-never spirit with a sophomore on the tennis team. The two seemed to be dancing to music only they could hear, grinding precariously close to the fire. A little way off, Benny was sitting cross-legged on the grassy knoll with Lon Baruzza. He was a scholarship student and rumored to be great in bed. Lon massaged Benny’s back, presumably giving her a preview of his moves. Brett spotted Jenny’s familiar head of curls and was about to head in her direction, but stopped herself when she realized she was deep in conversation with Easy, of all people. What was that about? Brett didn’t see Heath anywhere, which was a bit strange—but then, he’d probably drunk too much and was already passed out in the woods.
Brett felt a strong hand on her bare arm and whirled around. Was Ryan Reynolds manhandling her again? Instead, a defenseless Jeremiah put up his hands in surrender.
“Whoa, whoa!” he said, stepping backward. Wearing his black James Perse polo over his favorite red thermal shirt and his old faded green J.Crew cargo pants, he looked startlingly familiar. He’d trimmed his red hair since the last time she’d seen him, at the disastrous Dumbarton party two weeks ago. It was much less shaggy than she was used to, although he’d let a little stubble grow on his cheeks and chin, which made his angular, square jaw look even more defined. “I’m innocent, I swear.” Despite being from an old-money family in Newton, a suburb of Boston, Jeremiah spoke with a Boston accent, and the word came out
sway-ah
. When they were dating, his townie accent had always bothered Brett, but now it just sounded cute.
“Jeremiah!” Brett stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on both stubbly cheeks. He smelled woodsy and clean. It was good to see him. “What are you
doing
here?” Even though St. Lucius people regularly turned out for Waverly parties, it was a Tuesday night, and she knew Jeremiah had a big game this weekend—he was the football team’s star lineman—so she had thought it unlikely that he’d make it out for this. If she’d known he’d be here, she would have made sure to reply to his e-mail—she felt bad now that she’d ignored it, too overwhelmed by the fire and the Kara situation to figure out what to say.
Jeremiah blushed. She smiled when she remembered how easily she could make him blush. “I heard about the hearing or whatever tomorrow and, well, in case it was your last night …” He peered down at her, his hands still lingering on her waist after their hug. “I wanted to make sure to say goodbye.”
“You’re so sweet.” Brett looked up into his blue-green eyes and felt a weird sensation in her stomach. It must have been the Jungle Juice kicking in. She raised her plastic cup to her lips, still smiling at Jeremiah. She felt so … liberated. The whole scene of total irreverence—the fact that everyone was making fun of the fire situation, even embracing how insane it all was—felt a heck of a lot better than whispering about it behind each others’ backs and making accusations. She hadn’t put on her goony T-shirt yet—she was wearing a pretty sheer black peasant shirt, borrowed from Jenny, and she didn’t want to cover it up—but when she spotted Alison Quentin wearing her eight-sizes-too-big US shirt, she decided it actually looked pretty cute. So why not get into the spirit of the thing? She handed her cup to Jeremiah. “Hold this?”
“Anything for you, B.” He grinned, exposing his row of adorably crooked bottom teeth, and took the cup from her. His huge, strong hands dwarfed the red plastic cup. Brett pulled her shirt on over her head, stumbling a little. The vodka in her drink had already messed with her balance.
Jeremiah took a swig of Brett’s drink and then made a disgusted face, spitting it out on the ground.
“Hey!” she chastised, swatting his arm. “I was going to drink that!”
“Just thought I’d give it a try.” He laughed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “How you drink that stuff I’ll never understand.” Jeremiah was a notorious beer-drinker and always teased Brett about her love of cocktails and mixed drinks. She suddenly remembered how during their first week back at school, he’d invited her on a trip to wine country with his family—his dad was opening up a new restaurant and was headed to Sonoma on a tasting tour over Thanksgiving. At the time, she’d been totally unenthusiastic. She was entranced by the sophisticated Eric Dalton and had imagined Jeremiah chugging the wine instead of sipping it at all the vineyards. God, she’d been so unfair to him. She hoped he’d forgiven her, or that if he hadn’t, he would soon.
“Let’s get you a beer.” Impulsively, she grabbed his hand and headed toward the woods, where the kegs were usually kept at Crater parties. His fingers were like old friends she hadn’t seen in forever.
“Are you nervous?” Jeremiah asked as they walked. Branches crackled beneath their feet, and the woods smelled piney and romantic. The noise receded as they drew away from the crowd. “About tomorrow, I mean. Jesus, the whole thing is so wack.”
Brett was glad that it was dark so Jeremiah couldn’t see her blushing. When he’d asked if she was nervous, she’d automatically thought about the last time he asked her that question—on the night they had planned to lose their virginity to each other.
But before she could answer they both stopped short, suddenly aware of a rustling in the grass. Brett squinted, expecting an owl to flap up from the ground, but was drawn instead to two figures in the tall grass just ahead. She put a finger to her lips and Jeremiah nodded, an embarrassed smile spreading across his face.
“Whoops,” he mouthed.
Brett’s eyes adjusted to the moonlight. She could just make out the faces of the two figures sitting cross-legged in the grass, heads bent together, whispering intimately. She froze, staring. What was
Heath
doing sitting in the woods alone with a girl,
just talking
? His Mini Me, Sam, would have been disappointed. She was about to turn away when the moonlight caught the girl’s face. It was Kara.
Brett kept on staring as Heath took his hand, placed it under Kara’s chin, and lifted it up toward his face. Then he kissed her, their lips moving softly against each other. Brett stood frozen in astonishment.
“Yo, where’s the keg?”
She whipped her head around to see Benny standing behind her, giggling, Lon Baruzza’s arms wrapped around her tiny waist. Benny shook her empty cup at Brett for emphasis. But then she spotted Heath and Kara, and her eyes widened. “Oh shit,” she said, looking at Brett in confusion. Brett wished she’d keep her voice down—Heath and Kara hadn’t noticed they were there, and she didn’t want them to. “Why’s your girlfriend kissing Heath?!” Benny exclaimed loudly.
Jeremiah dropped Brett’s hand. He turned to her, his blue-green eyes filled with confusion and hurt. “
Girlfriend
? So what I heard is really
true
?”
Brett stood there, completely mute, wishing the bonfire would burn the woods down. She’d rather run for her life from another fire than defend herself—from what? What had she done? Obviously she didn’t have a girlfriend if her supposed girlfriend was currently in a liplock with Heath Ferro. She grasped her cup tightly in her hand and stumbled back toward the bonfire. “I think I need another drink.”