The Most Dangerous Place on Earth(66)

“Yo, Ryan! What up, Flint!” People called to them from all around the deck. Everyone happy to see them. Which was just how it was when they walked into a function together. And when Damon and Ryan settled into their chairs, the energy shifted—like everyone took a few steps to the left without even knowing they were doing it. Not even wanting to, just sensing shit was about to get interesting because the right people had arrived. This was how Damon knew what actual power felt like.

It never worked when he was alone. It was the power of the three. Damon, Ryan, Nick. They’d figured that out back in eighth grade, and that was why they stuck together. If they split up, would they ever feel this kind of power again? Would they have to go through life without it? That was the most depressing thought possible.

“Want something?” Nick asked them, flicking ash from his cigarette. He’d come early to set up. Must be making a play for Elisabeth Avarine, Damon thought. Nick wasn’t afraid of anything. It was crazy how he never had an issue getting girls, even though he was beanpole skinny with a razor-blade face. It was probably ’cause he always thought of funny shit to say, or because he made their fake IDs.

Ryan took a cigarette and said, “Fuck yeah.” Ryan got even more girls than Nick and didn’t have to say or do anything. He just looked like Justin Bieber and played like Buster Posey and it turned out for most girls that was enough. And like they were reading minds, two freshman girls (both flat-chested, one had braces) jumped up from the long chair and scurried inside to get them drinks.

“This house is sick,” Ryan said, exhaling smoke. “Elisabeth’s got bars.”

“No shit,” said Nick.

“Have you seen her mom? Fuckin’ MILF.”

“Hell yeah,” Damon said. “I’d hit that.”

But they all looked at him like, What? and then cracked up. Like, Who the fuck are you kidding, Flint? Like anyone would want to get with your fat ass. Ha-ha. Damon was laughing too because it was fuckin’ funny, or he was used to it.

The freshman girls got back. One carried red cups for Ryan and Nick, and the braces one had a forty that was supposed to be for Damon. He wondered what bet she’d lost, ending up with him. She walked slow, smiling all shy and scared, and kept tugging at her tube top that she didn’t have the tits for, but he had to give her credit, she came right up to him.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted.” She smiled in that braces way, halfhearted, pulling her top lip down over her teeth to hide the metal he could obviously tell was there.

“Cool,” he said. He wasn’t gonna drink it or anything, but this chick had got it for him and if he said he didn’t want it, she might, like, run to the bathroom to cry (every function, somebody always did), and if he said the whole thing about rehab and Lance, she’d just think he was gay. So that was why he took it, sliding his fingers over hers and around the cold, wet glass. Plus it gave him something to hold on to.

The freshman blushed and went back to her long chair where the other girls were crushed, giggling. Damon spread his legs and lounged back in his chair. Arching his neck, he looked up at what sky he could glimpse through the arms of the trees. The sky was clear navy, but the trees were thick and black and waving just enough he knew it wouldn’t be clear for long. There was the hum of people mingling and talking and drinking and smoking and shouting at each other across the deck. And everyone a little unsure ’cause they were at Elisabeth Avarine’s, so it was a distinct possibility the function could turn out to be bunk.

Damon thought that if Nick was tryna get with Elisabeth, he’d better do it already. But she was probably cowering in the kitchen like she was when they walked in, with a look on her face like What did I just do? This chick was hot as fuck but still. No wonder she didn’t have any friends.

Damon tried to relax. He watched the sky and held on to the forty that dripped dew into his palm. The sky he could see was so minimal. That deep in the canyon, it was all just trees. He could hear the creek splashing along in the darkness down below. Over the edge of the deck, there was nothing, and he felt like an astronaut, staring down the kind of black that didn’t end. It was some spooky shit. If he tried to bring his horses, they’d be like, Fuck no, you can stay, we’re getting up out of this bitch.

He started picking at the label on the bottle. He held it up to his face and scratched at it with his fingernail. Shit stuck to his fingers, but he got a few good strips off and shook them onto the deck. Like Lance said, living in the moment. His boys kept up the conversation and the braces girl blushed in his direction and the night was fine (but the air kinda tingly and strange, a rim of a cloud at the edge of the sky) and everything was chill. And then out of nowhere the rain came down.

—

Hammered them like a motherfucker.

They ran inside. Damon and Ryan were fastest and claimed the two white couches in the living room while Nick went to handle the stereo. Ryan took the shorter one, but the girls flocked around him in two seconds, even the braces girl from the deck, and the ones that didn’t make it sat around him on the floor. Most were freshmen and sophomores, but there were a few juniors too—like Emma Fleed, who was short and on the thick side actually, but okay looking, and pretty much DTF with whoever but especially Ryan. And he had the hottest freshman, little Asian-looking chick Emily, perched on the edge by his head and Damon gave him a look like Get there.