Night Road(48)

“Two ten,” Lexi said, squinting at her watch. She thought that was right. The numbers were dancing and blurring.

“Oh SHIT.” Zach staggered to his feet. “We gotta go.”

They made their weaving, unsteady way up the bank and across the grassy lawn, stepping around the bodies of their passed-out classmates. Mia stepped on someone’s arm and laughed, yelled, “Oops! Sorry.”

As they staggered to the car, it hit Lexi: Zach was drunk. She turned to him.

He stood there, swaying like a palm tree in the trade winds, his eyes closed.

Then she looked at Mia, who was puking again. Blood was dripping down the side of her face.

“You can’t drive,” Lexi said to Zach.

Mia got closer to the car and bent forward like a rag doll, pressing her cheek against the hood. “Call Mom,” she said. She dug in her pocket for her phone, dropped it on the ground.

Lexi picked up the phone.

“No way,” Zach said. “Lass time she practically grounded us.”

“Hesh right,” Mia said. “Less jus go.”

Lexi tried to concentrate, but she couldn’t. All she could really think about was that they should call Jude, but what would Jude think of Lexi then? What if Eva found out about this? Lexi had promised to be good, and here she was at a party again.

Mia shivered violently. “I’m freezing, Zach ’tack. Where’s my coat? An my head hurts. Why does my head hurt?”

“We should sleep here,” Lexi said.

“Mom would kill us,” Zach said, stumbling forward, slamming into his car. He wrenched the driver’s door open and fell into the seat. The keys were in the well; he searched around, swearing, and then laughed, “Got ’em.”

“Get out of there, Zach,” Lexi said. “You’re too drunk to drive.” She walked around the driver’s side of the car, trying not to stumble or fall. “Mia, help me,” Lexi said. “Tell Zach he’s too drunk to drive.”

“Iss only a mile…” Mia said. “An Mom did flip out lass time we called.”

“I can do it,” Zach said, smiling sloppily.

“Come on,” Mia moaned, wiping more blood from her forehead. She opened the car door and fell into the backseat. “Ouch,” she said, laughing, and then curled up into a fetal position on the seat.

Zach slipped the key into the ignition and started the engine, which roared to life in the quiet darkness. “Come on, Lex. Iss no big deal. Less go.”

“I don’t know,” Lexi said, shaking her head. The movement pushed her off-balance and made her fall forward; she hit the side of the car. “Wait. I gotta think. This isn’t a good idea…”





Eleven





Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Jude sat up, bleary-eyed.

She was on the sectional in the living room. Her cell phone lay on the cushion beside her, chirping. An infomercial flitted silently across the TV screen.

She struggled to focus on the small face of her watch. 3:37. Then she flipped open her cell phone. There was a text from Mia.

Sry wr late. On our way. Luv U. The text had come in at 2:11.

Oh, they would be sorry. They’d come home late, not checked in with Jude, and forgotten to turn off the exterior lights. This would be their last party for a while. She got up, turned off the TV and the outside lights, and locked the front door. As she climbed the stairs, she tried to decide whether to wake them up or yell at them tomorrow.

She opened Mia’s door and turned on the light. The bed was empty.

She felt a ping of fear, like a drop of acid on bare skin, and went to Zach’s room.

It was empty, too.

Take a breath, Jude. They missed their curfew; that was all. They’d started to leave the party and then been caught up somehow.

She called Mia’s cell. It rang and rang, then went to voice mail.

It was the same with Zach’s phone.

She ran downstairs to her room. Miles lay sleeping in bed, a book open on his chest, the television on.

“It’s late, Miles, and they’re not home.”

“Call them,” he mumbled.

“I did. No one answered.”

Miles sat up, frowning, and glanced at the clock. “It’s almost four o’clock.”

“They’re never this late,” she said.

Miles ran a hand through his hair. “We don’t want to panic. They probably lost track of time.”

“We could drive over there,” Jude said.

Miles nodded. “I think—”

The doorbell rang.

“Thank God.” Jude felt a rush of relief, then a burst of anger. “They are so grounded,” she muttered, leaving the room.

She stepped out into the long, dark hallway. It was black … and then red … yellow. Lights cut through the darkness, blinking, blaring.

Police lights.

She stumbled, almost fell. Then Miles was beside her, steadying her.

She felt herself moving forward but she wasn’t really walking. She was a piece of flotsam caught up in her husband’s motion.

Two policemen stood outside their door. It was raining, hard; why did she notice that? She knew these men, knew them and their wives and their children, but they shouldn’t be here now, at her house, in the middle of the night, their images flashing red and yellow.