They Wish They Were Us(81)

I sat back on the blanket and brought the bottle to my lips. I took a generous sip. The liquid smelled like gasoline and was harsher than vodka. But I was grateful for something . . . anything to be a distraction. I took a big gulp and then another, letting the vile liquid give way to a numb, tingly feeling. It wasn’t just strong, it tasted rancid—chemical.

Then I disappeared.



* * *



—

I came to hours later. I swear I heard a scream—a wrenching, bloodcurdling scream. Was it my own strangled voice? Was it far off in the distance? It didn’t matter because I was safe, I figured. I must have been because I had been moved somewhere with a window, though no sunshine came through. I was on a bed, I knew, because there were sheets, soft beneath my bare legs. Above ground, I realized. It had to be because a flame licked the window. A bonfire, I determined, raging just outside in the backyard. It was so close. So was the group. I could hear them. Was it over? Did I pass? I must have. But then why wasn’t I with the others? Why was I alone?

Until I realized I wasn’t.

“You smell like a s’more.” He whispered the words, slurring a bit. Adam must have found me. I felt a pang of relief. Then his tongue slithered into my ear. The warm, wet heat was shocking and forced me to tense, to try to sit up. But I couldn’t move.

“Shh . . . It’s okay.” His face came into focus and in an instant, I realized it was not Adam. It was Jake. Hovering over me. Pinning my arms over my head. Up against me. Waiting. Patient, but not really.

“What . . .”

“You made it through,” he said again. “You passed the test.” His tongue found its way into my ear again and I shook my head, as if trying to swat away a fly. The room spun around me.

I tried to pull away but Jake was so big, like a giant brick. “I don’t feel well,” I said, my head swimming.

“C’mon,” he said, his mouth moving over my neck. “Let’s celebrate.”

My limbs were so heavy. I just wanted everything to stop.

“No,” I said softly. “No.” Jake laughed and moved his hands lower, lifting my sweatshirt. His touch was freezing and I shivered.

“See? It’s nice,” he said. “Aren’t you going to thank me for helping you get through it?” I tried to wiggle out from under him, but Jake tugged my wrists down by my sides. I was immobile, unable to think. I wanted so desperately to leave, to join the group, to go home, to find Shaila. Had she jumped? Had she passed, too? Was it easier to succumb? To let my brain leave my body? Suddenly, the door squeaked open.

“Dude.” It was Adam. I recognized his voice. “What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing.” Jake whipped his head around and in his profile I saw a wide, scary smile. I wanted to run, to use this free moment to crawl to the floor, to get away completely.

“She’s wasted.”

“What, you’re a cop now?”

“Let’s just get a drink. It’s not worth it.” Adam kicked the door open farther so more light streamed in.

Jake rolled his eyes, indifferent, over it. “Whatever.” Finally, he rose and retreated from the room. “You’re no fun, bro,” he called on his way out.

“Adam,” I tried to say, but it came out like garbled mush. I reached for him but my arms stayed on the bed, too heavy to lift.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His words were just a tiny bit slurred and a little sad.

“Mm,” I said.

“You gotta sleep this off.”

“Mm,” I said again. The relief was overwhelming. I wanted to cry, to bury myself in these sheets.

“I’m going to lock the door, okay? No one can get in. The key’s right here on the dresser.”

I nodded.

“Say okay, Jill.”

“Okay.”

He shut the door quietly behind him and I rolled over, forcing myself to stare out the window and into the darkness. Look up, I willed myself. Find the moon. Just find an anchor. But all I saw was a smattering of twinkling lights, jumbled in piles like puzzle pieces that I would never be able to put together. It was too beautiful, too chaotic.

Then I fell into a sleep so deep it ached. It was hours later when I awoke to the sounds of sirens and Nikki’s sobs. To Shaila’s death.

It took until the next day to find out that Nikki had just barely passed her pop. She was scared of getting lost and had been blindfolded, then dropped off five miles away in the woods, forced to find her way back to Tina’s on her own with no phone. Marla nearly got caught while completing hers—breaking into the field hockey coach’s summer home to steal the county finals trophy. Her biggest fear was getting cut from the team, losing everything. Rachel helped her flee at the last minute.

The boys’ tasks were easier, less dangerous, like the seniors had less ammo to use, less to torture them with. Henry had to plant a false story in the Gold Coast Gazette that got him a slap on the wrist and fired from his internship. Robert was forced to steal his dad’s Lambo and let each senior take it for a ride up and down the expressway. He dropped it off only minutes before his dad came home around midnight. Graham had his thing with the tarantulas and emerged only to find Shaila, wet and exhausted, having survived Ocean Cliff. He coaxed her into going for a walk, when he lost it and killed her. At least that’s what we were told.