True Places(69)

Brynn was in the middle of the long seat, taking photos with her friends. She pointed the phone at Iris and Sam.

“So cute, you guys!” She took the photo. “Iris, sit in Sam’s lap.” The other kids hooted, sounding like coyotes.

“Come on, Iris.” Sam opened his arms.

Iris hesitated.

One of Brynn’s friends jumped into the lap of the boy next to her. “It’s a limo tradition, see?”

Sam put his arm around her, lifting her under her arms. She tugged down the hem of her dress.

“You don’t weigh anything,” Sam said, settling Iris on his lap.

“She’s a spinner!” another boy shouted, and everyone laughed.

Sam felt so warm underneath her, and his breath was hot across her forehead. She didn’t know what to do with her arms. Brynn and some of the others took photos.

Iris remembered to smile.



The limo dropped her off. Suzanne was waiting on the porch, hugging her sweater around her even though it was a warm night. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” In truth, she was more than fine. She was excited because of Sam. She also had another secret and wanted to get away from Suzanne before she figured it out. “And I’m really tired, so good night.”

“Good night, Iris.” Suzanne kissed her on the forehead. “I’m glad you had a nice time.”

In her room, Iris changed into the shorts and T-shirt she slept in, in case someone checked on her. She’d wait an hour, she decided, before she went to the party, longer if she heard anyone downstairs. Brynn had said it would last a long time and had shown her where it would be on a map on Iris’s phone. “Text me when you get there and we’ll get you in.” Iris knew “we” meant Sam.

He’d said he’d be waiting for her.





CHAPTER 30

Fucking Alex. Reid had to hand it to him, the guy scored the best weed. Reid couldn’t feel his face. Luckily, they’d waited to smoke it until they got close to Wertland Street, where the party was; otherwise they probably wouldn’t have found it. They’d walked from Alex’s house, which was maybe a mile and a half, and had crossed into campus and hunkered down in the shadow of a huge tree, out of sight of campus police.

“One more for the road?” Alex offered him the joint, burned down to a nub.

Reid held up his hand. “I’m good.”

“Want something else?” Alex dug into his shirt pockets, fumbling.

“What you got?”

“Usual shit.”

“I thought you were done with all that. Considering the Zoloft.”

“Well, Mommy, I was, but then some asshole texts me about wanting to cut loose.”

Reid held out his hand. “Excellent point.”

Alex dropped something into his palm.

“What is it?”

“How the hell do I know? I can’t see a damn thing.” He opened a water bottle, tossed a pill in his mouth, and took a long drink. “But it might be E, so drink up. Safety first.”

They ducked out from under the tree, crossed Main Street, and wound through the collection of shops and restaurants known as the Corner. Robby’s house was near the end of Wertland, on the T intersection. On this warm night—Reid hadn’t bothered with a jacket—the windows at the front were shut, probably trying to keep most of the noise inside so the cops wouldn’t have an excuse to shut it down. A handful of people were hanging out on the porch, and a few more sat on folding chairs on the lawn, looking like they were waiting for a parade. A couple of the guys gave them looks, but Reid followed three girls inside, catching the door for them.

“Thanks,” one of them tossed over her shoulder, her dark ponytail swinging like a horse’s tail. She made for the back of the house, where the music was coming from, before Reid could tell if she was pretty.

More kids were milling around in the narrow hall. No one seemed to care who came in.

Reid moved into the doorway of what turned out to be the kitchen. Whatever he and Alex had taken under that tree started climbing up the back of his legs and into his armpits, like tingling knife points digging in. He checked behind him for Alex, who was practically on top of him. From the look on his face, that shit had hit him, too.

“Different,” Alex said. “Go with it.”

Reid slipped farther into the kitchen, the slicing, zinging feeling moving across his chest and up into his balls. There was a heat to it now. His heart was beating too fast. Alex was ahead of him, making a path through the swarm of bodies. The smell of beer and Axe and lemons (some girl’s perfume?) reminded Reid of furniture polish, and that bugged him. Alex found the keg. The room pulsed, matching Reid’s heartbeat. An acid taste invaded the base of his throat.

“Get me a beer.”

“I’m on it.” Alex passed him a Solo cup.

The predictability of the red Solo cup filled with beer annoyed Reid. In fact, everything here annoyed him: the faux-edgy music, the girls with their heels and backless shirts, long hair spilling everywhere, the guys with their monogrammed button-downs or, worse, athletic gear, signaling life was a game and they were always ready to hit the field. Why had he and Alex bothered to come? What had they expected? Conversations about existentialism with short-haired multiply pierced girls whose motto was that life sucked? Not here. Life never sucked here, not as long as the keg held out.