Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(16)

At about midnight, it was decided by half the group that a visit to the lake was in order; for one, it was a gorgeous May night, the sky gleaming with stars, the air soft and gentle and just cool enough for cuddling; and two, those who wanted to have sex or drink could drift off to wherever without getting busted by Mr. and Mrs. Lyon. The good kids stayed put, and Colleen figured she would, too.

Until she saw Bryce Campbell fumbling for his keys.

“Hey, buddy,” she said, earning yet another glare from Tanya. “You’re not driving, are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, don’t even worry about me,” he slurred. So much for her warning. Was there a creature on earth more stupid than an eighteen-year-old boy? “I’m totally fine, Colleen. You’re pretty, you know that?”

“You’re not driving. Let Tanya... Oh, right.” Tanya had flunked her driver’s test three times already.

Colleen could tell the Lyons, of course. But then they’d call Bryce’s parents, and who wanted to be the kid who turned in a friend?

“How about if I drive, then?” she offered.

“No thanks, Colleen,” Tanya said. She really was quite dim.

“Your date’s not sober, sweets. Besides, it’ll be fun. You guys can sit in the back and cuddle, and I’ll be your chauffeur.”

“All right,” Bryce said. “That does sound fun.” He smiled affably. Goofball.

Jeremy and Faith walked everyone to the door, already acting like a married couple, and Mr. and Mrs. Lyon waved good-night and told everyone to drive safely.

Colleen got into Bryce’s car (a red Mustang convertible, really, did his parents want him to die in a fiery crash?), and Tanya and Bryce got in back. Bryce took a brown paper bag from under the seat, unscrewed the cap of the bottle inside and took a pull, then offered some to Tanya, who accepted.

“Underage drinking, children,” she said mildly. “Illegal.”

“Lighten up,” Tanya said.

Kids today. No respect. Good thing they had her to watch over them and get them home. And sure, it was fun to drive the Mustang.

The gathering at the lake was on a private beach; the owner was a summer person who surely wouldn’t mind if the Manningsport youth used her property. Colleen parked the Stang on the street and followed the path down to the lake, the sound of peepers shrill and sweet.

The party was already in progress; Asswipe Jones lit a fire on the small beach, and a radio was playing. Two or three couples were out on the dock, smooching. There was laughter and a shriek as Angela Mitchum’s date, a kid from Corning, picked her up and threatened to throw her in the water.

Bryce and Tanya weren’t the only ones drinking. Colleen made the rounds and ensured that those who were had a ride with a sober driver; most of the kids had come via limo; Colleen had seen one parked on the street, the driver smoking a cigarette and talking on the phone.

After a while, most of the couples left. It had gotten colder, and the night was winding down. There were still a few couples left—the drinkers, naturally.

Sigh. The curse of the designated driver. She’d volunteered, after all. She checked her phone, hoping to call Con to alleviate her boredom. No cell service down here, though.

Stifling a yawn, she sat down on the sand, which was a little chilly. The stars stretched and blazed above, and a comet streaked across the eastern sky, and then her eyes were closed.

She awoke to the sound of angry voices.

“Fuck you, pretty boy,” someone was saying. Great. It was Jake Green, one of the too-privileged lacrosse players. He’d been the first of the nine who’d asked Colleen to the prom and was now talking to Bryce out on the dock.

Colleen got up. Tanya was sitting with her head in her hands, crying. “What happened?” Colleen said, putting an arm around her. “Honey? You okay?”

“My shoe broke,” Tanya sobbed. “See?” She held it up for inspection. “The heel just snapped. And they’re so pretty!”

Colleen sighed. People who couldn’t hold their liquor really shouldn’t drink. “What’s going on out there?” She pointed to the dock.

“I dunno,” Tanya mumbled, tears falling on the wounded shoe. “I’m tired.”

“I’ll get Bryce and we can go.”

“Good.” With that, she lay down on the sand, her wounded shoe cradled against her chest, and closed her eyes.

The voices were louder now. The moon had risen higher, fat and full, shining across the lake in a wide path of white light, allowing Colleen to see who was out there with Bryce. In addition to Jake were his minions (because all irritating rich boys had to have minions)—Jase Ross and Chris Eckbert—Crabbe and Goyle to Jake’s Draco Malfoy. Their three dates appeared to have left.

“I don’t know why you’re mad. I meant it as a compliment,” Bryce said.

“Hey, guys,” Colleen said. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, you’re here?” Jake sneered. “I thought you were too good for the prom.”

“No, no, not too good, Jake. I’m only here as a designated driver. Speaking of that, Bryce, can we go? I’m tired, and Tanya is, too.”

“Fuck you, O’Rourke,” Jake said. “Mind your own business.”

“He’s mad at me,” Bryce whispered (loudly). “I told him I thought he looked like Cameron Diaz.”