Run(22)

It took me a second to put a name to that voice. I’d heard it before, I knew it, but I wasn’t sure it had ever spoken directly to me. It was a voice I’d heard in passing—in the hallways, giving an answer in class—a thousand times, though. And I figured out who it was about half a second before Dana Hickman was standing in front of me, blocking out the light from the fire.

“Holy shit. It is you!” Dana was talking way louder than necessary, and she smelled like beer. A lot of beer. “The hell’re you doing here?”

“Am I not supposed to be here?” I asked.

“Nah. I didn’t say that! Just surprised is all. Christy said she never brings you to parties because you’re always clinging to her—you know, ’cause you can’t see? It’s gotta be so annoying for her. Nice that she helps you out most of the time, though. Where is she, anyway?”

“Um …” I swallowed, not wanting Dana to see the tears I felt coming on.

No. Fuck it if Dana saw. Bo. I didn’t want Bo Dickinson to see me cry. Not over something stupid like Christy calling me clingy. I wanted her to think I was tough. A badass, like her, not a weak, weepy crybaby.

“She didn’t come with Christy,” Bo said from the grass. “She came with me.”

“Oh shit. Bo, I didn’t even see you down there,” Dana shouted. “Now, I knew you’d be here.” She laughed, her whole body swaying, and I felt a splash of something cool on my feet. Beer, I realized. “You’re always at the party, ain’t you? Always f*cking somebody. Who’s it gonna be tonight?” She didn’t say it mean, the way Christy would have, but like she was actually curious. Still, her words made me cringe.

“Ain’t decided yet,” Bo said, voice cold and flat.

“Hey, Dana,” Colt said, next to me all of a sudden. “Somebody’s looking for you over by the cooler.”

“All right. I need another beer anyway.”

“No, you don’t,” Colt muttered as Dana stumbled away.

“You know Dana?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Her brother’s my age. He ain’t got much filter when he’s drunk, either.”

He sat down on the grass and started talking to Bo. Well, I guess he was talking to both of us, but I wasn’t really listening. I was still thinking about what Dana had said. Of course Christy had called me clingy. She’d said it herself, that guiding me around a party when she had other things to do was a burden. I couldn’t really blame her. Who wanted to lead a blind girl around all night? I felt a rush of guilt, of shame, because Bo might have insisted I wouldn’t be a burden, but now that we were here, I was sure she felt different. Sure she wanted to be free of me.

“Hey,” I said, cutting Bo off midsentence. “If … if y’all wanna go do something, I can just sit here.”

“What’re you talking about?” she asked.

“You know. It’s a party. I’m sure just sitting here isn’t much fun. Y’all can go dance or talk to other people or—”

“If just sitting here ain’t much fun, why the f*ck would we leave you here?” Bo asked.

“I just—”

“And if you’re bored sitting, we can fix that,” she said.

“I’m not— That’s not what I was—”

“This is one of your favorite songs, ain’t it, Colt?”

“Sure is,” he said. “Gotta love Hank Jr.”

“Well, then. Maybe y’all should dance.”

“Oh, I can’t—”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Colt said. He took a long swig of beer, then tossed the cup aside before standing up. “Come on, Agnes.”

“No, really. I’m fine. You don’t have to dance with me, Colt. Besides, you can’t really dance with a cane.”

“I know I don’t got to,” he said. “But we’re gonna dance anyway.”

“And you don’t need the cane,” Bo said, swiping it from my lap. “I’ll hold on to it.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry,” Colt said. His hand was on mine, pulling me to my feet. “I got you.” I was about to open my mouth again, but he squeezed my hand and repeated, this time almost a whisper, “I got you.”

He was careful as he led me away from the fire. The farther we walked, the less I could see, until the shadows all melted together and darkness swallowed everything whole. But Colt’s hand stayed around mine, warm and reassuring.

I was being led into darkness by a Dickinson boy. A voice in the back of my head—which sounded an awful lot like my grandma’s—told me this could not end well. But I didn’t feel nervous. Not the way I should’ve. And when Colt stopped and pulled me toward him, his other hand resting on my waist as he eased me into the beat of the music, I let myself relax, trusting that, even though I couldn’t see a thing, he had me.

“This isn’t so bad,” I said.

“Well, thank you.”

I laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way. Just that … I haven’t really danced with anyone before. Except my daddy at his cousin’s wedding, but I was about six and he let me stand on his feet. And it wasn’t this dark.”