For Ever (17 page)

She studies my expression and pats me on the
shoulder.

“Have a good time, honey. And remember, I
want to meet some of your friends soon.”

Actually, she’s thinking she wants to meet
the driver of the Maserati, which means she still suspects that I’m
hanging out with drug dealers. I walk her to the door and kiss her
on the cheek.

“I’ll leave you a message when I get
home.”

When I’m sure I’ve read the same sentence in
Moby-Dick
for the millionth time, I hear a car horn outside.
Peeling back the curtain, I see a ridiculously large SUV parked in
the driveway. Taking my jacket from the closet, I run outside and
see Ashley waving from the driver’s seat. She must be sitting on a
couple of phonebooks to see over the dash. I smile when I see
Marcus in the passenger seat.

The restaurant is packed when we get there,
and the booths are tiny, which means that someone has to pull up a
chair at the end. I’m grateful when Marcus offers to take the end
seat, but it means I get sandwiched between Ashley and Josh.
Sipping my Coke, I watch the door out of the corner of my eye, half
expecting Ever Casey to appear. When he doesn’t, it annoys me even
more that I feel almost disappointed.

Marcus asks if anyone wants anything else,
and Ashley hops up to join him. Scooting over, I put some space
between Josh and me. We start talking about plans for spring break.
Taylor is visiting cousins in Seattle. Josh is working. Lindsay is
waiting to hear back about a scholarship to some dance camp in
Southern Oregon. Zach looks bereft that he’ll have to suffer a week
without her.

“What about you, Wren? Are you going to
L.A.?” Taylor asks.

“Probably not. I need a job as soon as I can
find a—”

The restaurant instantly quiets down several
notches as a chorus of raucous voices erupts from the counter. All
of us turn and watch the group of guys standing behind Marcus and
Ashley at the counter.

“What’s your name, little girl?” one of them
leers, leaning closer to Ashley.

She grabs their drinks from the counter, and
Marcus puts an arm around her shoulder. A surge of chortling erupts
as they hurry back to our table. Ashley slides in next to me,
red-faced.

“Creeps,” she squeaks.

I squeeze her shoulder. Something tells me
that she doesn’t have to worry about Marcus asking her to the
dance. I look back to the front of the restaurant where the five
jerks are hassling everyone around them. They’re older than us,
mid-twenties maybe. The loudest one, wearing a white T-shirt and a
frayed flannel with rolled up sleeves, has his dark hair pulled
into a ponytail. He glances over his shoulder at our table and
laughs, elbowing one of the guys next to him. From here, I can see
a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket and an elaborate
tattoo—something with snakes—covering his forearm.

Classy.

“Are you guys ready to take off?” Marcus
mutters.

We file out the back door to avoid the
charming specimens of humanity up front. Outside, I look up. No
rain. There are even stars and a crescent moon visible. We head
across the courtyard to the ice cream shop. It’s freezing cold, but
the guys still order a disgustingly large sundae—which they manage
to finish. When we pile back into Ashley’s behemoth vehicle, I try
to ignore the fact that I’m seated alone in my own row.

After we’ve been wandering up and down a
winding road for at least a half hour, it becomes clear that nobody
knows the exact location of the party. Lindsay keeps leaning into
the front seat and redirecting Ashley until finally we turn off
onto a poorly lighted road with long driveways. When the number of
parked cars begins to increase, Josh gets out to help Ashley
navigate into a space. Then we scramble out and begin walking up
the hill. After several minutes, we turn onto a driveway that winds
further up the hill, and a large house comes into view. The
detailing is ornate, but the house looks more like new construction
meant to look old. All the lights are on.

At the front door, I feel a stab of fear,
which turns out to be justified. The interior of the house is
packed, but the only person I recognize outside of our small group
is Emily Michaels. She’s wearing a tight, bright blue dress and a
pair of heels that I would easily kill myself in.

She’s also hanging all over some guy, and it
isn’t Jeff Summers.

It feels like I’m watching the scene in front
of me on a movie screen, probably because that’s most often where
I’ve seen it. The people around us
look
like they’re having
fun, but I can’t get anything coherent from anyone’s mind.

Josh says something to Taylor before he,
Marcus, and Zach disappear into the crowd. Squeezing into a
relatively empty corner with the others, I try to avoid getting
bumped into. Pointing into the crowd, Lindsay shouts something to
Ashley. I can’t hear anything they’re saying, and even though I may
not be alone, it’s starting to feel like it. After a few minutes
Josh and Marcus reappear carrying two cups apiece. Marcus offers
one to Ashley. To my relief, she shakes her head and jangles her
car keys at him. He rolls his eyes.

“It’s just soda!” he yells over the
music.

Josh hands one to Taylor, and Marcus hands
the spare drink to Zach. Josh turns and gestures to see if I want
him to go back to get me one, but I shake my head. Someone taps my
shoulder, and I turn, expecting the worst. Then I relax. It’s
Taylor. She smiles. We haven’t talked much, and I realize she’s
probably even shier than I am.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to, um, thank
you.”

“For what?” I shout.

She leans in closer.

“For whatever you said to Josh.”

“No problem.”

I smile guiltily. After all, it wasn’t pure
altruism on my part that made me give Josh a smack upside the
head.

“You’re really not going to the dance with
us?” she asks.

She sounds genuinely disappointed. I shake my
head as Josh joins us. His face is ruddier than usual, and I wonder
if his cup contained soda, or something else. When he throws a
casual arm around each of our shoulders, I pull away. He doesn’t
seem to notice.

“You guys want to go out back for a while?
There’s a pool. It’s awesome,” he says.

As we start making our way to the back of the
house, we pass through an enormous kitchen and then another large
room with a pool table—which is covered with bottles and plastic
cups—and a huge flat screen.

“Whose house is this?” I yell to Ashley.

She shrugs.

“Sometimes they keep these big houses
furnished while they’re on sale. Somebody might have gotten the
realtor key or something.”

I swallow.

“Um, won’t the cops show up?”

She shrugs again. Great. We walk through some
French doors, and I see a sparkling pool illuminated by blue
underwater lights, just like Josh said. The air outside is
refreshing, but cold. My skin cools quickly, and the chill makes me
regret leaving my jacket in Ashley’s car. I walk to the edge of the
pool and lean over, skimming my fingers over the water’s surface.
It’s warm, and a swim suddenly sounds really good when I turn and
see the others settle onto various pieces of high-end outdoor
furniture. I watch as Marcus puts his jacket over Ashley’s
shoulders. Three couples and me looking up at the starry night sky?
Nope. I just can’t do it. When I reach them, I lean over to where
Lindsay is sitting and whisper in her ear.

“I’m going to find a bathroom.”

…
to lock myself in
, I don’t add.

“You want me to come with?” she asks.

I shake my head.

“Keep Zach warm.”

When I wink, she grins.

“Not a problem.”

“I’ll find you guys in a bit.”

Leaving my friends, I squeeze my way back
into the house. The volume of the music has increased, and my
progress toward the front of the house is slow. There’s a telltale
line at the bathroom on the first floor, so I decide to try my luck
upstairs. The glossy hardwood floors of the downstairs give way to
cream-colored carpeting when I reach the stairs. Gripping the
banister for support, I pivot sideways and squeeze my way to the
second-floor landing. Pinned by the crush of bodies, I push off the
railing and come face to face with the last person I wanted to run
into—well, almost. Swaying, Jeff Summers blocks my escape. He looks
down at me, his blue-gray eyes flickering with recognition.

“Exorcist girl.”

He leans forward, forcing me to back up as I
try to avoid full body contact. Someone jostles me from behind,
pushing us closer. His breath is hot and laced with whatever he’s
been drinking.

“I was hoping I’d run into you.” I can tell
by the look on his face that any girl here would have done quite
nicely. He smiles in what he probably thinks is a charming way.
“Hey, you wanna go somewhere?”

Desperate to escape, I look over my shoulder
and point downstairs.

“Isn’t that your girlfriend?”

When he cranes his neck, I make a break for
it. I don’t stop until I reach a doorway. Please, I beg silently,
let this be a bathroom. Opening the door, I slip inside and close
it behind me, feeling around for a light switch. As my eyes adjust,
I notice the room is already dimly lit. I cough at the smell of
pungent smoke. A voice behind me makes me jump before I can find
the dimmer switch.

“Well, look what just wandered in.”

A burst of harsh laughter sends a spike of
fear through me. I turn slowly, recognizing the room’s occupants
even in the low light. There are three of them: one on the floor,
another in a chair across the room, and the last perched on the
windowsill. It’s the guys from the restaurant.

From where I’m standing, I see a bathroom
through a doorway at the back of the room. With these guys outside,
it’s not quite the sanctuary I had been hoping for. In the
background, I recognize the song that’s playing, the singer
screaming,
Do you want to die?

“Sorry,” I mumble, reaching behind me for the
door handle.

“Wait, don’t go,” someone calls out.

There’s another round of laughter as I yank
on the door. It opens faster than I expected, and I stumble
directly into another body in my haste to escape. When I start to
push past the person, a hand pushes me back into the room.
Startled, I look up and see two more people in front of me.

“Look what we found,” one of the voices booms
from behind me.

I try to squeeze past the two men who just
came in, but one of them slams the door just as I grab for the
knob. My blood runs cold.

“I’ve seen you before, little girl.”

I look up. The person who just spoke has
familiar heavy-lidded, muddy brown eyes, and his mouth is pressed
into a self-satisfied smile. Breathing heavily, I look down at the
tattoo on his forearm. To most, he might look normal, maybe even
attractive, despite his scruffy appearance. To me, he just looks
like a monster after what I saw behind his eyes. My chest seizes,
and a surge of adrenaline causes my arms and legs to shake.

When he leans toward me, I shrink back. His
buddies chortle. My breath is coming in short, panicked bursts, and
my thoughts are growing more and more disjointed. I know I don’t
have time to think things through. I’m in trouble. Bad trouble.
Slowly, without breaking eye contact, I reach into my purse.

I only have three things in the tiny bag. I
wrap my hand around the pepper spray and shift the nozzle into the
unlocked position, aware that I only have one chance to get this
right. Jerking the tiny canister out of my purse, I straighten my
arm, aiming directly for the face in front of me, just the way my
mom showed me.

Then I press down.

“
You
—” he snarls.

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his
thought when I stomp on his foot with all my force. Turning, I jerk
the doorknob, terrified that a hand is about to clamp down on me
from behind. I scramble into the hallway and lurch toward the
stairs. There are faces everywhere, none of them familiar. I slam
into people, not caring when something cold splashes on my
jeans.

I don’t look behind me.

At the landing, I pitch forward and stumble
down the stairs, using the bodies around me to stay upright.
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, I don’t bother looking for my
friends. It won’t help me—or them. I just need to put distance
between this house and me as fast as possible. At the front door, I
risk a look up at the top of the stairs. My breath hitches in my
chest. The five from the bedroom are pushing through the crowd, the
one I pepper-sprayed in the lead. Our eyes lock for a single
instant. His face is red, and his eyes are watery and enraged.
Above the music and the party noise, I hear his voice in my head.
His thoughts are a string of profanities and threats.

Bolting out the front door, I jump onto the
wet pavement and sprint. The fog has rolled in, and I don’t know
where I’m going, but I keep running anyway. Even when my breathing
is jagged and my lungs are bursting, I don’t slow down. I run,
faster than I ever have, until I can’t any more. Doubling over, I
try to catch my breath. I don’t hear footsteps behind me. Looking
around, I try to figure out where I am.

Across the darkened road, all I can see is a
foggy expanse, but there’s no traffic coming, so I dart across the
asphalt. Glowing under the dim light of a streetlamp, a massive
evergreen looms over me, and I realize I’ve reached the other side.
There’s a wide, empty driveway and a sign for
Springview
Memorial Gardens
. I spin around when the sound of squealing
tires on pavement erupts from across the street. The engine revs,
and I know it’s not someone out for a casual drive. I dive behind
the giant evergreen and crouch down, watching as the car slows at
the intersection. Slowly, I begin to inch away from the tree. Then
I jump up and sprint into the blackness of the cemetery as
headlights sweep over me. My footsteps squish on wet grass, and
several yards behind me I hear a car door slam.