I stared at the tree as we drove by. It seemed like it should bear some mark of its significance — if not some otherworldly celestial glow or a giant flashing arrow over the top of it, maybe massive damage left from the crash — a sign that something tragic and important had occurred there.
But there was no glow or arrow, and if there was damage, I couldn't see it in the dark. It was just a big old tree. A flash of bark bleached white in the sweep of our headlights, and then it was gone, lost to the shadows as we made the curve Lily had missed.
“You okay?” Will asked. “You're quiet. It's kind of freaking me out.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, even though he probably couldn't see that in the dim light from the dashboard. I was too tired to make more of an effort. It felt like it was taking everything I had to keep myself together… literally. “Just thinking.”
“Why start now?”
I punched his shoulder lightly.
“It's going to be fine.” He held his hand out to me.
Sure, as long our two definitions of that word were not wildly different, which I wasn't so certain of at this moment.
But I took his hand anyway, lacing my fingers between his and enjoying the sensation of security and warmth while it lasted, however long that would be.
The closer we got to Ben's house, the number of cars parked on both sides of the street, in shitty attempts at parallel parking, increased, and I could hear the distant thump of music even over the sound of the engine.
Despite everything, and I do mean everything, some part of me reacted to the familiar stimuli, and my heartbeat kicked up a notch in anxiety and anticipation. Like this was somehow permanently encoded as part of my identity. And maybe that wasn't far from the truth. Ben's parties had been as much of my school life as cheerleading or classes. I'd been going since seventh grade, though those early parties were more “seven minutes in heaven” and spiked Sprite than sexual misconduct and full-on keggers.
I'd looked forward to them with equal parts eagerness and dread. I mean, hey, who doesn't love a party? Except it was another couple of hours to be on my guard, another chance for my carefully constructed sham of a life to tumble down around me if I said or did the wrong thing, showed weakness, spoke to someone I should have ignored, or drank too much or too little.
Point of fact, I didn't drink at all. Which only added another layer of complication, actually, seeing as that was not the norm. It was another thing that had to be, if not covered up, at least not openly acknowledged so as to avoid questions. It occurred to me now, thinking about all of this, how very little of my life had been real.
It had, however, been exhausting.
And yet I remembered laughing with Misty in the kitchen at finding a chip shaped like a more-than-generous representation of the male anatomy — a silly, stupid moment, but fun — and the brief feeling of safety that came from being surrounded by my friends and followers, people I thought cared about me.
Well, I'd learned better since then, but that hadn't made the memories go away — just tainted them with a longing and nostalgia for a time that hadn't really existed.
“You're going to have to turn around to find a place to park,” I said. “It's full this close to the house, and nobody's leaving yet.”
“The driveway's empty,” he pointed out, cocking his head toward the sweeping brick driveway. The drive was large enough for three cars across and probably four rows deep, and it had a huge circular turnaround at the far end. Ben's dad was a car dealer; what can I say?
“Yeah, Ben's rules. Something about making it less obvious where the party is being held or something.” Like his neighbors weren't all too aware of that already. I suspected his dad must have bribed them. How much would it have cost for a dealer to give away a car or two, anyway?
Will's lip curled, and he cranked the wheel hard to the right, sending the car into the driveway. Then he pulled all the way up to the four-car garage and a ridiculous stone fountain they had in the center of the turnaround.
“Yeah, that's good,” I said. “Subtle.”
He gave a sulky shrug. Will did not like Ben. I didn't blame him, but now was not the time.
“Can you just be less of a guy right now and focus?” I let go of his hand — making myself do so swiftly and without the reluctance I felt — and reached for the door. Everyone was already at the back of the house; nobody to freak out over a door opening by itself.
Will caught my arm. “Wait, where are you going?”
“Duh. Someone has to make sure Erin's actually here before we go charging in.”
“But if she sees you—”
I raised my eyebrows. “As opposed to the dozens or more who will definitely see you?”
Will released my arm with a sigh and slumped back in his seat. “Just… be careful.”
