Sweet Evil
Page 12
“That looks fun,” I said to Jay as we watched from the doorway.
“It’s a drinking game,” he explained. “Flip Cup. You gotta drink whatever’s in the cup before you can flip it. No fair being sober.”
“Oh.”
We moved to the gigantic kitchen, where the soaring vaulted ceiling loomed high over stainless-steel appliances and terra-cotta tiling. The entirety of the massive granite kitchen island was covered in bright-colored plastic cups, juices, sodas, beer cans, and bottles of alcohol. My stomach tightened. His parents were allowing blatant underage drinking?
A group of people stood in front of a huge window overlooking the water. Gene turned from the group and came over.
“Whatcha drinkin’?” He hitched a thumb toward the island.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said. I sensed Jay’s hesitation. Be strong—you don’t need it, I silently urged him. He made eye contact with me and sighed before answering.
“Nah, nothing right now, man.”
“You sure?” Gene eyeballed us in disbelief. “My sister just turned twenty-one, so we all put in money and told her to buy out the store and keep the change.”
“Where are your parents?” I asked, glancing around.
“Bahamas.”
“Bahamas?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice.
“Yeah—that was my sister’s cell your mom called. She can pull off the parental voice dead on. I can’t believe y’all aren’t drinkin’. Better get it before it runs out.” The doorbell rang and he darted away, sliding on socked feet into the hall now swarming with people. I was dumbfounded.
“Patti thinks his parents are here,” I muttered. Jay scratched around the stubble of hair on his head.
“Er, she does? Do you wanna leave? Is that what you’re sayin’?” he asked with reluctance.
I didn’t answer him. I didn’t want to leave, but at the same time I felt guilty staying.
“Let’s give it one hour,” I compromised. “Is that okay?”
“Deal. One hour.” Jay was still running his hands over his head. Then he rubbed his hands together, a nervous gray streak cutting into his yellow aura.
“I could have just one drink,” he said, sounding hopeful. “You can drive us home now.”
“You,” I said, poking a playful finger to his chest, “are the life of the party. Other people have to drink to be how you are when you’re completely sober.”
He pinched his chin hair, thinking.
“I don’t know what it is about you, Whitt, but I can’t seem to deny you anything, no matter how bad I want it. It’s really annoying.”
I smiled, because I could see he was feeling a pale yellow contentment without a trace of annoyance.
Behind Jay, Kaylah’s bone-straight blond hair and chic wire-rimmed glasses came into sight. She was on the dance team, and had an hourglass figure.
“I spy your crush,” I whispered.
“Sweeeet,” he whispered back.
“Go ahead and talk to her. I’m going out to see the view.” I gave his big ole bicep a squeeze and made my way to the back door. I knew the moment Jay caught up to Kaylah, because her whole gaggle of girlfriends broke out into squeals at his loud greeting.
Nobody else was out on the deck. I walked to the edge and put my hands on the wooden rail. It was dark now. Crickets and frogs seemed to be competing for who could be noisiest. Lightning bugs flashed from every direction. There was a dimly lit walkway of stones that led down to a dock and boathouse. Distant voices and moving shadows told me there were partyers down there as well. The water glistened in the moonlight. Warm air sat heavily on my skin, but I was comfortable.
The door opened behind me, and a muddle of music and voices spilled out before it closed again.
“There you are.”
I turned to the voice.
“Hey, Scott,” I said. And hello, butterflies.
Ever since he’d invited me to the party he’d been on my mind. He came up and stood next to me with a red cup. It smelled doughy and sour.
“Beer,” he said. “Want a sip?”
“No, thanks.” I felt shy. He tipped his head back and drained it in several gulps, then turned to the side and burped. Nice.
“Excuse me,” he said, setting down his cup on the ledge. “So. What are you doin’ out here by yourself?”
“Just taking it all in. It’s beautiful.”
“Yep,” he said. “Your hair looks pretty.”
“Thank you.” I had a strip on top pulled back with bobby pins, and the rest hung down my back.
“Remember Mr. Bunker’s astrology lessons last year in Earth Science?” I asked, looking up at the sparkling sky, fascinated by the magnitude of creation.
“Uhh, no.” Scott guffawed.
“Okay, look right there.” I pointed. “It’s the Big Dipper. That square box part right there is the ladle, and then those stars are the handle. See it?” Scott sidled closer as I traced the shape with an outstretched finger.
“Where? Oh, hey! I see it! Cool.”
We got quiet and I realized this was a very romantic setting, if only I weren’t so fidgety and unable to look in his direction.
“We should go inside,” he said. “Have you seen the basement?” I shook my head. “It’s awesome. I’ll get you a drink and then we can check it out.”
“It’s a drinking game,” he explained. “Flip Cup. You gotta drink whatever’s in the cup before you can flip it. No fair being sober.”
“Oh.”
We moved to the gigantic kitchen, where the soaring vaulted ceiling loomed high over stainless-steel appliances and terra-cotta tiling. The entirety of the massive granite kitchen island was covered in bright-colored plastic cups, juices, sodas, beer cans, and bottles of alcohol. My stomach tightened. His parents were allowing blatant underage drinking?
A group of people stood in front of a huge window overlooking the water. Gene turned from the group and came over.
“Whatcha drinkin’?” He hitched a thumb toward the island.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said. I sensed Jay’s hesitation. Be strong—you don’t need it, I silently urged him. He made eye contact with me and sighed before answering.
“Nah, nothing right now, man.”
“You sure?” Gene eyeballed us in disbelief. “My sister just turned twenty-one, so we all put in money and told her to buy out the store and keep the change.”
“Where are your parents?” I asked, glancing around.
“Bahamas.”
“Bahamas?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice.
“Yeah—that was my sister’s cell your mom called. She can pull off the parental voice dead on. I can’t believe y’all aren’t drinkin’. Better get it before it runs out.” The doorbell rang and he darted away, sliding on socked feet into the hall now swarming with people. I was dumbfounded.
“Patti thinks his parents are here,” I muttered. Jay scratched around the stubble of hair on his head.
“Er, she does? Do you wanna leave? Is that what you’re sayin’?” he asked with reluctance.
I didn’t answer him. I didn’t want to leave, but at the same time I felt guilty staying.
“Let’s give it one hour,” I compromised. “Is that okay?”
“Deal. One hour.” Jay was still running his hands over his head. Then he rubbed his hands together, a nervous gray streak cutting into his yellow aura.
“I could have just one drink,” he said, sounding hopeful. “You can drive us home now.”
“You,” I said, poking a playful finger to his chest, “are the life of the party. Other people have to drink to be how you are when you’re completely sober.”
He pinched his chin hair, thinking.
“I don’t know what it is about you, Whitt, but I can’t seem to deny you anything, no matter how bad I want it. It’s really annoying.”
I smiled, because I could see he was feeling a pale yellow contentment without a trace of annoyance.
Behind Jay, Kaylah’s bone-straight blond hair and chic wire-rimmed glasses came into sight. She was on the dance team, and had an hourglass figure.
“I spy your crush,” I whispered.
“Sweeeet,” he whispered back.
“Go ahead and talk to her. I’m going out to see the view.” I gave his big ole bicep a squeeze and made my way to the back door. I knew the moment Jay caught up to Kaylah, because her whole gaggle of girlfriends broke out into squeals at his loud greeting.
Nobody else was out on the deck. I walked to the edge and put my hands on the wooden rail. It was dark now. Crickets and frogs seemed to be competing for who could be noisiest. Lightning bugs flashed from every direction. There was a dimly lit walkway of stones that led down to a dock and boathouse. Distant voices and moving shadows told me there were partyers down there as well. The water glistened in the moonlight. Warm air sat heavily on my skin, but I was comfortable.
The door opened behind me, and a muddle of music and voices spilled out before it closed again.
“There you are.”
I turned to the voice.
“Hey, Scott,” I said. And hello, butterflies.
Ever since he’d invited me to the party he’d been on my mind. He came up and stood next to me with a red cup. It smelled doughy and sour.
“Beer,” he said. “Want a sip?”
“No, thanks.” I felt shy. He tipped his head back and drained it in several gulps, then turned to the side and burped. Nice.
“Excuse me,” he said, setting down his cup on the ledge. “So. What are you doin’ out here by yourself?”
“Just taking it all in. It’s beautiful.”
“Yep,” he said. “Your hair looks pretty.”
“Thank you.” I had a strip on top pulled back with bobby pins, and the rest hung down my back.
“Remember Mr. Bunker’s astrology lessons last year in Earth Science?” I asked, looking up at the sparkling sky, fascinated by the magnitude of creation.
“Uhh, no.” Scott guffawed.
“Okay, look right there.” I pointed. “It’s the Big Dipper. That square box part right there is the ladle, and then those stars are the handle. See it?” Scott sidled closer as I traced the shape with an outstretched finger.
“Where? Oh, hey! I see it! Cool.”
We got quiet and I realized this was a very romantic setting, if only I weren’t so fidgety and unable to look in his direction.
“We should go inside,” he said. “Have you seen the basement?” I shook my head. “It’s awesome. I’ll get you a drink and then we can check it out.”
