Grit

Things heat up between Cal and Abra, and by the time they’re sitting at the top of the Ferris wheel together, we’re all holding our breath. Cal leans in for the kiss.

“Hey,” a lazy voice says right in my ear, and I jump.

A flashlight clicks on and off under a thin face. Kat Levesque leans into the car. “S’up, girly. I been looking for you.”

“Shhh,” Nell says. Mags doesn’t say anything, because she hates Kat and likes to pretend that she doesn’t exist.

I angle toward the window. “What’s going on?”

“Not much. Got some Captain’s, some joysticks, back of my truck. Wanna come?”

“Shhh!”

“All right. Jesus.” I push the door open, and Nell reaches for me.

“No, don’t. Stay with us.”

“Yeah.” Mags means it. “Stay here.”

I wave them off. “Be right back.” Maybe. Anything can happen with Kat.

“Early start tomorrow,” Mags calls as I follow Kat into the dark, and I raise a hand even though she can’t see me.

Kat’s little white pickup is parked way back by the trees, where you can do anything and not get busted. The smell of weed is a sticky-sweet cloud as we climb into the truck bed. In the backlight from the screen, I can see only shadows and cigarette cherries floating in air. I jostle somebody and laugh. “Who’s that?”

“Guess.” He tickles me and I shriek, falling into his lap. Kat’s twin brother Kenyon is the only person who tickles me every time I see him, and I recognize his Old Spice body spray, so I snuggle in and take the plastic cup Kat hands me. It’s not Captain Morgan’s and Coke. It’s Blue Raspberry Pucker, and I almost gag.

“Want me to pour it out?” There’s a smile in Kat’s voice. I knock it back and toss the cup in her direction. She cackles. “That’s my girl.”

“How do you drink that crap?”

“As fast as possible.” Kat burps.

“Sexy,” Kenyon says.

She’s back on her feet. “I want nachos. Darcy, come on.”

As I stand up, the car next to us starts its engine, and the headlights fall on a girl sitting on the wheel well across from me, a drink in her hand. For a second, I swear it’s Rhiannon Foss. In the time it takes for a cold shock to run through my body, I see it’s just that sophomore, Sophia-something, who has shoulder-length red hair like Rhiannon did. Other than that, she doesn’t look anything like her. A year ago, it would’ve been Rhiannon sitting there; she and Kat hung out sometimes, and this is the kind of place I’d run into her. Then we’d ignore each other.

I slide off the open tailgate and follow Kat, but somebody claps their hand over my mouth, grabs me around the waist, and slings me in a circle so hard that I scream for real this time, almost losing one of my flip-flops.

Everybody’s laughing. Kat’s flashlight beam lands on us. Shea’s holding me, and I see other boys sitting in the grass with their backs against the truck, sharing a joint.

I drive my elbow into Shea’s ribs. “Stop it!” He lets me twist for a second just to prove I can’t hurt him, then lets go. I turn, take two steps, and shove him as hard as I can. “Real funny, asshole.”

His eyes are lionlike and intense in the half-light. “What? Too rough for you, Darce?”

The way the other guys laugh, I can guess what he’s told them. I turn my back and walk away, wiping furiously at my mouth, not stopping until I reach the snack shack take-out window, where I realize I’m shaking all over. Kat comes up behind me, and I turn on her. “Why didn’t you tell me he was over there?”

Kat blinks, her big brown eyes heavy-lidded and smudged with kohl liner, her dyed-black hair chopped in super-short bangs. She’s stoned pretty much all the time, but there’s no way she forgot what happened on the Fourth between me and Shea. She was there that night; she saw how drunk I was. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Well, it is! He hates my guts now.” Something clicks. “Did he send you over to get me?”

“No. Swear to God.” She catches my arm when I turn away. “I didn’t know he was gonna do that, honest. Look, you can have my nachos, okay? I don’t even want them, I was just bored. Stay.”

I stand with my arms crossed while she orders, and then we sit together in the grass, looking up at the screen. I’ve missed a lot of East of Eden; Aron’s leaving town on a train, and things seem pretty grim. Nell will tell me the whole plot tomorrow anyway, scene by scene, whether I want to listen or not. My heartbeat’s back to normal, and I dig a huge glob of melty cheese out of the dish. “I wouldn’t have freaked out so bad if I hadn’t been thinking about Rhiannon’s spooky missing ass. Shea scared the crap out of me.”

“He’s a tool.” Kat nudges me with something. I reach down and it’s her flask, the one with the Misfits logo on it. I laugh and take a sip. Captain’s. “Wanna get out of here? Some people partying at the quarry tonight. Could be fun. No d-bags allowed. Promise.”

I don’t even think about it. “Cool.”

There’s a high-pitched whizzing sound, and sparks explode off to our left where the migrant families are parked. Firecrackers. There’s yelling and confusion, and shadows pelt past us, whooping and beating it out of there before the usher shows.

When the firecrackers are spent, there’s smoke in the air and the sound of more than one little kid crying. A lady gets out of one of the vans and rocks from side to side, bouncing on the balls of her feet. It takes me a second to realize she’s soothing a tiny baby, whose cry is so small it sounds like the creak of a gate in need of oil.





SIX


“DARCY PRENTISS.” MOM’S talking from someplace far away. I roll over. Sleep’s better. She jerks the bedsheet back. “Get up.”

Through the fog of whatever I drank last night, I see her standing over me, looking about thirty feet tall. A rectangle of morning sunlight stretches across my ceiling, tossing rainbows through the crack in the windowpane. I sit up—the piano that lands on my head makes me wish I hadn’t—and see that my alarm clock reads 7:15. Oh, crap.

“The girls left.” Mom’s dressed for work, a seersucker blouse and jeans she’ll wear under her clean-suit cover-up and hairnet. She doesn’t have many wrinkles for a mom, but when she frowns like that, the lines between her eyebrows turn into a deep V and she reminds me of Gramma Nan when one of the pigs gets out and trucks off to visit the neighbors. Mom turns and leaves, kicking my dirty clothes from yesterday out of her way. “Go shower. You smell like booze.”

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