We step through the large sliding doors. That’s when I notice it’s a little bigger than I first thought. Dilapidated stalls take up the entire right side. Twinkle lights strung between posts let off a faint glow—presumably battery-operated since there definitely isn’t any electricity. And blanket-covered bales of hay are scattered around the perimeter for people to sit on.
Despite the fact that it’s in a barn, it’s just a typical party. People stand in clusters with red Solo cups in their hands, talking or laughing—those who have had too much to drink can be heard over the hum of voices. Couples, who think no one can see them, make out in dark corners. And there’s always that group of girls who really want to dance, even if they’re the only ones, standing on top of hay bales, shaking their asses.
“Keg’s over here.” Ashton nudges my shoulder.
“It smells weird in here,” I tell her as we cross the dirt floor scattered with hay.
“What do you expect? It’s a barn.”
There’s a line of people with empty cups spilling out of a stall next to a back entrance.
When we reach the front, Ashton pulls out a twenty and hands it to the guy manning the keg. “Two.”
“Didn’t know we needed money for beer,” I tell her. “I’ll pay you back when we get to school.”
“Don’t worry about it. I asked you to come. I’ll pay for your beer.”
“Thanks.” I hesitate a second before taking the cup.
“Grant’s not here,” Ashton assures me, picking up on my reluctance to accept the beer. “He never comes to these things. It’s mostly local PG kids rebelling.”
“It’s not that. I mean, it is, but it’s also, I wanted to see if I could. Be sober … for me.” I pause to take a sip from the cup and fight the cringe my body wants to make. “Besides, I hate beer.”
Ashton laughs. “Keep drinking. Eventually, you won’t care.”
I fight down a couple more gulps. This beer is different from the watery cans I’m used to drinking. It tastes like the hay smells. Gross. I’m tempted to abandon it but decide that I’ll just hold it and pretend. Sobriety may be better than forcing it down.
“Hey, Ashton,” a guy greets her with a tip of his cowboy hat. “I was hoping I’d see you again.” He’s cute, in a wholesome, boy-next-door kind of way.
“Sawyer!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. He hugs her back. When she lets him go, they keep an arm wrapped around each other. I eye their semi-embrace curiously. “Lana, this is Sawyer. He’s from Austin. He’s been taking summer classes at Printz-Lee, trying it out. I’ve been persuading him to turn to the dark side, so he can attend Blackwood. But he’s way too sweet for our element.”
“I still have no idea what that means,” he tells her before redirecting his gaze to me. “Nice to meet you. Are you as rebellious as this one?”
I laugh. How do I begin to answer that? “And you’re not?”
He smiles innocently.
“Or you’re full of shit,” I counter.
Ashton laughs. “Oh, he’s so full of shit. But he isn’t nearly as scandalous as we are.”
“I’m offended,” he replies with an opened-mouth chuckle that makes him appear like he’s smiling. It’s hard not to smile back at the lightheartedness of it.
“Let’s get you a drink,” Ashton announces, pulling Sawyer by the hand. “By the time we get to the front of the line, I’ll need a refill too.”
I look down at my drink, which has hardly been touched, and then at Ashton’s nearly empty beer. When did that happen?
“I’m going to stay here,” I tell them, not wanting to fight through the crowd for a beer I won’t drink.
When they disappear, I dump my cup in a corner. I stay in the corner, which is kind of my thing at parties, and watch. This party lacks the swagger of Sherling, the pretentiousness of Oaklawn, and the intensity of The Point. It’s actually kind of … messy. Guys stumbling, arms thrown over shoulders to keep upright. Girls giggling in groups, darting eyes at the dumb boys. Now I get the PG label. I know I’m their age, but I feel like I’m watching children trying to be cool and failing miserably.
“Hey, what the fuck?” a guy hollers on the other side of the barn.
I tilt my head to get a better view of the fight that’s about to break out. But only catch a glimpse of a black leather jacket. Why the hell would someone wear a leather jacket in here? It’s hotter than hell. He’d have to be a complete asshat.
Wait. I take a step closer, searching. But I lose sight of him as he disappears through the crowd.
“Lana, where’s your beer?” Ashton asks, appearing in front of me.
“It’s empty,” I tell her, which isn’t a lie.
“Here.” Sawyer offers me one of his two cups. “Have one of mine.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Ashton!” a voice screams excitedly across the crowd.
“Courtney!” Ashton yells back, pulling me by my arm toward a petite brunette waving at us in a torn jean skirt.
The girl is sitting on a haystack among a circle of other haystacks, most occupied.
Ashton hugs the girl. “Hey! What are you guys doing?”
“Playing Never Have I Ever,” the girl announces with a wicked grin. “Sit. You have to join us.”
Ashton laughs and then looks to me. “Um, everyone, this is Lana.”
The group of four girls and three guys wave and say hi in response, not bothering to introduce themselves—which is good because I’d never remember their names.
Ashton settles down on one of the vacant bales of hay. She pats the spot next to her on the blanket. “C’mon.”
I eye Sawyer. “You playing?”
He tips his hat as if bowing out. “Uh, I like my scandalous-free reputation, thank you very much.”
“You could lie,” I offer.
He laughs. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I’d rather keep my secrets secret. But you go ahead,” he encourages me with a teasing grin. Sawyer remains leaning against a post, far enough away not to participate, but close enough to listen.
I dump half the beer into the dirt behind the hay bale, hoping no one notices.
“Have you ever played?” Ashton asks when I reluctantly sit next to her on the blanket, crossing my legs beneath me.
I shake my head.
“But you know how?”
“I think so,” I tell her. “Someone says, ‘Never have I ever,’ and finishes with something stupid to make everyone drink.”
“Basically.” Ashton beams. “I’m going to need another beer.”
“Here, have some of mine,” Courtney offers, tipping one of her two cups into Ashton’s ’til it’s full again.
I know Ashton’s mission is to forget Brendan tonight, but wow, she’s drinking fast.
“Maybe I should sit this out,” I say, shuddering as I sip the beer.
“Lana, don’t,” Ashton pleads, grabbing my arm desperately. “Just play for a little while.” She checks out my half cup of beer, not questioning where the rest of it went. “At least until your beer is gone.”
“Won’t take long,” I mumble. The anticipation of being honest in front of a group of strangers makes sweat prickle along my neck.
“I’ll start,” Courtney announces. She scans the small group with a devilish smirk. “Never have I ever … walked in on my parents having sex.”
“You’re seriously starting with that?” a girl remarks. “Ew.”
But then she drinks, as do a couple others, including Ashton. I cringe for all of them. Maybe I won’t be drinking much. They probably wouldn’t even consider half the things I’ve done.
The guy to her right goes next. “Never have I ever kissed more than one person in a single night.”
Well … there goes that theory. I take a sip, as does Ashton. No one else does. But they all gawk at us with brows raised. Hello, judgment. Maybe I should take bigger sips to get this torture over with.
“Never have I ever double-dipped.”
“Do you mean food or girls?”
All of the girls pull a disgusted face at the guy who asked that.
“I don’t even want to know how that can apply to a girl,” Ashton says. “However you mean it, you’re repulsive.” Then she addresses the girl who said it, “And that was lame.”
“Sorry,” she says, her face reddening. “I wanted everyone to have a chance to drink. We’re not all …”
She doesn’t finish the sentence, but the implication is obvious. They aren’t all like me and Ashton. And she’s right because almost everyone drinks to her pathetic never.
“Never have I ever stolen anything.”
A few drink. I don’t.
Ashton does and looks at me curiously. “What about the cars?”
Someone chokes on their beer.
“Not me. I was just a passenger. And sometimes driver. But never the thief.”
Ashton laughs. Everyone else stares. I hear Sawyer try to conceal a chuckle behind me.
“Never have I ever skinny-dipped.”
Nearly everyone drinks to that. At least they’re not all as pathetic as I initially feared. They’ve done something I haven’t.
From here, the nevers get more and more outrageous, pushing the boundaries of oversharing. Ashton drinks more than she doesn’t, as do I—thankfully finishing my cup before I self-incriminate too horrendously.
“I’m out,” I announce, scooting off the hay.
“Get me another beer?” Ashton asks, shaking her empty cup.
“You sure you still want to play?” I ask.
Sawyer traded her empty for a full cup once already. Her sips are gulps. I know what she’s doing, and I understand. But I also don’t want to drag her back to Blackwood just to get caught … or lost.
I slide my hand into my back pocket as I walk away, pulling out Joey’s phone. I turn it on, making sure it’s charged. The signal’s weak out here, but at least the battery has all its bars. Maybe the Maps app will work the closer we get to Blackwood. I hope.
Sawyer joins me at the keg. “Carjacking. Suspended. Broke someone’s nose. Should I be afraid of you?”
I smirk. “Yes.”
“Noted.”
By the time we fill the cups, I need to go to the bathroom … which makes me aware that there probably isn’t one. Squatting it is.
“Do you mind giving this to Ashton?” I ask Sawyer, handing him the beer.
“Sure.” He takes the cup from me and shuffles back through the crowd toward the game.
The designated squatting area is obvious as soon as I spot girls popping up from behind a large boulder to button their pants. After almost falling on my bare ass, trying to avoid peeing on my ankles, I return to the barn, feeling dirtier than when I did fall on my ass earlier.
I stand beside the post Sawyer is leaning against.
“She still playing?” I ask him, unable to hear what they’re saying now that everyone in the barn is shouting to be heard over the music and each other. I never realized that drunk people talk so loud. Maybe because I’ve never been sober at a party before. Not sure I like it.
“Not drinking?” Sawyer asks, eyeing my empty hands.
“I’m trying out sobriety.”
“And what do you think?”
“It kind of sucks, actually,” I admit. “But it has its rewards. Sadly, he’s not here.”
Sawyer raises his brows in understanding. “A guy?”
I unleash that dumb, starry-eyed smile.
“You like him,” Sawyer concludes. “A lot.”
I nod, still grinning like a fool.
“Sucks for me,” he says, surprising me since I thought he was into Ashton.
“He goes to Printz-Lee too. Have you decided if you’ll enroll?”
“I don’t know. It has a good reputation, but it’s pretty remote. My parents would love for me to attend just for that reason. But I need some sort of nightlife.”
“Clubs?”
“Music. Austin has a great music scene. Doubt that’s the case here.”
I laugh. “Not much of any scene around here, except for trees and the lake. Oh, but there’s plenty of drugs and drama if you’re into that.”
Sawyer shakes his head. “Whiskey is the hardest drug I’ve ever taken. And I don’t think the decision will be mine in the end anyway. My parents want me to feel like I have a say. But I’ll be enrolled here if that’s what they really want.”
“It’s not the worst place in the world,” I tease. And the truth of my words hits me as soon as I say them. I’ve held on to the bitterness of being sent here against my will since I arrived. But honestly, other than the psycho, currently being confined to my room and, well … Brendan, Blackwood really isn’t that bad.
I look in Ashton’s direction as affirmation, but she’s no longer seated on the hay bale with the others.
“Where’s Ashton?” I ask Sawyer, spinning toward the keg line in search of her.
Sawyer scans the crowd, having the height advantage. “I don’t know.”
I catch a wisp of red fabric floating out the back door.
“There,” I say, pointing after her just as she disappears. “Ashton!” I yell, my voice instantly swallowed up by the drunk bellows.
I push through the bodies, Sawyer a step behind me. I reach the corner of the barn and stop, searching again. Maybe she had to go to the bathroom. She’s had way more to drink than I have. That’s when I catch sight of the red fabric billowing between trees.
“Ashton!” I yell, cupping my mouth to project my voice.
She’s not alone. There’s someone next to her. My heart skips a beat when I see a flash of a leather jacket. His hand is gripping her bicep, forcing her deeper into the woods.
He turns his head, as if he knows I’m watching. I inhale quickly.
Vic.
“Ashton!” I scream and begin running after them.
Except Sawyer is no longer with me. I glance back and find him leaning against the side of the barn with his hands on his knees. I stumble in my steps at the sight of him. He wipes his face with a hand, like he’s trying to clear it.
“Sawyer?”
He looks up. His eyes are out of focus. His head lolls on his neck like it’s too heavy to lift. He can barely stand.
“Stay here. I’ll be back,” I tell him before taking off after Vic and Ashton. But they’re gone.
Panicked, I rush in the direction I last saw them. My feet stumble over roots jutting out of the ground, unable to find my footing. My legs aren’t cooperating, feeling even clumsier than when we walked out here.
I pull out Joey’s phone. My heart is beating so fast, my hand is shaking. I keep searching for a hint of red in the dark, but I feel like I’m going in circles.
“Lana?” Joey answers. “Everything okay?”
“Vic is here.”
“Where?”
“At the barn. He has Ashton.”
“What? Why does he have Ashton?”
“I don’t know. He drugged us.”
“Where are you right now?”
“In the woods … looking for them.”
“Go back to the barn.” It’s not Joey on the line anymore. It’s Brendan.
“I have to find her.”
“I’ll find her. Lana, go back to where there are people.”
“I can’t. He has her. I promised …” A sob cuts off my words. I place a hand on the rough skin of a tree, a wave of dizziness overtaking me.
“Go back to the barn,” Brendan demands sternly.
I hang up and press the flashlight feature to illuminate the rocks and roots that are determined to bring me to my knees. Branches scrape against my jeans, and I push others out of my way as I continue my frantic search.
A branch snaps behind me. I whirl around and catch sight of a shadowy figure and a flash of red. For the first time in my life, I want to run. But within a few strides, my boot catches on some malevolent root, and I
can’t correct my balance. I slam to the ground, my hands outstretched, scraping against the sharp edges of the forest floor. I struggle to my feet. Shadows distort what’s real, taunting me.
“Ashton!” I scream, moving as fast as my clumsy limbs allow. But the forest is alive, grabbing, clawing, rising up to intercept me with every step. My body trips and sways. My mind swirls with fear and ghastly images. It’s like I’m moving in slow motion.
I’ve lost her.
I spin around. Everywhere I look, it’s the same. Dark, looming trunks.
“Ashton!” I choke out, my scream garbled by sobs.
He can’t hurt her. He can’t. I promised that I’d protect her.
I falter. My legs are too heavy. The forest swims before my eyes, tipping on its side to send me back to the ground. I drop to a knee, my palm against the crumbling bark of a tree.
“It was supposed to be you.”
I stiffen at the low growl of a voice coming from the other side of the tree. Leaning against the trunk, I stagger to my feet in search of him.
“This is all because of you, Lana. All of it.”
It feels like I’m trying to walk on a trampoline. I crumple to my knees, and then everything starts spinning. I collapse onto my hands and vomit. I roll over to sit, my back pressed against the bumpy surface, and close my eyes, begging the earth to stop spinning so fast.
“Lana?”
A hand brushes against my shoulder. I jerk away. When I open my eyes, Joey is crouched in front of me.
“Hey, let’s get you out of here.”
It takes a few seconds before I can bring his face into focus. But once I realize he’s real, I lean into him and start sobbing. “I lost her.”
Joey lowers to his knees and wraps his arms around me, rubbing my back. “Brendan will find her. Don’t worry.”
“What if he hurts her?”
“We’ll find her,” he assures me again.
The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4: Now We Know/What They Knew Page 3