Jess took one step to the side so he could look me in the eye. “It’s pretty late. It’s got to be past curfew for some of you,” he said it generally, but he didn’t take his eyes off me.
“Right, Dad,” I said rolling my eyes at the rest of our table. “I’ll be home before morning.” A few awkward chuckles floated over the table.
“Don’t worry, Jess,” Trace offered. “I’ll take care of her.”
I smiled up at Jess—a fake smile—that I pretended to be real. I wanted him to think I was happy to be with Trace instead of him. I wanted him to think that I’d moved on, that our kiss and our breakup and everything in between were old news.
“Hey, Jess,” Kit cut in loudly. “I’m going to talk these people into going to Drake’s Peak. You guys should come along.”
Jess clinched his jaw at the invitation. “Drake’s Peak is dangerous in daylight. You’d be crazy to go there right now. Besides that place is crawling with cops.”
“Drake’s Peak, Kit?” Drew asked skeptically. “I hear its lame. It’s not really haunted, you know.”
Lauren looked around at everyone’s faces, stopping at Jess, “What’s Drake’s Peak?”
Bryce sat back, coolly thumbing at a loose piece of paint on the edge of the table. “It’s this house at the top of a peak between here and Highlands. It’s a huge abandoned mansion, and you’ll wet your pants it’s so freaky.”
“Why would we want to go there?” I asked skeptically.
Kit shot me a look that said, Duh! “For the thrill! To do something different and fun! To get out of this lame restaurant and create a night that we’ll actually remember!”
Drew folded her arms. “It sounds kind of lame.”
“I don’t know.” Bryce stretched his arm out behind Drew’s shoulders. “I’ve heard some pretty crazy stuff about that place. Nick Ison and some other guys from Highlands said they went up there with their dog and left it in the car while they were inside, and when they came out, the dog was dead.”
“Nick Ison told you that?” Jess said skeptically.
“Nick Ison is a loser,” Drew said.
“Who’s Nick Ison?” Lauren asked, and I was glad she did. I felt stupid being the only person at the table who didn’t know who they were talking about.
Jess answered, “He’s a sophomore at Highlands.” From his expression, it was clear that he didn’t like him.
“Well, I’m in,” Trace said into my ear, and I turned to look at his mischievous grin.
“Why don’t you come with us?” Lauren said with hopeful eyes to Jess.
“Nah,” he said. “I don’t think you guys should go either.” He looked right at me with pointed eyes.
“Well, I’m in,” I said, surprising myself for the second time that night, and even though I really didn’t think it was that great of an idea, the way Jess’s jaw clenched at my words made me decide that no matter how scary Drake’s Peak might be, it was going to be totally worth it.
The huge house—which was easily the size of three of mine—was pitch black and freezing cold, which gave Trace plenty of opportunities to have his arm wrapped tightly around me and grab hold of my hand when I tripped over inanimate objects. The house was definitely freaky and not a place I’d want to be stuck in alone, but in a group, it seemed more comical than anything else. Eventually, we came to a huge room with even huger windows and an old dusty piano covered in cobwebs. The room was full of old furniture that was covered in plastic and a fireplace with small objects lining the mantle that seemed to be left in the move. “Who lived here?” I asked, and my voice echoed against the high walls.
“Nobody knows,” Bryce whispered. “It was abandoned way before our parents were born.”
Drew picked up a tiny marble cat that sat on a side table. “Why did they leave all this stuff here?”
“They tried to clean this place up once about twenty years ago,” Bryce replied. “They were going to auction everything off, but when they started to put stuff in boxes, the whole house started to shake or something crazy like that, and the people that were in here were found unconscious and white as ghosts. No one has touched the stuff since.”
“Oh please.” Drew set the cat back down on the table. “You really believe that garbage?”
I’m not sure who sat down first, but before I knew it, we were all making ourselves comfortable on the cold, dirty plastic-covered furniture. Trace sat close to me and draped his arm tightly around my shoulders.
“Well, I’m not touching a thing,” Kit said. “I’m too young to die. I haven’t done everything on my list.”
“Your list?” Drew turned toward Kit with a newfound interest. “What list?”
“The list of things I want to do before I die.”
“You’ve actually made one?” Lauren said with a short laugh.
“Of course. I don’t want to die unprepared.”
“So what’s the first thing on your list?” Drew pressed.
“I’d tell you,” Kit said as he moved in closer to Lauren. “But then I’d have to kill you.”
“Get real.” Drew wrapped her arm through Bryce’s and held his hand. “Just tell us.”
“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious.” Kit smiled. “I want to do it.”
“Do it?” Lauren looked at Drew for an explanation, but the awkward silence and Drew’s obvious disgust made it clear what he was talking about.
“Gross,” I said, and everyone looked at me like I was an alien from outer space. I melted into the couch with embarrassment. What was I? Twelve?
“What’s gross about it?” Kit glared at me in the darkness. “It’s completely natural.”
For a moment, there was silence between us, and I wondered if everyone else was thinking as much about what Kit had just said as I was. That? Natural? Maybe for people who have a college degree or at least a drivers license! I wasn’t completely naïve. I knew there were kids my age—even younger—that were doing it. But I was still working on not freaking out over holding hands, let alone that! I looked at Drew and Lauren from the corner of my eye and wondered what they were thinking. As much time as we had spent together over the past couple months, that subject hadn’t come close to gracing our conversations.
Drew finally hugged a dusty pillow between her arms. “It can be natural,” she said, looking up at Kit. “But it’s not if you’re doing it with the first bimbo who lets you take advantage of her just so you can cross it off your list.”
“Give me a little credit, Drew.” Kit looked as though he were humored by the accusation. “I won’t do it with just anybody. I mean, she has to be hot, at least.” He winked at her, and Drew groaned with disgust.
“I don’t see the point.” I heard myself say, though I regretted it the second I said it. I should have let the conversation stay between Drew and Kit—two people who seemed to actually know what they were talking about.
My comment peeked Trace’s interest, and he asked, “What do you mean?”
“I wouldn’t even want to kiss a guy that I didn’t like, let alone do that with them. It seems like it would only be fun if you actually, you know, loved the person.” Just hearing the words out loud made me feel like a first grader.
Kit laughed out loud. “You’re so naïve, Gemma.”
“What’s so naïve about that?” Drew snapped. “Gemma’s right, and she doesn’t have to get around to know it. Doing it just to do it is lame.”
“You sound like you know that firsthand,” Kit said glaring at Drew. “Is there something you and Bryce would like to tell us?”
Bryce quietly watched Kit from across the room. It was obvious that he found this conversation childish, and I was glad.
But Drew wasn’t ready to let it go. “Bryce is a gentleman, unlike some people I know. He wouldn’t push something like
that until he knew I was ready.”
“Ready?” I asked. “What happened to waiting until you’re married?” Five pairs of eyes looked at me as though I were completely insane. To be honest, I hadn’t thought about it that much up to this point. I hadn’t ever made some firm decision that I would wait, but I knew that’s what my parents would want me to do. Then, for the first time in my life, I wondered what Jess thought about it all.
Kit sneered at me. He almost looked angry. “You’re smoking something if you think there’s a guy in this world who is going to wait until after he marries you to get it on.”
Lauren spoke for the first time. “Well, yeah. I mean, it seems like you wouldn’t know if you really wanted to get married unless you knew that you connected—physically.”
“Definitely.” Kit said with confidence. “There’s no way you should get married without doing it first. You’re doing yourselves a disservice. You’ll be divorced within a year.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “And that goes for only doing it with one person too. You need to experience it with different people so you know if you and your wife are compatible.”
“I agree.” Trace said, and part of me wanted to slink away from him and sit on the other side of the room. “Once you’re married, you can’t be with anyone else ever again. You got to get it out of your system beforehand.”
“Unless you’re my dad.” Kit laughed. “Then you can be married and still do it with anyone you want.”
“Not me.” Trace said. “Once I’m married, that’s it. I’m going to be loyal to my wife.” And that’s where I really started getting confused. The same part of me that wanted to pull away from Trace wanted to snuggle up closer to him because unlike Kit, he had ambitions to be loyal to his wife. There were so many different opinions swarming around the room, so many different standards. It was hard to remember what I believed in and what I didn’t.
I was still trying to figure it all out when Trace leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Let’s go for a walk.”
I welcomed the chance to escape the conversation, so I let him take hold of my hand and lead me out of the big room and down a dark corridor. I couldn’t see where we were going, and I was sure Trace couldn’t either, but he seemed eager and confident in pulling me along, so I let him. “I heard there’s a room somewhere on the second floor that still smells like fried chicken.”
“What?” I said with a confused laugh. “That’s disgusting.”
“They say it was the owner of the house’s favorite food, and he ate it in his study at night while he was reading. I hear that if you sit in there long enough, you can actually smell it.”
I was skeptical. “That sounds really stupid.”
“Let’s just see.” Trace found the main stairway, and soon I was following him up to the second floor. The stairs creaked beneath us, and I was positive they were going to cave through. When we got to the second floor, an endless hall of doors was in front of us. Trace poked his head into a couple rooms before leading me into one at the end of the hall. It was obviously the study as it housed a huge oak desk, full walls of bookshelves, and an old abandoned fireplace against the far wall. “I think this is it,” he whispered, and then he took in a deep breath through his nose. “Do you smell the chicken?”
“No.” I laughed softly. “But I think I smell a skunk.”
Trace gently pulled me over to a couch near the window and sat down on the edge. A flash of anxiety burst through my stomach as I saw him sitting there, on the edge of the couch, waiting for me to join him. He obviously sensed my concern. “Don’t worry,” he said, patting the cushion beside him. “I’m not going to try anything. I’m not that kind of guy.”
I felt foolish for even thinking that he might have those kinds of intentions. I sat next to him, and the springs released underneath me. “I just wanted to be alone with you,” he whispered into my ear, and a wave of goose bumps formed on my neck. “I feel like we’ve been closer tonight, and I just wanted to ask you what that means.”
He wanted to have this conversation? Here? In this haunted chicken room? And what was I supposed to tell him? The truth? That the only reason I was flirting with him was because I wanted to be with Jess? How messed up was that? “Um…” I hesitated. “I think it means that we are having fun and that I like being close to you.” It sounded stupid, but it was all I could come up with.
“I like being close to you too,” he said romantically, and for a slight second, I actually liked hearing him say it. I liked knowing that a boy—a good-looking one at that—liked to be near me. I liked the way he looked at me as though I were a melted cheese sandwich. I liked feeling liked, and before I knew it, I was leaning into him and he was leaning back, and our lips were connecting. It was a lot better this time than the last time we kissed in Drew’s basement during that ridiculous game of kissing rugby. For one thing, his lips weren’t chapped and stale like they were before. Instead they were smooth and surprisingly delicious, and I found myself wanting to kiss him more and more. I liked feeling his hand squeezing my waist, and I liked feeling his smooth cheek between my fingers. I liked feeling like he wanted me, and the more we kissed, the more I felt it.
I faintly remember the sound of sirens outside the window. But we were much too preoccupied to realize what was going on. Trace still had his fingers wrapped in my hair and his lips caught somewhere between mine when Kit flew into the room with a look of horror. “Crap, you guys! Can’t you hear the sirens? The cops are coming! Get out! Now!”
We flew out of the chicken room and down the stairs faster than we thought possible. By the time we got outside, the rest of the group was already piled into Bryce’s car, the engine roared, and the tires shrilled against the pavement. Before Trace and I could get in his Explorer, they were down one of the side roads that led into Highlands. Trace and I leaped into his car, and he stepped on the gas and sped as fast as he could to catch up with Bryce.
I felt my back jean pockets lift off the leather upholstery as the seat belt tightened and dug into my lap. The path that Bryce was leading us down was an unpaved dirt road with rocks and divots the size of small volcanoes. Bryce was able to weave in and out of them with his slick, tiny car, but Trace was having to hit them dead on. We were losing ground fast. When I finally caught hold of my breath and the handle on the passenger side door, I allowed myself to open my eyes and look in the rearview mirror. The cops weren’t completely visible, but red, blue, and white lights flashed through the trees behind us. They were getting closer.
Trace’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel in front of him. “I never should have brought you out here.” His words were soft but intense.
The hovering pines on either side of the road were a blur of dark space, and it was hard to tell where the road turned or descended or even ended. We hit another big dirt mound, and we bounced off our seats as the Explorer slammed against the hard road. Once all four tires were back on the ground, Trace slammed on the gas, but the damage had already been done. The cops were too close now. If he kept driving, it would be considered a police chase. He had no choice but to stop.
Trace leaned his head back against the head rest in defeat as he shifted into a lower gear and continued to step on the brake. We both fell silent as we accepted our fate. The cops would see the open door to the house. They would know we had been there. We were all going to be hit with a fine for trespassing or, worse, breaking and entering.
The car was slowing down, but it wasn’t going slow enough, and in an instant, when we least expected it, the front left tire hit an object—a rock or a broken tree branch, it was hard to tell—and with that, Trace’s car flew out of balance. The car jolted upward then sideways as Trace tried to regain control of the steering wheel.
I braced myself against my chair and the door as gravity pulled us forward against our seatbelts. Trace held onto the wheel as though
he were trying to control a bucking bronco. But as the tires of his Explorer hit the numberless divots and holes in the road, the steering wheel took on a mind of its own. I could feel when the tires were no longer on the road. I heard a million pieces of shattered glass being thrown around my head, and then suddenly, I felt the ground next to me. Much, much closer to my ear than a cold dirt road should ever be to anyone’s ear.
The next thing I knew I was hanging upside down. I didn’t feel any pain, and the world around me was filled with silence. The only sound I could hear was the sound of something dripping into a puddle of water. Until I realized that the liquid was coming from my head and the puddle below me was a puddle of blood.
Chapter 8
When I came to, I felt an overwhelming pressure against my head and a stabbing pain in my chest. I tried to move, but it was like trying to swim in a pool of cement. Even though my eyes were still closed, I began to become more aware of my surroundings. I was lying on a bed. But not my bed. It was harder, and the sheets were stiff and cold, and I was propped up in an unnatural way. It smelled like a hospital. That’s right, I recalled, I was at Drake’s peak tonight. I remembered now, we were all talking in that big dusty room, and then Trace and I—oh no—Trace and I went to the chicken room. And then what happened? I remembered hearing sirens, and I remembered seeing the lights in the trees behind us, and then I remembered the rest.
“Mmm,” I groaned, and I felt a tremendous amount of relief that I could. I squirmed slightly and then realized that someone was holding my hand. Oh no, please don’t be my mom. Please don’t be my mom! The hand that gripped mine was soft and warm, and I found myself fantasizing that it was Jess. That he had somehow miraculously found out about the accident and was there at my side, holding and comforting me. I wished it so hard that when the person holding my hand squeezed it and called for the nurse, I could have sworn it even sounded like him. Whoever it was had the same concern in his voice that Jess always had when I was hurt or upset. When the nurse finally came in, I heard him—whoever he was—say, “She just moved, I think she’s waking up.” Even his breath on my face smelled exactly like the cool mint gum that Jess always chewed. The nurse fiddled with something near my head, and before I knew it, I was blinking and coughing and the pain in my chest intensified.
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