by Lisa Jackson
“Well, that’s not true,” she argued.
“He cares about one person, himself. And he likes you because you’re the prettiest girl in the school.”
Delta was half-infuriated, half-flattered. She turned back around and faced him. McCrae could be so charmingly infuriating. “I’m not the prettiest—”
“Yeah, you are. Don’t take it as a compliment.” His blue eyes glimmered somewhere between mirth and anger. “He picked you because of your looks and popularity. He’s screwing around because he can. Amanda . . . Carmen . . . Ellie . . . they’d all lie down for him and probably already have.”
“Ellie?” she squeezed out, shocked, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
“I’m just saying, don’t be naïve. We’re all graduating. Going our separate ways. Tanner wants to sow some wild oats, and you don’t put out.”
Her breath expelled in a rush.
“That’s what he said,” McCrae told her.
“So, if I ‘put out,’ I could have him back?” She was bitter.
“For a while.”
“What does that mean?”
He was heading for the stairs himself, but now he turned around and walked the rest of the way backward, keeping her in his vision. “High school’s over. All of this doesn’t matter. You and your friends . . . the Firsts . . .” His tone was mocking. “It’s done. Move on.” He reached the steps, turned around, and started climbing as Delta absorbed his words.
“Turn on, tune in, and drop out . . .”
She followed him to the bottom of the stairs. “What?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Just something from my parents. An old saying.”
“Are you smoking dope too?”
He was several feet above her, and now he glanced down, smiling. “If you truly want Tanner Stahd, you’re going to have to stop sounding as self-righteous as Ellie.”
Then he grabbed a rung and clambered the rest of the way up, like Woody had.
* * *
Bailey held a plate of roast pig, corn on the cob, and a deformed and burned biscuit, the kind the boys wolfed down like dollar pancakes but she couldn’t stomach. Kids had been wandering in and out of the copse of trees and coming back drunk or high. They’d hid their forays pretty well; none of the chaperones seemed to notice, though Counselor Billings, Freddie, and Coach Sutton had moseyed over to the trees a time or two, apparently considering. So far, no one had gotten busted.
Carmen was hanging with the boys. She’d managed to convince the reverend—God knew how—that the barbeque was a school-sanctioned event and there would be strict rules enforced. Carmen had always tested her father, and this was just another way to do that. There was a part of her, a gleam in her eye, that said she wanted to defy convention. Did she want to become the bad girl? The preacher’s daughter who goes rogue? Bailey sure as hell hoped not. It would just . . . be a big problem, and Bailey didn’t want big problems.
She knew she was considered the goody two shoes of their group. More than once, she’d sensed the Firsts wanted to kick her out, and well, that would hurt, but it would be okay, too. She just didn’t have it in her anymore to care. What had once seemed vitally important now felt sort of stupid.
What do you want?
She wanted to hang out with Carmen. Just Carmen . . . and okay, maybe Carmen’s family, too. Strict as the Proffitts were, Bailey felt their love like a cozy, enveloping blanket. She got some of that feeling from her dad, too, but he was so busy and sometimes couldn’t express himself quite the same way. He was cautious of her. Like he thought she might be secretly telling tales to Mom, though nothing could be further from the truth. Lill was with Mom. They were a twosome. And Mom was . . .
She couldn’t quite come up with the right word. Selfish . . . ? Narcissistic . . . ? Those sentiments were almost too harsh. Mom just wanted a new life without her policeman husband. Bailey had overheard her complaining once that Dad was just too “law and order” for her. She was intent on leaving, and she was willing to give up the family for it, which she did. Though they all knew she was with an old high school boyfriend, Mom hadn’t said a word about him.
Bailey had revealed to her father that she’d run into her mother at Carmen’s, and Dad—whom she called Quin, like everyone else—had gone completely still. This was the same reaction she always got whenever she brought up Mom, but it was better to be honest about everything than have him find out some other way that could be more hurtful. She’d made sure Quin knew the meeting was no big deal. Unplanned and therefore unscripted. Just one of those things. Still, it was hard on him, though he would never admit as much to Bailey. She suspected he still wanted Mom back, might even take her back, but the trust between them was shattered, so, in Bailey’s mind, it would never work.
At that moment, Carmen and a bunch of the other kids emerged from the trees and moved over toward the food. Bailey stepped toward Carmen.
“What’s going on?” Bailey asked her, eyeing Tanner Stahd, who was walking like a man concentrating on making it appear he was in complete control, even though his legs and arms were stiff, his movements wooden and off their timing by a half second. He was totally wasted, which made her nervous. She didn’t want Sutton, or Billings, or Freddie, or anybody else finding out.
Carmen was looking in Tanner’s direction, too. Bailey could pick up on her anxiety, even though she was silent. It was there in the creases on her forehead and the opening and closing of her fists.
“You okay?” Bailey asked.
“Yeah . . .”
“Tanner looks wasted.”
“Yeah.” This time she was more positive.
“What were you guys doing? Smells kinda like weed.”
“Uh . . . no. That’s not . . . Penske had some whiskey or something. . . brown stuff.”
“Carmen Proffitt, are you drunk?” Bailey asked, purposely adding a smile to her voice when she felt worried and anxious.
“No.” Carmen gave her her full attention. There was something odd in her expression.
“What’s wrong?” Bailey asked, her heart jumping. Her friend’s demeanor sent little darts of fear through her bloodstream.
Though Carmen was looking at Bailey, it was clear she was seeing something else.
“Something happened,” Bailey said, as serious as a heart attack.
Carmen didn’t respond immediately. Her skin was ashen, and she looked like she’d had a good fright.
“What?” Bailey pressed.
She glanced back at Tanner and the guys, then around the campsite a little wildly. “I saw something . . . ,” she whispered softly.
“What?”
“Tanner was with . . . he wasn’t the only one. They were all kind of . . . with each other.”
Bailey had a bad feeling growing in her gut. “You saw Tanner . . . ?”
“I saw them.” Her voice was so soft, Bailey had to strain to hear. “They didn’t know I was there . . .”
“Who?”
“The guys . . . some of the guys . . . and the girls . . . They were smoking dope and drinking and . . .” She glanced up wildly. “I wasn’t supposed to be there. I just sort of crept up, and they saw me—”
“Carmen.”
The staccato rebuke of her name made Carmen jump and Bailey’s head jerk around. It was Amanda. She stood legs apart, eyes flashing, as if ready for battle.
“Amanda?” Carmen gulped.
A tense moment ensued, then Amanda’s angry expression dissolved into a big smile, and she laughed and grabbed Carmen’s arm. “Just joking. You looked so . . . I don’t know . . . weird. Come on, let’s get something to eat.”
Bailey started to follow them, but she already had a plate of food, and she wasn’t sure what had just happened anyway. It wasn’t like Amanda to appropriate any one of the Firsts the way she had Carmen. Had Amanda purposely stopped Carmen from talking? Well, no matter. As soon as she had her friend alone, Bailey intended to find out just exactly what had spooked Carmen so much.<
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Chapter 5
It was twilight, and everybody was packing up and getting ready to leave. Delta was on one foot and the other, while Coach Sutton, Counselor Billings, and Freddie, along with Mr. Timmons, Ms. Reade, and do-gooders Rhonda and Trent, were collecting everything. Amanda, Bailey, and Carmen were taking down the tents and had rejected Delta’s offer of help, Amanda saying curtly that they had it handled.
So now Delta was standing to one side, kind of by Ellie, who’d also made overtures of help, only to be denied. Neither of them had tried to join the do-gooders in aiding the chaperones. They knew in advance that they would be cheerfully told no. The head of the do-gooders, Rhonda, was in her own way an autocrat.
So that left Delta and Ellie, who’d never liked each other much, as the outsiders. Delta, because their leader, Amanda, had stolen her boyfriend and was somehow persona non grata now, and Ellie because of her “better than thou” attitude that drove them all to distraction. Though Delta suspected Ellie’s attitude came from being passed over by the Five Firsts, it nevertheless got under her skin, and it left Delta standing near Ellie in uncomfortable silence. She suspected Ellie would drop her posturing in a nanosecond if she were invited into their group, but maybe not. Maybe Ellie’s disinterest was real.
The Five Firsts . . . McCrae’s barely hidden disdain might be correct and it really was over. It was a childish construct that didn’t really matter to anyone anymore, and maybe even was laughed at by a few.
Delta squinted through the gathering gloom to see where Tanner was. He and a bunch of kids had spent half the afternoon going off in twos and threes into the woods on the north side of the camp. They were drinking, and since Woody was one of them, probably smoking dope, too. They were all pretty trashed, Tanner especially. He clearly wasn’t going home with her, but by the thin line of Amanda’s lips, it didn’t look like he was going with her either.
Good.
“Okay,” Coach declared. He’d gone and gotten his pickup, and they’d thrown all the gear from the cookout inside the truck bed along with the leftover food encased in plastic containers. They’d doused the coals in the pit with river water, causing them to steam for a good twenty minutes or so, but now they’d stopped, and Coach had raked through the wet ash, making sure no fire could start anew.
After McCrae’s indictment of her holier-than-thou attitude, Delta had taken a turn or two in the trees herself, swallowing a few hurried sips of straight vodka. Vodka, so the party chaperones wouldn’t smell it on her. The chaperones had been remarkably unaware of what was going on. Either that, or they’d chosen not to make a fuss about it.
“Okay,” Coach said, climbing into his pickup cab and slamming the door. Mr. Timmons and Ms. Reade had started walking together the quarter mile to the house and were already shrunken figures in the distance as Coach leaned out the open window and added, “I’m coming right back, and we’re all getting out of here, okay? We’ve had a fun time, and now it’s time to go.”
The kids all gave him a cheery thumbs-up as they watched his pickup bounce across the bumpy field. When it had crested the rise toward the Forsythe house, Tanner suddenly yelled, “One last time!” and bolted for the cliff side.
Delta inhaled sharply, and everyone else froze. Then the guys tore after him. A half beat later some of the girls did, too.
“Wait! Wait!” she called.
“Don’t!” somebody else yelled. Amanda, maybe. Delta stumbled toward the cliff’s edge herself, watching as the guys and girls all worked their way down the steps, jumping the last few feet, racing across the short beach, splashing into the river, and diving into the water. It was growing dark, and what was left of the sun hadn’t made it down the walls of the canyon, so they were all in shadow.
Freddie and Counselor Billings had raced to the cliff’s edge, too, and now gazed down at the students in dismay, as did Delta, who’d been torn about climbing back down. After a moment of hesitation, Ellie had joined the group at the bottom and was ripping off her shirt and heading for the water. Carmen and Bailey rushed up beside Delta, and Carmen immediately headed down.
“What are you doing?” Bailey demanded.
“Somebody’s gonna get hurt.”
“Yeah, you!”
“I’m going down, too,” Miss Billings said, sounding angry, and Freddie nodded vigorously in agreement. Amanda was on their heels.
Well, shit.
Delta descended after them once more as well. She dropped the last few feet onto the beach and felt sand in her flip-flops. Now it was hard to make out whose dark hair was bobbing above the surface. Tanner? McCrae? Woody or one of the do-gooders? Definitely stupid, whatever the case.
Counselor Billings said tightly, “We gotta get them outta there.”
Carmen, a few yards away, was keeping her eyes on Tanner and saying nothing, which kind of pissed Delta off. Not as much as Amanda, though, whose laser focus was on Carmen, not the idiots in the water.
Delta wondered if she was going to have to jump in too, clothes and all, and would that even help? The partiers in the water needed to wake up and realize the potential danger.
“This isn’t cool,” shouted Amanda. “My parents will freak. I had to beg to get them to allow us to have this party, and now . . .”
Zora, who’d stayed away from everything, dropped down beside Delta, emitting frightened whimpers. She stared at the kids in the water dully. Delta realized Zora was wasted. She wished she’d just stayed topside.
Carmen waded into the water.
“Carmen!” Bailey barked.
“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
Freddie followed after her. “Don’t go in. You need a vest.”
“I’m not doing anything stupid.” She took a few more steps, up to her waist. “Tanner, come here,” she coaxed, as if to a young child.
“What the hell?” breathed Amanda.
Tanner grinned stupidly at Carmen, his gaze sliding over the others on the beach. For a moment, it seemed like he actually might be listening, but then he ducked under the plastic rope and headed downriver on his back, arms outstretched, gaze up to the darkening skies. Delta shrieked, and she thought she heard Clarice Billings mutter, “Fuck,” but realized it was Amanda. Several of the guys hesitated, then slipped under the barrier as well. Bailey, or Carmen, or someone screamed. Then Carmen was in the water, going after Tanner.
Delta scrabbled along the bank, scraping her toes, one flip-flop snapping apart. She headed toward the shelf of land along the side of the river, but she was practically trampled by Counselor Billings and Freddie in their race to catch up with the swimmers. Someone grabbed Delta’s arm and yanked her back toward the beach.
Amanda.
Delta regarded her dazedly as she screamed, “Jesus Christ!” in Delta’s face.
Behind her, Zora was crying, her hand pressed to her mouth, unable to stop the sobbing.
Bailey was scrambling after the chaperones, barefoot, having kicked off her shoes. Some of the guys came out of the water, dripping, staring after those who’d gone under the rope and the group running and slipping along the muddy pathway. As they watched, Freddie fell or jumped into the water.
McCrae barked at Bailey. “Go get your dad!”
“My dad?” she repeated blankly, even while turning toward the stairs.
“The police,” he clarified.
“The police?” That squeak-shriek erupted from Amanda.
“Damn it, Amanda,” he snarled. “People could die!”
He was already heading toward the stairs himself, nearly overtaking Bailey. Amanda whipped around to follow him, and Delta brought up the rear. Her face was wet, and she realized she was silently crying. She gazed after the swimmers who’d reached the first curve of the river, which turned and turned again, racing down the rapids and eventually dumping out into Grimm’s Pond with its treacherous undertow.
Delta was good and frightened. Still . . . Tanner couldn’t die. He wouldn’t. He was too good a swi
mmer. Even weed and alcohol compromised, he was an athlete. An amazing athlete. Carmen too. They would just go with the rapids . . . and come out on the other side.
She swallowed hard. They were going to be okay. They were, she thought fiercely.
She was more worried about bringing in a rescue team, the police . . . What if Tanner’s drug use was found out? He could jeopardize everything he’d worked for. And he would freak out if he couldn’t play football.
Oh, God . . . What an idiot! His dad had already paid that price. Tanner wanted to be a doctor above all else. Was he trying to purposely screw things up? She wanted to scream at him, tell him to wake up and think about the future.
But more than that, she wanted him in her arms. Cradling him, kissing him, finally making love with the man she loved more than anything . . .
“My dad is going to shit,” Amanda moaned at the top of the cliff.
McCrae was at the golf cart. “Does this damn thing have a key?”
Amanda stalked toward the cart and got it going.
Delta wanted to run after them but couldn’t walk. Her toe was bleeding, one flip-flop ruined.
Zora was hovering next to her, teeth chattering, whispering, “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God . . .”
“Shhh.” Delta shushed her. She couldn’t just stand here. She had to do something!
After several tense moments, she tried to put her flip-flop back on, but it dangled from her foot like a hanged man. Her frustration morphed into fear. What if she was wrong? What if something happened to Tanner?
She started hobbling toward the house, her tender foot scratched and jabbed by thick grasses till it was bloody and wretchedly sore. Zora kept beside her, silent now, but sniffing back her runny nose as she cried silently. It took nearly twenty minutes and was full dark by the time they got back to the Forsythe manor. Delta hobbled to the back patio and stood there in anxious horror.
“You’re hurt,” Zora said, seeing the blood trail coming from beneath Delta’s right foot.
“Where do you think they are?” Delta looked through the pane of one of the French doors that led into the kitchen nook. The room was empty, although all the lights were on.