“We can’t keep control of everyone,” Marx said almost cavalierly, rolling his eyes. “What were we supposed to do? Put up a barbed-wire fence?”
“If it would have prevented this, then yes!” Paul’s voice rose. “I told you something like this might happen if you held this concert here. I told you.”
“Calm down,” Marx said, but then Paul took a step closer, and he wilted a little. “Look, the guy probably had too much to drink. He was probably trying to show off and slipped. We just need to get the body out of here. Then we’ll figure out everything else.”
“Okay, fine.” Paul squatted and moved to roll Eric over. Marx lunged forward. “Don’t touch him!”
“Why?” Paul looked up in alarm. “You think I’m going to destroy evidence?”
There was a strange expression on Paul’s face that I didn’t at first understand. But then it hit me: doubt. He didn’t believe that Eric had fallen.
But what did he believe?
Marx and Zack came up with a plan: They would wrap Eric in a tarp Zack had brought from the ship to hide him, hurry him away, put him in a closet on a ferry, and then what? I waited to see if they were going to say anything about contacting Eric’s parents to tell them the tragic news, but they didn’t seem particularly concerned. It gutted me. I thought of what my parents would do if I’d been the one who fell—especially if they didn’t learn of it right away. It felt irresponsible. Callous. I noticed, too, that Paul stood back from the group, arms tightly crossed, not participating in the plotting. “Come on and help,” Marx finally growled when they began to wrap Eric in the tarp. Paul did so reluctantly, glowering at the others.
Then my skin started to prickle. I could tell someone was watching me even before I saw who it was. I moved only my eyes, not my head, toward Steve. He was no longer gazing at the body but into the trees—and right at me. The corners of his mouth tugged into a frown. His stare was unblinking and angry. I stood so still, not moving, not breathing.
Steve’s eyes narrowed. His lip curled in a way I’d never seen before—and I was sure Elena hadn’t, either. But a few seconds later, his gaze returned to the men and the body. Still, my heart thumped all the same. Steve knew I was here … and that I’d witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to see.
11
THE MEN WRAPPED ERIC in a tarp and carried him off. The job required everyone’s participation, which left no time for Steve to come after me. It was only after I’d gotten safely away I felt I could breathe a little easier. I crouched against a palm tree as fat, traumatized tears started to fall down my cheeks. What I’d witnessed was inhumane. Those guys were choosing their concert’s PR over basic human decency.
I wasn’t sure what to do next. Elena would be worried when she didn’t find me on the yacht, yet my arms were too tired to paddle back there. Maybe I should just head to the festival—despite the fact that I was still wearing linen pajamas. But was the festival safe? I was beginning to believe that Zack Frazier and Captain Marx weren’t just careless and slapdash … they truly didn’t care about our lives.
And I kept thinking about the peculiar expression on Paul’s face. He didn’t believe the theory that Eric had fallen. Was some sort of conspiracy happening? Were these guys hiding something from us?
* * *
I shouldn’t have been shocked that the festival site looked no different than it had when I left it. The tents were only half-erected. The field was packed with dazed-looking, half-asleep people holding their shoes in their hands. Some donned garbage bags as rain gear. There were a few piles of people still sleeping, using their cashmere hoodies as blankets and calfskin steamer trunks as pillows.
The field was muddy and slippery; I stumbled twice just crossing to the customer relations tent, which had only an unoccupied table. A few of the electronic gadgets used to check people’s tickets sat on the table, unclaimed. They were waterlogged, probably nonfunctional. I spied Indigo, the same guy in board shorts who’d ushered us to the festival grounds the day before. He was heading in the direction of where the buses had dropped us off. “Indigo?” I called out. He turned warily. “Are those shuttle buses running?” I asked.
Indigo checked the large sports watch on his wrist. “Yep, one will be back from another airport run in about ten minutes.”
I was shocked. Did he mean more people were on their way here?
“And what about going back to the airport?” I asked Indigo. “Is that possible?”
The corners of Indigo’s mouth curled up like I’d told a joke. “Yeah, it’s possible. But you’ll have to get in line.”
He gestured over the dunes to the lot where we’d been dropped. A huge mass of people were milling around, hands on hips, staring impatiently at the horizon. There were more of them down there than would fit on three buses. How long would it take to shuttle them back? When would it be my turn?
“Put me on the waiting list,” I said weakly. “A-and my friend, too. Adrianna Sanchez and Elena Sykes.” I needed to tell Elena what had happened with Eric. Surely she’d want to leave, too.
A crackle of feedback pierced the air. The speakers on the stage were, astonishingly, working, and someone stepped onstage. A barrage of boos rose up and then some angry chants. I drifted back to the festival grounds to see what was happening. The crowd was thick around the stage, but I pushed to the front to get a good view. Zack Frazier stood in the middle, microphone in hand, waving his arms to calm the crowd. It was startling how relaxed he looked. Jubilant, even—almost not the same guy who’d been standing over a dead body an hour ago.
“Greetings, marauders!” Zack’s voice boomed. “Welcome to Solstice!”
More boos. Someone screamed, “Where’s my suite?!”
“Where’s my private jet?” someone else said.
“Why did we have to ride a school bus to get here and sleep on Hefty bags?”
Someone threw what looked like an empty water bottle at Zack’s head. Zack ducked, his smile faltering just a tad.
“People, people! I apologize if last night wasn’t what you’re normally used to.” His mirrored sunglasses reflected the irate mob. “I’m still trying to sort out what happened and why our shelters didn’t arrive on time. To make up for it, all drinks are free today. All food, too.”
There was a smattering of applause, but most people still looked pissed. I pulled my fully charged phone from my pocket, deciding to record the mob. Of course, seeing my phone’s full bars of energy gave me a pang of guilt. It was likely everyone else’s phones had been dead for hours. I felt naïve for trusting Zack Frazier that everything was okay back at the concert site, and for sleeping so soundly on zillion-thread-count sheets.
“I’m in credit card debt because of this!” someone yelled from up front.
“I could have been in Capri!” someone else said.
“Where the hell are the bathrooms?” a girl shouted from the left of the stage. “Way too many people have seen my butt!”
A raucous cheer rose up. A bunch of people started to chant: “Privacy! Privacy!”
I kept recording. This was interesting video footage for Hayden—or maybe the whole world.
Zack smiled wanly. “Rest assured that by tonight, everything will be up and running. I have a great team putting together final details. Again, I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience, but I promise you, this still will be the concert of a lifetime.”
“Liar!” someone screeched. “You’re playing us!”
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!” cried another voice.
“My father’s a senator!” someone else screamed.
A new figure stepped onstage. Steve edged toward Zack and whispered something in his ear. Zack nodded, his expression inscrutable. Steve stepped away, but not before he looked out into the angry crowd. For who? Eric’s friends? He’d mentioned he’d come with a big group. Did they even know yet?
But then I felt the heat of Steve’s gaze on me. I shrank behind a tall guy in a melon-colored polo shi
rt, but I could still feel Steve’s gaze cutting through like a laser beam. Was he angry because I’d witnessed a Solstice boondoggle? Or was he worried I’d stumbled upon something even scarier?
I hurried toward the bus line. The bus had arrived, and another guy in Solstice board shorts jumped off, a stormy look on his face. He eyed the crowd with annoyance. “There’s no point in going to the airport,” he grumbled. “The flight computers are all messed up. Nothing’s going out today.”
A gasp rose up. One girl shouldered her duffel anyway. “At least there’s sparkling water at the airport. I’m dying without my LaCroix.”
“And organic food,” someone else piped up. “Well, fingers crossed.”
“And air-conditioning!” came another voice.
And safety from Steve, I thought nervously.
Everyone crowded around the gangplank. People peppered the driver with questions, and he just shrugged. “I don’t know when the systems are going to be back up,” he said. “But one thing’s for sure: Everyone’s flights are going to be delayed, if not canceled.”
My chest tightened. Elena had booked us on a flight that left Monday afternoon; it cut things close, but we’d be getting in Monday evening, so I’d be able to go to my internship the next morning. Would I be stuck here for days? It was petty to think about losing my internship in light of a boy lying dead on the other side of the island, but at the same time, I couldn’t stop picturing my parents’ heartbroken expressions. I couldn’t let them down after sneaking off to be here.
But then something else hit me: I couldn’t go without Elena. She had our tickets. I had little money of my own. My debit card was linked to a bank account that had about two hundred dollars in it. I hadn’t brought another credit card because I’d snuck out.
I glanced back to the festival area. Zack was still on the stage, bellowing about the amazing acts on the roster. Steve stood in the wings, his hands on his hips, his narrowed eyes scanning the crowd.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and jumped. It was the same youngish man from the little market the day before—the one who’d said he liked my attitude. Today he had on a ball cap and was pushing around a cart filled with ice-cold beers and water. “Have one,” he said, pushing it toward me. I cradled the cold water in my hands, then pressed it to a pressure point in my neck, feeling my veins throb.
“I remember you,” the man said, looking me over.
“I remember you, too,” I said, appreciating his warmth.
“Name’s Mosley,” he said. “Everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I opened my mouth. Close, but not quite. It was actually a body.
He reached into his ice-filled cart and handed me a beer. “On the house,” he said, his brow wrinkling. “You need it.”
12
I KNEW ELENA WAS PROBABLY FRANTIC over my whereabouts, but it turned out that I didn’t have to kayak over there—I was just about to wend back over the dunes when I heard her cries. Elena, freshly showered, her long hair curled and sprayed, her makeup perfectly applied, ran for me across the muddy field.
“You ditched me!” she squawked. “What happened to our plans of sneaking onto Lavender’s boat?”
I licked my lips. “Is Steve with you?” I blurted. There was so much to tell her that I didn’t even know where to start.
Elena frowned. “No. Why?”
I looked over her shoulder. A bunch of intrepid, hippie-esque twenty-somethings sat on a tarp, talking and laughing. I was glad to see that someone was taking the less-than-ideal conditions in stride.
“I haven’t seen Steve all morning,” Elena went on. “One of Marx’s guys brought me over.” She cocked her head. “You all right? You look upset. Is it because of the toilets? Zack said they’re coming soon.”
I pulled her to a small, cleared patch of land that was much more private. “I witnessed something really weird,” I said, my voice quavering. “And … I’m scared. I think we have to leave this island. Now.”
Elena’s eyes grew large as I told her about Eric’s body on the beach. I explained how cavalier Zack was, and how the men had covered him with the tarp and hefted him into the woods like an old carpet. I also told her how livid Paul got when he discovered that someone had strayed from the festival site. “He said they had some sort of agreement. And that he’d warned Zack that this sort of thing might happen if people left the festival site. It was like he was speaking in code.”
For a moment Elena was speechless. “Or he was simply saying that this is a dangerous island with some scary rocks. And that people are likely to fall, especially after drinking.”
“But I’m not sure Paul believed that Eric died from a fall.”
Elena searched my face. “Did he say what he did believe happened?”
“That kid died by a fall,” boomed a new, bright voice. “It’s tragic, but that’s what happened.”
Steve’s hands were stuffed in his pockets. He had the appropriate somber, sober expression of a person who’d witnessed a terrible death, but I could also see the slight twitch and tremor of barely concealed rage when he glanced at me. Uh-oh.
Elena reached for him, her face slack with fear. “So it’s true? Someone died?”
Steve ran his hand through his thick brown hair. “Yes. In a freak accident. I guess he drank too much, decided it would be fun to hop along the rocks, and then … slipped.” He shut his eyes. His mouth wobbled. Oh God, I thought. Is he going to fake cry again? “A festival worker discovered him and called us there to help.”
“Help?” I snapped. “You rolled him in a tarp. How is that helping?”
Steve turned to me, his jaw dropping. “What were we supposed to do, Adri? Carry his body over our heads through the festival grounds like a trophy?”
“Have you contacted his family?” I challenged. “Or did you just dump him on the ferry to sort it out later—after the festival?”
“Adri,” Elena warned. “I’m sure they’re handling it.”
Steve blinked slowly. “Of course we contacted his family.” He put his hand territorially around Elena’s waist, but his gaze was still on me. “Adri, I’m worried about you. It wasn’t safe to leave the yacht alone. It’s a good thing only I spotted you in the bushes, because Zack and Marx might not have just let you go.”
I swallowed hard. Steve was acting concerned … but I could tell this was a veiled threat. Still, I didn’t back down. “A guy is dead.” I pointed over my shoulder in the direction of the little market. “I met him right there. He was an experienced climber. I think something else happened, and I think you know what it is. That’s why you’re acting so strangely. That’s why you rolled him up and made him disappear.”
Steve shrugged, then looked at Elena. “It’s not true. This island has some risks. Unfortunately, someone didn’t heed the warnings.”
Elena nodded. “It makes sense, Adri,” she said. “There was a lot of drinking yesterday. And no one knows the lay of the land here. That guy probably had no clue there was a huge cliff in front of him. He’d probably been out walking in the dark. Steve isn’t covering anything up. And they haven’t announced the death because they don’t want anyone to panic.”
Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re on an island. If too many people find out what happened—even an accident like this—morale will drop. I mean, what do you want Zack to do?” He looked at me with insouciance. “Cancel the festival?”
I shrugged. “Wouldn’t you want someone to cancel a festival if you’d been the person to fall off that cliff?”
Steve waved his hand. “People often die at these things. At the OG Woodstock festival, a guy on a tractor ran over a kid in a sleeping bag. And then there was this Pearl Jam show in Denmark where at least five people died by crowd suffocation. Coachella, someone had hypothermia. And at Bonnaroo—”
“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, a little disgusted. “You think that Top Ten Music Fest Deaths is going to convince me you’re right?”
&
nbsp; “I’m just telling you the reality, Adri,” Steve said, his eyes still round. He almost looked sorry for me. “And consider what we had to go through. I feel traumatized by seeing that body. And I had to carry him, tell his friends…”
Here came the wobbling chin again. “Baby,” Elena said, reaching for him. Steve fell into her, and they hugged tightly.
Oh brother. I’d had enough. I turned on my heel and marched away, feeling tears sting my eyes. Talking to Steve was useless.
Then I heard footsteps behind me. “Adri…” Elena was at my side. She grabbed my hand, urging me to slow down. We looked like an unlikely pair: I was so grimy from my kayak trip to the beach, still wearing the pajamas from the yacht, and Elena so preserved and festival-ready in her sundress and strappy leather sandals.
“Look,” Elena said. “I get it. It’s terrible that someone died. And I’m sorry it was someone you connected with. We could have a prayer vigil for him later tonight—what about that? But it’s not Zack’s fault. You’re overreacting. Panicking. And if people overhear you … it could spell disaster.”
“Don’t worry,” I said tightly. “I won’t say anything—because I’m leaving. I’m not staying on this island tonight.”
“Well, of course you’re not.” Elena’s smile was shaky. “You’ll stay on the yacht again. With me.”
“There’s absolutely no way I’m staying there,” I insisted. “I don’t want to be anywhere near Zack Frazier or Captain Marx. They’re everything that’s wrong with the world. If they value their business over human life, that’s … disgusting.”
Elena planted her feet in the mud. “Adri, you must have misinterpreted. And there’s a difference between valuing human life and not wanting to cause a scene in a field of ten thousand concertgoers!”
I glowered at her. “Does it not matter to you that I witnessed what happened?” I whispered. “Are you that snowed by Steve’s act?”
Solstice Page 10