Casey
A few dozen cars are parked along the narrow dirt road leading to the lake. We pull up on the shoulder overgrown with tall weeds that bend into a green rug when I push open the passenger door.
“We’re not going to the boathouse?” I say, unable to mask the relief in my voice.
“No, this is where my brother said to go,” she answers, showing me her phone. “See? He dropped a pin.”
Sure enough, the location marked on the map is on the southern edge of the lake. The boathouse is east and situated directly on campus. I think this part of the lake might be public property, in fact. Which makes me wonder if the Ballard party crowd had to relocate because the boathouse and surrounding area started being monitored more carefully after my accident.
Jaz reaches into the back seat and grabs a battery-powered lantern to light our way toward the sound of music. Through the trees, I glimpse tiny moving pinpricks of light, like fireflies in the blackness. Eventually the warm orange glow of a bonfire comes into view. The smell of smoke is thick and immediately imbeds into my hair and clothes until even my mouth tastes like flames.
When we step through the trees and I spot the dark stretch of water, I brace myself. Waiting. I thought being here might trigger something in me. Flashbacks or a panic attack. But nothing happens.
The relief is immense. Enough that I feel myself smiling and awkwardly bite my lip to conceal my excitement when we stroll up on the party. Music echoes through the trees and carries out over the expansive lake toward the small lights of faraway houses. Shadows dance all around us, figures cast in eerie fragments around the bonfire.
“Let’s get a drink.” Jaz nudges me toward a group of people standing around a keg.
My feet dig into the dirt, rooted to the spot for a moment. Getting here was one thing. Talking to people, being seen—that’s another. There are ghosts everywhere. Faces from a life not so long ago and yet distant enough.
Jaz wasn’t there the first time I returned to Ballard after the accident and those once-friendly faces had turned sour. How lonely it was feeling every room hush when I entered. The Living Dead Girl. How humiliating it was to hear the rumors start to swirl all around me, passed around by people I considered friends.
“You need me to carry you?” she jokes.
I let out a breath. “Nothing a few drinks can’t fix, right?”
“That’s the spirit.”
It’s not until we’re too close to abort that I realize some of my old friends from cheerleading are among those around the keg. I stiffen, waiting for the onslaught. But when their gazes pass right over me and they continue talking amongst themselves, I realize they haven’t even noticed me.
“Pour me one of those?” Jaz says to a cute guy with the spout in his hand.
“Sure thing.” He smiles and grabs a red cup from the stack. “Have I seen you out here before?”
Her answering smile is coy. “You’d know if you had.”
“I think you’re right.” He can’t take his appreciate gaze off her bare legs.
I’m happy for Jaz. Really. Not here a whole two minutes and already she’s found a flirt buddy. But their exchange draws the attention of my former squad, and when Gillian looks up from her cup and blinks, I know my short-lived anonymity is blown.
“Oh my God. Casey.” She gawks at me like I’ve just walked up drenched and covered in mud.
The other girls turn in unison.
“I didn’t even recognize you,” Gillian blurts out.
“Wow, hey,” Alex says. Her uneasy gaze quickly sweeps toward her friends. “How’s it going?”
“How’s it going?” I bark out a laugh, which gets Jaz’s attention.
She questions me with a raised eyebrow while she sips her beer. I give a slight shake of the head to indicate I’ve got it covered.
Meanwhile, Alex’s gaze wanders in a frantic attempt not to lock with mine. “Um, yeah. Been a while.”
“And why’s that, you think? Maybe because you told people I swallowed a bottle of pills and drove my car into the lake to abort my secret baby?”
Jaz spits her beer back into her cup. “Oh, shit.”
“Casey, come on,” Gillian interjects unhappily. “You know—”
“Seriously, Gillian? Spare me.” I shake my head at her big saucer eyes. “Don’t act like we’re still best friends. Next time you write my name in a bathroom stall, at least try to disguise your handwriting.”
Her cheeks turn redder than her hair.
Jaz clicks her tongue. “Man, not cool, Gillian.”
“Okay, wait a second—”
“No, I have a better idea.” I grab a beer from Jaz’s cute friend and take a swig. “How about you all fuck off forever and I go back to enjoying myself?”
At that, I link my arm through Jazmine’s, and we strut off on an adrenaline rush like I’ve never experienced before. It’s exhilarating.
Once upon a time, they were my best friends. Gillian. Alex. Darcy. They were people I confided in. My ride or dies. Until it became more socially advantageous to turn on me. That’s when they became my worst bullies, spreading horrible rumors about me in the aftermath of the accident when what I needed most was their support. I came back to school after the accident to realize I was an outcast. The butt of every joke.
“You’ve been waiting to do that for a while,” Jaz teases as we pause around the bonfire.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
I suddenly feel liberated. From the embarrassment, from the fear of them. It’s that feeling when you stare down your bullies and realize they can’t have power over you anymore.
“Oh, there’s Theo,” Jaz says, waving at someone across the fire. She grabs my hand and starts dragging me away. “Come meet my brother.”
Even if she hadn’t prefaced it with that, I would’ve known instantly that Theo was her brother. The resemblance is uncanny, although he’s a good foot and a half taller than Jaz.
He’s wearing a T-shirt with the Ballard soccer logo on it, holding a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Neither vice seems conducive to a successful sports career, but Jaz told me he’s the star player of the soccer team.
Theo’s expression fills with curiosity as he leans down to give me a hug, causing a cloud of cigarette smoke to burn my eyes.
“How come we’ve never met?” he demands, then glares at his sister as if she’s to blame.
“Because we just became best friends,” she tells him. “Which means you’re not allowed to hit on her yet. Let me have this for a while, will you?”
I snort, while Theo feigns innocence.
“When have I ever hit on your friends, Jazzy?”
“You’ve macked on every single one since I was in the third grade, Theodore. I mean it. Hands off.” She glances at me. “Trust me, you’ll thank me for this later. He’s way too slutty for you.”
We chat with Theo for a while, until he wanders off when a cute junior catches his eye.
“Hey,” I tell Jaz, who’s been drinking her beer at a snail’s pace. Since she’s driving, she promised she won’t have more than two drinks tonight, but I feel bad watching her nurse that one cup. “Are you sure you don’t want to drink more? We could always leave your car here and Uber home.”
“Nah, it’s all good.” She takes another teeny sip. “I wouldn’t mind keeping a clearer head tonight, anyway. You know, just in case…”
I know she means in case I break down, and although I feel a pang of guilt, I’m also grateful to have a friend like her.
“But…if I’m not getting piss-drunk, I do require some other form of entertainment,” she says with an impish smile. “Let’s do a man sweep. Who do you think I should seduce tonight?”
I laugh, humoring her by peeking around the fire. I spot several promising candidates, but Jaz has other ideas.
“Hey, check it out.” She nudges me. “Look who it is.”
I turn to see none other than Bree from St. Vincent’s, sitting on a log beside her boyfriend, Gray. She’s wearing his letterman jacket with only her bare legs hanging out. She grips a red cup in both hands, giggling at something Gray said.
I keep forgetting those two are dating. Sloane thinks Gray is with Bree because she’s extremely low effort and easily impressed, but I still think she’s a weird choice for him. I was in nearly all of Gray’s classes freshman and sophomore years, and he was always reasonably nice. Smart, funny. I can’t say I’ve ever known him to be a bully himself, though he keeps questionable company. He’s the best wide receiver on the Ballard football team, which comes with its own social baggage.
“Who’s the dude?” Jaz asks.
“Gray Robson. He plays football.”
“Nice.”
She continues to admire Gray, who’s probably one of the best-looking guys at this party with his brown hair, bright blue eyes, and boy-next-door face. His black Under Armour T-shirt shows off his broad chest and sculpted arms, and I don’t miss the way Jaz homes in on those.
“You know what, I think you’ve inspired me.” Something in her voice rings as a bad omen.
“I have?”
“Uh-huh,” Jaz hums, taking a swig of her beer. “You stole Ainsley’s guy the other day. I think I’ll take Bree’s.”
A loud laugh pops out. “I shouldn’t be encouraging this. It goes against my girl power philosophy.”
“But?”
“But those two have been making my life miserable since school started.” I shrug. “I don’t have much sympathy for them.”
The old Casey might have mustered up some compassion for Bree, who’s so painfully dumb that sometimes I wonder if she understands half the malevolent shit Ainsley says. But ignorance is no excuse to silently stand by and watch your friend try to crush someone’s self-esteem.
So when Bree wanders off to join a group of girls waving her over, I don’t resist when Jaz says, “Introduce me?”
A moment later, we approach Gray.
His eyebrows shoot up when he notices me. “Casey?”
“Hey, Gray. How’s it going?”
“Good.” He surprises me by standing to hug me. We were never super close, but he’s Ballard football and I used to be a cheerleader here, so I guess we’ve got history. “How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been great,” I answer. “St. Vincent’s is a blast so far. Your girlfriend’s making me feel very welcome.”
He gives me a wry look. “Is she now?”
“Oh yeah. She’s so friendly, that Bree. Where did she run off to? I wanted to say hi.” I glance over my shoulder, noticing Bree and her group appear to be leaving the party. “Is she leaving?”
“Yeah, they’re doing some pub crawl thing in the city.”
“Aww, so you’ve been abandoned?” I tug Jazmine closer to us. “This is my friend Jazmine, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you,” she drawls, sizing him up. “Casey says you play football?”
“I do, yeah. Are you a football fan?”
“No, but I can be.” She grabs his hand and drags him toward the log. “Let’s sit. I want to hear all about football.”
Gray doesn’t know what’s hit him when she takes Bree’s former seat beside him. Before he understands what’s happening, Jaz has cast a seductive spell over the poor guy. I clock him taking a long look at her tits before sweeping his attention down her bare legs. Jaz leans into him, playfully touching his arm. Dude’s a goner and he doesn’t even realize it yet.
Deciding to give them some privacy, I wander around the fire, enjoying the heat against my cheeks. And then I spot him. Oliver Drummer.
Oliver is the quintessential It Guy. Quarterback. Gorgeous. Filthy rich and generally untouchable. Normally he’s the type of guy I’d probably shy away from, but tonight I’m supposed to be fearless, right? So why not try on a persona who isn’t the slightest bit intimidated by someone like that? Why not tell myself, if even just for tonight, that I’m the It Girl he’s standing next to in all the yearbook photos? Stranger things happen in the forest all the time.
Beside the bonfire, Oliver looks deep in thought, staring into the flames. He’s conspicuously solo, which might as well paint a giant target on his chest. I stroll up to the fire and stand next to him.
“You’re thinking too hard,” I say when he glances over to acknowledge me.
“What?”
“It’s a party. You shouldn’t look so serious.” I lift a brow. “Something on your mind?”
“Oh.” He smiles to himself, almost bashfully. “Yeah, just going over plays in my head. We’ve got a rivalry game next week.”
“Is that why you’re nursing that beer?”
“Want to know a secret?” Oliver leans in. “It’s soda.” He flashes a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Cross my heart,” I promise. “Under one condition.”
“Oh?” He licks his bottom lip, smiling. “How much is it gonna cost me?”
“Not much. Just tell me you dance.”
He wraps one muscular arm around my waist and speaks against my hair. “Easy money.”
Oliver walks me toward the other bodies that are dancing in lantern light and casting wild shadows among the trees. Here, the music is louder, and people move with their eyes closed and little space between them. Skin on skin. Sweat.
I don’t think about how I look. I don’t let self-consciousness seep into my good time. Instead, I watch myself reflected in Oliver’s eyes. The way he appears almost mesmerized as we dance. Fascinated, even.
“Who are you?” he asks with a bewildered look.
“A figment of your imagination.” I don’t know why I say it, except I’m not ready for the truth to pierce the fantasy.
“You go to school around here, right? How have we never partied together?”
I only smile and continue moving to the beat that’s almost supernatural the way it gets into my blood. The music is hypnotic, and I want to preserve this sense of mystery I’ve created around myself, even if I know it can only be a fleeting escape.
No sooner do I think it than Mila saunters up. The gorgeous brunette has been known to hook up with Oliver on occasion and was Sloane’s best friend at Ballard, at least before she turned on both of us, just like the rest of them.
When she realizes who Oliver is dancing with, Mila cocks an eyebrow at me like she’s caught me shoplifting. “Well, well. You’ve got to be the last person I expected to see here.”
“Answers at last.” With a triumphant smile, Oliver stops dancing. “You know her?” he asks Mila.
She stares at him as if he’s completely daft. “This is Sloane Tresscott’s sister. Casey.”
“No shit?” His mouth hangs open as he wonders how he hadn’t recognized me. “Damn.”
I dare say he looks almost impressed.
“Get me a drink?” Mila tells Oliver, who takes the hint and walks off with one last charming grin. Her expression turns dry when she aims it at me again. “Not trying to steal my guy, are you, Tresscott?”
There was a time I was intimidated by Mila. She was outgoing and energetic and sometimes vicious, the kind of person who could turn an entire lunchroom against you. And then she did it to me, and my fear of her seemed justified.
Standing here now, I almost can’t remember what convinced me I was no match for her.
“Why not?” I retort. “You’d deserve it for the rumors you spread about me. No honor among thieves, right?”
I expect a biting comeback.
Instead, she deflates.
“Fuck. I should have apologized a long time ago.” She winces to herself. “No, what I should have done is not be such a bitch in the first place. I’m sorry, Casey. For all of it.”
“Save it for Sloane. She’s the one you betrayed.”
Mila sighs, casting her attention at the ground. “I would, if she’d talk to me.”
“What do you expect? You know what she’s like. She takes her grudges to the grave.”
“How is she?” The sad hopefulness on her face is almost embarrassing. I get the impression she misses my sister. Must be a really humbling, crappy moment to realize maybe it wasn’t worth it to blow up their friendship.
“She’s great,” I reply, because I’m not about to pretend that Sloane hasn’t been thriving without Mila’s company. “Lips perpetually glued to her new boyfriend, RJ.”
“Yeah, I met him at the last soccer game.” Her hopeful expression dissolves into one of visible envy. “He’s hot as fuck.”
“Who’s hot as fuck?” Oliver demands, eyes narrowed as he returns with two cups of beer.
“You are,” Mila says innocently, accepting one of the cups. “Who else would we be talking about?”
She winks at me when he’s not looking, and I can’t help a grudging grin in reply.
“Here.” He hands me the other cup. “You were looking a little dehydrated, Tresscott.”
“Thanks.” I take a small sip, feeling Mila’s curious gaze on me while I do.
Oliver holds out his hands, one toward me, the other at Mila. “Come on. Both of you. I’ve decided I need to make all the other dudes here jealous by dancing with the two hottest chicks at the party.”
Laughing, Mila takes his hand and lets him yank her toward him. Then she gives me an expectant look. “Come on.”
I snort at her. “As if.”
She rolls her eyes. “We don’t have to be friends, Casey. It’s just a dance.”
Reluctance still lingers inside me, but a glance toward the fire reveals Jazmine and Gray whispering to each other, Jaz practically in his lap. I can’t see myself prying her from him anytime soon. And Oliver is a good dancer…
I slug back nearly half my drink and then plant my hand in Oliver’s waiting palm. He curls it around mine, then draws me and Mila toward the throng of dancers.