Not being well-acquainted with psychic phenomena, I don't know if déjà vu is traditionally accompanied by a sinking feeling or not. Actually, I don't even know if the term déjà vu was appropriate for this particular situation, since it was not a case of just "sensing" that I'd been in a similar position before.
I knew damn well I'd done this already.
"I think we got us a problem here," Janelle said, trying to stifle a laugh.
I knew that. I'd recognized one of the giggles.
On the damp ground in front of us, barely visible in the intermittent moonlight, sat Presley Bauer and homecoming king Cameron Fischbach, both of them laughing and obviously drunk. Empty Bud cans littered the ground around the boys. At least eight of them.
"Now we know what happened to the rest of Ronnie's beer," Janelle said.
"Hey, Tory," Presley drawled. "You know something? I might be kinda drunk."
"No shit," I said, sighing. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"We wanted to see an old fart party," Presley laughed. "It's pretty damn dull, but I gotta admit the beer's fine."
Cameron seconded that notion sloppily.
Janelle and I looked at each other and shook our heads.
"These fine inebriated fellows belong to Del and Doug respectively, right?" Janelle asked me. "That complicates things. Both of their parents are here—it's gonna be difficult to sneak them out of here."
"I vote we let 'em take their lumps. Maybe they'll learn a lesson," I said, deliberately ignoring my usual instinct to protect Presley.
"What'll happen if they get caught?" Janelle asked, eyeing the partially subdued pair.
"First of all, they'll be suspended from extracurricular activities at school for awhile," I said, racking my brain for the rules and regulations.
"That'd really break my ol' man's heart," Cameron slurred. He'd showered and changed to blue jeans, though he still wore a dirty number 69 jersey. The one that had been his father's in a long-ago victorious homecoming.
"They'll have to meet with a probation officer and do community service. At least that's what'll happen to Cameron. Presley is only thirteen, there may be a different procedure for him."
"Thirteen!" Janelle shouted, then remembered that we were trying to be quiet. "What the hell are you doing getting a thirteen-year-old drunk? Are you both idiots?" she demanded in whisper.
"Hey, I got myself drunk," Presley said indignantly.
"I'm watching out for him," Cameron said at the same time.
"Yeah, right," I said as the boys tried unsuccessfully to look repentant.
"You two stay there," Janelle commanded, pointing at the ground. She then beckoned me to the edge of the bushes and peered around at the fire.
"You know what kind of scene there'll be if Doug catches Cameron here," she said quietly.
I agreed. "At the very least, Doug will have no choice but to throw Cameron off the football team."
It occurred to me that being thrown off the team might have been Cameron's whole purpose in showing up at the river.
"Should we get Delphine?" Janelle asked.
Del sat next to Hugh at the fire, laughing and talking and flirting. She looked like she was having a wonderful time. Hugh seemed to be enjoying himself too.
"Better not," I said. I'd known the maternal thing would kick in sooner or later. "She's here with a teacher, and teachers are required to report any suspicion of chemical use to the principal too."
"With a teacher?" Presley whispered, theatrically aghast. "Which one?" He scrambled ahead to look.
"Pipe down," I said sternly, pushing him back. "You want to get suspended?"
"Mr. Kincaid?" Presley wailed. "I'm on the annual staff. How will I ever show my face at school again?"
"While you're dying of humiliation, you might remember that you weren't invited to this particular shindig," I said. "If you'd stayed home where you belong, you'd never have known."
"But Mr. Kincaid is my—"
A sudden series of shouts from the other side of the chokecherry clump interrupted Presley.
At the fire, Doug Fischbach was standing, furiously arguing with his wife. He said something that I couldn't understand, though the nastiness of the remark was reflected in the shocked faces of those nearby. Including Stu, whose face was worked into a mixture of anger and complete loathing.
Debbie said something sharp and equally repugnant to Doug, who responded with a powerful open-handed blow that sent her reeling.
The crowd stood in stunned silence.
"Mom!" Cameron howled, and rushed from behind Janelle, where he'd been peeking around her legs.
Before anyone had a chance to register Cameron's sudden and unexpected appearance, he had tackled his father, knocking them both almost into the fire. Everyone jumped into action as Cameron furiously pummeled his father. Ron tried to pull Cameron away. Debbie sobbed and shouted. Stu tried to restrain Doug and got another flailing fist in the eye for his trouble.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," intoned Presley.
"Here." Janelle hurriedly dug in her pants pocket and handed me a set of keys. "Take my car. Maybe I can divert them long enough for you to get Presley home before anyone sees him."
The logic of her suggestion was inescapable. There was nothing I could do for Cameron. The consequences of this little drinking binge were going to be heavy indeed, a fact that seemed to be dawning on Presley, who was turning green around the gills.
I nodded and took the keys, déjà vu settling in with a dull thud. Is it homecoming that triggers this kind of stuff? I wondered. Or the river?
A separate thought occurred to me. "Stu..." I said.
Janelle misunderstood. "Don't worry, he'll take me home," she said over her shoulder as she trotted away.
I filed that statement away for later consideration and ushered a visibly shaken Presley to Janelle's '57 Corvette, hoping no one at the fire would think to look around.
"Hey," Presley said just before he threw up the first time, "cool car."