Page 51 of Crew Princess
Whoever this chick was, we owed her. Big time.
We learned two things when we swam up to the bank farther down the river. One, Aspen had been camping. There was a tent, and she hurried inside to change clothes. Second, two of our phones still worked: Zellman’s and Cross’. The two that had been double-bagged and put inside Jordan’s baggie survived the trek. Mine and Jordan’s, both only in one condom, hadn’t made it.
We’d need to have a phone funeral, but we had more important things to handle. Job one being getting the hell out of Dodge. The cops had descended back down the hill, so Cross turned his phone on to call Race. He strolled down the river, looking for the road.
His voice traveled down to us. “Yeah. Is Taz’s synced with me? You see where we are?” A pause. “No. We had to go in the river to hide from the cops. Did you see them? They might do a sweep down the road where you are.” A longer pause. “Yeah.”
He turned.
Headlights were starting to grow, coming from the south.
“I think I see you. Park up there. Jordan’s hurt. We’ll bring him up.” A beat. “You got any clean clothes up there? Or blankets?” A nod. “Okay. Be up in a bit.”
Cross hung up, coming back. He started to relay his conversation. I beat him to it. “We heard.”
The tent unzipped, and Aspen stepped out, pulling her hoodie up over her head. “Sound travels over the water.” She glanced back to where we could still see the glimmer of the cops, their flashlights had dwindled, but the squad car lights were still flashing.
Everyone was quiet a second, all of us—sans one—on the same wavelength.
Then, Jordan asked, almost gently, “So, um… You were camping here tonight?”
Zellman interrupted, “Alone? And dude, why here?”
“Zellman.” I cursed under my breath.
He shrugged, not looking at me. “Just saying what we’re all thinking.” He gave the tent a cursory look, his mouth lifting in a slight sneer. “This shit’s weird. Who camps alone? Or what chick would camp alone?”
Jordan sighed.
I wanted to hit Zellman. Again.
Cross shifted back on his feet, standing close to me.
“It’s weird, you guys. And not safe.” Zellman was on a roll. “Are you socially not there or something? Were you camping to spy on the party?”
She stiffened at the last question. Her eyes blazed, widening. Her mouth pressed tight.
Oh. God.
She was.
That was weird…or sad.
Zellman had violated so many etiquette rules…an awkward silence fell over the group.
Then Jordan murmured, “Ignore our friend. He’s a moron ninety percent of the time and ignorant the other ten—”
“Hey!”
“We have a lot to thank you for tonight. If you hadn’t helped us, we would’ve…” Jordan glanced at me.
I would’ve been in trouble. A lot of it.
I nodded. “Yeah. Thank you. Zellman doesn’t mean to be offensive. He’s just not saying it in the right way.” I shot him a look. “In a sensitive way.”
“Oh.” She laughed, but it was hollow, forced. “It was nothing. I mean, I saw the cops coming and figured I should try and do what I could to help.”
I glanced at her tent, and my stomach dipped over itself. The whole place looked sad. Solitary. Then again, who was I to judge? Someone watching me watch my old house could think the same thing. They could judge me too, and they’d be right.
