Page 44 of Kiss Collector
“Okay, that’s hot.” Monica.
“Damn, he’s good!” Lin.
“Aww! He’s so sweet!” Kenz. “Did you kiss him?”
“No. I was too distracted by the text from Dean.”
“Mmm... Dean.” Monica gives me a sly look from the front passenger seat, and I cut her some side eye.
“I will fight you, D-dub.”
“You can try, B-diddy.” She laughs and I shake my head,watching the road. I sincerely hope she’s joking.
It’s dark when we arrive at nine, and a huge bonfire lights the way as we park in the dirt field and make our way through long grasses. The place is lit. Bodhi Stein’s pickup truck is pulled close, filled with firewood. His doors are open and his speakers are blaring a mixed playlist of country, hip-hop, and rock. There’s a keg of beer with a stack of plastic cups. I have no idea how they were able to get that, but people are crowded around it, screaming and laughing. I’m happy to see that I recognize almost everyone here from school. Athletes and potheads, dancers and hoodlums. All so different, yet so much the same. It feels comfortable, like we can all let loose without fear.
My friends get in line for a beer, while I sip a bottle of Coke, peering around for Dean. He must not be here yet. After the girls get their drinks, we move aside. A group of baseball players spots us and they holler out, having apparently been here drinking a lot longer than us. Kyle is already stumbling.
“Oh, no,” I whisper when I make eye contact with Brent Dodge. His poor face lights up when he sees me, and he jogs over.
“What’s up, Zae?”
“Hey, Brent. Having fun?”
“Yeah.” He adjusts his Peakton baseball hat, looking at me with that cute baby face. “Hey, can we go talk?”
“Brent...” I let out a quiet sigh, and he gives me a bashful smile.
“What?”
“No talking.”
“More kissing?” His voice is hopeful.
“No. I’m single, and that’s how I like it.” I give him a friendly punch in the arm, and he throws his head back, staring up at the sky.
“Fiiiine.”
Kenzie bounds over with half her beer gone already. “Hi, Brent!”
“Hey, you coming to all the games this season?”
“You know it.” She wouldn’t miss watching her third baseman for the world. Our team is supposed to be amazing this year. She takes another long swig.
“Are you getting drunkies?” I ask.
“Maybe.” Her huge smile shows she’s already headed in that direction. Then she frowns. “I wish Vinny was here.”
“Vinny.” Brent chuckles. “That is awesome.” He laughs heartily, and Kenz shoves him, laughing, too.
It doesn’t take long for the party to get rowdy. The sweet, skunky scent of weed blows on the spring breeze, mixing with bonfire smoke and pine. Spilled beer soils the ground beneath our feet. Darkness. Music. Dancing. Drugs and alcohol. Guys and girls on the cusp of independence. Seclusion. It’s a recipe for success. Or disaster. But I’m only feeling the success right now because Dean and a carful of football players just showed up to a chorus of low howls from their friends.
Kenzie with a buzz is like a butterfly, flittering around to chat with as many people as possible and to hand out her famous hugs. For a little thing, she has a strong embrace. Lin, Monica, and I laugh as we watch her go. Thankfully she keeps her distance from where Sierra and Meeka are standing witha few guys from the basketball team and some of their dancer friends. If Kenz has a run-in with those two tonight, she’ll end up inconsolable, and drunk tears are the worst.
“Don’t look,” Monica whispers with her cup close to her mouth, “but Rex Morino is at three o’clock and he’s staring hard.”
“Crap,” I whisper, not daring to look.
“Holy stalker,” Lin says.
