Page 6 of Together We Rot

By the way Lucas’s cousin is looking at me, you’d think I was a convicted felon. Admittedly, I’m not a saint. Mother Teresa might not be known for shoving people in greasy diners, but I’m certain she would’ve given me a pass if she’d been there. I’m only standing here now because as much as I hate Vrees, he had the “stalking” part right.

My typical Friday night involves a stakeout in the bushes in front of the Clarke house.

Usually, if I’m lucky, I’ll catch a glimpse of Mrs.Clarke fussing with her blinds or Mr.Clarke loudly rehearsing his sermon—or sacrificing rabbits randomly in the snow that one time—but tonight was different. Not once have I seen Elwood—perfect, rule-abiding Elwood—sneak out. Yet here he was acting like a normal human teenager and jumping out his bedroom window. To local law enforcement and God, I’m willing to bet my spying was both a state crime and mortal sin, but I don’t care. Sober Elwood might keep his family’s secrets under lock and key, but a tipsy tongue will tell me everything I need to know. So to Lucas’s party we go.

Still. I could do without Harvey Vandenhyde’s stink eye. “You act like I killed Lucas. I lightly tapped him before it got broken up. See? Like this.” I demonstrate by giving his flannel chest a shove. I don’t think he owns a shirt that isn’t flannel. His uniform is a long-sleeved shirt tucked into an oversize belt, dark cowboy boots despite the fact we live in northern Michigan, and blond hair hidden beneath a John Deere trucker hat.

He must have lead inserts in his shoes, too, because he doesn’t so much as flinch.

“No one wants you here, Wil,” he spits, holding his ground. Each word sprays on my cheek, and I make a show of hastily smearing it away.

Damn him and his cowboy boots.

I sneer at Lucas’s invite-only house. It’s big—not mansion big and not even “my dad works in middle management” big, but bigger than most of the trailers around here. We’re not exactly Silicon Valley.

It’s big enough for two more people, certainly. Golden light streams through the windows, bright enough to make up for the pitch-black sky. Silhouettes of gyrating bodies are illuminated on the other side of the glass, people dancing and spinning and laughing.

“Does Lucas pay you to bounce for him or do you do it for free?” I gripe. If Harvey doesn’t let us in, breaking into the house is plan B and another chip on my unethical bingo card. Not sure if Ronnie will tag along for that, so I plan out a solo mission in my head. Would anyone even hear shattering glass?

Whatever song they’re playing is lost out here, but the ground pulses with the bones of it. Surely that would drown out—

“For the love of God, Wil, why are you still standing here? Go be weird somewhere else.”

Before I can mindlessly spout any obscenities and make our situation worse, Ronnie steps out from behind me and decides to save the day with the feminine wiles I clearly don’t possess.

Harvey drinks in the sight of her shamelessly. As much as I want to slap him for it, I can see why. She might’ve rushed every part of this look in her mom’s car after I called with an emergency party plan, but she looks good. With fishnet sleeves and a bodycon dress, nothing about her screams I’m borrowing the car to study algebra in the library. I think if her religious mother saw her, she would keel over on the spot. Ronnie finished her look with dark metallic glitter on her lids and a nearly translucent sheen of blue highlighter swept across her cheekbones.

Meanwhile most of me is covered in crusted dirt. Creeping around in someone’s bushes will do that.

“Oh, uh, hey, Vee,” Harvey says blankly.

She traces a circle on the cement with the front of her shoe. One idle pattern after the other. “Lucas actually did invite me. I said no at the time, but”—she pauses to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear—“the more I thought about it, though, the more I realized I wanted to hear him out.”

What Ronnie actually said when I asked her to come was something more along the lines of You want me to go to that asshole’s party? I’d sooner die and go to hell. Followed by some heavy groveling on my part. With the way she’s dressed, though, maybe there’s an ounce of truth to her words.

Harvey’s having a hard time coming up with something coherent to say. Ronnie speeds the process with a puff of her lip and a genuine shiver.

It works like magic. He steps aside, his meaty hand rubbing sweat from the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s freezing. Go ahead and come in.”

Wow.

She shimmies past and before he can fully lift his arm up to bar me, she tacks on a “Where I go, she goes,” and that’s the end of that.

The warmth hits me first. Body heat has raised the room several degrees and then some. It’s more than welcome. I’ve lost feeling in every part of me.

Once I’m confident my arms haven’t succumbed to frostbite, I take the time to assess my surroundings; the decorating style consists almost solely of breakable shit. Very old-lady chic. I’m talking about knickknacks everywhere. Little glass baby cherubs and bizarrely showcased fine china. Some kid is going to break all of this for the fun of it.

The foyer is already littered with red Solo cups and crushed cans. I’d say this place is going to get trashed, but it’s already there.

“Where’s Lucas? Does he have this party under control?” Ronnie’s words are punctuated by the sound of a bottle breaking against the wall.

“Uh... yeah. Don’t worry about it.” Harvey clears his throat and I get the sense that he’s talking more to himself than us. His dad’s a former Navy SEAL or something. If he gets caught, he’ll probably be sent off to boot camp. His expression shifts and his patchy mustache raises with his grin. Well, it’s less of a mustache and more like five stray hairs he refuses to pluck. “Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a little Christmas eggnog to be festive?”

I’m going to barf. “I’ll have a beer.”

He sneers at me like he forgot I was there already. “Do I look like a bartender, Greene? Go get it yourself.” His breath reeks.

I roll my eyes. So much for the party of the century. “Ronnie, you want one?”

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