Page 3 of Someday Away

“Let’s get a drink,” Fiona says.

Turning away, I follow her to a tent sheltering a table stacked with boxes of graham crackers and bags of marshmallows. A girl—a freshman by the look of her baby face—waves as we approach, but before she can greet us, a boy walks up next to the table, dumping a pile of sticks onto an already sizable heap.

“I’m done with stick duty,” he snarks angrily before stomping off.

Fiona and I glance at each other and hold in a laugh.

The girl smiles apologetically. “Do you want to make a s’more?” she asks brightly. “Or there’s drinks in those coolers.”She indicates two large red Colemans sitting in the grass to her left.

“Just drinks,” I say. “Thanks.”

We walk over and open one of the chests, and I scrunch my nose when Fiona pulls out two Rainier beers.

“Not a beer fan, huh? Me either, but it’s all we get for free on campus.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised you can drink so freely. Aren’t we breaking open container laws or something?”

Fiona snickers. “Totally, but Whitmore U is full of entitled trust fund babies. Campus security gets paid a lot of money to look the other way during these little events.”

“Right.” I crack open the beer and take a swig, wincing as the bitter taste assaults my tongue. But as the night wears on, the beers seem to go down easier, and I suspect it has to do with my level of inebriation.

It’s been a while since I really allowed myself to relax and have fun, but despite the panic that always sits restlessly in the back of my consciousness, I feel relatively safe following Fiona like a lost drunk puppy, and she doesn’t seem to mind.

After polishing off my third drink, I crush the can in my hand and wander over to one of the overflowing recycling bins. I toss the can from a few feet away, missing my target entirely. It ricochets off into the surrounding darkness.

“Shit,” I mutter, squinting as I step past the firelight and trip over something hard. I fall backward and land with a wet thud on the rain-soaked grass. I stare daggers at the tree root that caught my foot, and spot my discarded can next to the tree’s trunk a few feet away. Sighing I crawl over, grab the can, and sit a moment, my eyes sinking closed.

I need water, I think as I breathe in the cool, damp air.

“Did you recognize the new scholarship girl?” Serenity’s voice reaches my ears, and I open my eyes, watching as sheapproaches the recycle bin and carefully sets her can on the already precariously stacked pile. “Charlie or whatever?”

“Yeah, Seren, what about her?”

I tense up at the smooth, deep voice and peer around the bin to get a better view of the speaker. Lincoln and Trey are standing next to her smoking a joint. Lincoln takes a long pull and inhales before passing it to Trey.

“She’s from Brighton like us,” Serenity says.

“Is she?” Lincoln asks disinterestedly as he blows out the smoke.

Of course I would run into Brighton townies. Lucky me.

“Yes,” Serenity continues, “and I have a friend who went to Brighton Prep who told me that Charlie’s mom was the socialite who committed suicide last year.”

My heart rate escalates and the air squeezes from my lungs.

Lincoln stiffens. “No one actually confirmed that it was suicide.”

Serenity shrugs. “Just what I heard.”

“Why do you care?” Trey asks.

“I’m just surprised she’s here on a scholarship. Her family obviously has money.”

“Wait, which girl are we talking about?” Trey asks. “The hot little number with the Converse? I saw her and Link sharing a smoldering look across the fire.”

My cheeks heat with embarrassment.

Lincoln’s face darkens, and he shoves Trey, who stumbles away with a chuckle. “She’s pretty average if you ask me—looks like every other rich bitch at this college.”

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