Chapter One
It was tradition for a junior to host the end of summer bash, and Ballard was the obvious pick. He had everything a good party host needed: a giant lake house, easy access to alcohol, and parents who worked more than they breathed.
I borrowed Mom’s car to make the thirty-minute trek to Lake Martin, freshly shaved and worried I went a bit too heavy-handed with the cologne. I kept the windows down to air myself out and tried not to stress about the night ahead.
Beside me on the seat, my phone buzzed, but I ignored it until I parked.
Where are you? It was Ballard.
I rolled up the windows and turned up the air-conditioning while I took three deep breaths. Then I replied, Outside. In the car.
Well get out of the car. You said you wanted to have more fun this year. It’s a party. Have fun.
For Ballard, it was that simple. Show up. Have fun.
I’m coming in. Probably. Just give me a second.
Ok. I’m putting my phone away now. This is your call.
To party or not to party? Should that even be a question? I took one more deep breath, turned off the engine, and got out of the car.
Of course, I ran into Wade Bond not three feet from the front door. His blond hair was spiked in front like some boy band heartthrob, a girl in an American flag T-shirt draped across his arm.
“Hey there, Luckie.” Wade’s foot shot in front of me. I wasn’t quick enough to dodge it, but I managed a little jump and turn, so I didn’t fall flat on my face. Years of practice improved my balance when it came to recovering from bully-foot-in-the-path.
The girl with him laughed, and Wade called after me, “Where you off to so fast? You need to see the wizard?”
I flipped him the bird, but only because it was dark and he couldn’t see me anymore. I would stand up to Wade eventually, but not while he was drunk. That wouldn’t be smart.
In the living room, I spotted Erin Mielke and her latest boyfriend. She waved, and I stopped to say hi.
Erin and I met in first grade. I hid under her desk during a meltdown and she screamed and told the teacher I was looking up her dress.
That was in Auburn, where my mom used to be an associate pastor and Erin’s mom was finishing a master’s degree. Erin’s family went to our church and, when Mom was reappointed to Moorhen to start The Exchange, she hired Brian, Erin’s dad, as her worship pastor. His wife got a job teaching art, thanks to amazing timing—what Mom would call God’s timing.
And there we were, Erin and me, growing up in the same churches, playing tag around the same pews, setting up endless games of Monopoly while our parents planned every aspect of The Exchange for years and years.
“This is Miles,” Erin said, gesturing to the guy beside her.
Miles and I nodded at one another. We’d seen each other around school, but I didn’t know much about him.
I joined Miles and some other guys playing Call of Duty on the big screen and zoned out for a bit.
By ten o’clock, the music was loud and the people around me were louder. Since I was sober, I remember more of that night than anyone else. Ballard’s reddish-orange hair flared on the back deck and I followed the signal. Mostly I’d stayed with the Call of Duty group, but nervous energy made me restless.
I hadn’t run into Wade since I first arrived, but that couldn’t last. This was a party, and Wade was one of the gods of the Moorhen High football team. He wouldn’t stay on the fringes for long.
“Yo, Stephen!” Ballard hollered from his Adirondack throne, a Solo cup held out like an offering. Wade may have been a football god, but Ballard was still king of this party.
I stepped into the golden glow of a lantern that hung above our heads, hands in my pockets to keep my newest tic from drawing attention. My fingers flexed involuntarily and I gritted my teeth.
“Here.” Ballard pushed the cup toward me and I waved it away.
He knew I wouldn’t drink it, not while on the kind of meds I take. Still, he pushed it at me again, and I shook my head in refusal. He was like that when people were around, less my friend and more the cool class clown.
“He doesn’t want it,” someone said.
I glanced around the group. It was Joan Pearson. I’d looked right past her earlier, not recognizing her with newly dyed black hair. Her hair used to be a soft brown. She had these piercing dark eyes, and she narrowed them in Ballard’s direction, defending me. She had a bit of a messiah complex going on.
“I can speak for myself,” I said.
A sudden thump of bass from the speakers drowned me out, NF’s quick tongue shooting lyrics like arrows all over the deck. Joan tossed back raven hair and sipped from her own Solo cup. Ballard shrugged and turned his attention back to the others.
Erin and Miles stepped out of the house and made their way to where I was standing. Some friends were there, plus a couple of girls I didn’t recognize, and Joan’s friend Sylvie. Sylvie was showing this guy, Andrew, something on her phone.
“Awesome,” Andrew said, grinning. “Let’s play.”
“Play what?” one of the girls asked. Her hair was curly and damp, like she’d just been for a swim.
“Sylvie found this app like spin the bottle.” Andrew waved the phone in our direction, its glittery red case catching the lantern light.
“We put everyone’s name and picture into the app,” Sylvie explained. “Then we spin the virtual bottle and it tells us who to kiss.”
“That’s boring,” this guy, Case, said. “If I wanted to kiss any girl here, I’d do it. I don’t need an app for that.” Case didn’t need alcohol to act like an idiot, but he’d had some.
“I dare you,” Ballard said. He motioned with his cup as a group of girls walked up the steps. One of them wore a Tallassee High T-shirt and I figured that’s why I didn’t recognize half the people there. They were from nearby towns, crashing from some other party at someone else’s lake house.
Lake Martin was surrounded by tiny Alabama towns full of tiny Alabama lives. One day, I’d get the hell out of this place for sure.
“Pick a girl,” Case demanded, unable to turn down a dare. “Any girl.”
“Her.” Ballard pointed at one of the new arrivals. She wore jean shorts and a yellow bikini top. I stared a little too long. My foot jerked twice, fast, and I fell into the chair next to Ballard. No one noticed, too intent on Case and the girl.
Case tried to march across the deck, but he’d had a few too many and swayed as he went. The girl turned when he planted himself beside her. Case leaned forward, but the look on the girl’s face was enough to make him back down.
We laughed so hard I pulled my hands out of my pockets to hold my sides. Ballard spilled his beer on my shoes, and Joan said something to Sylvie, something that sounded like “assholes.”
Case didn’t bother coming back to the group. He went into the house, hunting for another beer to drown his humiliation. I wasn’t sorry for him. He had to know he deserved it. I’d never kissed anyone, but even if I’d kissed a million girls, I couldn’t imagine walking up to one and laying it on her.
Maybe I was naive.
Okay, I know I was naive, but I was positive I could never be as big of a jerk as Case Malone.
“Hey, great party, man.” Another guy joined our circle, reaching over to fist-bump Ballard.
We were an odd combination, Ballard’s court of fools. Andrew was a junior like me, an okay guy. Joan was a tough girl, smart and always angry for no known reason. She had this existential angst factor that kept her from fitting in much of anywhere, but she used to date Wade. He was her ticket into any group—him and Sylvie. Sylvie was one of those all-around friendly people. She could fit in comfortably anywhere. Beautiful, with white-blond hair and round honey-brown eyes, like some kind of angel, Sylvie was welcome wherever she went. None of us had dated her, but we all daydreamed about it, unable to ignore the shape of her in tight jeans and a red sweater. Red was her color. She always wore something red.
“Come on, let’s play.” Sylvie called our attention back to her, and we all willingly gave it. If Ballard was king that night, Sylvie was queen.
“All right, set it up,” Ballard told her, leaning forward in his chair.
“We’re out,” Erin said, giving me a little wave as she wandered away with Miles.
“What’re we playing?” A new guy, Michael, dropped into a seat. I didn’t know him well, but I recognized him from the football team. His presence made me nervous, because usually the football boys hung together. So if this guy was here, Wade would appear soon. The idea of dealing with Wade made my fingers flex like crazy. I stuck my hands back in my pockets.
Sylvie explained the game and the guys complained it was boring. “Just a kiss? Some stupid little peck on the cheek?”
It didn’t sound boring to me, but those guys had rounded home while I was still in the dugout. I glanced around and caught a girl from school watching me. Her nose was crinkled up, like she’d smelled something bad. I blushed, thinking she was worried about playing this game with me, about having to maybe kiss me.
A few more girls joined the group, bringing another football player with them. Someone called someone else a prude. Joan rolled her eyes, and I forgot about the spin-the-bottle app. I watched Joan.
Copyright © 2021 by Heather Truett
