crossing
her arms to stop them from shaking, walking back to the stairs
leading down from the roof. She felt light-headed, almost a
spectator watching herself as she returned down the stairs to the
ground floor, across the hall, and out the door to the sod-covered
athletic field.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lily wasn't entirely
sure why she was approaching Barny until she'd reached him. He was
alone, throwing a football towards one of the round tin targets the
team had set-up for the purpose. The rest of the class was running
laps on the other side of the field.
Like her boyfriend, Barny was a first-string
member of Laton High's Sandpiper football team. Slightly shorter
and broader of shoulder than Derek, Barny was well suited to his
role as Center, a position that involved both physical conflict and
a tactical acuity. He was well regarded for both.
He stopped as she approached. "You want
something, Baker?"
Lily didn't question why he wasn't running
laps with the rest of his class. Barney, by and large, did whatever
he wanted to. "Was I at the Spot last week?"
"You were in a coma last week." He picked up
a football and turned towards his target.
She cleared her throat. "You know what I
mean. Before that."
Barney threw the ball, clipping the side of
his target. He turned back towards Lily.
"Yeah. You still saying you don't
remember?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I don't remember."
"Okay. Yeah, you were there."
"Was I... what happened?" Her voice broke.
"Please, Barney, don't give me any shit, just tell me."
Barney paused, then looked directly at her,
a hard stare burrowing into her eyes. "You sure you want to
know?"
"Cut the shit, please?"
"Okay."
***
Parties at The Spot
were one of Barny's favorite little microcosms, primarily due to
the lack of scrutiny and adult interference. To most of the teens
and adults in Laton, it was a needed pressure release valve, an
outlet for rebellion sanctioned for the purpose. For Barny, it was
a case study in excess and desire.
A rusted scrap-metal and plywood fence had
been erected when the place had been condemned ages ago, ostensibly
to keep the town youths out. In practice it just made it easier for
the town's adults to ignore what went on inside. Within the fence
lay a flat gravel lot surrounding the burnt-out wreck of what had
been the snack-shack and ticket office. All that remained of the
car-speakers were metal posts driven into the ground every eight
feet or so.
"Dude," he said, clasping Hugh on the back.
"She totally wants you."
"Yeah?" The fat-fuck stoner looked across
the gravel to where Amy, the lithe and tan target of his desire,
was talking and laughing near the bonfire.
Stories told that in decades past the teens
used to rig up an old projector and watch R-rated movies at the
theater, but no one knew what had become of it. Instead, ever since
Barny had been a kid, students had built a bonfire near the base of
the old screen, letting the smoke form shifting sinuous shadows
cast by its own light. Not too far away, Barny had set up a folding
table covered with red plastic cups, and a cooler filled with a
potent mixture of Everclear, pineapple juice, tang, chunks of
watermelon, and Gatorade. It was Barny's variation of an ancient
jungle-juice remedy; the electrolytes helping the stomach-lining
absorb the alcohol more quickly. It made things more
interesting.
"Hell yeah." Barny dipped one of the cups
into the alcoholic brew. "See how she keeps looking over here at
you?"
"Yeah?"
"Totally checking you out."
Hugh looked back towards the girl.
"Yeah."
There was some snickering from the
splintered railroad ties piled behind the table, where Barny's
cohorts Marty and Chuck were watching from. Their postures and
jackal-grins were so similar, that it was easiest to tell them
apart by the color of their polo shirts.
"Totally, man," Marty said.
"She's into you," Chuck said.
"See?" Barny gestured back at his cohorts
with the cup before handing it to Hugh.
Hugh took a