Notes from Ghost Town Read Online Free PDF Page B

frown at him. “Elysian Fields can suck it,” I say, and realize I’m starting to slur. “Raina and I. We call it Ghost Town, you know? But don’t tell your daddy, ’cause he paid for it!” I hiccup, stumbling over a rock before I can manage to turn another cartwheel.
    “Whoa girl,” he says, catching me before I face-plant into the sand. “Maybe we need to take the vodka away from you.”
    “Hold on hold on hold on.” I put my finger up, move it to his lips. “Listen up, Aus-tine. No one puts
Livie
in thecorner.” I crack up, twirling around again. “You’ve seen that movie, right? I mean, I know it’s like
old
but it’s soooo gooood.” Something inside me unlatches, and a wild fluttering feeling breaks free from its cage. I grab the bottle back, put it to my mouth for one more sip. “So, we gonna go for a swim or
what
?”
    “I don’t think that’s such a good—”
    I don’t let him finish. “Shhh. It’s a great idea.” I skip closer to the waves, inching my dress down to reveal the lacy black bra I bought from a French lingerie maker on Etsy. He freezes, watching me. I feel like the Sirens that Mom used to read me stories about from the
Odyssey
, like I’ve got some mystical hold over Austin Morse right now, as I inch the dress further down, past my ribs, past my belly button, over my hips, and thighs, and calves. I can tell that he’s breathing differently—slower, deeper—as I step fully out of it, standing now in bra and underwear, tossing the dress toward him.
    A shiver runs up my thighs.
    “You’re next,” I announce. “It’s about time I get to see you with your shirt off.”
    “But my bra’s not as sexy as yours,” he jokes, unbuttoning a single button so his chest shows just an inch. He steps even closer. Suddenly, a
whoop-whoop
sounds from down the beach, bright lights flashing wide against Austin’s back.
The cops
.
    Austin whips his head around, his eyes going huge, terrified. For a second, he just freezes. “Shit. Get dressed,Olivia. We gotta go.” He throws my dress to me across the sand. I watch it arc through the air and land at my feet.
    I snatch it up, suddenly confused, afraid. No more screw-ups. Dad will kill me. “We have to
hide
.”
    “
Hide?
No way.” He comes to me, scoops up the dress, presses it into my hands. “Come on, Liv. Let’s move.”
    The cops are getting closer. I back away from him—drunk, desperate. “
You
go.”
    He shakes his head, like he can’t believe anyone could be so dumb, and starts jogging back toward the party. “Come on!” he calls over his shoulder, one last time. But then the cop lights come too close and he starts running faster. I wrestle my dress over my head and watch his body disappear into the shadows, still frozen, fear beating a path through the haze in my mind. The
whoop-whooping
grows closer and, too late to do anything else, I fling myself into the shadows beneath the closest dock. I press myself into the dark, adrenaline making my whole body wild-hot and prickly. It smells down here—like something fishy and sharp.
    The car stops. I hold my breath and grow stock-still as a flashlight beams closer and closer, an officer clucking his tongue, like he’s trying to summon chickens instead of teenagers. I can’t let them find me—Dad’s overprotective enough as it is, especially since I flunked out of art school.
    Craack
—something snaps behind me. Footsteps. Someone else’s breath.
Oh, shit
. My breath goes rigid again, and I’m so startled, I almost pee.
    “You got a cigarette?” asks a harsh, ragged voice.
    Medusa, the local, crazy homeless lady, stands behind me holding a ratty, tooth-marked comb. “I give you this. Free, for a cigarette,” she says.
    “No,” I whisper, still shaky, realizing it’s true—my purse is up there, where the cops are still patrolling with their flashlight beams. Double shit. “Nothing.”
    “Nothing
chica
? Nada?” she asks, gazing at me through dark cloudy