The Gathering
Page 12

After cake, we sat around the kitchen, talking. That’s when the kids who weren’t part of our circle drifted off for the night. Once they were gone, Corey brought out the booze. Well, a twelve-pack of beer. That’s Daniel’s house rule. One pack of Lucky and when it’s gone, it’s gone. No one drove to the party, so no one would be driving home. And because it was Daniel setting the rules, no one broke them. No one dared.
When we party with summer kids, the new cottage renters sometimes joke about hiding the booze from me. I’m Native, so I must drink. But I don’t. My friends think that’s because I’m being stubborn and contrary. Not true. The point of drinking seems to be to lose control, and that’s definitely not my idea of a good time.
By the time the beer came out, there were only seven of us left. Daniel, me, Nicole, Brendan and Corey, of course. Hayley stayed, too, as usual. So did Sam, which was new. Hell, having her come to our parties at all was new. Daniel didn’t care. It’s not like she’d tattle on us about the beer.
After breaking out the booze, the next step was breaking into couples. As long as no one tried to use his room, Daniel was fine with people sneaking off to find a quiet place. He was taking some baby steps in that direction himself with Nicole, sitting on the love seat in the living room. Corey and Hayley disappeared first. They were a “couple of convenience.” Had been since eighth grade. Neither was really into the other, but if there wasn’t anyone better around, they’d pair up.
Brendan’s girlfriend had to work, so he sat with me. Just talking, mostly about track. I think he was looking forward to giving back the captain’s position. Some people don’t like taking charge. Can’t fathom that myself.
Sam stayed with us, which was awkward, trying to include her in a conversation she had no interest in. We changed the subject, to be polite, but she seemed happy just to sit there, chugging her beer.
When she went to get another one, Brendan said, “Did you notice how many were left?”
I pointed at my glass of Coke.
“Right,” he said. “You wouldn’t know. But I think it was down to a couple, so I’d better grab one.”
That left me on the sofa, inspecting my nails, trying not to glance over at Daniel and Nicole, deep in close conversation on the love seat.
A thump on the sofa made me jump. Rafe vaulted the back of it, and landed beside me.
“I thought they’d never leave.” He stretched out his legs, hit the coffee table, and sent my drink shaking. “Whoops.” He grabbed it. “Yours?”
I nodded. He reached over me to put it on the side table, then wedged his beer bottle between his thighs.
“Sam and Brendan, huh?” he said. “Now that I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“They just went to get a beer.” I motioned to his. “Or fight over the last one.”
I stopped myself before I asked where he’d been. That would imply I’d been disappointed that he’d left. So I just nodded at his drink again and said, “Did anyone tell you house rules?”
“When it’s gone, it’s gone. No BYOB. No dope.” The corners of his mouth quirked.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure we’re very quaint compared to your big city bashes.”
“Wouldn’t know. Never been to one.” When I gave him a look, he said, “Big parties, sure. Just not big cities. Growing up, we were strictly small town, usually rural.”
I must have looked skeptical, because he said, “I’m being me tonight, remember? All truth, all the time. The big city crap is just that.”
“Okay, then.” I twisted to face him. “If you’re being honest, what about the accent? If that’s supposed to be Texas, you really need to work on it.”
He laughed. “You accusing me of using a fake drawl? Don’t you think it’s sexy? Every other girl up here does.” He grinned, a little of that old arrogance seeping back in, but in a way that didn’t seem as bad as usual. He leaned forward, voice lowering, though Daniel and Nicole were too far away to hear us over the music. “It’s real. A real mongrel mess. Part Texas, part Arkansas, part New Mexico, part wherever else Mom felt like living. We moved around a lot.” He eased back a little, still close enough that our legs touched. “What about you? I heard you weren’t born here either.”
“Oregon,” I said. “We moved when I was five.”
“And is it true what I heard? You were found on the steps of a church? Wrapped in swaddling clothes? With a secret necklace that will unlock your true destiny when you turn eighteen?”
I laughed. “That would make a much better story. No church, necklace, or swaddling clothes. But, yes, ‘foundling’ is the correct term. Very Dickensian.”
Rafe was about to say something, when he noticed Daniel watching us. He leaned over and whispered, “Any chance I can get my thirty minutes without the chaperone?”
I glanced at Daniel. He mouthed, “Want me to get rid of him?” I shook my head. Nicole followed the exchange, then stood, plucking Daniel’s sleeve and saying something I couldn’t hear. Daniel hesitated, then nodded. They got up and headed toward the kitchen.
As they passed, Nicole leaned over the end table and whispered, “We’re going outside. Get some air.” She winked. “And leaving you two alone.”
“Thanks,” I said.
They left, but the music was still booming, and Sam was heading back in through the dining room, which promised an even bigger problem.
“Want to go someplace quieter?” Rafe asked.
I nodded. He took my pop and his beer and followed me out. There was a back TV room and that’s where I went first. All seemed quiet until I pushed open the door, and found Hayley and Corey making out on the couch … and not completely dressed. Before I could shut the door again, Hayley jumped off Corey and yanked down her shirt. She started to snarl something at me. Then she saw Rafe standing at my shoulder.
“Hey, Hayley,” he said. “Corey.”
The look she leveled on me was lethal. “You bitch,” she said. “You scheming little—”
I closed the door fast.
“Thanks, guys!” Corey yelled.
“Sorry!” I called back.
“How about outside?” Rafe whispered. He caught my look and said, “Just on the porch or something.”
“I think that’s where Daniel and Nicole went. I have an idea.”
I led him upstairs. As I pushed open the door to Daniel’s bedroom, I said, “It’s a way station not a destination.”
Rafe chuckled. “Damn.”
I went in, leaving the door ajar, and headed for the window. It usually opened easily. Before Daniel dared to march out the front door with his bag packed, he’d take the window exit and ride his bike to our place. It’d been a while since we’d gone out to sit on the roof. We used to—the three of us—but since Serena died, whenever Daniel suggested it, I changed the subject.
The house had been painted this summer and it seemed like the window hadn’t been opened since. I whaled on it, then looked over to ask Rafe for help. He was standing in front of Daniel’s dresser, holding our drinks as he looked at the photos shoved in the mirror frame.
“You guys really have been friends a long time.” He pointed the beer bottle at one. “What are you there? Six?”
“About that.”
He grinned. “I like the pigtails.”
He leaned in to look at a few others. Someone yelled something downstairs, and I said, “Come on,” suddenly realizing I really didn’t want to be found with Rafe in Daniel’s bedroom, however innocent the explanation.
Rafe took his time, still checking out the room. He gestured at a pile of textbooks on the floor.
“What’s he use those for? Weight lifting?”
“If you showed up in class more often, you wouldn’t be asking that. Daniel’s not a dumb jock.”
“No kidding.” He leaned over to read the titles. “Pre-law? Please tell me those belong to his older brothers.”
“An uncle. They’re Daniel’s now. A little outdated but …” I shrugged.
He looked at me like he thought I was kidding. Everyone in town joked about Daniel taking over Chief Carling’s job, and when he was little, even he thought he wanted to be a cop. Then he spent a year in cadets and realized paramilitary careers weren’t for him.
Daniel had his own very firm ideas of right and wrong, and didn’t like following anyone else’s. So he’d set his sights on law. It wasn’t a sure thing. Daniel was a solid A-minus student, but he really worked for those grades. Harder than I did, which made me feel bad sometimes.
I finally got Rafe over to the window and held the drinks while he yanked it open. Then I handed them back and told him to wait.
“Can I ask where we’re going?” he said.
“Up.”
He grinned. “Should have guessed. After you then.”
FOURTEEN
FROM THE WINDOW, I swung over to the porch roof. I took the drinks from him, set them down, and climbed onto the main roof. By the time I was there, Rafe was on the porch roof, holding the drinks up to me. I grabbed them and he clambered up. Then I stood, carefully, and walked to my usual place—the flatter roof on the storage space above the garage.
Rafe sat beside me. I handed him his beer and looked out into the dark forest. As I inhaled the smell of it, I closed my eyes and relaxed, but I didn’t feel that usual slow stream of energy seeping in. Maybe it was too late for that and I was too tired. If anything, the energy seemed to be flowing out, leaving me blissfully relaxed, even a little light-headed.
When I glanced over at Rafe, he was staring into the night, sipping his beer, looking just as calm, happy even. Neither of us said a word, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. Just … nice.
After a few minutes, he said, “Better not let my thirty minutes slip away, huh?”
“I’m not wearing a watch.”
His grin sparked at that, and I felt this tingle in my gut, a slow heat, as if there was more than Coke in my glass. I glanced away and took a gulp. It didn’t help. I felt weirdly disconnected. Like when a summer boy sneaked rum into my Coke on our first and last date. I knew what booze tasted like now, though, and my pop was fine.
“So, you wanted to get to know me …” he said.
I laughed, and the fuzzy feeling evaporated. “Um, no, I don’t think I ever said that.”
“Close enough. Here’s your chance. Ask me anything and I’ll reply with relative honesty.”
“Relative?”
“I’m the mysterious new guy in town. You like that. You just won’t admit it. So, yes, relative honesty. Ask me anything.”
“Fine. What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?”
He laughed. “Wow. Straight for the jugular.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Scariest thing? Scariest thing I’ve ever gone through was my mom dying. But you said scariest thing I’ve done. That would be coming here. I’m used to moving, like I said. But this was different. I’m not a legal immigrant, obviously, but we needed to get away, and we knew we’d inherited this cabin, so we had to take the chance and hope nobody asked too many questions.”
“You had to get away because of Annie. Because you were afraid she’d lose custody of you.”
“Partly, and partly …” He chugged his beer, as if shoring up his nerve. “The scariest thing I’ve ever done was coming here, and the dumbest thing I’ve ever done was the reason I had to.”
After a minute of silence, I said, “Are you going to tell me or was that just a tease?”
I expected a smile. Instead, he drained the rest of his beer in one long, almost desperate swallow.
“I took money from the wrong people,” he said.
I stiffened, certain he was pulling his bad boy crap again. But he’d gone very still, watching me, his eyes anxious, like he wished he could take the words back but was glad he couldn’t.
I’d asked for honesty. He’d given it, more than he should, because he wanted to earn my trust, wanted it badly enough to offer this. I wondered why, but I couldn’t seem to hold on to the thought, couldn’t seem to care as that lazy, drifting feeling returned.
I knew he was waiting for me to say something. But what? I was dying to ask what he’d done, but even for me, being that blunt crossed a line.
“So I was wrong,” I finally said. “You are a bad ass.”
He laughed at that, a long whoosh of relieved laughter, the spark returning to his eyes. “That’s right. I’ve earned my rep the hard way. I’m as bad as they come.”
He leaned in, until his breath tickled my hair. “Seriously? That’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, as well as the dumbest. Otherwise, I’m strictly minor league.”
He lifted the empty beer bottle. “First drink I’ve had in about six months. I’ve been drunk once in my life. It was after my mom died. I went to a party, and I started drinking, and I didn’t stop until I woke up covered in puke. Which, let me tell you, is a serious turn-on for girls.”
“I bet.”
“I’ve smoked pot once.” He leaned in again and whispered, “You’ll notice a lot of firsts and lasts in this confession.” He set his empty bottle aside. “I was fourteen, in a new place, trying to make friends. Annie caught me. Dragged me away and said if she ever caught me doing that again, she’d tell Mom, who was sick then, so it was the last thing she needed. I found new friends.”