“Lon,” Ruby said, “don’t worry. We’ll drive you home.”
My sister cast her eyes out at the rest of the party, as if testing to see if it was still worthy. I did, too, trying to see what she did. But then my gaze went somewhere else. It fell off track of hers and dropped to rest elsewhere.
She wasn’t looking across the way at the figure in the dark, but I was. I found him there without searching. She scanned past where he was standing with his friends, so she didn’t notice, either, how his head turned in response to mine, how our eyes met, somehow leaping the distance, how for some reason, with the length of two train cars between us, he was acknowledging my existence for real for the first time that night.
At least, that’s what it felt like. I was too far away to be sure.
All the guys in the distance, girls, too, had a clear awareness of Ruby, touching her legs and back and mouth and the plunging scoop at her neck with their eyes at random moments, as if they couldn’t help it. Wherever they were, whatever they were doing, they checked back on her, to see where she was and what she was doing. Owen, though, treated her like a black censored box over the screen, impossible to see past so he’d just ignore it. She was standing at my side and I swear he was looking at me.
No one showed much interest in London. I couldn’t decide what was stranger.
Then Ruby’d had enough and told me so with the purse of her lips and one quick, dismissive shake of her head. This party could last all night and be the talk of the summer. It could have—until Ruby decided she didn’t care anymore.
She turned her back on it and as she did I saw how dull it really was. The drained keg. The fire with the black, hissing smoke. The gravel dust. The kids sitting in dirt.
This party was done. We came, we saw and were seen, and now we’d go.
Only, not alone. It seemed we were taking London with us.
CHAPTER SIX
RUBY LED US
Ruby led us away from the party. Her hand was in mine, and she was pulling me toward the trees. Her other hand had taken hold of London’s striped elbow, but only to steer her in our direction. Once we reached the path, she let go and had London follow us, handless, away from all her friends.
We didn’t say any good-byes. We simply ditched the party and raced through the woods that skirted the quarry, Ruby and I never once losing our grip on the other, not tripping or slamming into gaping branches or getting a shot of firefly to the eye. It was just the two of us again, except for the girl trailing a few feet behind.
We reached the cars in no time. And in as little time, Ruby was opening the driver’s side door of Pete’s car, since he hadn’t bothered to lock it, and telling us to make ourselves comfortable. My bags and suitcase were where I’d left them in the backseat.
“Where’s your car?” I asked Ruby.
“I left it at the house.” When she said that—the house—it stuck out at me, as we’d never lived in a whole house before. This house was simply one more thing, along with the girl who’d climbed into the seat behind me, that was different this summer.
I took shotgun, my reserved seat in Ruby’s car, no matter who was riding with us or whose car it actually was. In a flash the engine was on, and I turned to her, shocked. “Did you hot-wire the car?”
She eyed me oddly, as if I’d chosen the wrong thing to be so surprised about. “I’m no criminal mastermind,” she said. “I swiped Pete’s keys.”