“Come stand with us. Jess was all, When are your friends showing? and I said you were coming, and now you’re here.” She squealed at the predictable order of events.
Concern was a slash to my chest. Was this bleary-eyed girl just a mask Viv the war queen was wearing as she plotted revenge? The invitation to the barn was strategic, wasn’t it?
I was a husk on the sidelines of Amanda’s court. Maybe Amanda’s many air-kisses had dulled Viv’s loathing? Or the way she repeated whatever pearls made her laugh, her reenactments so drab she was basically a vampire sucking the funny out of jokes?
Rachel returned from the restroom, and by the self-congratulatory smile in between sips of her flask, I could tell she had gossip she was dying to share.
She waited until Amanda drifted back from a group of lesser friends. Rachel announced, “I know something I bet none of you do.” There were blotches darkening on her pale chest. She yanked up her strapless gown to cover up a sliver of bra showing.
Amanda’s face flickered with impatience. “What, Rachel?”
“Patton Garvey was in the bathroom a second ago, and she was talking about how her boyfriend and some of his friends tore down all the curfew signs from the beach trails last night.”
Our crescent beach was at the heart of Seven Hills, a few blocks west of the knoll. Five or six trails leading into the dunes began in the beach parking lot. Each was marked by a metal sign on wooden stilts with the sunset curfew posted.
“Why bother?” Campbell asked. “The cops hardly ever enforce the curfew.”
“And even without the signs, the curfew would still stand,” Graham added.
Rachel grinned. “It was like, a symbol.”
Jess was nodding. “A symbolic gesture of giving the finger to authority.”
“Exactly,” Rachel said. “They even signed the asphalt where the signs had been.”
“Dumbasses,” Amanda said.
Rachel shook her head. “Not with their names, A. With IV.”
Jess’s head snapped to Graham, who stood beside her. I felt eyes studying my reaction. First a IV had been spray painted on Principal Harper’s car by a copycat. Second I’d found the symbols on bathroom mirrors and lockers at school. Third there was a tale about a few of our classmates pulling down curfew signs and leaving IVs in their place.
My hand curled into a fist at my side. Patton’s boyfriend—I couldn’t remember his name, only that he had red hair and freckles—had no right invoking IV for his pathetic excuse of a stunt. As Graham said, the curfew was still in effect, so the kids hadn’t accomplished anything.
Rachel said to Viv’s neutral expression, “You should be flattered. It’s like fan art.”
It was more than fan art. IV had inspired some kids to rebel against the authority they chafed under. My fist gradually loosened. This was power. We’d moved kids to action.
Across from me, with no inflection in her voice, Jess said, “I’d die for your dress.”
“To wear at your funeral?” Graham said.
“Touché,” Jess replied with a slight bow of her head.
Graham was all dressed up and standing next to the girl of his dreams. He yawned.
“I love this song.” Viv’s hands were moving to the music. “Teddy Graham—dance with me.” Graham adjusted his bow tie and pretended not to have heard.
“Will you dance with me, Vivy?” Harry asked. My heart swelled watching Harry take Viv under the disco ball.
Graham closed the gap between us with an off-kilter stride. “Your date and mine are dancing.” His bushy brows quirked up like it was the most preposterous thing. “I guess we better dance so people don’t assume we’re scorned.” Amanda looked about a second away from marching over to us.
“Don’t step on my toes,” I said, walking onto the court. When we were out of their earshot, I said, “Those kids left IV on the asphalt where the signs had been.”
“I didn’t foresee us inspiring a revolution.”
I flicked his pocket square at my eye level and held on to his shoulders. He was like Viv, comfortable with the pomp of dressing up. “Revolution?”
“Give it time,” he said with a haughty cock of his head. “I’ve been thinking about what increased recruitment for the Order would mean for its structure. Concentric circles. One inner core made up of us and—”
“And an outer circle made up of everybody else,” I finished. “We’d get to keep the Order the way we want by adding an outside layer with different rules.”
“Minions for your majesty,” Graham said. “Or rather than concentric circles, the Order could have autonomous cells. They’re harder to break up. That’s how a lot of insurgencies and terrorists operate.” I frowned. “It’s a simple, ruthless fact,” he continued, gravely serious. “We give the cells their marching orders and they’re clueless about what the other cells are doing, so they don’t get the big picture until after the rebellion.” My attention had drifted to Harry and Viv. “Are you worried she’s going to tell him she’s never been kissed so he’ll kiss her?”
I made a funny face at him. “No, freakazoid. I was thinking how nice Harry was to dance with her and what a mean bean you were not to.” I pinched his plump earlobe.
“Ouch,” he said without meaning it. “Maybe I was going to dance with her?”
I gave him an are-you-shitting-me look.
“Okay, mind reader, what am I thinking now?”
Without glasses his eyes had too much glitter. They suggested what I didn’t want to think about. “Stop it.”
“You want me to stop thinking?”
“Stop being a troublemaker.”
He made a comically sinister face and said, darkly, “It’s the night. The flask. Them wanting in. I’m power mad.”
“Jess looks really pretty. You should ask her to dance.”
“Ha,” he huffed.
“She’ll say yes,” I said, peering beyond him. “She keeps looking over here. She’s interested.”
He snorted. “Don’t hold your breath.”
“Come on. Ask her to dance. You aren’t the worst dancer.”
He kept his eyes turned away. “Thanks for the self-esteem boost, but I’m talking Jess and me, the whole love story, not going to happen.”
“W—”
He hushed me sharply and made steady eye contact. “Sorry—really. Just don’t, okay? Not now.”
I lifted one arm off his shoulder and pushed a corner of his frowning mouth up with a finger. He grinned big and fake. “You’ve liked Jess all of high school,” I whispered. “Go. For. It.”
Graham’s complicated face looked stricken while he was at a loss for words. At last, his cheeks dimpled. “Haven’t you ever ordered mint chip ice cream just to realize what you actually wanted was strawberry? There’s no improving upon strawberry ice cream. I could have strawberry every day until I die.”
“Are you actually comparing a girl to a flavor of ice cream?”
“What? I’d be salted caramel. Wait, that’s your favorite, isn’t it?” He grinned without it touching his eyes and held me a little closer. “Are you having fun? With Harry. He’s my best friend, other than you. You’re my favorite.”