He put his hat on my head and I giggled. Then, he hiked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the camera. Offscreen, the boys whooped, a big welcoming whoop, a come-with-us whoop, a we-are-great-guys whoop. I squeezed the arm of the blond girl next to me as if to say, Can you believe this?
I glanced back at the girls as I followed Jock Strap over to the other table. Right away, Jock Strap excused himself to go to the restroom. My disappointment was immediately replaced when a tall boy with an expensive-looking shirt and crocodile-skin boots put his arm around me and hugged me to his side like we were long-lost pals, like I was the most special girl in the room. “Let us buy you a drink,” the one I knew now as Circus Master said.
And buy they did. We all took a shot. My nose scrunched as the clear liquid went down. There were five of them total. I grew bolder. I told a joke. They all laughed.
The thinnest boy, the one with a cigarette tucked behind his ear—I couldn’t help noticing he was the only boy who wasn’t conventionally attractive, with acne scars in the hollows of his cheek; Lucky Strike—leaned toward me. “You’re the hottest girl in the entire bar, you know that?” I blushed, but didn’t look surprised. “That’s why we chose you.”
“Prettiest girl we’ve seen in real life,” said the voice behind the camera. “Wouldn’t you say so?”
“I wouldn’t not say it,” replied the long-haired boy, tucking a strand behind his ear and slowly taking a sip off the top of his beer. California. Jessup.
“Don’t tell your friends.” Circus Master slapped me good-naturedly on the back. “I’m sorry, did we offend you? We didn’t mean to offend you. We know they’re your friends, don’t we, guys?” He surveyed the group.
“No, no,” I rushed in to say. “You didn’t offend me.” There was a smile behind my glass as I raised it to my lips. “At all.”
Circus Master flattened his palm to his chest. “That’s a relief. Hey.” He scratched his temple. “I just had a thought. Why don’t we get out of here?”
I lowered my glass. The flash of disappointment that played across my face would have been obvious to an astronaut orbiting the moon. “Oh. Okay.”
California Jessup fished for his wallet in the back of his slouchy jeans and laid down a couple dollars on the table. “Chill. They’re talking about all of us. You think we’d leave our best girl?” He raised an eyebrow to me. He was so tall I had to crane my neck back to see him.
“Let’s blow this place.” Circus Master gave a whistle and twirled his finger in the air as if to round us all up.
“Um, hold on,” I practically squeaked. “Let me just tell my friends.”
I hustled offscreen while the camera panned the group of faces. Smug. Eyes twinkling with laughter. Mean. Predatory.
When I reappeared, Circus Master welcomed me back in, reworking his face into that of a gracious host.
“I told them I’d call them tomorrow,” I said with a hint of pride.
Circus Master grinned down at me. I looked around at the other boys. As we moved together through the crowd, there was a shot of Jock Strap’s—Brody’s—devastatingly handsome face, still gorgeous as ever, but wearing a look that was unmistakably distant, as though he were bored. Or indifferent.
Outside, Circus Master released his genial hold on me. The camera kept zooming in on me, sliding the focus down my body.
“God, it’s so goddamn refreshing to meet a girl that gets it, that can hang with the guys. Isn’t it?” Circus Master said in a loud voice.
“Hell, yeah.” California Jessup high-fived me.
The camera caught only slivers of the background, but gradually as we walked, it shifted from rows of well-lit restaurants and bars to dark storefronts. Then parking lots.
“What did I tell you? Hottest girl in the bar,” said the voice behind the camera. There was shuffling. The lens tipped and then righted itself, then resumed bouncing with the steps of its operator.
Lucky Strike sidled up to my side. His sunken eyes peered at me. “What’s the hottest piece of her?”
My head whipped in his direction. My expression disappeared from the viewpoint of the camera lens.
“Look at that ass,” said Brody, taking a pretend swing of a baseball bat through the air. He watched his follow-through like he could see a home run sailing overhead.
My neck swiveled now. I glanced over my shoulder. “Hey, where are we going, anyway?”
We were on a sidewalk. Unruly branches hung over the path. There were now more trees than lampposts and buildings. Untended lots speckled the area. We took a turn. There were rows of parked cars along the street with nobody in them. We were making our way farther from the main road. No signs of life up ahead.
“A party,” said Jock Strap Brody.
The camera caught my mouth forming into a soft o.
“See, most girls aren’t cool like you.” Circus Master was walking backward now to face me. “They can be so uptight. You’re not uptight, are you?”
I shook my head. Circus Master came to a stop, so the whole group did, too. I was looking around like I should understand where we were.
“Good, I didn’t think you were,” Circus Master continued, like I’d said it out loud.