But then my eyes land on the back of Will’s head and the strong arch of his shoulders where they slope up to his neck and I know I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
He finds an empty patch of lawn beside a pickup truck and parks the Solstice. The rumble of the engine stops and we pour out of the car. There are more people here than I thought there’d be. We pass cars double-parked in places as we walk toward the house.
As we mount the porch steps, the music shifts from a dull pounding beat to an actual melody. A large boy with a shaved head and skin folds on his neck that resemble a bulldog’s sticks out his arm, blocking Will’s chest as he tries to enter.
“You on the list?” he asks.
Will’s face pales. “What list?” It was Will’s idea to come to the party tonight. I cast around, noticing all the kids who look at least two or three years older than us.
The pseudobouncer performs a once-over on Will, Penny, and me. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Just then, though, a red cup held high makes its way through the crowded doorway. “Hey, hey, hey.” Jeremy crashes through. His cheeks are slack even when he smiles. Will’s mom has never kept a tight rein on her basement tenant, even if he is technically family. He slings a sloppy arm over Will’s shoulder. “Ronny, this is my little cuz. And his friends.” He sweeps his free arm to encompass all of us and, in the process, sloshes beer on my shirt. I jump back, but Penny keeps me from toppling off the porch.
“They’re cool?” Ronny’s long forehead, made longer by the shaved head, wrinkles and he lets his lower lip hang out in a tough-guy pout that really does make him bear a striking resemblance to a dog. I thumb the toothy scar on my hand and decide that I dislike Ronny on principle.
Jeremy leans over Will to get closer to Ronny. “That’s Matt Devereaux’s sister,” he says in a stage whisper. I bite my lip and try to blend. Why had he said that?
“Matt, the-kid-that-got-paralyzed Matt?” He squints at me as if he’s trying to see the resemblance. He shakes his head. “Shitty luck,” he says. “Matt was cool. Tell him I say hi, will you?”
I nod and look away without saying anything. I will most definitely not be telling Matt anything of the sort.
Jeremy’s eyes brighten again and he waves us in. “Come inside.” He tugs Will’s head into the crook of his armpit and tousles his hair. “Look at you.” He glances back in our direction. “Two dates. You’re such a pimp.”
My stomach clenches. I don’t like that Jeremy—or anyone—might see Penny and me as Will Bryan groupies. It had never occurred to me until this moment that this might be the public perception.
Will doesn’t correct his cousin, and Jeremy’s feet swerve as he snakes through the crowd of people playing Beirut in the living room and Flip Cup in the kitchen. Will steadies him.
Jeremy points out the keg sitting on the kitchen counter and tells us to help ourselves before mercifully wandering off in the direction of the patio. Will watches him go and once he has disappeared returns his attention to us.
“Shall we?” He reaches for a stack of red plastic cups.
Penny holds up her palm. “Not for me. I seriously doubt the beer here is gluten free.”
Will fills cups for the two of us like he’s a professional bartender. He sniffs the contents, then knocks back several large gulps. “Okay, that’s actually disgusting,” he says. “It’s like drinking horse piss.” This isn’t surprising since the last and only time we’ve had anything to drink was when we paid Jeremy to buy us a six-pack of wine coolers, and those tasted like lemonade.
I cautiously dip my tongue into the beer. “Gross. Maybe we can just use them as props.” Most of the people in the crowd are holding identical red cups. “Helps us fit in.”
Will takes a few more cautious sips and then scrapes his tongue against his front teeth.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Penny says, bobbing on her toes.
“Already?” I ask.
“I can’t help it,” she whines. “I drank a whole bottle of iced green tea before we left. Lake?” Penny asks. She’s already starting to walk away. “You coming?” Her brows pull together expectantly and my palms go instantly clammy.
I look to Will. “I—uh—” I love Penny with all my heart and what I’m about to do is a total violation of girl code. Even though we haven’t said it, I am almost 100 percent positive that we both like the same guy. It hurts even more because I know Penny would never do the same to me, but I can’t help it. “I don’t want to leave Will alone,” I blurt. “I think I’ll just wait for you here.”
Penny’s frown lasts only a brief moment and I wonder if she’s rethinking how badly she needs to speed off to find a restroom, but she drops it and disappears into the thick mass of people.
After that, Will and I are alone. Well, alone plus twenty-five or so strangers. Relief washes over me. My gaze flits over the crowd. “So who do you think it is?” I ask.
Will leans in close, our ears grazing each other, to hear. “Who do I think what is?”
“The one who’s going to…you know…die.” A chill races up the length of my spine. I’ve never seen a dead body before.
Will now follows the line of my vision purposefully. Off to the right in the kitchen, near a dormant fireplace, stands a girl talking with grand hand gestures to a gaunt-looking boy. Will points directly at her. “That one.”
I hush him and push his finger down. “Don’t point!” He laughs and now takes a real swig of the beer. “Okay, why her?” I ask.
“She seems like she’s in desperate need of attention. I mean, look at all that arm waving about.” He mimics her gesticulations. “It’s so me, me, look at me. I figure a girl’s got to be attention hungry to go through with something as ridiculous as a death party.”
I bite the rim of my cup. The floor is sticky against the soles of my shoes. Suddenly, the music cuts off. The crowd stills. Where’s Penny? I search for her multicolored skirt, her silky blond hair, but I don’t see her anywhere. A bell chimes three times and a voice whose source I can’t locate says, “It’s time.”
Will checks his watch. “Eleven thirty,” he says. He looks at me head-on. I can feel the color slowly draining from my face.
His chest rises and falls in deep breaths. “Lake?” he says, holding my shoulder in place with a tender grip. “I wanted to say, I’m sorry about earlier. About not saying anything when Jeremy…you know, said that. It was stupid. I don’t think of you—of us—like that and—”
I’d nearly forgotten about Jeremy’s offhanded comment, but the fact that it had been bothering Will since we’d gotten to the party fills every inch of me with longing. Will’s been extra sensitive since his dad left them. He’s dead set on not turning into him and I respect that.