It’s getting close to midnight, so I go out on the back deck again to get some air, to get away from the noise. It’s chillier now, the deck lit only by a dim bulb by the door. A few minutes later Donal comes out. He has two cups of champagne. “Always prepared,” he says, looking at his watch.
“Good thinking,” I say. I guess a little champagne won’t hurt. We clink the plastic cups and eye each other as we both take long sips.
“You having fun tonight?” he asks when we set the cups down and both gaze out at the darkened backyard, up at the blue-black sky, where just a few stars glitter.
“A lot of fun,” I say.
“I’m glad,” he says. Glod. He sort of gently shoves his shoulder into mine, and I gently shove back, and I finally look at him, his blue eyes gazing at me in a way that makes me kind of tingle.
“I’m glod, too,” I say.
Donal laughs. “Still mocking me accent, I see.”
“Nah,” I say. “I like it.”
He lets that sit, then says, “I like you.”
Even though it’s not surprising, I can’t stop smiling.
“I’m sorry if I—”
“Don’t be sorry,” I respond.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say. I nudge a little closer to him.
Inside I hear Brendan yell that the countdown is starting.
Donal says, “Do you want to go inside?”
We both turn so we’re facing each other now. “No,” I say.
We can hear everyone shouting out the numbers, counting down.
Donal cracks his beautiful smile at me. “You know what has to happen at midnight, don’t you?”
Inside, the chants: “Three, two, one!”
And that’s when I lean toward him and he leans toward me and I hold on to him and then we kiss, the noise from the party inside like a sound track to this moment. Everyone always says you feel fireworks when you kiss someone. And maybe that’s true. But it’s not all you feel. I feel like I’m alive in a world that’s only about happiness and laughing and exhilaration, everything else blocked out. And I want this feeling.
I want Donal.
“Wow,” Donal says, his eyes closed, smiling in a dorky way that I find sexy. I lean my head against his chest, and he pulls his arms around me. We don’t say anything. I just enjoy the moment, feeling warm and safe and happy.
I feel his hand stroking the back of my head, twirling my hair in his fingers.
I pull back, so I can see him. He still has that smile on his face. Maybe I have one, too.
Finally, I turn toward the house and that’s when I see everyone peering at us through the kitchen window, clapping and cheering and cracking up, and Donal and I break apart, laughing.
“Those jerks,” he says, still beaming, like he’s embarrassed but also glad they caught us.
“Happy New Year,” I say to him.
“Happy New Year, Beth.”
“I guess we should join the others,” I say.
“I guess,” he says, pretending annoyance.
He grabs my hand and pulls me gently back inside the house.
When we walk in, Chita smirks at us until I stick my tongue out at her. Brendan has put on that dumb Prince song even though 1999 was a million years ago, and everyone’s going crazy, and Donal and I join in, dancing and jumping up and down, feeling like the year ahead will bring us nothing but good times. It’s what everyone believes on New Year’s, isn’t it? A fresh start. Hope for better things to come. And I actually do feel it, caught in the moment. But even then I think of Sam. I hope he feels this way, too. A new year in his new life. Moving forward.
CHAPTER 14
The Other Kid
Josh
“Wake up.”
I open my eyes, and I see Sam crouching above me. “Wake up,” he whispers again, though I was already sort of awake.
It’s New Year’s Day. Last night we rang it in by watching the ball dropping on TV with Sam’s stepdad. After that, I brushed my teeth and then when I got back to Sam’s room, he was in bed, shirtless. Without the coating of Jack Daniel’s, I felt nervous. There was room in his bed for both of us, but I saw he had set out a sleeping bag on the floor, and my flash of disappointment was overtaken by relief. We lay in silence for a while, then Sam said, “Thanks for doing this, Josh. Thanks for coming with me.”
I didn’t say anything back.
“You awake?” he says again now. But he knows I am. I look at my phone. It’s a little after seven. I can see a grayish morning light poking through the window shade.
“Earl just left. Coast is clear.”
“What about Beth? And her friend?” I ask.
“They’re still asleep. By the time they wake up, we’ll be gone.”
I get out of the sleeping bag. I’m a little stiff from being on the floor all night. Sam’s packed his backpack and he’s dressed. Even his bed is made. I see a piece of paper, folded, on his pillow. A note saying not to worry, he’ll be back later, sorry. Sorry because we’re basically stealing Beth’s car for the day. She leaves the keys on a hook by the kitchen door. Sam knows how to drive—Rusty taught him, believe it or not—but he doesn’t have a license. “I’ll drive the speed limit. I’ll be careful.”
I pull on my jeans, and ruffle a hand through my messed-up, flattened hair. I hate not showering, but we can’t risk that. I pack all my things into my duffel and lace up my sneakers. My stomach growls but I’m not hungry. I’m too anxious to think about food.
“Ready?” he whispers.
“Uh-huh,” I say, but I’m not.
He opens the door gently, and then pulls it closed when we’re in the hall. He puts a finger over his lips. I don’t need reminding to be quiet, but part of me hopes that Beth wakes up and foils everything.
We step quietly down the hall, and when we pass Beth’s closed bedroom door I think about bumping against it, but I don’t. All I can do is follow Sam. We walk on through the den to the kitchen. Sam grabs the keys hanging on the rack, opens the kitchen door. Out we go. Beth’s car sitting in the driveway, waiting for us.
There’s still a chance for Beth and her friend to wake up. Or maybe Sam’s stepdad will come back, having forgotten something. Sam unlocks the car and climbs in. He sticks the key into the ignition, the engine giving a rev. Maybe Beth will wake up now. Maybe she’ll hear. Sam motions for me to get in, so I open the door. I pause, glance at the kitchen door, and then I climb in and slam the door too hard. Sam backs out, puts the car into drive, and somehow he looks natural doing this, like it’s old hat for him. I look in the rearview mirror, hoping to see Beth running from the house after us. But she doesn’t.
I could beg Sam to stop. But I know nothing can stop him. And I can’t back out. I have to go with him. It’s the least I owe him. The very least.
I think of the last time we set off together, over three years ago, on our bikes. And then I think about the last time Sam headed toward Anniston in a car. I still don’t know why he wants to go there. But there’s so much I’ll never understand.
As Sam pulls onto the interstate, I try and calm myself. Everything’s going to be okay. And we’re together at least—he’s not alone. We’ll do this—whatever this is—get it over with, then go back home.
And we’ll be safe. We’ll be fine.
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