Dooney smirks at Ben. “Fucking chicks. More trouble than they’re worth.”
Phoebe smacks his shoulder and Dooney apes repentance. “Babe! I’m sorry. The cops still have my phone.”
“Well, you coulda answered the phone at your house. Or messaged me online and let me know you were coming.” Phoebe is pissed and no good at pretending. “You were supposed to be my date, you know.”
Dooney shrugs. “Probably easier that we didn’t come together,” he says, winking. “I’m a star now. The press is all over me! Coach had to run interference so I could get in past the news vans. Couple of ’em have been following me around since lockup. They’re camped out at my house, too.” He pulls a flask out of his jacket pocket and waggles it in front of him at waist height to avoid detection. “Now that I’m here, anybody wanna get this party started?”
Ben frowns and shakes his head. “Driving,” he says, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Besides, shouldn’t you be laying low?”
Dooney ducks and takes a quick gulp, then grimaces, not at the booze, but at Ben’s question. “Hell no. Go big or go home, dude.” He laughs as Ben tries again.
“If you get caught with that, won’t they take you back in?”
Dooney slides the flask back into his pocket. “I’m never going back to jail,” he says. There’s a smug look of satisfaction on his face. “Dad’s got a buddy in from St. Louis. Best defense attorney in the Midwest. He’s gonna shut this shit down.”
“What about Deacon?” The music is thumping so loudly that Ben has to yell this almost directly into Dooney’s ear.
Dooney shrugs. “What about him?” he yells back.
Rachel touches my elbow. “Gonna grab a Coke with Lindsey.” She has her church smile on, trying to distract from the fear in her eyes.
“Want anything?” Lindsey asks.
I tell them I’m good, and Lindsey promises to circle back. “I just can’t with him right now,” she tells me as Dooney takes another swig from the flask and steps on Phoebe’s toe.
I give her a little wave as they head off to the bar in the corner.
“Where we partying after this?” Dooney slurs.
Ben takes my hand and says he’s hanging out with me afterward. For the first time, Dooney notices me standing there, and I feel his eyes travel down my shoulders, across my chest all the way to my feet, and back up again. “Damn, dude,” he whistles, still looking at me. “I wouldn’t wanna hang out with me either.”
Phoebe rolls her eyes. Dooney grabs her elbow and steers her in front of him. “C’mon, babe. Let’s get our groove on.” He pauses as he passes Ben. “Text me later, dude.”
I see Mr. Jessup clapping Dooney on the back and laughing with him. There is heat and sweat and madness in the air. A group of Buccaneers thumps along with a new song.
First-class seat on my lap, girl, riding comfortable . . .
A dance circle forms around Phoebe and Dooney, LeRon slides in on his knees, then jumps up. He and Dooney leap into the air and bump chests.
Got her saved in my phone under “Big Booty” . . .
Coach is hooting along as the guys chant and bark like Dooney’s just been drafted to the NBA. The whole gym is crowding around them when Ben leans in behind me. “Let’s get outta here.”
The last thing I see as we leave is Phoebe, holding her high heels in her hand and plopping down against the wall of folded-up bleachers. For a moment, I think she might be crying, or about to. She looks up as we make our break for the doors, and in that split second she plasters on her top-of-the-pyramid smile. It’s a smile I have seen a thousand times before, a smile that says Everything is perfect.
Only this time, I don’t think she believes it.
And I don’t believe it either.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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twenty-three
WE ARE QUIET on the drive home, but it’s not the comfortable kind of quiet I’ve shared with Ben before—the silence of all is well. This is the quiet of a duck floating on a pond: peaceful and serene up top, paddling like mad below the surface.
Ben is so distracted he doesn’t turn on any music, and I can’t turn off the questions in my head. I keep seeing Phoebe’s face as Ben and I left the dance, and thinking of Ben’s cool response to Dooney. Why didn’t Ben seem more excited that Dooney is out on bail? What is Phoebe covering up with her smile?
The closer you look, the more you see.
I’m desperate to fill the quiet cracks in our evening with laughter or music or chatter about anything at all. I search for a sound to fill the air between us, words to drown out the tiny voice I can hear too well in this silence. It’s a whisper that grows a little louder every day, and even now I can hear it turned up one decibel more. Over and over it asks a single question of one person.