The Beginning of After - By Jennifer Castle Page 0,28

he said, watching me gulp.

I swallowed and looked down at the beer again, churned up and foamy, an ocean after a quick summer storm. Already, I was feeling muscles relax that had been so tense for so long, I’d forgotten they even existed. My neck felt soft and my toes started to blend into one another so that I couldn’t wiggle just one at a time.

Another beer and a half, and we found two lounge chairs by the pool. They leaned us back too far to watch the rest of the party, so instead we stared at the sky. It was only halfway clear, with the stars muted, trying to make themselves seen through a layer of clouds.

“Wow,” I said. “I can see Orion’s Belt, but not the rest of him.”

“Where?” asked Joe. “Oh, yeah. You’re right. Where’s the rest of him?”

“Maybe he left his belt behind and is off doing something else.”

“Borrowing the Big Dipper to make some soup.”

“Or hitting on Cassiopeia. I heard he does that.”

Joe snorted and some beer came out his nose, which made me laugh too. Before I even realized I was doing it, I reached up and wiped the front of his shirt, now dotted with beer spray.

“I don’t want you to get charged extra by the tux rental place,” I said, avoiding his eyes as I did this.

“You know what I want?” he said. I still didn’t look at him. “Actually, it’s what I wish.” He paused, and it seemed I had no choice anymore but to meet his gaze.

“What do you wish, Joe?”

“I wish Gavin and Meg weren’t in the limo right now.”

For a second, I didn’t get it. Did he want them here with us? But then it dawned on me. He wanted us to be in the limo. Alone. Without people’s eyes wandering toward us, always scanning to see where we were and what we were doing.

First, panic again. But I looked at him, him looking back at me as if we’d known each other forever, and I wasn’t afraid anymore.

“Well, we still have most of the night, right?” It wasn’t me who said that. Blame it on the girl in the not-Laurel dress.

“We have most of the night,” Joe echoed, and then he was standing up. “I’ve gotta go find a bathroom. You all right here?”

I had my arms resting lightly on the lounge chair’s edges, my ankles crossed, my heels popped out of my shoes. I was slightly drunk, and the thought of people seeing me sitting alone by a pool had no effect on me. I was definitely all right.

Joe was gone about a minute, maybe five. I’m not sure. I closed my eyes and listened to the murmurs, the music, rubbing my fingers lightly over my skirt.

“Hi,” someone said from above me. I opened my eyes.

It was David.

This took a few seconds to register, the outline of his head frayed with Christmas lights. He had a bottle of something, too big to be a beer, in his hand, and there it was again, that pot smell. He was wearing a black jacket, but I could see the markings of a T-shirt decal underneath.

“Hey,” I said, slowly sitting up. None of my usual David reactions were firing. No wanting to hide around a corner. No urge to pretend we’d never played Batman and Robin or collected rocks in the woods or even known each other at all.

He walked around me and sat on the edge of the other chair, his elbows on his knees, the bottle—it was a two-liter soda bottle with no label, a flat, amber liquid inside—dangling between them.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I was at the prom.”

“You’re drunk.” David’s bottom lip curled down a bit, and he sniffed.

“I don’t think so.” This conversation wasn’t going in the right direction. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with your dad?”

The thought of Mr. Kaufman made my vision tilt a little.

“Haven’t been to the hospital in a few days,” said David casually.

“Where have you been staying?”

“This guy I know. His folks are out of town.” He looked at my dress, from the hem up. His eyes traveled quickly but steadily along the seam of the skirt, landed on my shoulder. “Nice outfit.” David took a swig from his bottle and shook his head slowly.

“What?” I asked, taking the bait.

“I just can’t believe you’re here. All dressed up, doing the prom thing. A freaking corsage.”

I fingered the miniature roses on my wrist, unable