Harmony House - Nic Sheff Page 0,10

from the ground.

At the edge of the town there is a group of boys standing huddled against the back of the feed store smoking cigarettes—the burning orange embers glowing like coals in the hearth of a smoldering fire.

“Hey,” I say, walking closer. “Hey, you guys got an extra cigarette?”

It’s three of them in all—tall, muscular-looking boys wearing baseball hats and Carhartt jackets. They are handsome, I guess, in a frat-boy kind of way—but I’m definitely getting kind of a date-rapey vibe from the three of them.

“Where’d you come from?” the biggest of the three asks me.

“Just from the diner there,” I say.

He snorts a laugh.

“No. I mean, where you from? I know you ain’t from around here . . . gorgeous.”

I roll my eyes.

“Okay, never mind,” I say.

I start off walking in the direction of the house. From behind me I hear the boys’ muffled voices discussing something. I try to walk a little faster, back out onto the main street, where, at least, it’s not totally dark—even if it is completely fucking empty. There isn’t a single other person or car in the street.

Only I can hear footsteps coming up behind me.

It’s that first boy I talked to. He’s by himself, which is a small relief, but not a big one.

“Wait up,” he says, a little out of breath. “I didn’t mean to scare you off. I’m Alex.”

He gets in front of me and extends his hand for me to take it. His broad face is covered in a constellation of freckles and somehow that works to make him seem a little less threatening.

When I don’t take his hand right away he says, “Aw, come on. I was just messing around. And, anyway, what’s the big deal? You are gorgeous.”

“I gotta go,” I tell him.

He keeps on traipsing along beside me.

“How ’bout this,” he says. “If I can figure out who you are in . . . uh . . . three guesses, then you have to agree to let me walk you home. What do you think about that?”

I shake my head.

“I think you probably already know who I am, considering there are about twelve people in this whole goddamn town.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, okay. You got me. You’re the girl whose dad is taking care of Harmony House through the winter, right? You just got here today?”

I slow my pace down.

“Yup. That’s right.”

“Well, what’s your name?” he asks. “Will you give me that, at least?”

“You can’t guess that?”

He takes off his Yankees baseball hat and runs his long, thick fingers through his blondish-brown hair. He’s wearing too much of some cheap cologne and it kind of gives me a headache.

“All right,” he says. “Just stop for a second. I’ll try.”

I stop walking and turn toward him.

“Okay,” he continues, squinting his eyes and reaching his hands up to me like a carnival fortune-teller getting messages straight from the goddamn cosmos.

He starts mumbling some different vowels and consonants, stretching out the sound and watching me closely as though I might tip him off when he’s getting close. “Mmmm, Nnnn, Geeeeeee, Aaaaa, Beeeeee, Kaaaaay, Llll, Eeeee, Jaaaaaay . . . Jen?”

“What?” I say, genuinely surprised.

“Jen? Is it Jen?”

Now it’s my turn to squint at him.

“Someone must’ve told you,” I say.

“No, I guessed.”

“Well, I am dubious,” I tell him. “But I guess a deal’s a deal.”

“Here,” he says, handing me the cigarette I’d forgotten I’d asked for.

“Oh, thanks.”

I take it and do the whole lighting-a-cigarette thing. I breathe in and out.

“Listen,” I say. “You can walk me to the gate, but you really can’t come any farther. My dad . . . he’s kind of old-fashioned. If he sees me walking with a boy, he really might kill you and me both. That’s no joke.”

Alex seems to puff up slightly.

“I ain’t scared of nobody.”

“Yeah, well, you might wanna rethink that.”

I start walking again and he follows right up next to me.

“Are you a senior, too?” I ask. “I just met that girl Christy whose aunt works at the diner. I guess you must know her.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ve lived here my whole life. Me ’n Christy been in school together since kindergarten. Same with Matt and Charlie, my two friends back there. What about you? What grade are you in?”

I tell him.

“So you’re seventeen?” he asks—saying it like he’s disappointed I’m not, you know, legal, yet. It creeps me out. Especially because we’re already through town and on the winding road back to Harmony House—walking under the canopy of low-hanging trees and moss.

“What