ponytail and fished a tube of lipstick from the pocket of her purse. She drew the coral red onto her lips. Devon realized she was staring at Maya’s reflection.
“Thanks. I was going to go later.” Maya spoke to Devon’s reflection with a tired smile. She turned on the faucet and used some water to tame her flyaway hairs. Devon took another look at her own hair. It was still in the braid she slept in. Behind her, Maya burped, loudly and very unladylike. She steadied herself over the sink while the wave of nausea passed.
“You sure?” Devon asked. “It’s really no problem.”
Maya nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. “A six-pack of Sprite or something would be cool if you see it. Just until my stomach calms down.”
“Sure, I’ll grab it. And don’t worry. Presley said it was just a twenty-four-hour thing.”
THE KEATON VAN DROPPED students off in Monte Vista every hour on the weekends. It was only a ten-minute drive up or down the hill. With a deli, a pharmacy, and outdated video store, Monte Vista wasn’t much of a town to brag about. But for Keaton students it was the perfect escape from their overscheduled lives. The local beaches were what put Monte Vista on the map and brought a constant flow of surfers. Surfing defined the town; surfboard wax was sold next to packs of gum at every cash register.
Devon crossed the street to the Monte Vista pharmacy. As she cut across the parking lot, a rusted red Volvo with two surfboards on a roof rack peeled around the corner and nearly took off Devon’s toes. The car parked and the driver popped out: a girl a little younger than Devon wearing a red bikini. Devon noticed her black hair in a thick pile on the top of her head.
Raven. Here she was, right in front of Devon, again. Devon thought she had seen that Volvo in the student parking lot before. Yes, it must be Raven.
She shot a brief blank stare at Devon before walking away.
SHAMPOO AND CONDITIONER (COMBINED for better time efficiency): check. Deodorant: check. Sprite for Maya: check. Devon crossed item after item off her shopping list until she drifted past the shelves of pregnancy tests. She stopped to take a closer look. Early Response. Accu-Test. Positive Plus. Paternity test kits. Who was Hutch stealing the test for? And why not just buy it?
She glanced up at the angled mirrors leering over the aisles. The dirty linoleum floor and shelves full of dizzying colors reflected back from the ceiling. And at the other end of the store, the pharmacy counter glowed white. Devon spotted a guy in a white lab coat with blond dreadlocks tied at the nape of his neck, organizing bottles on the shelves. Bodhi, she realized: the former Keaton student Cleo mentioned. He looked familiar. Of course, she must have seen him around Monte Vista. In her memory he blurred into all the other surfers around town, but that was before he had a name.
Cleo had mentioned that Bodhi was Hutch’s Get Out Of Jail Free card that day. Devon watched in the mirrors as Bodhi passed a tray of filled prescription bottles across the counter. So, he was a pharmacist: a convenient partner for the school’s prescription pill supplier. Hutch probably helped Bodhi make a fair amount of money off Keaton students who wouldn’t bat an eyelash at paying $20 for a dose of Vicodin to liven up (or deaden) a Saturday night stuck on campus.
She thought about approaching him, when Bodhi suddenly took off his white lab coat and ducked out a side door. Maybe he was just taking a break? Devon left her basket in front of the pregnancy tests and hurried out to the parking lot.
THE TOWN OF MONTE Vista was full of secrets that only Keaton students found valuable. The Monte Vista Deli would sell cigarettes without carding for one. The grocery store always carded, but the gas station would sell liquor to the fakest of IDs. Presley had once used her gym membership card from home to buy vodka, and the clerk never questioned it. They knew that as long as the cameras caught them showing something to the clerk, no one would get in trouble. Devon figured it was because Keaton students lived by so many rules on campus, rules in real life were just another set of boundaries to be pushed and worked around. Working around rules was the true cornerstone of the Keaton education,