an actual snake to wear around her neck all night. Mena was in head-to-toe denim and had somehow talked Turner into dressing in all denim too so they could be Britney and Justin in their matching outfits.
Half the reason we’d decided on these costumes was so we could say hi to people when we arrived and declare, “We’re Britney, bitch!” The first half hour at the party had been a lot of fun as we ran around greeting people we knew.
Last year we’d planned to go to some party at Nicola’s parents’ penthouse loft in San Francisco, but we’d ended up staying in to watch horror movies instead. Mena had worked all day and fallen asleep halfway through the first one.
This year, Harlow talked us all into going to a not-entirely-legal party. We’d driven nearly an hour out of town, into rural land, then down some dirt track to a party in a field. With every bump in the track, every ding on the outside of my car, I wondered how much damage I was doing. Should’ve taken the jeep Dad got for fishing trips he never went on.
There was a massive bonfire in the middle of the clearing, dark woods edged one side, and a wheat field stretched as far as the firelight could illuminate and beyond.
Easily several hundred people were there. Some of them were Harlow’s gaming friends who’d invited her in the first place—a bunch of gangly nerds who hadn’t even bothered to dress up. She’d introduced us all, and we’d made small talk, but it became apparent pretty quickly we had nothing in common. I was pretty sure every one of those computer geeks wanted to get into my crazy smart, adorably beautiful sister’s pants.
There were college kids there, and some people from Devilbend North High—Mena’s old school. At first I was surprised to see how many people there were Fulton students, but it made sense. Harlow had invited all our friends, and they would’ve told others, and Amaya couldn’t keep her mouth shut about a party if she tried.
I ignored the tingly sensation of eyes watching me and turned to look at Amaya. She was in her element, several college guys hanging around her as she flirted and drank from the only champagne glass in sight. Literally everyone else was making do with shitty red cups. Where did she even get that?
“Donna.” Harlow bumped into me, breathless. I stumbled but righted us both. She hung off me, her hands on my shoulders and her face really close to mine. “Donna, I can hear the fire,” she whispered, her eyes going really wide.
I gave her a confused look. “Yeah, Harlow. We can all hear the fire. The wood crackles as it burns.”
Her eyebrows rose, and she blinked once. “Oh yeah.” Then she burst into laughter.
“How did you get drunk this fast?” I asked, getting a little worried. We’d only been there an hour.
“Uhhhhhmmmmmm.” The guilty look on her face was almost caricaturish.
I rolled my eyes. “What did you take?”
“Just a little.” She held up her finger and thumb and squinted through the gap at me.
“A little what?” I led her a few steps away from the fire and the crowd.
“Ooh, you want some? I feel great!” She pulled a little baggie out of her skirt pocket and held it out to me.
I took it from her and inspected it. The baggie had several little white pills in it—E. She was going to have a fucking fantastic night . . . but she was going to come down hard. I guided her over to a bunch of coolers and opened a few until I found one filled with bottled water, then stuffed one into her hand and made her look at me. “Harlow. You drink this or I’m going to take you home, got it?”
She straightened and saluted me. “Yes, ma’am!” Then her eyes wandered to something over my shoulder, and her mouth fell open. “Donna, there are freakishly tall people walking in the big grass.”
“What?” I turned to follow her gaze and pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re not seeing shit. Those are performers. People on stilts.” Someone—probably from Fulton, as I was pretty sure no one else could afford the extravagance—had hired a bunch of performers for the night. Several people on stilts were wandering the wheat field, coming into the crowd every once in a while, and contortionists in grotesque costumes twisted themselves into scenes reminiscent of the exorcist. I’d even seen a