Verona

There was a problem that came with looking at yourself for too long, where the image seemed to distort, proportions got weird, and everything looked really off.

Verona fixed her hair, trying to shake the feeling that her head was twice as big as it should be, and then tugged on the dress she’d picked out.  It was the kind that fit like a glove, armpit to mid-thigh, and had three bands of colour; a band of lavender across the upper chest, white at the middle, and black at the bottom.  It kind of gathered wrinkles any time she moved, and it hugged her enough the underwear lines stood out.  She felt like she’d be tugging it down so it’d sit straight all the time.  No-go.

She leaned into the mirror and prodded at a red spot by her nose.  She made some faces.

“Verona?” her mother called out.  “How is it?”

Verona rolled her eyes, then pushed the curtain aside.

Her mom looked her over.  At her mom’s instruction, Verona turned in a circle.

Verona’s mom was only a handful of inches taller than her, making her about five feet or just under five feet, and if the lines in her face were airbrushed out, would be pretty easy to mistake as an older sister.  Her hair was long, black and a bit coarse, and done up in a half-bun, half-ponytail thing where the ponytail sorta stuck out the side of the bun.  Probably a result of the drive over, so she wouldn’t sit back against her hair or have it in the way while it was over her shoulder.  She was wearing a patterned top, mom jeans, a necklace that went around the neck a few times so it lay in a few different layers, strung with seashells, and a gauzy scarf with a pattern on it.  Her handbag, held with a hand at the strap and a hand at the side, was big enough that the summer suit jacket and what looked like maybe a raincoat all fit inside with room to spare.  It was probably expensive, with the leather, and golden zipper and big embossed brand name, but it had a color that was probably called mustard and would more accurately be termed baby diarrhea yellow.

She wasn’t trying to be mean, observing that stuff.  She really wasn’t.

Verona did.  She gave her mom a look, to make it as clear as possible that she wasn’t impressed.  “Why am I showing you if I don’t like it?”

“You could change your mind after a second opinion.  It suits you.  You’re really growing up, huh?”

“That’s what people usually do.”

“It looks good, but it’s up to you.”

“It’s too slinky for me.”

There were other people in the store, including some high school seniors who were picking out dresses.  Probably for the same reason Verona had decided to.  One of them looked over, looked Verona up and down, and asked, “Where’d you get that?”

“The clearance rack.  And I’m putting it back there.”

The girl who was asking had dark blonde hair, was about six inches taller than Verona, and was about three cup sizes larger.

Verona had no idea how that would work, but nodded.

“I picked out other possibilities,” Verona’s mom said.  “Want to pick one to try on?”

There was a black dress that was ninety-five percent nice, but it had a kind of built-in corsage where the one strap met the dress.  Too froufy.  Another had the band that traveled along the line of the ribcage, so the rest of it puffed out below, making anyone who wore it look pregnant.

“I might go with a nicer top and then wear some of the stuff I bought online.”

“It’s an opportunity to update your style.”

I like my style, Verona thought.  I’m seriously considering locking it in as my style for the next few hundred years as I become Other.  Not aging, not having to worry about growing up.

“I have ideas,” she said, as a way of ending the conversation, stepping back into the changing booth and pulling the curtain shut behind her.  She changed back to her regular clothes, stepped into her sandals, and walked out, handing the dress to the older teen.

“What sort of events were you thinking of wearing this to?  Graduation?”

Verona made momentary eye contact with the friend of the teenager who had taken the dress.

The actual event was tonight, yep, and even though they were probably going to different cabins and stuff, the secrecy was paramount.

“That was earlier this afternoon.  It was a dumb thing where a bunch of kids wore t-shirts and sneakers, and others dressed up a lot.  A bunch of people didn’t even come, because why attend the whole school day when there’s nothing going on?”

“Amen,” the teenage girl in the changing room said, through the curtain.

“I would have liked to come.”

“It really wasn’t anything that fancy.”

Besides, it would have been awkward, when Verona had disguised herself as Avery.  Lucy’s mom and Avery’s dad had come to videotape it for her mom to see later.

If Verona’s mom had gone, then her dad would feel slighted, and that would mean weeks of Verona being cried at, snide comments, and whatever else.  Or he’d come because her mom was going, then be upset her mom was there too.

“Did you get your report card?”

“Today, yeah,” Verona said.  She picked through some options for dressy tops on the little rack at the back of the store.  Frilly, big fat logo, weird leather shoulder-sleeve bridge bits…

“Can I get more details?”

“It’s ninth grade.  I don’t think it affects my chances to get into University.”

Puffy sleeves, no.  Ooh, a nice one.  Simple, lace at the top edge.  She picked it up and then let it drop immediately.  It was see-through enough that she could see her hand through the front and back layers.  Why was that a thing?  A really annoyingly common thing.

“Which classes did you take?  Last Christmas you mentioned that you were taking English, I think?”

“Last semester was English, French, History, and Chemistry.  This semester was Math, Gym, World Issues, and Biology.”

“And I did great in English and pretty good in French.  I did okay in most other things except Chemistry, Math, and Biology.  And kind of phys ed.  But you can’t really fail phys ed so long as you don’t sit out in class.”

“Is it Mr. Bader?” the teenager who wasn’t in the dressing room asked.

“He’s too chickenshit to call out any girl who says she needs to sit out, so I don’t think you could fail out if you sat out of every class.”

Verona’s mom cleared her throat.

“Excusez mon français,” the teenager said, before giving Verona a wink.

“He teaches health, too, you’d think he’d know,” the girl who was changing said, before pushing the curtain open.  She struck a pose, hands over head.  The dress that had clung to Verona was… upper-thigh rather than lower-mid-thigh, and low cut enough for there to be cleavage where it had stretched across Verona’s collarbone, and there was zero issue of it gathering up in wrinkles.

“You look like Neapolitan ice cream,” the friend said.  “Except purple-ish, not strawberry.”

“I love Neapolitan ice cream.  How does it look at the back?”

“Thanks kid,” the teenager said, to Verona, before turning back to her friend.  “I said I’d be quick.”

The girl gathered up her stuff and then they went to the cash, wearing the dress she’d grabbed from Verona.

“Do you still talk to Lucy?” her mom asked.

“Yeah.  Meeting her later.”

Verona went through more of the tops, on another rack.  Her mom held up some shirts she’d already looked at and dismissed, and she shook her head.

“It’s cute, and it’s simple, like you like.”

“It’s see-through.  The boys in my classes would like it, at least.”

Verona sorted through more, found another that was good.

Only available in a large or medium.  She held it out against her mom’s front.

“A little too dark for me, I think,” her mom said.

One with a weird saggy front pocket.  One in a sky blue that really wasn’t Verona’s style, a top with an oversized, useless medallion-button…

“Were you enjoying school, at least?”

“Does anyone?” Verona asked.  She was tense and she didn’t want to be.  “I find myself not really trusting anyone who says they love it.”

“Is that because of any bullying, or the teachers, or…?”

“It’s just school, mom.  It’s something I gotta do.  Then I wait for it to be over and then I can do other stuff.”

“I wish you could enjoy it.”

“So do I,” Verona answered.

She pulled out another top, then strode to the changing room.

Her mom didn’t answer, and it felt like the last reply was terse, so she ventured, “How’s work?”

“It’s good.  They’re launching a series of experimental programs province-wide.  It’s really interesting, even if my part of the job is boring.”

“What are you doing?”

“The federal government is launching a potential alternative social assistance program.  I’m crunching the numbers for Thunder Bay and some neighboring ridings.  Data, demographics, highlighting some variables by drawing on a coda of news articles.  But I don’t want to bore you.”

“Nah,” Verona said.  She finished putting on the top, and checked herself over.  It was black, but velvety in a way that made it appear more gray because of how it caught the light, and it had a shallow ‘m’ shape to the cut at the top, with a crest or fin of black lace at the upper left and upper right edges.  There were lacy arms bits for the shoulder that could hang off the shoulders, but Verona had them up because they hid her bra straps.  She poked again at the red pimple by her nose, made a face, then pushed the curtain aside.  “I really like it.”

“That’s a fair bit of cleavage for a thirteen year old.”

Cleavage?  Verona went to look in the mirror.  With the lace, the cut at the top traced a line that didn’t really show off that she had a chest at all.  The dip of the middle of the ‘m’ shape was barely lower than her armpits.

She worked through about five sarcastic responses in her head, and dismissed them.  She turned on her heel, looked her mom in the eye, and made a very unimpressed face.

“There are other options.”

“This isn’t cleavage.  There’s not really any cleave.  It’s a graze.  Graze-age?”

“I’ll buy it myself if I have to.  I like it.”

“Don’t.  I’ll pay for it.  Do you want to get changed back?  Then we can go?  Or do you want to get more things?”

“Just this!  Thank you!” Verona said, before closing the curtain.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything else?  Wasn’t there a store you liked around here?  It had the African statues and pottery.”

“Global Sustainable.  I was there last week, getting notebooks for the summer.”

She had to hold back another sentence, and it bothered her that she had to hold it back.  You’d know more of this stuff if you were here more.

“Do you want to buy a treat?”

“No.  I’m going out after and I don’t want to be pudgy or full.  I should be getting back to my friends,” Verona said, pulling on the top she’d come in.  It was one of the ones that had come by mail, finally, just a week and a half ago.  She was glad she wasn’t out shopping in a shirt with holes in it, or a shirt a size too small for her.  Especially in a nicer store.

“You don’t need anything at all?”

Verona had to bite back more sarcasm.

She wasn’t sure why it was harder in an hour and a half spent with her mom than it had been for the last few months, but she really had to fight to avoid saying stuff that was untrue, sarcastic, or otherwise problematic.

She bit her tongue for a second, finished getting sorted, and then pushed the curtain aside again.

“I need a bunch of stuff, but I think I’m good enough on stuff money can buy,” Verona told her mom.

Her mom paid, and Verona took the bag.

They left the store and walked over to the car.

“What do you need that’s not money?” her mom asked.

“I don’t know about need, but a boyfriend that would put up with my weirdness.”

“I don’t think you’re weird.  I think every thirteen year old girl thinks she’s weird, maybe.”

“Ummm.  I’m weirder than most, I’m pretty sure.  Anyway… other stuff I need, hmmm.  Money would be nice.  A longer summer.  A guarantee about teachers and stuff next fall.  The good teachers are fine but the bad teachers succkkkkk.”

“Pretty normal stuff then,” her mom said.  She started up the car.  “Home?”

“Okay.  Please, thanks.”

They made their way out of the parking lot.

Verona’s mind roved over answers to the question about needs, and there were a whole bunch of things she wanted to say.

It wasn’t really the practice stuff.  That was… she didn’t want to say it.  It was hers, it was free and far away from parent bullshittery.  It was neat.  She did need stuff around that, mostly about ensuring Lucy could be free of the hassles of it, and about the background headaches, like the Others being suspicious and distant for the past few weeks.

When the Others weren’t distant because of their own stuff, like Alpeana, then it was Verona, Lucy, and Avery who were distant because they didn’t want to associate too closely with their suspects.

It would be so nice to put all of that to rest.

No, she wanted to say stuff about her mom and dad.  Like asking her mom about the leaving, or why she was living so far away, or if her mom had cheated and given dad an STD, like dad said.

If her mom had loved the guy she’d cheated with, before she’d kind of blown up all their lives.  Because so many things were so frigging miserable right now, following from that.  In a way that went beyond just family and holidays and having to weigh every little thing when it came to her parents potentially being in the same room, like for the graduation.

It made school worse, and it made her friendships worse.  Having most nights at home suck made the pressure of school that much worse, because there was less time to recuperate from the low-level stress of school.  Her friends pitied her.  They couldn’t come over, which made her feel like she was always mooching.

Five minutes passed.  They were mostly to Verona’s house.

On the holidays Verona went to Thunder Bay to visit with her mom, she’d come back and talk to Lucy and they’d be nonstop, hurrying to get caught up.

This was the opposite… it was always a lurch.  Like going to see her mom, the opening of the visit would be awkward and they’d feel like strangers in the same place.  There wasn’t that feeling of catching up, or even feeling familiar and knowing what to talk about.  It would pass, they’d find a rhythm, and then the feeling would return in the couple of days before Verona was due to leave.

Like a lot of things were unsaid.

“So I guess with your summer plans, I’ll wait until mid-late August and get in touch?  You said you’d be free at the end of summer?”

“I don’t know yet,” Verona said.  “There’s a lot potentially going on at the end of Summer.”

Verona nodded.  “Are you heading back tonight?”

“That’s the plan.  I don’t mind taking the trip, you know.  I’m happy to see you.  Call anytime if you want.”

The trip was somewhere between two and a half and three hours.  Her mom had made the trip today, leaving after work, they’d been out for an hour and a half, and now she’d make the trip back.

Verona considered a few different statements and questions, each in the neighborhood of saying ‘I wish you lived closer’.

They pulled up, parked across the street from the house.

“The house looks good,” her mom commented.  “I did love that house.”

“I could use a break from dad.”

Verona hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Hopefully you get that break this summer,” her mom said.

“I mean… more than this summer,” Verona said.  “Dad’s kind of awful.”

“Verona, I’d- I’m trying really hard to be fair about this whole thing.  I don’t want to badmouth your father, or participate in badmouthing, because that would poison you against him.  Honestly, there’s not a lot I could say that would be badmouthing.”

“It’s more than that, though.  I haven’t even left for the summer thing yet and I’m already kinda dreading coming back.”

The car was parked, the engine humming, and her mom gripped the steering wheel.

Further down the street, Mr. Richmond left his house, went to the side, and dragged his trash can out to the curb.  He walked back down the driveway, and went back into his house.

Wallace was out with his friends, not far from his house.  He looked nice, dressed up a bit.  It looked like they were leaving already.  Wallace had his arm in a brace, Verona noted.  He’d had the same thing on for graduation.  A raglan long-sleeved shirt with white sleeves and a black body portion, with a pattern printed on the black in silver.

Verona looked at her mom.  Her mom met her eyes, then forced a sigh, like the sigh was a statement unto itself.  Or an answer.

“It’s really not great,” Verona said.  “He’s kind of intense, and Lucy isn’t even coming over because of it.  So I was thinking, like, I don’t want to leave my friends, or school, or anything like that, but how possible would it be for you to move closer?”

“It’s not really a consideration, Verona.”

“But if you moved closer and I moved in with you?”

Verona wasn’t really sure how to place the feeling that came over her, hearing it like that.

Figured, she thought, but the tone of voice she was trying to conjure up for the voice in her head was pretty far from the casual style she’d wanted.

“Wallace sure grew up,” her mom said.

Stop saying that, like you’re surprised when stores change or people grow up, Verona thought.  That’s what normally happens when you’re not around.

“Thank you for dinner, and for the shopping.”  Verona popped open her door.

“Come here,” her mom said.

Verona dutifully leaned in closer.

Her mother planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Call me when you’re done with the summer program.”

Verona nodded, and gathered up the bags, then pushed the door open.

“Love you!” her mom called out, as Verona climbed out.

“Yeah.  You too,” Verona replied, giving her mom a tight smile, before closing the door.

Her mom remained parked as Verona crossed the street, backpack at her shoulder, shopping bags in hand.

Her dad opened the door as she got to it.  He raised a hand in a short wave at her mom as he let Verona in.

“I see your mother has a new car,” he said.  “She can’t pay your child support on time, but she can drive something sporty and blue, hmm?”

“It’s not new and it’s not hers.  The suspension in her old car buckled or something,” Verona said.  “She’s borrowing Grandma’s.”

“Hahaha,” her dad laughed.  “I wish I could say I was sorry about that, but I’ll be good.  I’ll be good.”

“I’m going to get ready,” Verona said.

“I don’t know how she can make that trip like she does.  Why doesn’t she live closer?”

“I don’t know,” Verona said, hurrying upstairs.

Her dad followed her up the stairs.  “It doesn’t look like you bought much.”

“I didn’t ask for much.  I didn’t even really want to go shopping, but she offered and we were out there anyway.”

“I’m glad she’s got the time and money to spare, like that.  I’d be able to do stuff like that for you if we had equal custody.”

“Uh huh,” Verona said.  She dropped the bags off in her room, then stepped into the bathroom.  She rinsed her face, then dried it.

“I asked at dinner.  She said she’d let me know if she was with someone for more than eight months, and she’d give me plenty of advance warning before she introduced us.”

Her dad’s stuff sprawled across the counter, along with a bunch of tiny face hairs that had fallen free of the trimmer or razor, but a lot of her stuff was dropped off in a basket.  She went digging, and found some of her makeup.  She covered up the red spot on her face, and found two more at her hairline, using concealer.

“I’m glad she’s got the time, energy, and money to break into the dating world.”

Verona didn’t want to go crazy with the makeup, only to take the shine out of her face, and cover up any errant pimples.  She’d taken care of her eyebrows this morning in anticipation of the very underwhelming graduation thing.  She skipped the more complex steps with primer, foundation, more foundation, bronzer, and all of that, and made sure the concealer was evenly blended in before applying some eye makeup in steps.  Gel eye crayon in dark gray, then a light purple gel eye crayon, blended out a bit, followed by some purple eyeshadow.

Her dad leaned into the doorway, arms folded.  She tried to ignore him.

“Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I guess your mom wouldn’t be in a position to teach you,” he said.

She drew in a breath, ready to say something to him, and before she could, he threw up his hands.

“I’ll be good, I’m being good.  Everything considered, I’m being really good here!” he said, as he walked away.

She finished her eyes, then fixed up her hair, combing it with more care than she usually did, before applying some product.

“Where are you off to?” he called out from his bedroom.

“I need more details than that!”

“It’s a group thing, with most people in class.  There’ll be older people there to help watch over things.  I’m expecting it to be a bit lame.”

Technically true, though the ones she was thinking about were only a few months older than her.

“Do you need a ride?” he called out.  The dark hallway was illuminated with the flickers from his TV set.

“Nah.  Going with Luce and Avery.”

“I don’t like how you get when you’ve been around them.”

She didn’t dignify that with an answer.

She applied some lip balm, to tint her lips and give them some shine.

Heading into her room, she grabbed the shirt, and brushed it free of the little bits of whatever that had been in the bag.

She pulled it on, then went through her laundry, picking out a black denim miniskirt.

She put on a belt with the miniskirt, to break up the black, then looked through the various accessories she’d bought along the way.  Lacey gloves, bangles, chokers, necklaces, and other stuff she’d thought would look good for the right occasion or mood.  Ninety percent of it was stuff she’d never ended up wearing.

On impulse, she began threading through some fine silver chain, working it through her belt loops, so it dangled a bit at the side and added some glitter to her belt-line.

She picked out a choker, and a silver medallion on a necklace, removed the leather thong, and threaded the top of the medallion through the choker, before putting it on.

“Verona,” her dad said.  “Since you think this thing will be lame, what if we went out for a daddy-daughter night?”

She rolled her eyes.  “No.”

“I was just- can I come in and talk to you face to face?”

She didn’t answer him, pretending not to have heard.

There was a knock at her door.

But the door was already opening.

Incensed, she kicked the door, with all the force necessary to try to deal with a guy three times her size pushing it open.  It slammed closed, and pictures on the wall, inside her room and out, rattled.

“That hurt my wrist,” her dad said.

“Get out!” she screamed.

“Out!” she screamed, shriller.

“Out!  Get out!  Out!”

When he backed off, she flung her door open with enough force that it hit her bookcase, making books and the various decorations and skulls and stuff fall over, shake, and knock violently.  Probably denting the wood of the bookshelf itself.  She followed him out into the hall.

“I was changing!  I said no!  You never listen to me!  I said out!  Leave!  Go into your room where you spend most nights anyway, and leave me alone so I can maybe actually enjoy my evening.”

He stared her down, glowering.

“You don’t ever really listen!  You don’t respect my space, you don’t show me real respect, you just barge in like a creep!”

“I had my back turned to your door, I wanted to make sure you heard me.  You weren’t replying.”

She glared at him, then reached over for one of the pictures mounted on the wall of the hallway, and pushed it from its hangar.  It clattered violently and made a cracking sound, but didn’t shatter.

She slammed the door behind her.

It opened a couple of seconds later.

Her dad stood on the other side, his back to her and the room.  “I have half a mind to ground you for that, and keep you from going anywhere tonight.”

“I dare you,” she said.  “Try it.  You’d regret it.”

“Or ban you from your summer camp,” he said.

She remained silent, staring him down.

“Turning around,” he said, his back still to her.  “Giving you fair warning.”

She remained where she was, glowering, as he turned around.

“Anything to say?” he asked.

“Don’t come into my room without knocking-‘

“And getting an okay,” she told him.

“I see you don’t care if you’re grounded,” he noted.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care.  But she’d figured out the rules of the household.  Her father didn’t care to put in the effort to enforce punishments, especially if she made it mildly difficult and annoying to do it, so ‘grounding’ meant nothing.

If he tried putting something in place, she was willing to bet it would at worst make her very late.

“I like your top,” he said, in an almost derisive tone.  “Have a good night.  Clean that up before you go.”

“Fuck you and knock before you enter my room,” she said to his back, as he walked away.

He closed the door to his own room with unnecessary firmness.

A sour mood chased her, backed by that feeling that she’d had since her mom’s simple, hard-to-refute ‘no’.  The rejection.

Sandals on, her legs were shaved of fuzz; something else she’d done this morning.  Her hair was nice enough, her makeup was done, and she liked her clothes.

She considered for a while before deciding to bring her bag.  It meant she had her practitioner stuff with her, in case of emergency, and she just felt better having more stuff with her.

To justify bringing it, she headed downstairs, leaving the picture frame on the ground.  In the kitchen, she dragged a stool over to the fridge, and accessed the cupboard above the fridge.  She grabbed a 1.75 liter bottle of rum.

Her bag was heavy at her back as she headed out.

She crossed the bridge, dallying until her phone rang.  Then she walked over to the address Lucy gave her.

Lucy wore a red dress covered in sequins.  It was slinky in a similar way to the one dress Verona had considered, but the heavy sequins on the front half blurred the lines and hid the wrinkles in a way the other dress hadn’t.  The back half didn’t seem to have any sequins.  Her hair was down and she had gold hoops in her ears.  A bit of gold lined her upper eyelid.

Avery wore a mint green button-up shirt, top few buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.  She also had black pants and shiny black loafers, which was a break in her usual style from running shoes, and her hair was combed over to one side.  She had some eyeliner on.

“You guys look fantastic.  I love the look, Avery.”

“I thought I’d try something bolder.”

“It works so well.  I know you know you look great, Luce.”

“You look great too, Ronnie,” Lucy told her.  “I didn’t know you could do smoky eyeshadow.”

“Everyday makeup seems like such a chore, but I’m all about the artsy side of it.”

They started walking over.  Verona’s strappy sandals extended up her calf, and weren’t the type of thing for a long walk, but it was what it was.

A truck passed by, with a bunch of seniors sitting in the back, like when they’d gone camping after their awakening.

Avery went over her experience with the Path, and the Alabaster, and her thoughts.  There was stuff they had to consider for the school, now.  Classes they might need to take into more consideration, like the Animus stuff.

“…your mom?” Lucy was asking.

“I asked if there was any way I could stay with her,” Verona said.

“Is that a possibility?” Avery asked.  “You moving?”

“No, not really,” Verona said.  “She said no.”

“I would’ve wanted her to move here, to be closer, anyway.  I don’t think that’s doable.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said.

“What’s our feeling?” Avery asked, “on if that happens?  I brought it up briefly during the awakening ritual, but…”

“I don’t think we should actively seek it out,” Lucy said.  “At the very least, we should try to wrap up the case.”

“It would be messy,” Avery said.  “Maintaining our duties, staying connected with the practitioner stuff…”

The conversation trailed off, and they had to shut up as they got to the base of the ski hill.  Too many students were gathered, ranging in age from thirteen to eighteen, for a discreet conversation.

“F.Y.I.,” a senior guy called out.  “Someone snitched, so parents are going to be swinging by.  If you can’t hide your drinks when the warning comes in, you’d sure as fuck better not have any!  Keep them outdoors so the cabins don’t smell like booze!”

There were some groans and sounds of protest.

“No smoking, vaping, or toking inside either!  We’ll be keeping an eye out, and we’ll thoroughly kick your asses if we catch you.  We’re the ones to be afraid of, not the parents!”

Verona raised her eyebrows.

“Campfires in designated areas only!” the guy’s companion shouted.

They were partway up the hill when they heard him repeat the message.  “F.Y.I.!”

“We have to be careful not to get drunk,” Lucy said.  “I don’t think the ‘we were drunk’ excuse would protect us from being Forsworn or Gainsaid.  I think that’s the term?”

“I think that’s only if someone calls you out on a minor lie,” Verona said.

“Whichever it is, we can’t afford it,” Avery said.  “It makes it too easy to lie.”

“Drugs too,” Lucy said.  “Booker was telling me there’s sketchy guys from the bad side of downtown who’ll lace joints with whatever, and they’ll pop up on nights like this.  I don’t know if he was trying to keep me on the straight and narrow or if he was telling the truth, but…”

“No plans for any of that,” Verona said.

Bit of a bummer, to say such an absolute ‘no’ to new experiences, but the idea of being drunk felt so dull to Verona.

Maybe if she’d never gotten into the practice.  It was a way to escape, kind of?  A really crummy, awful way, but a way.

The cabin had a fire out front, and it looked like most people were gathered outside, due to a lack of space inside.  There were a lot of familiar faces, and Verona could make some guesses about major families, but not all that many were faces she could name.

With the talk of the Seniors having one cabin and the freshmen having another, Verona had imagined it would be segregated.  As it was, the lines seemed blurrier, and there were people gathered all over the hill.  Campfires, fires inside barrels, the lights of the cabin and what looked like a thousand torches on sticks dotted the hillside with points of orange.  Some of the torches were the fat citronella candles, lemon scented candles that would work with the smoke of campfires to keep mosquitoes, blackflies, and deerflies at bay.

There was music playing here and there, and Verona was glad they were spaced out enough that there wasn’t too much overlap where multiple pieces of music were competing.

It was kind of like the graduation thing, where two out of every three people were dressed up, and one out of three were dressed like it was an ordinary day.  A couple in that last third were dressed even more relaxed or slobby than they would for school.  An older teen with a wispy mustache with rumpled clothing who looked like he could stab someone without flinching.  A girl wearing a swimsuit top and sweatpants.

Verona saw George, shirt off, his arm around Hailey.  They walked by Sharon, Hailey giggling and saying something to Sharon in passing, though she couldn’t stop because George was taking the lead.

And Sharon looked really upset, in the wake of that little scene.  Like she’d cry.  Her friends flocked to her to console her.

Sharon liked George, it seemed.  That was going to be a whole thing.  The girls in their class had been pretty ruthless with the voting; only a few guys had gotten any votes at all, and it had mostly been George, Amadeus, Brayden and Xavier.  One second-choice vote for Logan, but Logan could have shared a common ancestor with Gashwad, as far as Verona was concerned.

Which meant there was a ton of competition for those guys, and it looked an awful lot like Hailey had made an early claim to George.

This would, even if the people were a hassle, the music vaguely annoying, and everything else, be dramatic enough to watch as an outsider.

She looked out for the boys she was more interested in, and saw Wallace around.  Hair so blond it was almost white, with that raglan top with the silver print on it, and skinny jeans.  He’d done good.  Guys had a low bar to meet, and he’d easily cleared it.

She had to look for a minute before she spotted Jeremy sitting by the fire with Justin, talking.  Noah and Ian were sitting on the next bench over.  It was nice to see they weren’t getting shit, even though they were sitting so close together it might as well have been PDA.

Jeremy had cleared the bar too.  He had a short-sleeved button up shirt with white buttons that stood out in the gloom, his hair styled.

“We watch each other’s backs, okay?” Lucy asked.  “Even with the minor stuff, like sniping comments and whatever.”

It felt like Lucy had said that more to Avery.

Verona couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the odd one out.  That those two had a bond, because they’d both wrestled with discrimination.  The way they were dressed, that they’d picked their outfits together, it felt like they were egging each other on with being bold and unabashedly them.

Verona could wish them the best and do her best to understand, but she wouldn’t ever really get it.  She felt like there was a gulf between them, and the things that she dealt with that were uncomfortable and nasty were things that pushed her further away from everyone, including her friends.  Her dad.  Her complicated feelings about her mom, who didn’t seem to have any real feelings toward her at all, in return.  Not when it counted, like when she’d asked to move in.

Some music came on, vaguely familiar, and kids across the hillside cheered.  Even Lucy clapped her hands.

Someone turned it up, and the music drowned out nearly everything.

Verona’s stolen bottle of rum had bought her and her friends access to the cabin.  She sat in the screened in porch, looking out at the drama unfolding.

Melissa was also in the screened in area, her ruined ankle still in the plastic boot, which she’d propped up on a storage box.  She held a beer but didn’t really drink it.  Her friends weren’t around.

“I like the music,” Jeremy said.  He sat across from Verona, and his legs were outstretched.  With how narrow the patio was, intended more for use as a mudroom than anything else, and with Verona’s one leg outstretched, their feet passed one another.  Verona could have flicked her foot to the right and tapped his shin, and vice versa.

“Are you talking to me?” Melissa asked.

“Talking to whoever,” Jeremy said.  He glanced at Verona.

“It’s okay,” Melissa said.  “I’ve heard it a lot.”

“Truth or dare?” Xavier asked, in the next room.

“Dare,” a girl answered.

“Finally!  We need a good dare.  Brainstorm sesh!”

“Mayo challenge!  Gulp a big spoonful!”

“Run around the cabin naked!”

“No,” someone said.  There were boos.

“I’ve got one!” Verona called out, leaning over to see through the door into the cabin.

“Name the best dressed person in the room!” Verona called out.

“That’s a truth, and not even a good one!”

“It’s a two parter!”

There were murmurs.  Verona couldn’t see who got pointed to.

“Okay, and?” Xavier asked.

“And exchange outfits with them!  You have one minute!”

There was some debate, laughter, and noise from the other room.  Protests.

“In private!” Verona called out.

“Or punishment game!” someone called out.

“Sixty, fifty nine…” Xavier said.

Then Kyleigh and Amadeus made a mad scramble for the cabin’s washroom.  The door slammed.

Whoops.  Verona had not expected a boy-girl pairing.  Especially not an incendiary one.

“Who was it?” Jeremy asked.  He was beside the door but hadn’t twisted around enough to see.

“Oh my god,” Melissa said.  “You don’t know the barrel of worms you just opened up.”

“I have some idea,” Verona said.  “In my defense, I didn’t intend it.”

Verona turned the other way to look outside into the gloom.  George and Hailey were off in the trees.  They’d smoked something and were now hanging out in the dark of the woods.  Sharon was upset enough and her friends upset enough on her behalf that Hailey might not have any friends in the Dancers when school started up enough in the fall.

There was other stuff, ranging from the wild to the tame.  Adam and Caroline were sitting on a bench by the fire, looking very cozy.  Andre was rolling on the ground, hollering, while his friends jeered.  He’d done something as a prank or to hurt himself, and it was apparently hilarious to those guys.

Someone’s older sister was getting on another group’s case about leaving beer bottles lying around.  Trying to wrangle cats, as far as Verona was concerned.

There were cheers as Amadeus exited the bathroom, wearing Kyleigh’s dress.  Kyleigh, behind him, stepped out from behind the shower curtain in the bathroom, and came through wearing his shirt and slacks.  They did a bow.

Verona clapped, and Jeremy joined her.

“Did they win?” Melissa asked.  She was at the end of the porch furthest from the door into the cabin.

“You could move inside,” Verona said.

“It’s like an oven in there, and noisy, and people keep walking into my leg.”

“I’m on your wavelength, Mel,” Verona said.  She was avoiding the ‘crowd’, for many of the same reasons.

“They won,” Jeremy clarified, for Melissa’s benefit.  He kept his head turned Melissa’s way, rather than look at Verona.

“Too bad,” Melissa muttered.  “Kyleigh can go suck a power drill.  While it’s turned on.”

“Fuck her.  She was the first one to stop talking to me.”

“Sucks,” Jeremy told Melissa.

“I would’ve liked to see what they came up with for the punishment game,” Melissa said.

“I’m morbidly curious,” Verona said.

“Me too,” Jeremy added.  He was avoiding looking at Verona, and as a consequence, he was looking past her and through the screened portion of the porch, or over at Melissa.

Weird, but she wasn’t about to make a big deal of it.  If he liked Melissa better, she’d cheer him on.

Being avoided kind of sucked though.  Especially after her mom had rejected her earlier.

Lucy stepped into the doorway.  “Keeping an eye on Avery?”

“Some.  She seems okay,” Verona said, twisting around to look behind her and out past the screen to the fires.  Avery was sitting by the fire, surrounded by boys.  She seemed to be in pretty good spirits.

“And-” Lucy started.  She glanced behind her, then approached Verona.

“What?  What’s wrong?” Verona asked.

Lucy bent down, then pressed on Verona’s knee, pushing it down flat to the ground, next to the other one.

“You’re flashing your underwear,” Lucy told her.

“Oh,” Verona said.  Denim skirts.  “Whoops.”

Lucy seemed more embarrassed about it than Verona felt.

Verona and Lucy looked at Jeremy at the same time.

He kept his head turned Melissa’s way.

“Were you perving on my friend?”

“No.  I was try- I was being a gentleman.”

“Were you?” Lucy asked.  “Really?”

“It’s fine,” Verona said.  “I trust him.”

Lucy gave Jeremy a look.  He was a bit flushed, as far as Verona could tell.

“Can you keep an eye out for Avery?” Lucy asked.  “She was pretty unsure about coming, and I don’t want her feeling lonely.”

“She’s talking about hockey with the boys, I think.  Why?”

“What’s Booker’s rule?” Verona asked.

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, looking up at Lucy, who stood over him.

“My big brother said my rule for the party should be ‘yes’.”

“Yes, I’ll participate.  Yes, I’ll take the risk.  No only for the sketchy drugs and overdrinking, and anything with boys that’s uncomfortable.  So I’m doing the spin the bottle thing in a bit.  I would’ve done truth or dare, but it was a smaller group.”

“Ooh.  It’s going to get even hotter in there,” Verona told Melissa.

“I’ll give you a hand if you want to come in,” Lucy told Melissa.

“It might be even more important that you say ‘yes’ when you can,” Lucy told Melissa.

“It might be super important you stop sticking your nose in my business,” Melissa replied.

“Okay,” Lucy said.  “Alright.”

A breeze swept through, and Verona closed her eyes.  “Good luck, Luce.”

“I’m not sure how luck comes into it.  I guess if there was a boy I was super interested in.”

Lucy wandered into the next room, like it was an absent thought.

Verona leaned to the left to get a glimpse of more of the room, then corrected.  She checked on Avery.

“Sorry.  For not saying anything,” Jeremy said.

“I really don’t care that much.  Not if it’s you.  I meant it when I said I trusted you,” Verona said, still watching Avery.  She bonked his shin with the side of her sandal a few times.  “You’ve been cool so far.”

“Gag me,” Melissa said.

The mood had changed around her friend.  She wondered what had happened.  Practice?  Reality?

“I found that cat again,” he said.  “I’ve tracked down her hiding places.”

“Cat?” Melissa asked.

“I’ll show you sometime,” he told Verona, before turning to Melissa.  “We found a stray.”

“Cats are the best, they’re so amazing,” Melissa said, in a tone like she was describing a dog dying at the end of a book in a class presentation she really didn’t want to give.

“I don’t know if we found it so much as you found it and I showed up randomly,” Verona said.

Avery was getting up from the bench.  She stretched and began walking over to the cabin.

The boys who were jeering over something were laughing again.  Another guy was lying on the ground.

“It’s so cool how you look after each other,” Jeremy said.  “I don’t think I get that with any of my friends.  We talk about video games and movies.  I found out Xavier’s parents are going through a separation and divorce thing a year after it started.”

“Kinda have to, sometimes,” Verona said.  “Looking after each other, rescuing each other.”

“Way to fucking rub it in,” Melissa said.

“Oh,” Verona said.  “Didn’t mean to.”

Avery reached the door, and let herself in.

“Everything okay?” Verona asked.

Avery peeked into the cabin through the open door, and looked surprised.  People were cheering.

Verona leaned over to get a better look.

Lucy was leaning across the ring of people, kissing Wallace.  It looked like a pretty boring, chaste kiss.

She saw Verona looking as she broke the kiss.  She made a quick hand gesture, like a prayer.

Verona waved her off, and gave her a thumbs up.

Kind of a bummer, seeing it, when she’d voted for Wallace and they were neighbors, but Lucy was about a thousand times more important to her than the entirety of boydom was.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Verona said.  “Everything okay?”

“I just turned down a whole bunch of interested boys, I guess.”

“I thought it was cool we could talk hockey, but it seems like a lot of people think tonight is about finding a girlfriend for the summer.  Or a boyfriend for the summer.”

“Horny morons,” Melissa said.

Avery’s expression fell.  There was jeering and noise in the other room.

Logan, it sounded like.  Verona leaned over, then leaned over more, because Jeremy was also peeking through the door, his head blocking her view.

It looked like Logan had spun, and gotten Pam, or Pam had spun and gotten Logan.

“I’m going to go,” Pam said.

“Don’t,” Lucy said, stern.  “The one who should go is Logan.”

“You’re being an asshole and bringing down the mood.”

“Who’s bringing down the mood?  You’re the class bitch?”

“Who’s a bitch?” Lucy asked.  “You apparently don’t have the balls to kiss a girl the first time your turn comes up and you’re being shitty because of it.”

“I’d kiss any other girl.”

“She did better in the class ranking than you did, you douche.  You’re really not all that.”

“And both of us did better than you, so who’s all that, huh?  Shut up.”

“Yeah.  You know why she did good?  She’s cool, and nice, and pretty, and sweet.  And you’re an ass.  I’m okay being class bitch if it means I can call you out.  So I’m going to ask… does any girl sitting here really want Logan in the circle, with how he’s acting?”

Come on, come on, Verona thought. She pressed her hands together.

Verona couldn’t clearly see or hear all of the responses, and a bunch were nonverbal.

But Logan stood up, and said, “Fuck off.”

And he stomped his way out of the cabin, past Jeremy, Avery, and Verona, and out the door, over toward the fire.  Toward the guys who were pulling stupid stunts.

“I hope he’s next,” Avery said.

“What are they even doing?” Verona asked.

“They’re playing Whack-ass.”

“Oh no,” Jeremy said.

“I don’t know what that is.  Spanking?”

“Nah.  You know that Freezy-Heat stuff that you put on sore muscles, that alternates between really cold and really hot?  Andre put it on his nipples, and on sensitive skin it apparently burns like actual fire, and feels like ice.  So the next guy has to one-up them by doing something more extreme.  Justin filled his hand with it and then slapped himself in the nards.  Now the next guy has to top it or they’re everyone else’s slave for the rest of the night,” Avery explained.

Avery looked back at the cabin, and her expression softened.

Verona looked.  Amadeus was kissing Pam.

Hopefully that made up for the shittiness from Logan.

“People are dumb,” Jeremy said.

“And cripples need to pee sometimes,” Melissa said.  “Can someone help me over?”

Jeremy got to his feet, then began helping Melissa, except Jeremy was kinda scrawny, and Melissa outweighed him.  Avery stepped forward at the same time Verona stood, and then Avery allowed Verona to go forward, because there wasn’t much room and Verona was closer.

Verona took one of Melissa’s arms, and Jeremy took the other.

“Watch my bag?” Verona asked Avery.

The kissing game continued as Jeremy and Verona helped Melissa get over to the cabin bathroom.  They got her to the toilet, then retreated, guarding the door.

The bottle got a few more spins.  Brooklynn kissed Brayden.  Byron kissed Pam.

Verona wanted to slap every parent upside the head for the unimaginative names.  Their class had a Brayden, Byron, Bryson, and a Bryan.  Brooklynn too, but that was borderline.

Mia spun and kissed Amadeus.

Verona could sense the change in the room’s temperature on that last one.  The most popular girl in class kissing one of the most popular boys.

Verona betted there were a lot of hearts silently creaking and breaking in agony.

Wallace gave the bottle a spin.

“Are you cheating, Luce?” Verona asked, hands on her hips.

“How do you cheat at spin the bottle?” Lucy asked, affronted.

Wallace rose to hands and knees, or hand and knees, since his one arm was in a brace.

“Second kiss, double the kiss length,” Brooklynn said.

“I wasn’t aware that was a rule,” Lucy said.

“Yeah?” Lucy asked Wallace.

“Yeah, if it means not having to hold this position for another minute.  I’ll mess up my other elbow if I’m not careful.”

Lucy put a hand on Wallace’s shoulder, and got him to sit back on his heels instead of straining forward, then knelt in front of him and kissed him.

The bathroom door opened, and Avery and Verona went to Melissa.  They helped her hobble her way back toward the porch.

“You in, Avery?” Brayden asked, painfully hopeful.

“Uhhh… no, I don’t think.”

“You sure?” Brooklynn asked her.

“Don’t pressure her,” Mia said.  “Pressure’s a sure way to make this into a feel-bad thing.  It’s meant to be fun.”

“It’s cool,” Avery said.  “I’m sure.  I like girls.  Just told a bunch of guys at the campfire, so you’ll hear about it sooner or later.”

She looked so calm and cool about it.  Verona smiled, while simultaneously hoping this didn’t get bad.

“I knew it,” Brooklynn muttered.  “You’re the lesbian.”

“Don’t be shitty about it,” Lucy said.  “Who’s next spin?”

“If you wanted to join in,” Mia ventured, making a bit of a face.

“I only want to kiss girls who want to kiss.  It’d be selfish.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Brayden said.

Lucy beat Mia to slapping him across the back of the head.

“I don’t want to do it for other people’s benefit either,” Avery said, as she resumed helping Melissa into the porch.  She muttered, “Made that mistake once.”

“What does that mean?” Melissa asked.  “I’m confused.”

“None of your beeswax,” Verona said.  “You sure you want to sit alone on the porch at the party?”

“No, but where else am I going to go?”

“Anywhere else?” Avery asked, in a tone like she was trying to be light, cheery, and hopeful.

“No,” Melissa said.  She wormed her way out of their grip, grabbed the windowsill from the cabin window that looked out onto the porch, and hobbled her way back to her chair.  She collapsed into it, thunked her boot down with a wince, and reclaimed her beer.  “I’ll sit here.”

Verona had a pretty low tolerance for self pity, and Melissa had more than breached it.

She took her bag back from Avery.

“Man, I hope there’s some eligible girls in our summer thing,” Avery said.

“I really, really hope so too,” Verona said.  “You okay?  Want to bail?”

“I’m… not not okay,” Avery answered.  “Feeling brave, at least.  Glad I came.  I think if I came back to school in September and didn’t see what I’ve already seen happening tonight, I’d be lost.”

“I think it’ll still be confusing if we keep our eyes open all night,” Verona said.

Half the kids were sitting, on the wicker couch, on cushions pulled down from the couch, on armchairs, and on tables that had been dragged out of the way to clear the floor.  Others sat.

Jeremy had taken a wicker armchair.  As Verona approached, he made to get up.  She made him stay down, then sat on the chair’s arm, beside him, crossing one leg over the other, then undoing it and shifting position so she sat sideways, instead.  She didn’t know how other women did that so comfortably.  She leaned over.  “Don’t stand up too fast if you get one of the cute girls, or the chair might tip over.”

“I’ll be careful,” he said.

Brayden gave the bottle a spin.  He gave Caroline the lamest peck on the lips…

“Who are you hoping for?” Verona whispered to Jeremy.  “Mia?”

“Caroline?” she murmured.  “Pam?”

He didn’t answer, but after a second, he leaned over a fraction, his arm pressing into her leg.

“Sorry, if-” he said.

“Come,” she said, taking his hand.

Some people noticed.  Mia cooed.

Off in the distance, a bottle audibly broke.  Some people booed and jeered.  One of the people who was trying to keep the situation manageable, maybe Emerson, started shouting at them to clean it up.

In the porch, Melissa was staring out into the candlelit and firelit dark.  As Verona opened one of the storage containers on the porch to drop her bag inside, Melissa didn’t move a muscle.

She slipped out and down the stairs, pulling Jeremy after her.  They went around the side of the cabin, to where the driveway ended and a nook had formed where the truck, a shack, and the side of the cabin all met.

“You wanted to kiss me?  Just making sure?” Verona asked.

“I, uh… yeah.  Sorry if I made it weird.”

She shook her head, taking his hands in her own, and walking backwards into the corner.  There was a spiderweb there, but it didn’t really bother her.  She drew him closer, tugging, then stood up on her toes.

She paused, leaning into him, her lips a short distance from his.

“No strings attached, no hassle, just a nice moment, like at spin the bottle.  but without an audience,” she whispered.

He, she was glad, didn’t do that stupid peck thing that half the people were doing while playing spin the bottle.  He didn’t just pucker and consider the job done, but moved his lips.  It took her a second to get the angle right, especially because he was a bit taller and she was shorter, a second to get the rhythm right, because they were both trying to kiss the other and not always in sync.

And then they kind of worked it out, and it was nice.  His lips were cooler to the touch than she’d expected, but not in a crazy way.  It might have been due to a lower natural body temperature.  Or him being terrified.  She could feel his hands in hers, and the way they moved made her believe there was some agitation.  She could feel his heartbeat pound and hers wasn’t exactly still either.

This was nice.  Dark atmosphere, comfortable temperature, the distant, muffled music.  The landscape, if she looked past him.

Nice.  She could stand to do that again.

“That was electric,” he whispered.

She blinked once or twice.  Was it?

“Again?” she asked him.

This time, instead of making her stand on tiptoes, he bent down.

She didn’t feel the electricity.  She could taste him and the toothpaste or gum he’d had recently.  She could smell him and she wasn’t sure if it was a spray, hair thing, or deodorant, but the smell of him was maybe her second favorite part of being this close to him.  Her entire body felt a bit warm.

If there was a no-frills, no-hassle way to just lie next to him all night every night to stretch out a moment like this, she’d be on top of it.  But that was a stupid, lost-in-the-moment kind of thinking.

“French kiss?  I want to try it,” she said.

They tried it.  It… wasn’t nice.  It was weird in a kind of fun, lots-of-saliva way, but there was either something that they hadn’t figured out about how to do it, or it was way overhyped.  It wasn’t like the movies, either, where they had to open their jaws wide to get the area to work with.

“Not so electric,” Jeremy said.

Verona laughed.  “It wasn’t just me, then.”

His hands brushed at her shoulders, then down her arms.  She was a bit startled.

“Sorry.  I didn’t think.  Mosquitoes are gathering on you,” he told her.

“Ohh.  Thank you.  You don’t have to keep saying sorry, you know.  It’s okay.  You don’t have to be that much of a gentleman.”

He looked away, thinking back to the earlier moment.

She still held his hand.  She moved it to her stomach, then up a bit, to the bottom of her shirt, so it was just beneath the fabric.  “We can do other stuff.”

He took his hand away.  “That’s moving a little fast for me.”

He whisked the sides of his hand along her shoulders, to get rid of the gathering bugs.  A little more chaste than before.  “What are you doing this summer?”

“No strings attached,” she said.

“I don’t know exactly what that means.”

“That it doesn’t lead to anything,” she told him.

“But… I think you’re neat.”

“Yeah, and I think you’re neat.  But… no boyfriend-girlfriend thing, at least for a while, I think.”

“Because of your parents?”

Yes, but not like he meant.

“I think I’d be a bad girlfriend, and it’d just end in hurt feelings.”

“‘Cause I think, like… the best way this could go,” Jeremy said, “is we start out as friends and stay friends.  That time a while back where we hung out with the cat?  That was nice.”

“So like… can’t we make every day like that?  Or most days?  Hanging out, doing nice things.  Sharing snacks?  Having fun, talking?  I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you.  A lot of that sounds good.”

“Because… my parents suck.  It’s not because they’d say no to me dating, but it’s like almost everyone else is starting from zero and I’m starting at minus fifty.  I can get super tired super fast of even being around people I like, like Lucy and Ave.  I get awful.  I see a movie where there’s romantic crap and I try to think about what I’d do, and if I’m not careful, my first instinct is to act like my dad would, or like my mom would.”

“I’m willing to figure it out with you.”

“I’m not,” she mumbled.  “I’m sorry.  I’d just stress that if I got tired and let my guard down, I’d turn into my dad or my mom and I don’t want to do that.  For me or for you.”

Again, he brushed at the flies.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Could we do the no-strings thing?” she asked.  “No obligations, just messing around?  Electric, like you said?  Not-so-gentlemanly?  You can decide the pace?”

“I… I might lose my testosterone license for saying this-”

“-but I think I like you too much.  I’d just spend the whole time hating not being able to do everything else.”

“Then let’s go inside,” she said.  Her leg twinged.  “I think deerflies or something’s getting me.”

“Cool,” he said.  “Still friends?”

“I’m going away for most of the summer, might drop in now and then.  So a bit of a break, probably, and then we can pick up as friends.  Sure,” Verona said.

“Alright,” he said.  He rounded the corner, then stopped.

Verona leaned around to see.  It was Avery, standing by.

“What’s up?” Verona asked.

“Watching out,” Avery said.  “Sounds like it’s all good.”

“It’s a bummer,” Verona said.  “But we’re cool right?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Jeremy told her.  “We’re cool.”

He went up the stairs and headed into the cabin.

Off in the distance, kids were hollering.  There was also a distant sound of an ATV, from up the hill.  The older teens.

Verona winced, hearing that.

With the way the Carmine Beast had died, trouble was on the rise.  If kids died in a stupid riding accident, there’d probably be a nasty ghost hanging around after.

With Jeremy inside, Verona stood by Avery.

“Sorry, if that was weird.  I just wanted to make sure you were okay, didn’t know if you drank,” Avery said.

“Birds of a feather, huh?” Avery said.

“Maybe.  A bit flipped around.  If Jeremy was a Jereminah, and wanted all the same things from you, you’d love that.”

“He’s a bit dorky for me, but… yeah.  And Jereminah?”

“You know what I mean.”

They headed up to the porch.

Lucy had gotten Wallace again.  It sounded like it was the third time.

“In the closet!  Five minutes!” Brooklynn said.

“I think that’s a bit much,” Lucy said.

Verona and Avery hovered at the door, and Verona was pretty sure they were trying to mutually decide if Lucy needed rescuing.

Melissa had bailed, it seemed.  Verona hadn’t seen or heard her go.

With a bit of a bad feeling, Verona went to the storage thing, that served as a kind of end table for the patio furniture, with a lid that opened to store stuff inside.

“Emergency,” she said, eyes wide.  “Probably emergency.  My bag’s gone.”

Avery ducked into the room, leaned in close to whisper something to Lucy, and the two of them came out to the porch.  The rest of the group booed and jeered.

“What happened?” Lucy asked.

“I stowed my bag for a second while I was hanging with Jeremy.  It’s gone.”

“How much practice stuff was in there?”