Lainey Quilholt Mysteries Collection

Chapter 4-1

Since I was the only one with a car, I drove with Wendy sitting next to me and Nadine in the back rattling off stories they"d heard about people who had been arrested for under-age drinking. And the story of one girl in particular (we all knew her, as she had suddenly disappeared from school, and the stories circulated right after that), who had gotten pregnant from her interlude in this very woods with her boyfriend. Teenage horror-stories abound. It seemed that if we could think it up, we would do it, right or wrong—usually wrong and stupid was the norm.

I had been taught to walk the tight and narrow from my parents. I wasn"t a prude. I like to think of myself as a moralist. One must have standards. Plus, I didn"t like getting into trouble. That was why I didn"t usually go to parties. Too often there was drinking and w**d being passed around. My biggest embarrassment would be my aunt learning I"d been at such a party, and second to that, her boyfriend, Weeks, the sheriff, getting wind of it. That was why, before I got in my car and drove the few miles out of town, I called my aunt and told her where I was going, who I was with and what we were going to do. She had concern in her voice when she told me not to stay out too late, indicating to me that my usual ten o"clock curfew was slightly extended to eleven. Big yippee.

We had lingered for a few minutes outside after the coffee house had closed. We didn"t want to get to the party “too soon”. Wendy said it would make us look “anxious” and somewhat “green”. I mentally rolled my eyes.

I followed a line of cars after the show had ended. Wruck"s Woods was a seven minute drive north of town on Route 67. A single, weak sodium light pooled over the gravel parking lot and revealed a number of people were already here. I counted four vehicles, one van, and a number of motorcycles. I was a little surprised about the motorcycles, but knew they couldn"t be with us. As I turned in, Wendy informed me this was where most of the seniors went on “skip day”—the last day of the school year—partying, getting drunk, and making out. None of which I knew a thing about. Really.

After arriving, and getting out of the car, we spotted a distant camp fire through the massive oak and maple trees. It was a bit of a hike on a winding dirt trail. In the circle of large, blackened stones a fire blazed high. I don"t know who would have gotten here early enough to get the fire going, but it was a nice, crackling blaze. The amber firelight glowed on everyone"s face who sat, or stood around it. When we strode into the clearing, I realized there were more people here than I"d at first thought. Some people had found spots on large logs, or large, flat stones arranged around the fire pit. Someone had brought a few lawn chairs. Wish I"d thought of that. And they all were holding either aluminum cans, or brown bottles. Yep. Beer.

Wish I"d thought of thatGuitar music filled the night air, giving this the feel of one of those camps you go to as a teenager—which I"ve never had the chance to experience, but I presumed this is exactly what it would be like at night. Cigarette smoke threw that homey thought out the window entirely. At least I didn"t smell the other slightly acrid smoke of m*******a. Not here, anyway. I did smell it when we passed another group in a distant, semi-secluded spot while walking up the path to our party. I realized it was the Harley g**g. I"d spotted Lassiter"s Harley, the distinctive paint job of flames on the violet gas tank was a tell. I thought it odd that he"d parked it so close to the outhouse, at the end of a long line of similar Hogs.

We hiked up a hill and entered the circle of people where the flames washed their faces with amber. The guitar player was none other than Brett. Of course, he was the only reason I had come here. I massaged my temples at the stress headache that had begun soon after leaving The Huddle. I evaluated my desire to be a part of a group like this. To hang out. Do something I knew was out of my comfort zone, like being out after dark in a park with a bunch of young people like myself. I usually didn"t go to such parties. I"d never been asked, actually. There had been a sign in the parking lot that the park closed at 10pm. It was going on 10:00 now, so I knew I was already in deep crud, should one of the sheriff"s deputies come out and make us all leave. From the way Wendy talked, it was like she"d come here millions of times, knew exactly where it was, too.

The HuddleIn contrast, Nadine was nearly jumping up and down in her seat as we arrived, like a kid"s first time to a carnival. Now, she was quietly taking everyone in, fingers laced in front of her, like she were standing in church. Her eyes gleamed like twin stars as she gazed at the fire. Both of us were the shy ones. We were greeted with "hi" all around, and did our best to not look like a bunch of dorks trying to schmooze our way into a cool crowd.

Wendy was also suddenly quiet, almost a mirror of her friend, just taller.

My eyes stayed on Brett as he played his guitar. He hadn"t looked up to see me, yet, so into his music. I admired his features. His band members sang along with him when he struck up a song they wanted to sing. He stopped made a joke I didn"t get, and everyone laughed. I made a half-hearted chuckle sycophantically. He took a sip from a brown bottle of beer. The way this was set up, with coolers off the side and a fire already burning, I had to guess someone had come out here earlier to get things prepared. I guessed the band"s girlfriends had come out here and gotten things ready.

I shouldn"t have been surprised to see beer, but Brett was no older than I. Obviously one of his band members was old enough to buy the beer, at any rate. Well, who didn"t sneak a sip from their parents drinks? My aunt let me have small sampling of wine with dinner a few times. I guessed it was so that I wasn"t feeling deprived, or have the desire to sneak around behind her back to see what it was all about. She"d explained that in Europe, especially in France, children were often expected to drink wine with meals. It was hardly necessary, as I wasn"t feeling all that curious. I didn"t like feeling tipsy, and out of control. Call me different, but my aunt said I probably hadn"t inherited the “drinking” gene. Good. I didn"t especially like drunks. And as far as I knew, there were no severe alcoholics in the family.

“Lainey!” I looked up to find Brett motioning me over.

“Oh, God,” I said, chin almost to my breast bone. My stomach did somersaults.

Nadine pushed at me. “Go on. He won"t bite.” She was always encouraging me to try and get over my shyness with guys. Balking a few steps in, I looked back at them.

“Go on. We"re fine,” she encouraged again.

I stepped around the fire, and around the other people who didn"t seem to notice me. I stopped next to Brett. Looking up, he scooted over on the log he was seated upon and patted it. “Here, I"ve saved you a seat.”

“Nice.” I sank to sit next to him. This was as close as I"d ever been to Brett—at least on purpose. This afternoon didn"t count. Our shoulders brushed when I sat, and then he rearranged his guitar in his lap, and now our thighs had incidental touching. I realized my whole body had become a wet sponge at this point. Of course, the night was warm, being the middle of July. We weren"t that close to the fire, but it was like my feet were in it and I was sweating profusely. Looking out into the woods, I noticed a fog began to creep in. That was usual with all the cooler water around. It had taken me a while to get used to fog in this area, once I"d moved here.

Brett strummed a bit, and began picking out a tune. He sang the Beatle"s “Blackbird” song. Brett had an incredibly rich voice. Everyone quietly listened. I felt so self-conscious I nearly wanted to jump up and run. I hadn"t expected Brett to want me sit next to him. I only figured he"d asked me to this party as a nice gesture. As friends. This had all the hallmarks of becoming something more, should I let it. I"ve been out with a few guys. I hadn"t gone steady more than a few weeks when I had to break it off, as the boy wanted to go further in the relationship than I did. In other words, if I wanted to keep my virginity, I had to break things off with guys with fast hands and over active hormones.

nextWhen the song ended it brought me back to ground zero. I wasn"t the only one who clapped lightly. Someone handed him another bottle of beer. He set his guitar down and took it from them. He turned and offered it to me.

“No thanks,” I said, lifting my hand to ward it off like it were the plague. “I don"t really like beer.” I wrinkled my nose. It tasted like soap to me. An acquired taste, no doubt, but I would rather not drink and drive, thank you.

“I"ll admit, it took me a while to like beer. Do you prefer wine? We have wine… someplace here. Jen? Where"s the wine?” He looked around and then to another girl who I remembered to be with the band. She held a clear plastic glasses usually used at family picnics, but I knew the pink liquid inside wasn"t exactly punch. The girl responded, moving to a boxed wine to get me a glass.

“No. I"m fine. Really. I have to drive home, anyway.” I hoped that was a good enough excuse. I didn"t want to zig-zag the ten minutes back to town. Across from us I noticed Wendy and Nadine had accepted bottles of beer. I was certain neither one liked beer, but they wanted to fit in and so faked it. Or so I thought, until Wendy tipped the bottle up and actually guzzled. I was a little surprised she actually belted it back, while Nadine daintily sipped hers.

Brett smiled at me. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”

I nodded. Self-consciously, I folded my arms around myself and looked out at our crowd bathed in warm light. There might have been a dozen or so people in our group. It became quiet again, as Brett took a small break from strumming and singing. Breaking the stillness came the sounds of Harleys pulling in to join in the other party.

“Sounds like we"ve been invaded,” I said to Brett.

“Yeah,” he said. “They"ve been going all afternoon, according to Brandon.”

“There goes the neighborhood,” someone said, and everyone laughed.