Page 93 of Even in the Dark

I’m still on the fence about Silas.

“Best songever!” Maggie squeals, as Jackie turns up One Direction’sSteal My Girlfrom the passenger seat beside Silas.She’s been blasting cheesy boy band music since we left the dance, batting Silas’ hand away whenever he tries to switch a song. Because he’s driving and has a limited range of motion, she wins every time.

“You can play angry death metal music on your way to school or to work or to stoner D&D dice rolling parties,” she explainsover the pounding epic piano intro. “But it’s a rule that you have to play boy band music on the way to a bonfire.”

“First of all,” he yells over the music, “I don’t listen to death metal.”

“Punk, then. Whatever.” Jackie waves her hand dismissively.

“Yeah, because punk isexactlythe same as death metal.”

“Thank you!” She is totally egging him on. “Glad we agree.”

“Secondly,” he ignores her. “What the hell is a ‘stoner D&D dice rolling party’? And tell me when in my life I’ve ever been to one?”

She doesn’t even bother responding this time. Just ‘boops’ him playfully on the nose with her finger.

He leans out of her reach, so his back is practically plastered against the car door as he drives. “I’ve never played D&D in my life.” He sits back normally.

“Aha!” She ‘boops’ his nose again. “Then maybe you should! It’s probably right up your alley.” She grins. “Since they play that angry death metal music you love so much on the way to their parties.”

He glances up at me in the rearview mirror, ducking from another nose boop from Jackie. “Scarlett agrees with me, right?” he calls. “No way you’re down with this boy band crap.”

I wince apologetically. “I don’t hate it.”

No way I would have admitted that to the people I’ve spent most of my time hanging out with these past couple of years. Because they’re acquaintances. Not friends. And you share entirely different parts of yourself with friends than you do with acquaintances. And the truth is I thinkSteal My Girlis the perfect pre-bonfire-party pump up song. So while I may not belt the lyrics at the top of my lungs like Jax and Maggie, I do bop my head to the beat. Fist pump cheesily a few times when the chorus comes on.

“Well, thank fuck we’re almost there, then,” Silas grumbles. Only he has to scream over the singing, so it’s way more comical than a normal grumble. More like a one-line rant. And we all double over laughing. Even Silas cracks a smile as he rolls his eyes and pulls the car into Mallard’s Convenience parking lot.

We all pile out, pull on hats and mitts and grab blankets from the trunk, along with a couple bags of marshmallows and a case of Mike's Hard Lemonade that Maggie brought. I notice Silas has a six-pack of Mountain Dew tucked under one arm. He’s clearly serious about the sobriety thing, and I feel bad all over again for the snarky comment I threw at him that day at Board and Brews.

We jog across the street, along with a slew of other people heading to the tree obscured gap in the steep forested cliff that marks the start of the narrow, rickety wooden staircase that leads down to Helicina Cove. Halfway down, the warm light from the bonfire starts glowing through the tree branches, and the loud chatter of the crowd drowns out the sound of the surf lapping against the surrounding boulders. That, and the distinctive groove ofOutcast at Lastby Sticky Fingers blasting from a portable speaker. Indie Australian. Xave must be on Aux.

“Well, thank God at least one other person here has decent taste in music,” Silas grumbles as we step off the stairs on to the sandy beach. I don’t tell him that Xave is the one with “decent taste in music”, because he was one of the guys who had to throw Silas out of my end of Junior Year party last June, when he and those other two Allerston Lake guys showed up looking for trouble, barely able to walk straight. I doubt Silas even remembers, but I get the sense he’d be embarrassed now if he knew. Xavier’s close with Jackie, though, so I guess it’s likely Silas has already been made aware. Faced that awkward situation and come out the other side.

I lean into our small group. “I have to go help Seb with something,” I call over the music, “But I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit.”

Maggie tells me she’ll save a Mike’s Hard for me. Even though I doubt she’ll remember half an hour from now—and I really don’t care if I drink tonight or not—it’s still sweet of her to offer. She just met me and anything she’s heard about me has likely been less than glowing. So it says a lot about her that she’s forming her own judgment. I make a mental note to scout her out later and chat for a bit.

Seb planned a surprise for Caroline that I agreed to help him with up in the Shack, which is basically just a glorified shed a bunch of kids built partway up the sloped forested area above the beach a few years back. I start making my way up the raised rocky ledge along the edge of the trees, just before the steeper cliff that hugs the cove. I’ve taken a few steps when two muscular arms wrap around me from behind.

“Scarly!” Seb’s voice brings a grin to my lips with the nickname he used for me when we were kids. He turns, then lifts me into one of his patented squeeze hugs. My best friend looks happy. A little tired, which has become the norm for him since the incident that landed him in hospital three weeks ago, but he’s still his sweet, happy-go-lucky self—pink-cheeked and mischievous grin on full display.

We talk as we make our way towards the rickety hut perched about fifty feet above the cove. My eyes wander to the beach as we walk, scanning the crowd milling around the bonfire and scattered in clusters across the sheltered, wide crescent of sand. Even in the past ten minutes since we got here, more people have arrived. My gaze snags on a larger group close to the smooth boulders by the rolling waves. It catches my attention becausethey’re all girlsclustered around one guy, like fan girls mobbing a celebrity or something. Which—wait a second…

Of course.Dylan Braun is the “celebrity” at the center of the swarm of girls.

My step falters, and Seb reaches for my elbow to steady me. My eyes remain fixed on the scene on the beach a few feet away.

What the hell?Dylan said he wasn’t coming. And if he changed his mind, why wouldn’t he have texted to let me know? He doesn’t have the bad spelling thing to fall back on anymore. He is fully versed in voice to text now. And this is kind of a big deal—the first time he’s ever gone out to a social event.

Seb follows my line of vision, then watches me for a second. He nudges my shoulder with his elbow. “Something you forgot to fill me in on last week about you and this Dylan Braun guy?” He quirks a brow at me.

When we talked last week after Seb got out of hospital, I told him Dylan and I were getting along now. That I’m no longer bent out of shape about him moving in next door the way I was before Seb went into hospital three weeks ago. But those are the extent of the details I got into with him.

“I told you we’re friends.”

Seb leans in so his eyes are level with mine. “That’s not your friendship face, Scarly.” He grins. “You think I scrambled my brain so bad I forgot what your ‘invested’ face looks like?”

---