Page 47 of The Catcher
“Does Kerri know?”
“No. Look, we never slept together. Not that it makes it any better. Emotional ties and whatnot. It just happened.”
“For how long?”
“Six months, give or take. He wanted to take things to the next level. He wanted to leave Kerri.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t let that happen — those kids. I just couldn’t. I was foolish, young, and naive.”
Naivete he knew about.
He nodded and exhaled.
“Working so closely. We…” she trailed off. “Look, I shouldn’t have even told you this. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“Then why are you?”
“Because I’ve gotten to know you. We’re close.”
Her gaze drifted away from the curtain to him. He read between the lines, and maybe he read the signal wrong, or perhaps it was all the alcohol he’d had that night, but he took a few steps into her room and began to close the door.
“What are you doing?” Callie asked in a measured way.
“I… thought…”
“No. I just wanted to tell you.”
“Right. Yeah. Well then, good night,” he said quickly, exiting the room and closing the door behind him. He stood there for a second longer, eyes closed, jaw clenched, feeling like a fool.
They lapsed into silence again, the weight of their shared experiences hanging heavy between them. In the darkness of Callie’s apartment, Noah found himself grappling with the ghosts of his identical twin brother’s past and the uncertainty of the future, unsure of where the path would lead him next.
14
As darkness draped over the neighborhood like a cloak, engines rumbled through the streets as cars pulled up one after another. Dozens of teenagers from nearby high schools flooded into a fall party, drawn by the promise of one last hurrah as the school year geared up.
For some, it marked the advent of a season of socializing, a final chance to revel in youthful freedom before the responsibilities of adulthood loomed large. Others, especially the high school football team, saw it as the dawn of a season ripe with the potential for glory on the gridiron.
As the crowd swelled to nearly 70 eager partygoers, the air buzzed with excitement and anticipation. Cases of beer and an array of spirits adorned a makeshift bar, beckoning attendees to indulge without restraint. Red plastic cups soon overflowed with intoxicating concoctions, fueling the cheerful atmosphere.
“Sick party!!! Be there!” exclaimed Colt Banning, asophomore quarterback from High Peaks. His message reverberated across social media platforms as he made his entrance.
Inside the house, the music blared at ear-splitting levels, drowning out any attempt at conversation. Bodies writhed on the dance floor, lost in the pulsating rhythm, while others mingled in clusters, their voices barely audible above the din.
Despite the grim shadow of Pete Landry’s death, the teenagers showed no signs of slowing down. Some claimed the party was a tribute to his memory, but it was simply another excuse to indulge in reckless revelry.
Colt, his breath strong with the scent of alcohol, draped his arm around Mischa Redka, his words slurring as he leaned in. “Come on sugar, give us a kiss,” he murmured, his drunken bravado failing to charm her.
“Shit! Get lost. You reek of puke. How much have you had to drink?” Mischa retorted.
“The party’s been going on for hours,” Colt shot back with a shrug, oblivious to her disdain.
“Addison, let’s get out of here,” Mischa suggested, her patience wearing thin.
“Where are you going? The party’s just getting started. Come on, we’re doing this for Pete,” Colt protested, but they paid him no heed as they exited.
Surveying the sea of bodies before him, Colt’s gaze landed on Abby, a girl he deemed passable in his inebriated state. “Hey, Abby! You wanna…” he began, his intentions clear despite his slurred speech.
Abby, caught up in the throes of the party atmosphere,approached with a suggestive smile, her eyes alight with anticipation. Colt saw an opportunity for another conquest, another tale to regale his friends with.
But as Abby asked for a cigarette, Colt’s interest waned, his disappointment evident. “No, I don’t smoke,” he replied.
