“Huh.” He frowns and sets his plate aside. “Given that our dads aren’t the ones who will be living our lives, why the hell are we doing what they say?”
“What would you do if you didn’t go to law school?”
“No idea. What would you do if you didn’t go to library school, or whatever it’s called?”
I wipe my greasy fingers on a napkin. “No idea.”
His phone buzzes. He swipes the screen and lets out a gusty sigh. “Dave passed out, and the guys need help getting him back to the house.”
“Where is he?”
“Neighbor’s yard.” With a chuckle, he stands. “I’ll catch you later, okay?”
“Okay.”
After he heads around the side of the house, I collect our empty plates and return to the kitchen to dump everything into the recycling bin. A couple of guys at the counter are doing lines of coke.
With the abundant flow of liquor and now drugs, the party is taking on a hard, loose edge. Though I’m not entirely comfortable, I have the urge to stay and wait for Billy to come and find me again.
I wander around the house, watch a few girls play a drunken game of pool, and study the pristine books lining the walls of the living room. After looking unsuccessfully for Simon, who must not be back from the store yet, I head down a crowded hallway. A line of people snakes in front of a closed door.
“Is this the bathroom?” I ask a heavily made-up girl who’s lounging against the wall.
“Right now it’s a fuck room.” She rolls her eyes. “Brayden and Lucy have been in there for, like, ever. I swear, if he leaves his gross used condom in the sink, I’m going to shove it up his ass.”
I back away and go up the massive staircase, maneuvering around people sitting on the steps. The crowd thins out upstairs, though there are more couples making out. I find another bathroom and quickly use the toilet. I’ll give the party a few more minutes before leaving.
As I open the door, three male voices drift toward me. Something about their tone—caustic and sly—brings me to a stop.
“She’s fucking wasted, man.” Glee edges the first guy’s voice.
I peer around the door. They’re big guys, and one of them is wearing a football jersey. The second one has an acne-scarred face, and the third is Billy.
“She’s in there.” The football guy jerks his thumb at a closed door. “Doesn’t even know where the fuck she is.”
“What’d she take?” Billy asks. “You give her something?”
“Nah, didn’t have to.” The acne-scarred guy laughs. His eyes are overly bright from too much alcohol. “She’s a lightweight.”
“Vodka, a few shots of tequila, and she was out.” The football guy snaps his fingers. “We can do whatever we want to her. Mess her up. She won’t remember a fucking thing. Check it out.”
They lower their voice to whispers, gesturing between them. The air around them seems heavier, thick, soiled.
My stomach knots. Instinct tells me to stay where I am. Through the crack in the door, I see them move toward the closed door of what I assume is another bedroom. The acne guy giggles. A sharp excitement emanates from all three of them like a bad stench.
Billy shoves open the door. They step into the room.
If they close the door, they’ll lock it. For the next second, I have the advantage of surprise.
Pure, hot rage flames through me. Propelling forward, I cross the hallway and shove my way past the three hulking young men.
They startle. One of them shouts. A meaty hand grabs my arm.
I yank myself away, sweeping the room in one glance. A petite girl is sprawled facedown on the bed, her limbs askew and her blond hair a tangled mess.
My heart almost stops. I don’t have to see her face to know it’s Clover.
CHAPTER 22
Nell
“Get out!” The order rips from my throat, hot and sharp.
“What the…” The acne-scarred guy stares at me.
“Touch her, and I’ll fucking kill you.” I’m shaking so hard my teeth rattle. “Get out. Get out!”
“Who the fuck are you, cunt?” Football guy starts forward, anger flaring.
Billy grabs his shoulder. “Forget it, man.”
“One more step, and I’ll call the police.” I pray they’ll believe the threat. I don’t have a phone, and I don’t see a landline anywhere in the room. No question these three could overpower me without much effort.
“Crazy bitch,” the football guy snaps.
“Get out, you fuckers.” I put myself between them and Clover, spreading my arms out. My heart is about to explode. My lungs are filled with fire. I clench my fists and look directly at Billy. “Leave. Now.”
He averts his gaze. “Come on, guys.”
I don’t wait. Before they’re out of the room, I grab Clover and haul her upright. Her head lolls to the side. Her eyes roll back in her head.
“Clover.” I give her a shake. She’s like a rag doll. “Clover!”
One of her eyes peels open, blearily focusing on me. “Nell. Hi, Nell.”
“We have to get out of here. Hold on to me.”
I manage to get her to her feet, looping her arm around my shoulders. I need Simon’s help, but I have no idea if he’s back from the store yet. I don’t dare ask anyone else, terrified that they might just laugh it off or, worse, stop me from trying to get her out.
“I don’t wanna go,” she slurs. “Having fun.”
“Be quiet. We’re going.”
I haul her out of the bedroom. The couples lounging around the hallway and stairs are too immersed in either drinking or kissing to give a second glance to another wasted girl.
Gripping the banister with one hand, I half-drag, half-carry Clover down the stairs and past the kitchen. If I felt like I could safely leave her alone, I’d look for Simon again, but my main thought is to get away as fast as possible.
The night air hits me in a rush, fueling my adrenaline. Clover is a deadweight against my side, mumbling under her breath. I finally reach my car and struggle to get her into the backseat, turning her onto her side.
“I’ll take you home,” I assure her.
“No.” She drags her head around, her eyes red-rimmed and unfocused. “No home. Don’t tell Mom…no home…”
She falls back onto the seat, a high-pitched whine streaming from her throat.
Shit shit shit.
Wiping my arm over my forehead, I run around to the driver’s seat. My hand shakes as I start the engine and shove the car into gear. I have to take her back to my father’s house, but if he and Darius aren’t home, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Clover whines and mumbles the whole way back to Dearborne Street. All of the upstairs windows are dark, but a light shines in the kitchen and office. Both my father’s car and Darius’s SUV are parked outside.
Relief floods me. After parking, I run inside. “Dad? Darius?”
Darius’s familiar silhouette appears in the living room doorway. He flips the hall light on. His eyes darken, lines of concern creasing his face.
“Nell, what’s wrong?”