Snared

8

The bonfire blazed, whipping over the sand with the gusting wind. Ev seemed quieter tonight, less buzzed, but her entourage was in full party downhill. Bottles drained. Beer cans emptied. Blunts passed among the kids, who sat and stared in awe at the flames. Tonight’s bonfire was being dedicated to Lester Krohl. That was the name of the kid that drowned last night. Apparently, he was a full-on looz with a taste for weed and harder drugs. When Ev and her crowd talked about Lester, Lindsay couldn’t help but realize he was the burner she’d seen prowling outside Mark’s house. He’d totally scared her when she saw him again on the boardwalk, but she still found his death disturbing.

Despite having the night dedicated to him, Lindsay got the distinct impression that Lester wasn’t a well-liked boy. If anything, his death was being used as a hollow excuse for another night by the flames.

After hearing more than she wanted to about Lester Krohl, Lindsay stood a little away from the crowd, closer to the ocean, watching the tide crash in and slowly recede. She held a beer. She’d been at the party for an hour and it was still three quarters full. Doyle was prowling again. He’d arrived with a pretty girl, whom he was all but ignoring in favor of watching Lindsay.

She wished she’d just stayed at home. Over dinner with her parents, Lindsay felt uneasy. Restless. She could feel Mark in the house next door. He was so close to her. She wanted to talk to him. Wanted to have him hold her again. She wanted to help him.

You better snare that boy, Supergirl.

Yeah, right, Lindsay thought. They couldn’t spend more than ten minutes together because of his guardians. They couldn’t even talk on the phone or email. Or can we? She never thought to ask Mark if he had a cell. Didn’t everybody? She figured Doug and Jack boosted it when Mark got grounded, but maybe they’d never allowed him to have one in the first place.

It’s so unfair.

“Thinking about Yummy Butt?” Ev asked, draping her arm over Lindsay’s shoulders.

“No,” Lindsay lied. She added a laugh to show Ev how ridiculous her question was. “Just catching a buzz.”

“Cool,” Ev said, flipping her hair a little against the ocean breeze. “You totally can’t like worry about him. Okay? Like he’s hot and all, but he’s also got to have some major issues. I mean, did you see that room? Like it’s a total cell. So not normal.”

You don’t know what you’re talking about.

“I know,” Lindsay agreed. She sipped her beer. It was warm, but she drank it anyway.

“It’s like you have to hang with the right people,” Ev said. “Like I was saying last night. I worked too hard to get out of the dirt, and I’m not letting anyone pull me back. It’s the same with that Mark guy. He’s going to hold you back, and you’ve got to take care of you.”

She didn’t know what to think. Maybe Ev was right. But earlier in the day Ev was all “You have got to bring him to the bon’,” and now the girl was telling her to break things off.

Like there was anything to break off.

“I’m here for you, Supergirl,” Ev said. Then she walked back toward the fire.

Lindsay was a little drunk.

When Ev left, she’d finished her first beer in three gulps and then got another one. She didn’t often drink, so by the time she held her second empty beer can, her head was light and the sand seemed particularly squishy. She danced with Tee and Mel for a bit. Char was kicked back in the sand talking to some boy with a shaved head and lime green shorts. Doyle kept insinuating himself between Lindsay and the girls, but she turned away, toward the fire, and let the music command her feet.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Doyle whispered in her ear as he attempted to grind his hips into her backside.

Lindsay spun away, laughing. “You were at crazy long before I got behind the wheel.”

Doyle grabbed his stomach as if shot. “Ahhh,” he groaned. “So mean.”

Lindsay left him to his theatrics and wandered away from the fire.

“Hey,” Tee called. “Where are you going? The party’s like right here.”

“Be right back,” Lindsay called over her shoulder.

She trudged through the sand and eased her way through a group of kids at the fire’s edge, working her way back to the cooler higher up on the beach. After opening a fresh one, she saw a pudgy guy in a brightly colored shirt, and since she was feeling a little flirty, she went up and started chatting with him. He introduced himself to her, but she didn’t quite catch his name. It was Bart or Burt or something. His face was kind of round, and he reminded her way too much of her dad. He seemed really nice, though. Harmless anyway.

They talked for about fifteen minutes before Doyle decided to end the conversation. He danced forward and put his hands on Lindsay’s hips, held her tightly so she couldn’t get away again.

“You can let me go now.”

“No,” Doyle said. “I can’t. You’ve been a part of me since we met.”

Oh please, Lindsay thought. He was looking at her with sad puppy eyes, totally fake. Did this crap really work on other girls?

“Hey, Doyle,” the pudgy kid said.

What’s his name? Lindsay wondered. Burt? Bart?

“Move it, short round,” Doyle said angrily. “You so don’t want to get in the middle of this.”

Lindsay tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. “Okay, Romeo, that’s as far as this rolls.”

“Come on, just a few minutes. We’ll go someplace quiet. Have a beer.”

Lindsay looked around for help. Bart or Burt just gazed at the sand, backing away. Mel and Tee were dancing with guys by the bon’. Char was ignoring the boy talking to her. She watched Lindsay’s predicament, grinning from ear to ear with evil glee.

Doyle pushed in closer and slid his hand up Lindsay’s waist, until his palm was suddenly cupping her left breast. That was it!

Lindsay stomped down hard on Doyle’s foot. The sand gave a bit and she stumbled to the side, but she righted herself in time to get in a flat-handed blow to his nose before he recovered. Doyle skittered back, making a wet snuffling noise. He tripped and landed on his ass.

Finally, something she’d learned in school paid off. She’d thought the self-defense class was a total waste of time, but it sure worked well enough on Doyle.

“Night,” Lindsay said sharply. Then she walked away.

Her wrist hurt from striking Doyle, but Lindsay felt good. She’d spent a lot of the evening chatting with Mel and Tee. Both girls had tried so hard to be friendly, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. She didn’t even know if she liked them or not. The pity got in the way. Mel was kind of quiet, but nice enough. Tee was more outgoing, but still subdued. Char just didn’t like her, and Lindsay was fine with that. She knew the girl was jealous, though of all of Ev’s entourage, she actually seemed to understand that Ev was going to leave them.

Lindsay approached her uncle’s house, walking through the sand and smiling. When Mark’s house came up on her right, butterflies erupted in her stomach.

Lindsay slowed as she reached the alley separating her uncle’s house from Mark’s. She glanced along the sandy trail and stopped dead. A block of ice dropped into her belly when she saw the girl creeping along the side of Mark’s house.

Ev! The platinum hair, the bikini top. That bitch.

She crept along the side of the house toward the glowing light of Mark’s window. He was still awake. The shade was up, and Ev was going to make her move. Lindsay felt so stupid. She’d almost believed all of Ev’s “don’t waste your time on him” stuff. She wanted Lindsay away from Mark because Ev wanted him for herself.

Lindsay thought about yelling at Ev to get away from the house and the window and the boy next door, but she stopped herself.

If Mark was the kind of guy she believed he was, he’d send Ev away.

Please don’t bring Barbie back.

If he was just another classless hick like the boys at the bonfire, Lindsay wanted to know it.

Lindsay quietly hurried across the alley to her uncle’s porch. She tiptoed over the deck and leaned against the siding, listening, praying Mark didn’t flirt with Ev. Her heart was already aching to think he might invite her into his room.

But that didn’t happen. A sharp gasp came up from the side of the house. It was followed by another sound. Shrill but controlled. Muffled and quiet. Lindsay inched forward, wanting to see what was going on.

Ev raced along the sand, looking desperate. Her platinum hair whipped from side to side, slapping her face and shoulders as she stumbled and righted herself. She tore out of the alley, the sound of stifled sobbing rising from her. Wild eyes shone over hands clasped tightly to keep the cries in her mouth.

Moments later, the door of Mark’s house flew open and Doug, the leaner of the two guardians, charged out onto the porch. He jumped the stairs, hit the beach with a dull thud, and kept running, kicking up small clouds of sand as he sprinted along the shore. Lindsay watched the chase, her pulse thundering in her ears. Jack appeared a moment later. He similarly ran and jumped. He hit the sand and paused, looking up the beach. Doug stopped, too, forty yards away. He put his hands on his hips and just watched the girl’s flight.

Far down the beach, Ev looked back at the guardians. She screamed, a piercing, terrible sound.

But she never stopped running.

What the hell is happening? Ev was terrified by something. Something she had seen in Mark’s room?

Lindsay silently backed to the door. She didn’t want to be caught by Doug or Jack. No way did she want in on that. She slipped inside the screen door, then locked the heavy wooden door behind her.

Heart fluttering, she raced up the stairs to her room. At the window seat she cautiously leaned forward to look down.

A black shade descended over Mark’s window.

And Lindsay knew she was right, knew what drove Ev away in such a panic. Ev had seen Mark being punished. She’d crept to his house, hoping to hook up. She looked through his window and saw…whatever it was Doug and Jack did to Mark. The sounds Ev made weren’t loud, so there was no way the guardians could have heard her. No way. They had to see her looking in, witnessing their abuse. Once she was seen, Ev freaked.

It must have been so awful.

They’re capable of things you can’t even imagine.