Zoe stared into the darkness. They’d just arrived at the hollow, but she needed some liquid courage to get through this night and took another long pull of whiskey, the spirits doing little to soothe her frayed nerves. She glanced at her friend. Time to pretend all was well. Time for snarky, sassy Zoe to come out and play.
She took another sip and glanced at the girl. In a plaid skirt and pearl necklace, Em dressed more like somebody’s grandmother than a teenager.
She handed Em a sleeping bag. “We’re in the tiny little town of Lyleville. We just have to pass through this field and hang a right at the cemetery. Come on Wonderkind,” she added, teasing Em with the name given to her by the local paper. “Time to drink!”
It was a bad idea to keep plying her sweet, virginal friend with alcohol. But she couldn’t have Em asking questions. If Em were completely sober, she would have known that something was wrong. She was also hoping that Em and Michael would reconnect tonight. Em had hemmed and hawed around the subject of seeing him. If she could get Em squared away with Michael, and Sam showed up, it could give her some time to get some answers.
“There’s a cemetery?” Em asked, her words slurring together.
Zoe took another long pull on the flask. Her tolerance wasn’t quite as low as Em’s. “That’s what’s so great about this place. Sadie’s Hollow is this little crater near the Lyleville Cemetery. Cops can’t see us if they drive past, and the townspeople—what’s left of them—don’t come here because of the legend.”
Em scrunched up her face. “Zoe, stop messing with me.”
“I’m not messing with you. The legend goes, a long ass time ago, a girl named Sadie Wilson was supposed to meet her true love here. Her father, some wealthy merchant back when this place was a real city, had forbidden them to marry. So, they decided to elope. Except he never came. Sadie’s so-called true love ended up running off with another woman. The next morning, Sadie was found hanging dead in a tree. They never knew if she was murdered or if it was suicide.”
Em remained silent.
Zoe put on her backpack, picked up her sleeping bag, and motioned for her friend to join her as they walked toward the cemetery. Zoe took another sip of whiskey as Sadie Wilson’s headstone, illuminated by the full moon, came into sight, and an unnerving prickling sensation spider-crawled down the length of her spine.
Sadie Wilson was abandoned by her true love, too.
Lost in a world of bitter confusion, Zoe started down the hill toward the hollow but stopped when she looked up to find Em about to descend the old limestone cemetery steps. “Don’t go on those steps, Em! I’m serious.”
The girl stilled. “Why not?”
The humid Kansas air seemed to grow cold, and Zoe swallowed past the lump in her throat. “People say those are The Steps to Hell. They also say that when it’s a full moon, you can see Sadie sitting on them, calling out for the man who betrayed her.”
Em shook her head but joined her on the grass.
Zoe gave her friend a quick smile as a wave of shame washed over her. She’d brought Em here, promising her a real high school party experience before they both went off to college. Em was going to take a break from touring abroad and spend the next four years as a normal student at Juilliard. Her friend was elated, music was her life, but she also craved a little normalcy, and all she could do was scare her with spooky stories and think of ways to get her preoccupied with someone else.
Zoe softened her tone. “The whole ghost thing is probably just some stupid campfire tale, but why tempt fate?”
Em nodded and gave her a goofy grin. The whiskey had kicked in.
They continued down the slope into the thick foliage that surrounded the hollow as the hum of voices and the bob of flashlights came into view. Zoe looked around. She needed to find Michael. He could tell her if Sam was going to be stopping by. But she couldn’t see him anywhere. She did another scan of the hollow and caught sight of Sam’s brother, Gabe.
She tugged on the strap of Em’s backpack and quickened her pace. “I see Gabe. Let’s go say hi.”
Em wobbled a bit but regained her balance. “Do you have a thing for Gabe Sinclair?”
Zoe didn’t answer. Her body was moving of its own volition, determined to figure out where Sam had gone and why he’d acted like such an ass goblin and left her like that. They’d made it to the hollow where kids had set up tents and were drinking and horsing around in groups. Gabe and Em were talking and laughing as he passed her a cup full of the potent grain alcohol punch nicknamed blue dinosaur, but she couldn’t concentrate on their conversation. Now that she was at the hollow, anticipation surged through her, ringing in her ears and rushing through her veins.
Em sniffed the punch.
Zoe rolled her eyes. “Just drink it, Em.”
Her best friend took a tentative sip, licked her lips, then downed the liquid. She should warn her about the potency of the punch. The raspberry Kool-Aid mixed in with the alcohol masked the liquor’s sharp taste. She’d seen many girls down a few glasses, and within minutes, they were completely wrecked.
Gabe held out a glass. “One for you, Z.”
She took the cup and drained it. Liquid courage was setting in. “Is your brother going to stop by?”
“Yeah, he’ll be by. He said he would drop off some beer.”
“How is Sam?” Em slurred.
Zoe’s pulse kicked up.
Gabe grinned. “He’s good. He still thinks he can tell me what to do, classic older brother complex, but he’s been a lot more chill since he met Kara.”
“Who?” Zoe asked, the dyed pink tips of her bob flying across her face as she focused on Gabe.
He gestured behind her. “Kara’s his girlfriend. I think that’s them now.”
Girlfriend.
Sam has a girlfriend.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw the outline of two people walking hand in hand, the larger of the two carrying a case of beer.
She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. It couldn’t be true. Never in a million years would she have expected Sam to do something like this. It made no sense. She glanced over her shoulder again. They were getting closer. She had to get out of there. She parted her lips to speak when Donavan Drake, the resident high school stoner donned in his signature Portishead T-shirt, called for everyone’s attention.
He shook a baggy filled with pot. “Ladies and gentlemen, the psychedelic pharmacy is open. I’ve got everything you need to forget about your troubles. Anybody want to take a trip to Mary Jane Land? Flights are departing.”
Zoe glanced back at the two forms coming their way. It was definitely Sam. She’d know his body anywhere. Long limbs. Broad, powerful shoulders. She’d explored every inch of him. But something was different. There was a slouching, defeated quality to his gait. For a fraction of a second, her heart went out to him. She hated to think that he was in any kind of pain. And then she remembered…at best, he was a liar. At worst, a cheater.
She set her sleeping bag and backpack on the ground then turned to Em. “Can you drop our stuff in front of an empty tent? Michael always sets one up for me. I’ll find you in a little bit, okay?”
Em glanced at her blankly and nodded.
Donavan Drake opened the flap to his tent several yards away, and a cloud of smoke billowed out into the hollow. Zoe weaved through the maze of kids and tents and tapped his arm. “I want to hang out with you tonight.”
Donavan watched her with bloodshot eyes and giant pupils. He’d already made it to Mary Jane Land. “This is a pleasant surprise. Langley Park’s little Lois Lane is joining us this evening.”
Donavan held open the tent flap for her to enter, but she stopped when she saw Michael. She waved him over. “Hey, Em’s here. I don’t know where she is now, but I’m going to chill with Donavan and his crew for a bit.”
A stunned look crossed Michael’s face. “Em’s here…at the hollow?”
She didn’t have time for this shit. She needed to
forget everything about Sam Sinclair. “Yeah, put your pursuit of cheerleader pussy on hold for thirty minutes. Go find her and make sure she’s okay. I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit.”
Michael eyed Donavan’s tent warily. “Everything okay with you, Z?”
She gave him her best snarky Zoe smirk. “I’ll be fine. I won’t do anything stupid. Just help me out with Em.”
“My arm is like really tired, Zoe. Are you coming in?” Donavan asked, frozen in place and still holding the tent flap.
Michael nodded. “Fine. I guess you’re going to do what you’re going to do, Z.”
She wasn’t a fan of the drug scene. Not one little bit, but tonight, she required more than just shitty punch and cheap beer. She ducked down and climbed into the tent and met the vacant gazes of the kids she’d watched disappear under the bleachers all through high school. She took a seat next to a near comatose girl she’d sat by in pre-calc.
“So, Lois?” Donavan began, opening his duffle bag. “What’ll it be?”
The pot she recognized, but the pills and the powders were way out of her league.
She couldn’t pretend anymore. She dropped the sass and met Donavan’s bloodshot gaze. “I just want a night to forget. Do you have something that could do that for me?”
A slow half-smile pulled at the corner of the teen’s lips. “Close your eyes and stick out your tongue, Lois Lane.”
She closed her eyes, and a tear trailed down her cheek. It didn’t matter, nobody in this tent would notice if she started break dancing let alone cried.
“Open wide,” Donavan coaxed.
Zoe released a shaky breath and parted her lips, and he placed a tiny square of paper on her tongue. She closed her mouth and let it dissolve. This was stupid. This was asinine. This wasn’t her.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “What happens now?”
Donavan laid back and stared at the roof of the tent. “Now, Lois Lane, now you forget.”
“Too much light,” Zoe whispered.
It couldn’t be morning already. She blinked. This was not her bedroom. Donavan and two girls’ names she couldn’t remember snored peacefully, cuddled together on the opposite side of the tent. She sat up and rubbed at a kink in her neck. The last thing she remembered, she and Donavan had traded shirts because somehow that seemed like a great idea, and then they’d walked a loop around the hollow a few times. She’d caught sight of Em and Michael kissing, which at the time didn’t seem as big of a deal as it actually was.
She pulled on her shoes and unzipped the tent. It was early. Nobody was up yet, and the sun, just beginning to greet the day, cast long shadows over the hollow. It was peaceful, but before the early morning calming sounds could sink in, she glanced up at the grassy slope to the hollow and remembered.
Sam had a girlfriend.
He had led her on, and he lied to her.
The heavy weight, that ball of nerves in the pit of her stomach, came to life, churning and snarling. The physical reminder of how much Sam Sinclair had wrecked her. She walked a few paces when Michael emerged from a tent, and that ball of nerves let up a fraction. Nothing would make her happier than for Em and Michael to get together. She smiled over at him, but her jaw dropped when the idiot cheerleader he’d been banging on the down-low, Tiffany Shelton, followed him out of the tent.
Where the ever-living fuck was Em?
“Michael!” She eyed his skank du jour. “Where’s Em?”
He scratched his head. “I figured she found you. I haven’t seen her since—”
A rush of anxiety rocketed through her body. “Since you had your tongue down her throat then dropped her ass for this twat waffle.”
“Oh, screw you, Zoe,” Tiffany tossed back, then tried to kiss Michael.
“Give it a rest, Tiff,” he said and left her slack-jawed, standing in front of the tent.
Zoe waved him over.
Michael weaved through the tents, crossed his arms, and lowered his voice. “What do you mean, you don’t know where she is? This isn’t her scene, Zoe. Somebody could have taken advantage of her. She was pretty drunk when I left her.”
The anxiety pulsing through her body turned to anger. “I know this isn’t her scene, but I saw her with you! I figured she’d be safe with you of all people. I didn’t think you’d ditch her for Tiffany “easy fuck” Shelton. Aren’t you over that shit yet?”
Michael shook his head and rolled his neck from side to side. “Let’s search the hollow. She couldn’t have gone far. She probably just passed out somewhere.”
Dammit!
How could she have left her pearl-wearing, naïve friend alone at a Sadie’s Hollow party? She almost laughed—the answer was crystal clear. Her stupid, blind as a bat crush on Sam, that’s how. Along with the booze and whatever chemicals she’d ingested, shame and humiliation oozed from her pores. She was no better than that air-headed cum dumpster, Tiffany Shelton.
Michael waved from across the hollow. “Do you see her?”
Shit! She had to get out of her head and find her friend. She unzipped a few tents and peeked inside.
No Em.
Three more tents.
No Em.
“Let’s check the trees,” Michael called. “You don’t think she would wander into the cemetery, do you?”
Zoe ran over and joined him at the edge of the hollow. “How would I know? Jesus, Michael, where is she?”
“Shit!” He looked at the ground then scooped up a broken strand of pearls.
Zoe touched the delicate beads. “Oh, Michael! Those are Em’s!”
“Over there,” he cried and ran toward the cemetery and The Steps to Hell.
Long auburn hair fanned out over the limestone stairs, and Em’s knees were scraped and bloodied. She was still wearing the same plaid skirt and cardigan, but her clothes were crumpled and dirty with dustings of grayish powder like she’d bumped into a blackboard covered with chalk.
Michael gathered her into his arms. “Em! Em, wake up!”
Zoe dropped to her knees. The rise and fall of her friend’s chest told her that at least she was breathing. She’d almost allowed herself to feel relief until she noticed Em’s mangled hand.
Em opened her eyes and struggled to focus. “You never came back, Michael,” she said, slurring her words as if she’d been drugged. “You never came back! And then there were the tall men! The tall men came after the bridge! And Paganini! He was there, too!”
Zoe felt Em’s cheek. She was burning up. She glanced at Michael, and he’d gone pale.
“Em’s not making any sense,” she said, holding Michael’s gaze. “Somebody must have given her something—LSD or some shit like that. We need to get her some help! And we need it fast!”
Zoe cradled Em’s body in the backseat as Michael gunned the engine of his Range Rover. Em was mumbling nonsense and going in and out of consciousness, which was a godsend because the fingers on her left hand looked as if someone had fed them into a meat grinder.
Zoe gently wrapped the damaged limb in a towel and held back a sob. “Jesus, Michael! I think she’s got at least two broken fingers and that gash on her ring finger looks terrible. I can see right down to the bone. What are we going to do? She’s supposed to leave for Juilliard in a few days.”
Michael clenched the steering wheel as the speedometer ticked up. “Zoe, focus! Your dad’s a surgeon. Can’t we take her to your house?”
She shook her head. “My parents are still in Arizona. They don’t get back until late tonight. Should we just take her home?”
“Fuck, no, Z. We have to get her to a hospital. It’s her left hand that’s all mangled. Do you know what that could mean?”
Did she know what that could mean?
Of course, she knew. This could end her friend’s musical career. Her stupidity and her immature selfishness had done this to Em. Instead of spending an evening with her best friend, she’d sulked over Sam. She’d abandon her friend and got wasted with a bunch of druggies.
Zoe peered out the window, and the sign for the turnoff for Langley Park appeared. “Head toward home. We need to get her to my dad’s hospital. It’s the closest level one trauma center. They’ll be able to get a hand surgeon faster than any place else.”
The wheels of the Range Rover squealed as Michael took the exit and sped toward Midwest Medical Center. They’d made the drive back to Langley Park in record time. The hospital came into view, and Em opened her eyes. “Zoe, you left me, and Michael left me. Everyone disappeared, and the monster got me.”
Zoe swallowed past the guilt and shame and wiped the sweat and dirt from her friend’s forehead. “I know, and I’m so sorry. We made it to the hospital. You’re going to be okay.” But just as the words fell from her lips, she knew they were lies. Em may recover, but there was no way she’d be playing the violin anytime soon—if ever.
Em’s unsteady gaze flickered before her eyelids shut, and the car came to an abrupt stop.
“We’re here!” Michael called, unbuckling his seat belt and bolting from the car. In an instant, the back door was open, and he scooped Em into his arms. “I’m going to carry her in the emergency entrance. Can you move my car, so I’m not blocking the ambulance lane?”
Zoe nodded and secured Em’s hand the best she could.
“Keys are in the ignition,” he yelled over his shoulder.
The automatic doors to the ER opened, and Michael sprinted inside as Em’s head lolled back and forth in time with his strides.
Zoe pinched her arm. It didn’t seem real. She’d lived a normal life up until the day her family left for Arizona. School. Friends. Family. As much as she’d tried to break the mold of a homogenous Midwestern teenager, with her screw you attitude, pink-tipped hair, and combat boots, that’s exactly what she’d been. Typical. Normal. Status-fucking-quo. But the moment Sam hauled her butt out of that bar, everything had changed. She’d changed—and hearing the gut-wrenching pain in Michael’s voice as he called out for help—she knew that change wasn’t for the better.
The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5) Page 112
