Eyes Ever to the Sky (A Sci Fi Romance) (The Sky Trilogy) by Katie French Page B

her mattress. “It’ll make you feel better. You’re too damn depressed. Don't those things say something about distraction being a cure for depression? That sitting on your ass feeling sorry for yourself causes butt cancer or something?” Fer reached for a Psychology Today and pretended to flip through it. Then she rolled it up and smacked Cece's butt. “Yep, definitely butt cancer.”
    Cece nearly laughed before she stopped herself. God, but Fer was right. She'd just read an article about downward spirals and depression before bed. She was surrounded by sadness and her best friend was trying to cheer her up.
    Cece rolled over and sighed. “Fine. What do I wear?”
     
    ***
     
    The abandoned field at the back of the trailer park echoed with the low murmur of voices. Two dozen teenagers clustered around a fire pit in the grassy abandoned lot. In the orange firelight their silhouettes bobbed and danced. Heavy metal pumped from a stereo off in the distance, the hallmark of one of Shaun's parties. Shaun was Fer's older brother. She should've guessed.
    As they walked closer, Cece noted the usual suspects. The Harvey twins were sitting side-by-side in two tattered lawn chairs. Their outfits, though never identical, were nearly interchangeable— one wore a t-shirt that read Wine 'em, dine 'em, sixty-nine 'em , and the other, I'm not a gynecologist, but I'll take a look . Across the fire sat Shaun. His buzzed hair, wife-beater and sagging athletic shorts solidified his status as resident badass. It was his eyes that always frightened Cece when they fell on her—black, sharp and unforgiving.
    Shaun killed one beer fast, crumpled the can and chucked it at the fire.
    “Hey!” Miranda, his girlfriend in itty-bitty shorts and a cropped tank, said, “you can get ten cents for that.”
    “ Shut up,” he muttered without looking at her.
    Miranda stuck out her tongue, flashing a piercing.
    Fer pressed a wet can to Cece’s chest. “Here.”
    Cece eyed the Bud Light. “Like I said, one and I’m outta here. I’m really beat, Fer.”
    “Yeah, yeah,” Fer said, waving her away.
    Cece cracked the can and took a drink. At least it was cold, but she never got used to the taste of Bud Light. She imagined it was what chilled dog pee tasted like. How Shaun and his homies chugged can after can most nights of the week was beyond her.
    “Over here,” Fer said, tugging on Cece’s elbow.
    Cece followed, the long grass swaying under her feet. The phosphorescent lights of winking fireflies danced around them in the grass. Her abuelo had called them luciérnagas on that night long ago when he’d taken a seven-year-old Cece back to his hacienda in Bolivia. The house smelled like fresh baked bread and ripe fruit. Abuelo had tucked her into a big bed with silken sheets and sang a song about the luciérnagas dancing in the night sky.
    Fer’s hand on her elbow brought her out of the memory. “Travis, good of you to show, man.”
    Travis turned, an easy smile spreading. His black Bob Marley t-shirt read One Love . Cece followed the smell of pot to the joint in Travis’s hand. She would smell like pot now, too. God, if Mama weren't so oblivious Cece would be dead when she got home.
    “ Girls!” he said smiling, but then he shook his head apologetically. “Or should I say, women? I was just schooling these unlearned folk on the aphorisms of Emerson and Thoreau. Care to join?”
    The dreadlock-wearing boy across from Travis shrugged. “Kid takes one lit class and he thinks he’s f—in Shakespeare.”
    Travis took a drag and shook his head. “Not Shakespeare, my friend.” He blew out the smoke. “Thoreau. Walden Pond.” He paused. “No?”
    The boy shrugged.
    “Bah.” Travis waved a dismissive hand at him. 
    “ That Civil Disobedience guy?” Cece asked.
    “ Yes!” Travis said, whirling to her. “That government is best that governs least.” Excitement flared in his red-rimmed eyes.
    “ Didn’t Martin Luther King study