cops. “When did they start coming?”
“What?”
“The roses.”
“Oh. About a month ago, I guess.”
“Do the cards have your name on them?”
“No. They’re usually just sitting on my front steps or on the porch. And then the other day they were left here.”
“Do you have a separate address from the school?”
She shook her head. “Everything comes here. So much for privacy. I guess it’s a good thing I don’t subscribe to Playgirl or have an affair going with a married man or—” She sighed and glanced up at him. “He was married. Her lover.”
John knew exactly who she was talking about. “It happens. Must’ve been rough on his family too.”
“He had a little boy.”
John swallowed hard.
“I wonder whose psyche ended up more damaged, his or mine.”
“I wonder,” John said.
Ty handed Christian the rolled-up fifty-dollar bill he had just used to snort a line of cocaine, while keeping a knuckle pressed tightly against his nostril. “Here, dude,” he said between sniffles. “Go for it.”
Christian looked down at the thin lines of the white powder on the mirror lying on the ground between them, glanced at Grange Hall, which could easily be seen through the naked trees, then back to Ty. “Hannah’s making my parents get me tested. If it comes up positive, she’ll kick my ass out and I’ll end up in fucking military school.”
“Yeah, right,” Ty said. “Haven’t you figured her out yet? If she likes you, she’ll keep giving you chances no matter how many times you fuck up. Go ahead and do a couple of lines. Nobody’ll know. You can come home with me. My old man’s never—” A flash of light deeper in the woods. What the hell was that? Was someone else out here?
Christian was huddled over the mirror with the fifty-dollar bill up his nose, snorting up a line. He raised his head, sniffed several times loudly, and bent his head again.
Ty got up on his knees and strained to see who was out there. Shit. There was some guy up on a high stump with binoculars pointed in the direction of Grange Hall. Some damn pervert, probably, trying to get a look at young girls—or young boys, for that matter. Or could he be an undercover cop looking for kids doing drugs in the woods?
“Shit,” he murmured. “Hey, Christian—”
Christian lay sprawled in the dirt on his back with his hands clutching the front of his flannel shirt, his legs jerking like he was some kind of spaz.
“What the hell are you doing, dude? We gotta go, there’s some guy over there with binoculars, okay?”
Christian stopped moving.
“Christian?” Ty kicked his leg. A glance at the mirror told him Christian had done all the lines himself. How many had there been? Maybe four or five, he figured. “Must’ve been one hell of a rush, dude.” Ty kicked him again. No response. He picked up the mirror and shoved it into his backpack, then crawled over to Christian’s head.
“Shit!” Christian’s lips were turning blue and he was covered in sweat. It looked like he couldn’t breathe. Ty looked around wildly. “Hey! I need help here! Somebody help!” he shouted. He tried to stand up but the rush was so strong he sank back onto his knees. “Oh, fuck, fuck, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Have you tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?”
Ty gasped and fell back. A short, stocky man dressed in camouflage stood before him like he had materialized out of nowhere. He had a round, youngish face, thinning blond hair and pearly blue eyes that were unnaturally light. Wet lips formed a tiny, almost impish smile that might have looked friendly if Ty had, say, bumped into him at the grocery store, but looked ghoulish under the circumstances. The guy was definitely a freak but Ty didn’t care about that. Not now.
“I…I don’t know how,” Ty stammered. “Shit, is he going to die?”
The man dropped to his knees and felt Christian’s neck for a pulse. “I don’t know. He might.” The little
“What?”
“The roses.”
“Oh. About a month ago, I guess.”
“Do the cards have your name on them?”
“No. They’re usually just sitting on my front steps or on the porch. And then the other day they were left here.”
“Do you have a separate address from the school?”
She shook her head. “Everything comes here. So much for privacy. I guess it’s a good thing I don’t subscribe to Playgirl or have an affair going with a married man or—” She sighed and glanced up at him. “He was married. Her lover.”
John knew exactly who she was talking about. “It happens. Must’ve been rough on his family too.”
“He had a little boy.”
John swallowed hard.
“I wonder whose psyche ended up more damaged, his or mine.”
“I wonder,” John said.
Ty handed Christian the rolled-up fifty-dollar bill he had just used to snort a line of cocaine, while keeping a knuckle pressed tightly against his nostril. “Here, dude,” he said between sniffles. “Go for it.”
Christian looked down at the thin lines of the white powder on the mirror lying on the ground between them, glanced at Grange Hall, which could easily be seen through the naked trees, then back to Ty. “Hannah’s making my parents get me tested. If it comes up positive, she’ll kick my ass out and I’ll end up in fucking military school.”
“Yeah, right,” Ty said. “Haven’t you figured her out yet? If she likes you, she’ll keep giving you chances no matter how many times you fuck up. Go ahead and do a couple of lines. Nobody’ll know. You can come home with me. My old man’s never—” A flash of light deeper in the woods. What the hell was that? Was someone else out here?
Christian was huddled over the mirror with the fifty-dollar bill up his nose, snorting up a line. He raised his head, sniffed several times loudly, and bent his head again.
Ty got up on his knees and strained to see who was out there. Shit. There was some guy up on a high stump with binoculars pointed in the direction of Grange Hall. Some damn pervert, probably, trying to get a look at young girls—or young boys, for that matter. Or could he be an undercover cop looking for kids doing drugs in the woods?
“Shit,” he murmured. “Hey, Christian—”
Christian lay sprawled in the dirt on his back with his hands clutching the front of his flannel shirt, his legs jerking like he was some kind of spaz.
“What the hell are you doing, dude? We gotta go, there’s some guy over there with binoculars, okay?”
Christian stopped moving.
“Christian?” Ty kicked his leg. A glance at the mirror told him Christian had done all the lines himself. How many had there been? Maybe four or five, he figured. “Must’ve been one hell of a rush, dude.” Ty kicked him again. No response. He picked up the mirror and shoved it into his backpack, then crawled over to Christian’s head.
“Shit!” Christian’s lips were turning blue and he was covered in sweat. It looked like he couldn’t breathe. Ty looked around wildly. “Hey! I need help here! Somebody help!” he shouted. He tried to stand up but the rush was so strong he sank back onto his knees. “Oh, fuck, fuck, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Have you tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?”
Ty gasped and fell back. A short, stocky man dressed in camouflage stood before him like he had materialized out of nowhere. He had a round, youngish face, thinning blond hair and pearly blue eyes that were unnaturally light. Wet lips formed a tiny, almost impish smile that might have looked friendly if Ty had, say, bumped into him at the grocery store, but looked ghoulish under the circumstances. The guy was definitely a freak but Ty didn’t care about that. Not now.
“I…I don’t know how,” Ty stammered. “Shit, is he going to die?”
The man dropped to his knees and felt Christian’s neck for a pulse. “I don’t know. He might.” The little
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