Free Afterward by Jennifer Mathieu Page A

asked me to be, like, boyfriend girlfriend or whatever. But I guess I was looking forward to just hanging out with him alone tonight. And hopefully getting just the right amount of messed up and seeing what comes next.
    The messed up part seems like it might still happen, though, even if Emma’s playing third wheel. The two of them are pouring some amber liquid into cans of Coke. It’s Jason’s go-to beverage—whiskey.
    â€œGot you one,” Jason says to me, handing me an open can. “Already doctored it myself and everything.” It’s a pretty sweet gesture, and this makes me wish we were alone even more.
    â€œThanks,” I say, and Emma bumps Jason with her hip, forcing him down to one end of the truck, freeing up a space next to her. This puts her in the middle, in between Jason and me. I get prickly all over again and take a big sip of my drink.
    â€œThere’s a party at my cousin’s house in Healy,” Emma says. “Like, some Halloween thing. If you want to drive out there.”
    I wrinkle my nose and sip some more. I hate going to parties where I only know two people. And plus, her cousin is this super annoying popular type who’s head of the dance squad or whatever.
    â€œWe could go hang out at my place,” Jason says. “My parents won’t care. We could text people to come over.”
    â€œThen the guys will just sit around and play Call of Duty all night long,” Emma says. “And the girls will just sit around and bitch. Fuck this town. It’s so boring.” She frowns the same tight frown she’s had since we were in kindergarten together and became best friends after Ms. Sweeny assigned us to be shepherds instead of angels in the Christmas pageant.
    â€œWe never drive into the city,” I say. “How come we never drive into the city?” I look down and realize my can feels pretty light. My face is starting to feel pleasant and numb. When Jason told me he doctored my drink, he didn’t tell me he’d dumped half a bottle of whiskey in it.
    â€œThe city’s too far,” Jason says. “Too weird.”
    â€œWhy is it weird?” I say. “It could be cool.” There are some artsy hipster types from my school who go into the city sometimes. Who go hear bands play and everything. But I don’t know them, and they don’t know me. I hang out with Emma and Jason and that crowd, not the artsy types. It’s too late now to change groups. I hate how in high school you’re stuck in a group and when you realize later you probably belonged in another one, it’s too late to change because you’re already who you are.
    Jason shrugs. “I wouldn’t think you’d want to go into the city anyway after that sick fuck took your brother there and did whatever sick, fucked up shit those people do to kids.”
    Emma takes a sharp breath and glances at me.
    â€œWhat?” I say. My pleasant numbness is gone, replaced with a hot anger that makes me want to spit. “What the hell did you just say?”
    â€œOh, shit,” Jason says, a lopsided frown on his face. “I’m sorry, Caroline. That was … man, I’m sorry. I’m drunk.”
    â€œI hate when people blame the shit they say on being drunk,” I tell him. “I told you never to talk about my brother again!” I feel like I’m going to start crying, which I hate even more than people blaming dumb crap they say on alcohol. I think I hate crying in front of people more than anything else.
    â€œJesus Christ, Jason,” Emma says, sliding off the truck. “Come on, Caroline, let’s go to my house.” I’m grateful but almost surprised because I thought Emma wanted to party or hang out and lots of times that comes first before anything, including me.
    â€œMan, don’t leave. I’m really sorry.” He’s pleading a little, but he doesn’t come after us as Emma