Free Long Black Veil by Jeanette Battista Page A

She stayed, finally feeling a little closer to belonging. A few of her classmates from yearbook had joined the little group hanging out in the hallway between the bathroom and the kitchen, and Devon was beginning to relax. Maybe Gil had been right in making her come. Maybe she wasn’t the social leper she thought she was.
    Brock edged his way through the crowd of people, coming to a stop next to her. Devon was amazed how many of her schoolmates were here—at least half of the senior class, as well as some of the more popular juniors from the basketball and football teams had crushed their way into Brock’s house.
    “How’s it going back here?” he leaned down to ask. “You having a good time?”
    “Yeah,” Devon answered, glancing around nervously to make sure he was talking to her. It seemed like he was. “Although any more people and I think you’ll have a fire hazard on your hands.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to smack herself. Could she sound like any more of a buzzkill? Maybe if she concentrated hard enough she could will a black hole into being directly underneath her to swallow her and her ineptitude whole.
    Instead of making fun of her, Brock laughed like he appreciated her joke. “True that.” He pulled her away from the press of people. “I wanted to ask you something.”
    Devon tried to make her heart slow down; it had started doing double-time at the touch of his hand on her arm. She hoped that Gil would stay gone just a little bit longer. “Sure, go ahead.” She hoped it came out more casual than she felt.
    “I know you’re really good in English—well, really good in everything, actually,” he began. Devon nodded. “Anyway, I was wondering if you could help me with my college application essay. It’s kicking my ass.”
    Devon tried not to let the disappointment show on her face. Of course he wanted her help with a paper. That’s why he’d been so nice to her at the Records room and why he’d invited her to his party—a party that she never normally would have received an invite to. He was trying to be nice to her so she’d say yes when he asked for her help. Stupid, Devon. They weren’t friends. They weren’t anything. She was just a way to help him get into college. To meet his expectations.
    Before she could formulate any kind of coherent response involving actual words, the buzz of conversation picked up around her. Kids began jostling for position, as if something was happening, or was going to very soon. Devon looked up, unsure of what to expect. Loud hoots and catcalls began to filter in from the front of the house, followed by shouts of laughter. Brock had his head up too, his eyes trying to see beyond the heads of everyone in front of him.
    The crowd in the hallway began to move to the sides and Devon had a sudden sinking feeling in her chest. She caught a flash of orange as people began to push and shove to get a better look at what all the commotion was about. All she wanted to do was get away.
    “De-VON!” A very loud, twangy, put-on Southern drawl cut through the murmurs. “Devon!”
    Skylar shoved her way to where Devon stood next to Brock. She had a herd of the senior class mean girls with her; all popular, all gorgeous. They were wearing their Halloween costumes and Devon was not surprised to see a large number of slutty Red Riding Hoods, Alice in Wonderlands, and Bo Peeps among them.
    But Skylar’s costume was different. She was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, like the kind people in prison wore. Devon’s prayers to be swallowed up by a black hole increased by a million. She wanted to die.
    “Hey Devon, do you like my costume?” Skylar’s smile was rotten at its heart, the sweetness in it a complete lie.
    “What the hell, Sky?” Brock asked, sounding angry.
    “Oh hush, you,” she said, throwing him a pout. Devon could see that her eyes were a little glassy. She was probably lit. “I was just asking Devon a simple question.” Skylar