Free Languish by Alyxandra Harvey Page B

trees.
    â€œOh, hell no, I am not letting him get away,” Jo said. “Cover me, I’m going in.” She adjusted her bra.
    Devin winced. “I did
not
need to see that.”
    Jo nearly plowed over two guys from our math class in her haste to follow the rock star. For a girl who dressed in long skirts, she could move like a linebacker when she wanted.
    Devin sighed. “One day I’m going to have to punch someone on her behalf.”
    I grinned. “It’s only fair. She threatens to kick people for you all the time.”
    â€œSeriously, the girl needs a leash. I don’t know why people think
guys
are dogs, juggling girls and flirting with anything in a skirt. Jo’s worse than any of us.”
    â€œDid you just call her a dog?”
    He finished his ginger ale, looking only slightly scared. “I’ll deny it if you tell her.”
    I just laughed and drank my own ginger ale. Music blared out of cheap speakers attached to someone’s iPod. A girl squealed when a guy pressed a cold beer bottle to her lower back, under her shirt. There was noise from the bushes that sounded suspiciously like someone throwing up.
    â€œMaybe the cops will bust up the party and we can go home,” I said hopefully.
    â€œYou’re so cute when you’re deluded.”
    He was right. The cops never broke up these parties;they were too hard to get to, hidden so far back in the forest. They only bothered if we spilled out into the actual park, which we never did. At least if I had to be stuck here, I was stuck with Devin. He didn’t force me into small talk, like most people. He was good with silences. He pulled a novel out of his bag, a book light clipped to its spine. I leaned against him. The fire crackled, and when the wind shifted, I caught a glimpse of the moon, hanging sideways. A dog barked in the distance.
    â€œI’d better go check on Jo,” I said after a while. We could never convince her that chasing after strange guys was stupid, even near a crowd like tonight’s. She was so convinced that romance was enough to protect her. She’d say she was more convinced it was the foghorn she carried in her bag, ready to blast someone into deafness, but I knew better. She was a marshmallow. People just assumed she was tough. And people assumed I was a marshmallow because I didn’t say much, but I’d been raised by a woman who kept drunk bikers in line at the bar where she tended. And Devin was Devin: kind, unruffled, and uninterested in what other people thought about him.
    â€œWant me to come with you?” he asked, getting ready to stand up.
    I shook my head. “Nah. She’ll get all pissy if we scare the guy away. If she looks happy I’ll just leave them be. And I need a minute away from all this fun.”
    He snorted. “Whoo-hoo,” he agreed drily, and went back to his book.
    I ducked into the sparse darkness of the forest. The birch trees glowed in the moonlight, like silver spears between the pines and maples. Fallen leaves crumbled under my shoes. The trees were losing their green summer dresses early this year, taking off their layers in the heat. It was pretty back here, with giant papery mushrooms growing out of the undergrowth and fanning from broken tree trunks. I didn’t feel crowded, and I could breathe easily again.
    Until Bianca and three of her friends stepped out to block my path. I hated to admit it, but my palms went damp and my heartbeat doubled. She always had this effect on me and she knew it.
    â€œGod, could you look more white trash?” she said, sneering, hands on her hips. Her friends snickered. “Is that even a real tattoo?”
    Vines of ivy leaves trailed down my left arm out from under my sleeve. My mom had given in and taken me to get it done on my seventeenth birthday. Since she was covered in ink, she couldn’t exactly forbid me; she just wanted to make it a bonding experience. And make sure I