Page 87 of Intrepid

I’d sucked those down, too.

The stranger chuckled, sitting forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. “S’at jungle juice?”

I nodded, polishing off the last of it, because even though I knew I shouldn’t, it was damn good.

“You want more?”

My eyelids seemed heavier than before. Sleepier. “No.”

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Not interested.”

“Not interested in telling me your name?”

“In whatever you’re trying to sell me. I have a boyfriend.” Ugh. I was getting slurrier by the minute.

“S’alright. I just asked your name, is all.”

I huffed an exasperated breath, suddenly feeling bad for being bitchy. “Sera.”

“Sera, I’m Jackson.”

“Jackson Pollack!” I blurted and slapped a hand to my mouth.

His lips spread with a smile. “Messy scribbler dude, right?”

A hiccup escaped me, jerking my whole body, and urgency tugged at my gut. I didn’t know if I had to pee, or puke, but I wasn’t about to sit and wait to find out. “Excuse me, I need to find one of the bathrooms.”

“No bathrooms. Only Porta-johns.”

“Know where they are?”

I followed the path of his finger to the structures standing side-by-side a couple hundred feet away. Scanning the crowd, I squinted to find Bea and Simone still dancing away in front of the stage.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here.”

In that case, I’d find somewhere else to sit. I didn’t like the guy hanging around me anymore. He seemed nice, but too nice sent up red flags, even if I was a little tipsy.

I stumbled along toward the Porta-johns, the people in my periphery becoming more and more a blur as I went. Nausea churned in my stomach, and as I approached the lineup waiting to use the toilet, it intensified. I couldn’t wait for however long it’d take to reach the front of the line, and certain I needed to throw up, I kept on toward a copse of trees.

29

Ty

My arms shook, clutching the edge of the bathroom sink. I watched the blood swirl down the drain, a red eddy of penitence. I’d never been the religious type, but I had to believe God gave some credit for a person’s own self-destruction—less work for Him. Although I’d hurt others, they’d hurt the ones I loved. Surely, God could cut me some slack for that. After all, if I believed what all the Christians said, it was His will that Eli had died the way he did, and that was just fucked up.

I slapped a square of gauze over the gaping crevice in my arm where I’d carved out the small measure of guilt I felt over Fox.

The pain felt good. So good, I needed distraction, or risk more cuts, and all my thoughts boiled down to one thing. One face that I couldn’t get out of my head. I lifted my phone from where it lay on the sink beside me, noting that the text I’d sent Sera about an hour ago still hadn’t shown up as read.

Clicking on the GPS tracker app brought her location up on my screen. Selden Street. No doubt, she’d gone to the fair there, same one as every year, but it showed her about a block up from where the party would be going on. Could’ve been faulty pinpointing, I guessed. A miscalculation, or some shit.

So much for studying all night, as she’d told me. Must’ve changed her mind and decided to go out, after all.

Fuck it. I couldn’t sleep, if I’d wanted. Not with all the bullshit swirling around inside my head.