“Oh shit,” Z says, hiking his duffel higher on his shoulder. “Run!”
THIRTY-FIVE
HARPER
We pile in.I end up driving, with Caleb shotgun, and Z sprawled across the back seat with Marie tucked beside him, both of them cradling Z’s stolen bottles like precious cargo.
“Where to?” I ask, hands gripping the wheel.
“Anywhere but here,” Caleb mutters, head thunking against the headrest. “Just... anywhere.”
I pull out of Tyler’s circular driveway, leaving his palace of drama behind. In the rearview mirror, kids are still spilling onto the lawn, phones held high, buzzing like flies around roadkill.
“You know,” Z says lazily from the back, “that was either the most badass thing I’ve ever seen... or the dumbest. Haven’t decided yet.”
“Probably both,” Caleb says. His voice is wrecked butreal. More real than I’ve heard it in days. “But fuck it. I’m tired of pretending.”
“Good,” I snap, surprising myself with how fierce it comes out. “You should be tired of it. McKenzie’s a fucking nightmare.”
Z whistles low. “Pretty sure someone got it on video.”
“Pretty sure everyone got it on video,” I mutter, still gripping the wheel tight.
“Great,” Caleb groans, dragging a hand down his face. “My public humiliation immortalized forever.”
“Nah, man,” Z corrects with a lazy grin. “Your public liberation. There’s a difference.”
“He’s right,” Marie pipes up, voice soft but certain. “You said what everyone’s been thinking for years. That was brave.”
Caleb turns to look at her, something vulnerable in his face. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
We drive in silence for a while, the kind that feels weirdly comfortable—four teenagers drifting through New Year’s Eve with no destination and way too much night ahead of us.
The highways are mostly empty. Everyone else is where they’re supposed to be: drunk at parties, sloppy-making-out in someone’s basement, or lining up their midnight kiss with people they actually want to be kissing.
“Turn here,” Z says suddenly, jabbing a finger toward a dirt road splitting off from the main stretch of asphalt.
“Where does it go?” I ask.
“Tyler’s family basically owns half this mountain,” Zreplies. “There’s all kinds of random shit back here. Old buildings, hiking trails... probably some creepy abandoned stuff too.”
Caleb twists in his seat to look at him. “And how exactly do you know that?”
Z just shrugs, smug as hell. “I know things.”
I don’t argue. Sketchy and abandoned sounds about perfect for our current vibe. So I crank the wheel and follow the dirt road as it snakes through the trees, gravel crunching under the tires.
Ten minutes later, the trees part into a clearing, and there’s the skeleton of a barn—long forgotten but still standing, weathered beams clawing up at the star-scattered sky like bones reaching for something they’ll never touch.
“Holy shit,” Caleb breathes, and for the first time all night, he sounds sober. “It’s like a movie set.”
“It’s beautiful,” Marie whispers.
And it kind of is. Beautiful in a lonely, tragic way. The air smells like crisp pine and something sharper—the bite of winter, like snow’s coming soon.
“This’ll do,” Z declares, already in motion, grabbing fallen branches scattered around the clearing. He kicks a rusted barrel onto its side. “We can make a fire in this.”