The Dead of Winter (Seasons of Jefferson: Book 2) (18 page)

Snapping me from my garbled state, I hear a knock behind me. I gently nudge my group away from the door to allow more guests to enter. A group of jocks push past us, pulling liquor bottles from their jackets. They raise them in the air and roar, “Let’s get this party started!” I recognize them as football players from South County. Behind them, another group of big hair and loud voices barrels through the door.

We let the herd clear our path to the kitchen, where we stop in our small circle. I take a moment to adjust to my surroundings. I want to see how many of my friends are here. I need to know what I’m up against. Looking back toward the living room, I take note of a short, pudgy girl standing next to a tall, skinny one. Scowling, they look us up and down a little, examining our group. I watch the shorter one lean in and whisper to her friend. Her eyeballs bounce back and forth between my sister and the tall skinny one. My face heats up instantly. I don’t like the way they’re looking at her.
They’re talking about my sister.

I make eye contact with the short, pudgy one, the one who strongly resembles Grumpy Cat. With a fierce death glare, I mouth, “Stay the hell away from her.” She catches on to my warning quickly. I watch her pale face blush red, as she instantly snaps her head away from me. The incident lets me know that we are standing in the spotlight. We are definitely being judged by some of the partiers here. I’ve lived in this small town long enough to know how it works. One wrong move, and it’s social suicide. I nearly killed one of the most popular girls at our school. That clearly falls under the “wrong move” category. I need to get used to the scrutiny, but right now I feel an intense need to protect my friends from the pain of judgement.

Shake it off, Woodley,
I convince myself as I pull my group deeper into the kitchen. Over by the island, the herd of jocks has joined up with some of my teammates. They work to organize a grocery aisle’s worth of bottles that were just smuggled in beneath letterman jackets and ugly Christmas sweaters. Behind them, I notice Tiara lying on the kitchen table with a lime in her mouth. Darryl is slurping tequila from her belly. “Hey, Woodley,” Moose hollers from the corner. “Come take a body shot. Tiara’s waiting for you.”

He walks toward me on his way to grab another bottle of tequila. Pulling me into him, he whispers in my ear, “Trust me. The more you drink, the better she looks. You might want to give it a shot.” He reaches around me and grabs a bottle, untwisting the lid. “Seriously, forget about her face. It’s not what matters,” he chuckles and burps from his obvious overindulgence.

“I heard that,” Jenna looks toward me. I know that even if Tiara looked like Miss Teen Jefferson, that Jenna would still find her hideous. Beauty is only skin deep, and her stunt at the hospital chapel proved it. “There’s not enough alcohol on Earth to make
that
look remotely appealing,” she growls under her breath. “Is there, Caden?”

“Nope.” I shake my head, continuing to watch the show.

I hesitate, as I watch the pack of jocks slurping from Tiara’s body. It looks like they’re going to devour her. The number of offensive linemen licking and sucking away at her has nearly tripled, when she calls out to her friends for backup. “Chelsea, CJ, which one of you wants to come help me out?” she giggles. “You’ve never felt anything like this.” She yelps like a fox, “Ack-ack-ack-ackawoooo-ack-ack-ack, that tickles!”

CJ shoves Chelsea out of the way. “I’m in!” She throws herself onto the table, raising her shirt.

“Oh, please,” Jenna chokes. “This is gross.”

They don’t seem to think so.
As a matter of fact, they look like they’re enjoying the hell out of this. I find myself mesmerized by the squirming girls beneath the slathering tongues. My teammates are all over their bodies like lamprey on trout. I cringe.
Ugh. Not for me.

“You coming, Woodley?”

I’m no double dipper.
No way in hell I’m touching that. I’ve got standards.
I raise my hand and cock my head. “Looks like you ladies men have it covered.”

My thoughts of slimy spit swapping are interrupted when a whistle comes from above. “Psst. Caden, Brody, up here!” It’s Sadie and Kaiya.
Phew, saved by the hostesses.
They’re up in the loft, peeking over the rail. Sadie holds her finger up to her lips, as Kaiya motions us up. Poking her head through the rail, Sadie whispers, “Shhh, pool table’s up here. Grab your sister and Jenna, and come play with us.”

I turn to the girls, signaling them to look up to the loft. “You guys in?”

“Yeah, I’m done watching
Linemen Gone Wild
.”

“Let’s go, but keep an eye out for my cousin. He should be here with Marissa soon.”

Sadie meets us at the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t tell anyone we’re up here. We’re keeping this place a secret.”

The lighting dims as we approach the top.

“Welcome to the VIP lounge,” she grins.

Looking around to check out the dark room, I feel like I’ve just walked into a first class establishment. There are a few simple strings of baby white lights, providing just enough glow for the disco ball to reflect. I notice a few of the elite crew, kicking back on the leather couches. “Wow, Sadie, you’ve really outdone yourself up here.” I grab a jalapeño popper and stick it in my mouth.

“Well, I wanted someplace where my special guests could lay low. I know how tough it can be. Remember when my dad got in trouble? It was so awful I didn't feel like leaving the house for a year.”

Without thinking, I shove another jalapeño popper in my mouth.
Poor Sadie.
I remember how she was ostracized when her dad got kicked off the police force for unlawfully firing his weapon. He thought his crazed attacker had a gun. Turns out it was just a magic wand prop he’d stolen from the local theater. He was waving it wildly, threatening the officer. When he lunged forward, the officer’s reflex was to shoot. It was a mess, and Sadie took a lot of crap for her dad’s mistake. My eyes begin to water.

“Oh, we’re okay now. My dad’s in a way better job because of it. You know what they say, ‘When God closes a door, he opens a window’.” Sadie stops and looks around the room, raising her hand to the lights, “And this, it was no big deal, really. You guys have been through a lot. I just thought you might want someplace to kick it that’s a little more private. Not so many gawkers, you know.”

I have to laugh. “I’m touched, really, but that’s not why my eyes are watering. This thing is
hot
.”

Sadie laughs, “Veronica’s jalapeño poppers. Here, let me get you a soda. Unless, you want a beer?”

“I’m good with a soda. Thanks.”

“Well, there’s an open couch. Make yourselves comfortable and watch the show downstairs. That’s what I’ve been doing. When you’re ready, the pool table’s right over there.” She looks back over the railing and laughs, “Man, some of these guys are going to regret this tomorrow.”

We grab some food and sit down on the couch to watch the so called
show
unfolding before us. With the unobstructed view from the loft, the couch is in a great position to watch the party downstairs. I have a full view of the front door, and I can see into the living room to my left and the kitchen to my right. With all of the holiday escapades playing out downstairs, I soon realize this is better than television.

I look down into the living room to see Benny sitting on the La-Z-Boy with one girl on each knee. He’s wearing a red stocking cap, imitating Santa. When he looks up toward the loft, our eyes meet. He belly laughs, “Ho ho ho. I thought Santa was the one who was supposed to bring the gifts.” He lifts his eyebrows, and looks down, drawing my attention to Cindy’s ugly Christmas sweater. Each of her breasts is covered in a shiny box. He lifts the lid and grabs inside shouting, “Surprise! Ho ho ho.”

“Get a load of Benny!”

We all start laughing, watching him alternate between lifting Cindy’s lids and twisting the flashing, red noses so conveniently placed on Charity’s Rudolph and Frosty appliqués. I quickly break my fixed stare, when I hear approaching footsteps on the stairs. I curse myself for my jumpiness, but I’m hyper aware of my surroundings these days. I’m relieved to see it’s a couple of the exchange students. Nobody that’s going to give us a hard time. However, they do look a little lost.

“Can we help you?” Sadie asks the French guy.

“Ve are just looking for ze bazzroom.”

“Oh, there’s one just down the hall there,” she points back behind the pool table.

He nods his head before bending over the top of Jenna, who’s sitting on the edge of the couch. “Could you hold zis for me, please? It’s really good. I haven’t touched it yet, so you can drink some if you’d like.”

He hands her a bottle. “Go ahead. I’ll be right back. Try it.”

As the guys walk off to the bathroom, Jenna opens the lid of the unmarked bottle, sniffing the contents. “Smells like Kahlua.”

Kaitlyn leans over to Jenna. “You’re not drinking that, right?”

“Not on your life.”

We have a conversation about the dangers of taking drinks from people at parties. I’m sure the Kahlua is fine, but I’m in protective mode these days, and I’m not letting my friends take any chances on anything. “You know I wouldn’t let you drink that even if you wanted to.”

“No worries there, cuz I don’t,” Jenna snarls playfully.

Brody leans into Kaitlyn. “You feeling okay about everything?”

“Yeah, so far so good.”

“How about you, Jenna? You having fun?”

“Well, this is kind of awkward,” she holds up the bottle. “But yeah, it’s not too bad.”

“I’m glad we came out tonight. It will make things a little easier before we head back to school on Monday.”

Our conversation ends when the French guy comes back from the bathroom. He kneels down beside Jenna. “Did you try it? It’s really good.”

Jenna shakes her head
no
, and hands it back to him.

“Try zome. I inzeest,” he whines, shaking the bottle under her nose. “Go on. Try it!”

This guy’s a real gnat. I look at him, “Dude, she said,
no
. Back off.”

I sense disappointment as I watch him slowly stand and turn away. Looking back over his shoulder, he grumbles, “Maybe later, huh?”

Kaiya pops up behind us, draping her arms over the back of the couch. “Is it just me, or is that guy a little strange?”

“Daemon? He swam with us this year,” Jenna explains. “He’s not too bad … maybe a little socially awkward. It’s probably a cultural thing. I think he’s just trying a little too hard to make friends.”

“Well, his accent is weird,” she pauses. “I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong. I don’t know that many French guys.”

“Hey, look!” Kaitlyn cries. “It’s Mason and Marissa!”

I look down to see Brody’s cousin escorting Marissa through the front door.

“I’ll try to get his attention.” Brody stands up and moves toward the loft railing.

“Sit down, you’re blocking the show,” Jenna commands, pulling back on Brody’s pant leg. “Mason just caught view of the body shots, and I want to see the look on his face when he watches this for the first time.”

“Fine,” Brody sits back down on the couch.

My eyes are focused on Mason and Marissa standing in front of the doorway, when I notice something out of the corner of my eye. Movement. Slowly, but steadily, I watch a red stocking cap with blond curls move toward the couple. I know that gait. It’s all too familiar. My stomach flips when I catch view of her profile.
Button nose. Ivory skin. Perfect pink lips. Sweet giggle.
The bandages peeking out beneath the Santa hat confirm my suspicions.
It’s
Peyton.

Instantly, my heart pangs and all the blood in my body rushes to my head, causing me to jump in my seat. My breath hitches.
I can’t believe she’s here.
I feel a hand slide over mine. “Are you going to be okay?” It’s Jenna. She’s gripping my hand like a vise. She’s noticed Peyton too. “You see her, don’t you?”

“How can I not? She just attached herself to the back of Mason. What in the hell is she doing?”

Peyton has slung her arm over Mason’s shoulder, her leg just peeking out around his. It looks like she’s beginning to wrap herself around him from behind. Marissa stares forward, wide-eyed, clearly annoyed by the wedge that’s just been driven between her and Mason. I watch Peyton’s lips move, but I can’t hear or tell what she’s saying. She slowly raises her thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the kitchen. When Mason nods, she turns away and walks off.

“I guess she’s giving them some space?” Jenna’s drawn out statement comes out like a question.

In my periphery, I can see my friends’ heads whip back and forth between Peyton, Mason, and me. It sickens me to form the third angle of a triangle.
Not that they even know that I’m sitting up here watching.
Why is he letting her touch him? Why is she draped over his back? What’s going on?
No one speaks. None of us know what to say. That’s when I see Peyton move in over Mason’s shoulder and whisper in his ear. My friends’ banter has my head spinning.

“What’s she doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m so confused.”