It’s more than the whiff I got before. Maybe it took a little time to settle in, or maybe he chugged a whole bottle of vodka when everyone was paying attention to his little conquest.
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, as calmly as I can, “she talked to me.”
“Well, make yourself less noticeable!”
“You dragged me here,” I snap. “I didn’t even want to come—I don’t want to be noticeable!”
He pushes me away from him without replying, and I stumble back. Some of the pews—a small amount, maybe one or two—haven’t been moved away from the middle of the room, and I end up crashing into one. I rub my bruised hip, wincing. At least I didn’t lose my footing.
I’m going to have really good balance by the end of this.
Jasper doesn’t respond. He knows I’m right.
“Jasper!” Olive cries out. It’s clear from the tone of her voice that she saw the last little bit. I can’t tell if her voice is teasing, or if it’s just the subtle slur of liquor on her tongue.
“He was provoking me,” Jasper says.
Olive appears at my side and hands me a red plastic cup full of an amber liquid. It’s definitely beer, but I still find myself wary.
“Thanks.” I eye her suspiciously. I don’t want to drink it.
She hands another cup to Jasper, and he brightens considerably and throws his arm around her shoulders. He and Olive walk off together—little Alex momentarily forgotten.
And for that, I’m thankful.
Heath turns to me as Beck wanders off, his eyes glinting as he focuses on a pretty girl with long brown hair by the drink cart.
“Enjoy the party,” he says, a menacing grin spreading across his face before he gives me a mocking salute and sidles off. “Don’t wander off on us.”
“Sure,” I mutter to myself. I watch as he slinks into the small crowd. The last thing I’m going to do is sit here and wait for them to come back, so I clutch my full cup and head toward a door off the side of the altar.
As much as I hate having to be at this party, there’s something about the church that keeps making me look upward, admiring the architecture. It’s cute, or quaint, or whatever. The side door leads up a flight of stairs to a balcony over the sanctuary. From up here, I can pick out Beck’s platinum-blonde head, Heath’s dark one, and Jasper’s shaggy curls. I also recognize a few other guys from different classes, but none of them are paying any attention to me.
Finally.
There’s a strange peace in being able to watch, unobserved. Up here, no one can surprise me. I may be the prey, but I have my eyes on the predators determined to hunt me.
I keep my eyes on them for a while, but it’s not easy to keep track of all three of them in the swelling crowd. There aren’t that many students from the two schools here, but the way they’re moving around in the candlelit twilight makes it increasingly difficult to keep track of Jasper, Heath, and Beck among them.
Someone set up a couple seating areas up here using folding chairs and plastic tables. They’re mostly empty except for one girl sitting on a boy’s lap as they make out furiously, their drinks forgotten on the table nearest them. I glance down at the party again, and seeing no sign of any one of the three boys, move up the center of the balcony to a door that looks like no one’s opened it in ages.
I find myself on a small wooden landing between two sets of stairs as I pull the door shut behind me, blocking out the dull rumble of noise from the party below. It’s cold out here. I shiver as I pull my jacket closer.
The stairs snake their way around the perimeter of the walls of this enclosed square room. A glance down the middle looks straight down to grass overgrowing the bottom floor.
This must be the bell tower.
Above me, the ceiling is flat concrete and below my feet the wooden stairs creak. I test my weight before taking a step. The floor squeaks, but it seems sturdy. With no one here to watch me, I pour my drink over the side of the railing, listening to the splash of beer on the ground down below. Better to stay sober. I need my wits about me. Tonight is far from over.
Part of me feels the slightest twinge of guilt for the small act of vandalism. I have to remind myself of the debauchery taking place on the other side of the door. Speaking of which …
The swell of music and voices rises from beyond. The party is in full swing now. I don’t like to think of Jasper drinking more, not to mention Heath and Beck. They’re bad enough in the sober light of day.
Someone’s voice, still too muted to make out, bursts into laughter on the other side of the door. I consider hiding at the bottom of the bell tower for a moment, but then decide it would be better not to be cornered like a rat down there.
I start up the stairs instead.
They’re narrow and steep. They don’t look like I’ve always imagined a “spiral staircase” to look—not in a tight circle following a central pole up. Instead, they’re boxy, moving around the walls with landings in the corners. The aged sag of each step, beaten down by time and footsteps, makes me wonder how old the church really is.