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Gazing ahead, I see this street disappear into the horizon, a few lights in Shelburne Falls glittering in the distance.
We’re high. This neighborhood sits on a hill.
And these houses…they’re not cheap. Or they weren’t back in the day.
Something pulls at my memory.
What is this place? Most of the houses in Weston are one story, with clapboard siding and overrun lawns.
Here, wrought iron railings lead the way up stone staircases to rich, wooden doors and mostly dark windows,although the house to my right has a soft glow coming from the second floor.
“Oh, shit,” someone gasps.
I look to see a guy with his head turned over his shoulder, gaping at me.
Mace stops me and unfastens my cuffs, taking them off as another young guy drifts past me. “It’s going to be a long two weeks, baby,” he taunts.
“Has she had her shots?” someone else jokes.
But then Farrow swipes something off the top of an old wooden barrel, handing me a drink. About two fingers of something cloudy white.
I don’t even smell it. I hand it back.
Amused, Farrow swallows the contents in one gulp.
“Where are—” But my phone rings, cutting me off.
I look at the screen, hoping it’s not my parents.
Kind of wanting it to be Kade. Kind of not.
But Aro’s name stares back at me instead. I answer. “Hey.”
“Dylan!” she shouts, but static suddenly fills my ear. “Don’t go in—”
And then more static.
I look at the screen, seeing the call is still connected. “What?” I shout for her to repeat.
“Someone—” Again, her voice disappears.
Farrow Kelly starts to head deeper into the crowd, and I crane my neck, trying to keep tabs on him.
“Can I call you back?” I start to follow. “You’re cutting out.”
“Knock Hill—”
“Huh?” I cover my other ear to hear better.
“Dylan!”she shouts again.
“I can’t hear you.” I shake my head, losing sight of Farrow and pushing through people to catch up. “Text me, okay?”
I hang up, remembering as soon as I end the call that she’s from Weston. Kade would’ve told her and Hawke by now that I got traded in the prisoner exchange. She sounded worried.
I hop up onto the sidewalk, stopping at Farrow’s side as he pulls off his hat and tosses it through a back seat window of an old black Pontiac GTO. I withhold my shudder.Pontiacs…
“Where are the adults?” I ask.
