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“Ah, yeah, the golf cart . . .” She glanced in the direction of the house.
“It’s getting hot out here,” McCrae said, squinting toward the sun. “Man, this is great!” His shirt was unbuttoned. Like Woody, he had a washboard stomach. His jeans were in better shape, but not by much. He slapped th
em. “I’m getting these off.” With that he went to the pile of bags and backpacks the kids had brought with their personal gear.
Ellie said to Delta, “You thinking about going up there?” She inclined her head toward the house. “I want to change into my swimsuit, but I’m not doing it in any tent.”
“I’m not swimming.”
“I almost didn’t bring my suit. But the weather . . .”
“The runoff’ll be cold. You could freeze to death in that water,” Delta said repressively.
“It’s not that bad. I went down to the river.”
Delta had no intention of scaling down the steps and ladder to the water below, even though there was a sandy spit jutting into the river where a bunch of the kids had set up one of the tents. The coach and Miss Billings had initially adamantly opposed any of the kids going down there, but had given in and let the assistant keep an eye on them. Not many of their classmates had gone down, though, because the weather hadn’t been warm enough. But now, as the sun slipped past its zenith and was starting to head back down, the heat of the day was surprisingly intense.
“I didn’t bring a suit,” Delta admitted.
“Bummer,” Ellie said.
Was she being sarcastic? Delta wondered as Ellie started walking briskly down the dirt track toward the Forsythes’ mansion. Delta had overheard her telling do-gooder Rhonda about “fibbing”—basically lying—about where she was today to both her stepfather and her mother, as they’d been opposed to her coming at all. They apparently thought Ellie was at her job. Rhonda had received this news with a worried look and a raft of tumbling excuses about how Miss Billings and Coach Sutton were chaperones, and that even Reverend Proffitt had allowed Carmen to come, so everything was totally cool and safe, and Ellie should really just tell the truth. Ellie, who could be judgmental when it suited her—and it suited her a lot—had merely shrugged this time, leaving the do-gooder to gaze after her in consternation.
An hour later, Delta was still undecided about whether to leave the party but had stuck around because she couldn’t bear to leave Tanner with Amanda. The roasting of the pig was into its final hour, and preparations were being made for the big feast. The group had swelled, and many more senior classmates had arrived, with only a few leaving. Several of the senior class teachers had shown up as well, among them Anne Reade, who taught English, and Brian Timmons, the math teacher and senior class adviser. There had been speculation all year that Ms. Reade and Mr. Timmons were an item, but Delta had wondered if they even liked each other all that much. Neither of them appeared to have any joie de vivre; they seemed more like careful allies than friends.
But . . . at least Tanner seemed to have given up his allegiance to only Amanda. He swept by to smile goofily at Delta and say, “This is great, isn’t it?” and then he was talking to the guys and other girls and even the teachers. Delta began to realize that he was wasted. But where had he gotten the stuff? There was no alcohol in sight, and she doubted they could hide it in the tents. She’d seen him and others drift toward the woods a time or two, and she’d begun to realize a number of members of the senior class were stealing away to misbehave. She was hurt that she hadn’t been invited. Did they think she would give the game away to the chaperones, who didn’t appear to have caught on yet, or did they just not want her?
Her suspicions were confirmed when Woody appeared from the nearest copse of trees smelling of skunk. Skunkweed. Marijuana.
Shit.
She wanted to grab Tanner and yank him away. He couldn’t afford to mess this up. He was on academic scholarship and hoped to walk on to the football team. Maybe the black mark of a “minor in possession,” should Coach or someone else find out and feel duty-bound to turn him in, wouldn’t much matter, but it sure wasn’t going to help.
“Who’s going swimming?” Chris McCrae called out.
“I am!” Tanner shouted, ripping off his shirt. He also had the lean muscular torso of an athlete.
“Me, too!” Woody said, yanking off his jeans right then and there, revealing a pair of Speedos that made the girls gasp and laugh; there was quite a bit filling them out, which Woody was clearly proud of.
“Me, too!” Carmen suddenly joined in. She’d changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top, and now she yanked the shirt over her head to reveal a black swim bra and ran after Tanner, McCrae, and Woody, who were all heading for the steps.
“Jesus,” Zora said, who’d finally apparently left the “Amanda group” of the Five Firsts to join her. “I’m not freezing my butt off.”
“I don’t have a suit,” Delta said.
Bailey had walked quickly after Carmen and now stood by as other kids clambered down the steps.
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute!” Coach Sutton bellowed. “Watch out for the undertow!”
Amanda said, “The rapids are down the river, Coach. The swimming hole by the beach is fine and roped off for us.”
“You think these guys care?” he growled.
“They all know. And you told ’em again and again.”
“Your mom and dad put me in charge, and that’s what I intend to be.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. Her parents had taken a trip to the beach and left the party to the coach, but she clearly thought he was taking his job too seriously.
