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Breathing heavily, the ground beneath my feet finally levels out as I crest the top of the hill. The thump of distant music reaches my ears, and I follow the trail through the trees toward it.
The noise grows louder as I breach the trees, and my eyes scan the open space before me. Large boulders form a rock face on one side, the ground falling away on the other, offering an expansive view that extends all the way to the horizon. Stars light up the sky above us, the town lights nothing but specks far below. In between is a flat expanse of rock, filled with cars parked haphazardly, some with their windows down and music blasting from within. Students are milling around, laughing, dancing, and drinking.
It’s all a little overwhelming, and hidden between the trees, I hesitate, simply watching the debauchery unfold. The noise, the chaos, the dark sky with the bright headlights of trucks… It's all a lot. I’m on sensory overload, my heart beating an irregular rhythm against my chest as I take it all in.
Eventually, I force my feet forward into the fray. I’m careful to avoid bumping into anyone as I navigate through the throng of students. With no real destination in mind, I simply circle the outer perimeter, drinking it all in. I watch a couple making out against a car, girls squealing as they dance together on an open area of dirt, red plastic cups in hand.
Gone are the conservative outfits worn to school and church, and in their place are short skirts, revealing tops, and heeled shoes. Self-consciously, I glance down at my own outfit—a simple skirt that falls to mid-calf, and a long-sleeve, high-neckline top. Not dissimilar to what other girls wear at school, but out here, I stick out like a nun in prison.
Continuing my meander, I can’t help but wonder if their parents know they are here. Did they once partake in this same ritual before becoming parents themselves? Perhaps it’s a rite of passage. An act of rebellion that even my own parents participated in once upon a time.
I’ve known for years about these parties, and still, the sting of knowing I’ve been missing out on a vital part of life hits me hard. It’s one thing to know what goes on behind your back but another entirely to see it with your own eyes.
Too busy looking around me, I fail to notice the leggy blonde tottering into my path before we crash into one another. We both stumble. “I’m so sorry,” I blurt. However, any other apologies stall in my throat as my eyes clash with Jessica’s.
Her’s immediately harden, the glassiness in her eyes only marginally distorting the effect. “You,” she hisses. “What are you doing here?”
My mouth opens and closes, no words passing.
“Look, everyone!” she shouts, raising her voice to be heard by those around us. “Look who has graced us with their presence tonight.”
“Please,” I whisper, keeping my voice low as I glance around us. Slowly, more and more people stop what they’re doing and turn in our direction. Someone turns the music down, and swiftly, all eyes are on me.
My cheeks flame beneath the attention, and I instantly regret the foolish notion that had me leaving the house tonight. I haven’t even seen my mysterious newcomer here. Not only has it been a complete waste of time, but now I have to face the wrath of Jessica and my peers.
I’m used to jeers and taunts from them, snide remarks and cruel barbs. Most of the rest of the town looks at me with fear, yet those I attend school with have long since shredded that cloak. I think it’s the familiarity of being around me every day since we started pre-k. Honestly, I’m not sure which reaction I prefer. Both are like lashes upon my soul.
“The Devil’s daughter has come to play with us tonight,” Jessica incites. She takes a step toward me, and I immediately step back, maintaining the space between us. “Think you can drink and dance with us, and we’ll forget who you really are?” She cackles, and others around us join in. “Newsflash, Antichrist. We don’t want you here.”
Taking another step back, I stutter out, “O-okay, I’ll go.”
Another cold bark rushes past her lips as she closes the distance I just gained. “I don’t just mean here. We don’t want you in our school. Our church. Our town. You heard the pastor. Show him our devotion, and he will reward us for our faith,” she recounts. Lifting her arms into the air, she turns to face the crowd. “What greater way can there be to show our devotion to him than to rid the earth of the Devil’s spawn?”
Fists are raised in the air, and heads nod as others shout their agreement. Just like in the canteen earlier in the week, I notice everyone closing ranks. Hostile stares drill into me and, as a pack, all of them advance.
Panic floods my veins as I scour the crowd for a break in the chain, some gap to escape. Glancing behind me, my heart keeps into my throat as I realize that, intentional or not, they are herding me toward the cliff’s edge.
“We’re done suffering at your hands,” Jessica continues, leading the mob as she faces me once more. “Done playing by your rules. We’d all be better off without you here.”
More agreement, this time louder and with more ardor.
“P-please,” I stammer, my hands held out in a placating gesture. “I-I’ll leave. I’ll go.”
Bending down, Jessica picks up a small rock, tossing it in the air before catching it again. When her gaze lifts to mine, the steely resolve I see in them threatens to suffocate me.
“Not good enough.” Her hand clenches around the rock as others follow suit. I watch in horror as my fellow classmates, people I’ve known my entire life, whom I’ve sat beside in class, sang hymns with in church, take up arms against me. Some hold smaller stones in their hands while a few of the older boys pick up large rocks that will do serious damage if they strike true. “We want you gone from this earth, and since you haven’t had the good grace to do the deed yourself, we’ll have to do it for you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The whooshing in my ears is deafening, the rushing of blood drowning out all other noise as I stare out at the lynch mob. Glancing over my shoulder, I discover I’m even closer to the cliff edge than I was before.
My life has never looked more bleak than it does at this moment. My options are limited, and neither is favorable—death by stoning or suicide.
The sharp sting as a rock slices across my cheek has me whipping my head around and staring in shock at the crowd in front of me. I scan the angry faces, except I can’t tell who threw the first stone. Another whizzes past my ear, and I cry out, ducking in fear as I wrap my arms around my middle. My lips move wordlessly, forming silent prayers to a God who has never answered me before as I beg him to spare me this pain.
A thunderous roar bounces off the boulders and ricochets through the trees, stunning us all as a motorbike soars into the open space, forcing people aside as it races toward me. However, it is the dark-haired devil sitting astride the bike who has my undivided attention.
The bike kicks up dirt as it comes to a stop in front of me, acting as a barrier between me and the league of haters.
