head in my direction. I ducked back into the doorway, and when I dared to peek again, she was walking away down the street, clearly in no hurry now. I moved on my tiptoes and used the cover of the yawning alleys and deep doorways to creep behind her.
I followed her all the way across the wide road that ran along the river into the vast expanse of River City Parkâa tangle of trees, sloping hills, and dirt paths so sprawling you couldnât even see the river from the road that followed its banks. The park was the perfect place to disappear.
River City liked to pretend this place was its emerald jewel, a shiny stretch of green along the famous Mississippi. But the only part of the park that really fit that bill was the bit I was pounding across right now. The city kept the lawn between the road and the woods perfectly groomed, and it was always installing fancy new water fountains and the latest playground equipment. But beyond the tree line, River City Park became wild, and I donât just mean the landscape. Dirt roads cut narrow paths through the woods, where you were as likely to run into a fallen tree as youwere a group of homeless people making camp for the night. The shadows of the park hid all kinds of things, from hookers with their clients to druggies looking for a quiet place to shoot up. Grandma had found Mama passed out in the woods more than once.
I knew all the ugly that lay beyond those pretty trees, and I wanted nothing to do with it. But across the green space, Andi was disappearing into the woods with Mamaâs violin, so I hesitated only a second before diving in after her. Flickers of light flashed through the dense forest, and I could hear the distant thumping bass line of a familiar song.
Well, at least I knew where she was headed. I raced through the trees and exploded into a clearing full of bonfires and a sea of people.
People I recognized.
All around me, kids from Jefferson were clutching red cups with liquid sloshing over the sides as they grinded against each other in time with the music. To my right, four guys held a fifth one upside down over a keg as he sucked beer straight out of the tap, while a crowd around them cheered him on.
I leaned against a tree to catch my breath and peered through the haze of bonfire smoke. So this was what a high school party looked like. I usually tried not to think about the stupid small-town parties I wasnât invited to and focused instead on the great big cities where I would someday live. But now that the scene was laid out in front of me, it wasnât as lame as Iâd hoped. In fact, once you got used to the stink of sweat and beer, it almost seemed kind of cool.
Not that I spent a lot of time
woe-is-me
ing over my lack of invitations. Iâd been to a slumber party or two, even made a few friends over the yearsâmostly other kids from family support groups, where it was pretty much impossible to be invisible. But those friendships were fleeting. Sometimes kids moved away to get a âfresh startâ or went into their own downward spirals, but mostly we eventually discovered we just didnât have anything in common outside of our screwed-up parents.
Besides, Mama seemed more friend than family most days. Sure, we werenât doing any keg stands together, but we shopped in each otherâs closets and laughed at each otherâs dumb jokes, and she was the only other person on earth who understood that ramen noodles and ketchup was a gourmet meal. As long as she was sober, she was all the friend I needed. Or at least thatâs what I told myself whenever I saw kids my age clustered together.
The thought of Mama reminded me of exactly what I was doing lurking at the edge of this end-of-summer bash, and I peeled myself away from the tree, determined to find Andi. I squinted at the crowd, searching for a head full of dreadlocks.
Before the dreads, Andiâs hair had been a mass of lush brown waves, the kind of