Luce shrugged. "A few."
"Bring them by tonight, after dark." He pointed to a narrow peninsula of sand at
the foot of the rocky stairs. "Right down there."
She peered at Roland sideways. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
Roland grinned devilishly. "Don't worry, we'll keep it innocent. But you know
how it is. I'm new in town; I'd like to make my presence known."
" Dude. Stomp down on my heel one more time, and I'm seriously going to have to
break your ankle."
"Maybe if you weren't hogging the entire beam of the flashlight up there, Shel,
the rest of us could see where we were going."
Luce tried to stifle her laugh as she followed a bickering Miles and Shelby across
campus in the dark. It was almost eleven, and Shoreline was pitch-black and silent,
except for the hoot of an owl. An orange gibbous moon was low in the sky, cloaked by a
veil of fog. Between the three of them, they'd only been able to come up with one
flashlight (Shelby's), so only one of them (Shelby) had a clear view of the path down to
the water. For the other two, the grounds--which had seemed so lush and well tended in
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the daylight--were now booby-trapped with fallen bristlecones, thick-rooted ferns, and
the backs of Shelby's feet.
When Roland had asked her to bring some friends tonight, Luce had gotten a
sinking feeling in her stomach. There were no hall monitors at Shoreline, no terrifying
security cameras recording the students' every move, so it wasn't the threat of getting
caught that made her nervous. In fact, sneaking out of the dorm had been relatively easy.
It was drawing a crowd that was a bigger challenge.
Dawn and Jasmine seemed like the most likely candidates for a party on the
beach, but when Luce went by their fifth-floor room, the hallway was dark and no one
answered her knock. Back in her own room, Shelby had been tangled up in some sort of
tantric yoga pose that hurt Luce just to look at. Luce hadn't wanted to break her
roommate's fierce concentration by inviting her to some unknown party--but then a loud
knock at their door had made Shelby fall crossly from her pose anyway.
Miles, asking Luce if she wanted to get some ice cream.
Luce looked back and forth between Miles and Shelby and smiled. "I've got a
better idea."
Ten minutes later, bundled up in hooded sweatshirts, a backward Dodgers cap
(Miles), and wool socks with individual toe shapes sewn in so she could still wear her
flip-flops (Shelby), and with a nervous feeling in the gut about mingling Roland with the
Shoreline crew (Luce), the three of them tramped toward the bluff's edge.
"So who is this guy again?" Miles asked, pointing out a dip in the rocky path just
before Luce would have gone flying.
"He's just ... a guy from my last school." Luce searched for a better description as
the three of them started down the rocky stairs. Roland wasn't exactly her friend. And
even though kids at Shoreline seemed pretty open-minded, she wasn't sure she should tell
them which side of the fallen angel divide Roland fell on. "He was friends with Daniel,"
she said finally. "It'll probably be a pretty small party. I don't think he knows anyone here
but me."
They could smell it before they could see it: the telltale hickory smoke of a goodsized bonfire. Then, when they were almost at the foot of the steep stairs, they wound
around a bend in the rocks and froze as the sparks from a wild orange blaze finally came
into view.
There must have been a hundred people gathered on the beach.
The wind was wild, like an untamed animal, but it was no match for the
rowdiness of the partygoers. At one end of the gathering, closest to where Luce stood, a
crowd of hippie guys with long, thick beards and ratty woven shirts had formed a
makeshift drum circle. Their steady beat provided a nearby group of kids with a
constantly changing groove to dance to. At the other end of the party was the bonfire
itself, and when Luce stood on her toes, she recognized a lot of Shoreline kids crowded
around the fire, hoping to beat out the cold. Everyone was holding a stick in the flames,
jockeying for the best spot to roast their hot dogs and marshmallows, their cast-iron
kettles full of beans. It was impossible to guess how they'd all found out about it, but it
was clear that everyone was having a good time.
And in the middle of it all, Roland. He'd changed out of his pressed button-down
shirt and expensive leather boots and was dressed, like everyone else there, in a hooded
sweatshirt and shredded jeans. He was standing on a boulder, making riotous,
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exaggerated gestures, telling a story Luce couldn't quite hear. Dawn and Jasmine were
among the captivated listeners; their fire-lit faces looked pretty and alive.