Torment - Lauren Kate [33]
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 good-sized 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, 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.
“This is your idea of a small party?” Miles asked.
Luce was watching Roland, wondering what story he was telling. Something about the way he was taking charge made Luce think back to Cam’s room, to the first and only real party she’d ever gone to at Sword & Cross, and it made her miss Arriane. And, of course, Penn, who’d been nervous when she first arrived at the party but ended up having a better time than anyone. And Daniel, who would barely speak to Luce back then. Things were so different now.
“Well, I don’t know about you guys,” Shelby said, kicking off her flip-flops and padding onto the sand in her socks, “but I’m going to get myself a drink, then a hot dog, then maybe a lesson from one of those drum circle guys.”
“Me too,” Miles said. “Except for the drum circle part, in case that wasn’t obvious.”
“Luce.” Roland waved from his position on the boulder. “You made it.”
Miles and Shelby were already way ahead of her, heading toward the hot dog station, so Luce trekked over a dune of cool, damp sand toward Roland and the others.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to make your presence known. This is really something, Roland.”
Roland nodded graciously. “Something, huh? Something good, or something bad?”
It seemed like a loaded question, and what Luce wanted to say was that she couldn’t tell anymore. She thought about the heated conversation she’d overheard in the teacher’s office. How sharp Francesca’s voice had sounded. The line between what was good and what was bad felt incredibly blurry. Roland and Steven were fallen angels who’d gone over. Demons, right? Did she even know