Candy Colored Sky, стр. 47

“Whatever.” Jake leaves me to stand by myself with that response while he hops in the beer line to get a cup and fill it at the keg.

“Jonah! Oh my God, you’re never at these!” Slender arms wrap around my neck and I recognize the long glittered fingernails that accompany the shrill, drunk voice.

“Hey, Mandy. Yep. Senior year and all, so ya know—woo!” I raise both hands and shake them with my fingers stretched. Mandy and I have gone to school together almost as long as Jake and I have, and for an entire week our freshman year, I was her boyfriend. We could not be more opposite. She said yes because Jake dared her to, and I asked because I was fourteen, a pushover for peer pressure. Plus, Mandy is a cheerleader. I’m pretty sure she cheated on me with her next boyfriend. Regardless, ever since, she takes every opportunity to flirt with me. I don’t know whether it’s because she regrets ever breaking up or because she likes to string people along. Things really peaked at the beginning of the school year when she took off her bra in the middle of Lit class and tossed it to me. Four desks away. I shoved it in my backpack and threw it away when I got home.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Her mouth is practically in my ear, somehow making her louder than the music that’s blasting.

“Yeah!” I shout back, taking a step away to gain some space. I shove my hands into my pockets, giving her the opening to pull my beanie from my head and tug it on her own.

“Oh, hey!” I run one hand through my hair and reach for my hat with my other. Mandy dances away, though, in a series of drunken steps punctuated with a very tipsy laugh.

“Thank you, Jonah!” She blows me a kiss, swinging her arm out when she does and running it into the chest of some football player who gets her attention next.

I’m not getting my hat back.

Fuck.

“I see Mandy found you,” Jake teases as he steps up to my side and hands me a cup. I shake my head but he pushes it at me, insisting.

“It’s Sprite. So you don’t look like a douchebag.”

I grimace but take the cup. I hate that shit, like that matters. The fact I’m the designated driver should be celebrated instead of brand me as a loser.

“Gemma and Elle are by the fire, on the other side. Smoke’s blowing this way,” Jake says.

I glare at him, my mouth a straight line while my eyes burn from the ash.

“Ya think?”

“Shut up and drink your Sprite,” my friend spits back, flicking the bottom of my cup enough that I spill most of the soda on my pants.

Great.

I remember all of the reasons I really hate parties the second we clear through the smoke and enter the crowd of drunken, obnoxious teenagers hovering around a poorly built fire. Cups in the air, half of them are dancing, bodies grinding together in ways I’m sure they think are sexy but are just—

And then I see her.

Eleanor is spinning in a slow circle, her arms above her head, hands twisting together from the buzz of whatever she drank, smoked or took. Maybe a little of all of that. My eyes meet Gemma’s when Eleanor’s back is to me and the plea for help is clear. I rush away from Jake, who’s taking his time mingling with the crowd of people who seem to love him. The closer I get to the girls, the clearer the danger is. It’s not so much that Eleanor is out of her mind and dancing on a table, but that she’s wearing a long shirt without any pants, her body probably freezing because, even though the fire keeps things warm, it’s nearing thirty degrees outside.

“Jonah, I swear, she was out of my sight for maybe five minutes. I don’t know.”

I sense the panic in Gemma’s voice and do my best to form a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay. I’m driving, and I can always take her home. Can we get her to come down from there?” I step to the side, trying to catch Eleanor’s attention, but before I can, two hands pound into my chest and shove me backward several feet.

“Hey, fuckwad! Who do you think you are?” This guy is not one of Jake’s friends. As well liked as my best friend is, he isn’t the “it” guy everywhere. And the Molinas invite people from lots of places to their parties, including the junior college. I’m guessing that’s where Shakespeare here hails from. He’s about twice as thick as I am, but only half of that is muscle so I feel like, if anything, I can knock him over then outrun him.

“I’m her friend, and I’m here to make sure assholes like you don’t take advantage of her,” I shout. My voice carries enough over the music that Eleanor must hear me, crouching down so she can see me better.

“Jonah!” She sounds like Mandy, but her eyes are far more lost. There are two hearts drawn on her cheek in yellow and blue, probably a little touch Gemma gave her to make her feel better about not cheering at the game. I should have gone with her, sat by her so she wasn’t alone or surrounded by people who don’t fully understand what she’s going through.

“Hi, Elle. Maybe let’s get you some water, huh? And you can have my flannel.” I start to take it off, but she pushes my arms down and rejects the idea.

“No, I’m good. I’m dancing, and I’ve decided it’s not my fault! I don’t care what Morgan says.” She stands quickly and immediately goes back to swaying her hips and giving the growing number of scumbags, including the dickhead who clearly was not threatened by me, more to look at than they deserve.

I exhale, my chest pounding with anger and frustration and worry. I’m not equipped