Code

CHAPTER 25

I’M NOT SURE how long I lay there before my phone buzzed.

At first I ignored it. Then, remembering the meeting I’d scheduled but failed to attend, I snagged the thing, expecting an irritated Viral on the line.

Wrong. Jason Taylor. My finger pressed answer before I could stop it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Jason. How are you?”

“Good.” Wiping snot streaks from my face. “You?”

“Great. Listen, my parents drove to Hilton Head for the weekend, so I’m having a party. You have to come.”

“Party?” Not what I’d expected. “When?”

“Tonight, princess.” Jason’s voice turned plaintive. “Don’t say no. You always say no. It’ll be fun, I promise. No drama.”

My reflex was to decline. I hated cotillion enough. A Bolton Prep party? No thanks.

Then I thought of Kit and Whitney. The conversations I’d endure later that night.

Fine. Anywhere but home.

“One condition,” I said.

“Name it.” Eager.

“My friends are invited too. Hi, Shelton. And Ben.”

Silence hummed across the line. Then, “Tory, be reasonable. The doofus twins can come, but Blue—”

“Those are my demands, sir. We’ve already made plans, so I won’t just ditch them. Plus, Ben’s boat is my only ride. It’s all or nothing.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just keep a lid on that guy, or I swear I’ll toss him in the harbor. See you around eight?”

“See you then.”

“It’s that one, there.” I pointed to a sturdy wooden walkway jutting into the Harbor. “Taylor is painted on the side.”

“How very nice for his majesty.”

“Ben, I swear to God, if you’re going—”

“Relax.” Ben eased Sewee toward the dock. He wore his usual black tee and jeans. “I’ll be a good little boy. I promised, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.” But I was not reassured.

As we tied off and walked to the Taylors’ backyard, I tried to still the butterflies. I wore a white tank and jeans, shooting for “sexy-casual.” Hoping it wasn’t “left farmhouse, got lost.”

What are we even doing here?

We should be at the bunker, trying to ID the statue. Kiawah had proven the Gamemaster wasn’t bluffing. And our time was almost gone. We should be using every second to crack his puzzle.

Except, I didn’t want to. Not after the horror show on the beach. Right then, I needed an escape. From Kit. From the terrifying prospect of Whitney installing herself in my home.

Frankly, this party was a godsend. The perfect distraction.

Jason lived in the ritzy Mount Pleasant neighborhood of Old Village. His house was three stories of molded stucco accented by gleaming white trim. The yard had a pool, hot tub, cabana, and a massive brick patio complete with a fireplace. Not too shabby.

A dozen classmates were scattered around the pool, drinking from red Solo cups. Others had clustered by the cabana, where Jason was flipping burgers and gripping a Bud Light.

Alcohol. Yikes.

I’m such a loser. It hadn’t occurred to me that, this being an unchaperoned affair, people would be boozing.

Don’t be a wuss. You’re a sophomore now, you can handle it.

“Those dudes are drinking,” Shelton whispered. “Beer.”

“No big deal,” Ben said. “I got drunk a few times with my cousins this summer.”

“What?” My eyes shot to Ben. That was news to me.

Ben shrugged. “It’s not like it was regular thing.”

Shelton tugged his earlobe. “Well, my parents would skin me if they knew I was at a keg party right now. Hi, your mom might have a heart attack. We can’t even drive yet!”

“Just be cool.” Hi was sporting an Iron Man hoodie and blue-and-yellow plaid shorts. “Remember: It’s Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday. Right?”

“What are you talking about?” Shelton nervously tugged at his khakis and white polo shirt. “Tory, you still think this is a good idea?”

“Chill out.” Sounding more confident than I felt. “Let’s say hello to Jason.”

“I’ll pass.” Ben strode toward an ice-filled trash can beside the hot tub.

I almost called him back, but Hi stopped me. “You really want those two face-to-face?”

Good point. Perhaps keeping Ben and Jason apart was the wisest course.

“Tory!” Jason was circling the pool to greet us. “Hey, Shelton. Hi.”

I waved. “Hi, Jase.”

“Hey.” Shelton eyed Jason’s beer can.

“Wassup, dog.” Hi held out a fist. Buffoon.

“‘Sup dog’ back at ya.” With a friendly smile, Jason bumped knuckles. “Glad you guys could make it. Ben didn’t come?”

“He’s over there.” I pointed to where Ben stood, pumping a keg, listening to some lacrosse guys I didn’t know. As I watched, he took a long pull from a Solo cup.

“Should I get him?”

“He’s doing fine on his own.” Jason circled an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s grab a drink first.”

“Okay. Sure.” Not a problem.

“Come along, you two.” Jason waved for Hi and Shelton to follow. “Ever try Southern Comfort before?”

“No.” Shelton reached for his earlobe.

“Maybe.” Hi faked a yawn. “Not sure.”

Liar. He’d never gotten drunk. None of us had.

Except Ben. Didn’t know that.

“Well, you’re in for a treat.” Jason steered us toward the cabana, calling to his friends. “Jeff! Steve! Four So-Co and limes. The Morris Island crew needs a drink.”

Things happened fast after that.

Shot glasses were lined up on the bar, filled with brown liquor, and topped with lime wedges. Jason lifted one and smiled encouragingly.

Other partygoers watched. Skeptical? Amused? No idea.

I’d never taken a shot. Had no interest in doing so then.

C’mon. What’s the big deal?

The “big deal” was, I didn’t want to drink. Then, or ever. Not after what happened to Mom.

I was about to decline when Hi stepped to the counter. “Thanks, man. Bottoms up.” But I could see his anxiety.

Hi clinked glasses with Jason and downed it in one go. Then started coughing. “Wrong pipe,” he wheezed.

Jason slapped his back. “Has a nice kick, huh?”

Some girl I didn’t know shoved glasses at Shelton and me. I thanked her, playing it cool, but felt boxed in. Everyone was watching.

Shelton tensed, psyching himself up.

We lifted, clinked, and …