“My cousin was in a cult!” Millie announced.
“Why am I not surprised?” I murmured.
That made Keme turn around to blast me with a death-ray.
Since I wasn’t scared of Keme, like, at all, because I was an adult and I was bigger than him and I was definitely, most certainly stronger, I said, “Also, for everyone’s information, I actually was going to write tonight. I was going to write a lot.”
Fox cleared their throat.
I sank down in my seat. “Probably.”
After that, we finished the drive in silence, with only the rumble of tires and the creak of Millie’s suspension as we threaded our way over mile after mile of grassy slopes.
I’d never been in this area before—north of Hastings Rock, on the far side of Klikamuks Head. Even with the cloud cover, the head itself was a bulk of stone and earth protruding into the sea, visible as a patch of deeper darkness across the vista of open ground. Instead of the conifer forests I’d grown accustomed to, tall grasses grew here, and it reminded me more of a Midwestern prairie than, say, the setting for a movie about sexy vampires. The smell of the prairie grass filtered into the car—a dusty, sagey smell that was unexpectedly pleasant.
A chain-link fence stopped us as we approached the surf camp. Signs announced NO TRESPASSING and DO NOT ENTER and DANGER! CONSTRUCTION SITE! Graffiti overlaid many of the signs—THIEVES said one, and another said GET OUT, and another ONE PEOPLE, ONE LAND. Apparently the protesting wasn’t only happening at the surf challenge; I wondered if, to some people, this was sacred land too. When Keme stuck his head out of the window, a guy in board shorts and a ratty Hurley hoodie opened the gate for us, and we drove into the camp itself.
“That’s some serious security for a surf camp,” Fox said.
Millie glanced at Keme before saying, “They’ve had a lot of problems with vandalism. They put up the fence and the cameras, but it still keeps happening.”
Keme nodded.
As we continued into the camp, the gate rolled shut behind us. Ahead, buildings took shape in the darkness: frame structures with clapboard siding and dark shingle roofs. When the headlights washed over them, color popped in the night—doors painted bright reds and blues, shockingly vivid against the monochrome night. In contrast to the pristine new buildings, the surf camp’s grounds consisted of churned earth, spilled gravel, and weeds. There was no landscaping, no sidewalks, not even a proper parking lot. Millie ended up parking on a grassy strip where other cars were already clustered.
When we got out of the car, the sound of music came on the night air—I didn’t recognize it, but I figured it was probably called something like acoustic surf rock, and it sounded like it would appeal to a group (mostly men) focused on “chillaxin’” and indulging in recreational substances. Behind the camp’s central building, firelight flickered and sent the shadows dancing.
We came around the central building and found ourselves in a large, open square. The music was louder here—the voices too. At one end of the square stood a palapa. Under the palm-thatch roof, fairy lights illuminated a fully stocked bar, where several of the surfers were playing mixologist. At the other end of the clearing, a bonfire blazed; the heat lapped at me even from a distance, and a whiff of wood smoke came in on my next breath.
The party appeared to be in full swing, and it seemed to combine elements of beach hangout and Halloween bacchanal. A guy with long blond hair—his costume, apparently, was “lifeguard”—laughed as he staggered and fell, and then he laughed even harder. A girl in a “nurse” bikini—in total defiance of the October cold—was balancing an inflatable ring on her nose while her friends recorded her on their phones. A couple more of the long-haired types (maybe they came in a six pack?) were wrestling—apparently simultaneously trying to turn each other out of their Baja hoodies—and neither of them seemed sober enough to get the upper hand. At the edge of the ring of firelight, someone moved, and I thought I recognized Nate Hampton. After assaulting Gerry at the beach, the redhead had apparently found time to change into a hoodie and jeans, and he didn’t look too bothered by the earlier scuffle.
Keme took off into the scrum of bodies (he’d gone with “skeleton in a suit” for his costume, which apparently meant some makeup on his face and a suit that he looked really good in—I was fairly sure Millie had been the intended audience, and I had a sneaking suspicion the suit belonged to Deputy Bobby). Millie went with him. Fox and I lingered at the edge of the square. To their top hat and frock coat, Fox had added a monocle—again, ordinary Fox apparel, or Halloween costume? You decide!
As we stood there, voices came up the path behind us. It only took me a moment to recognize West.
“…because I’m afraid you’ll get hurt. Do you understand?”
And Deputy Bobby’s answer was quiet and even. “Yes.”
“And that’s scary for me. That’s terrifying, Bobby. Because I love you. And I know we’ve talked about this before, but that actually makes it worse. You promised me that when you were off duty, you weren’t going to do stuff like that. Get involved, I mean. And when you break your promises, it’s hard for me to trust you, and trust is the bedrock of our relationship. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
A moment later, they appeared. West was still in his hot-as-the-sun construction worker costume; if anything, he somehow looked even better, but I still had no idea how he wasn’t freezing to death. Deputy Bobby was a construction worker too, although, thank God, he’d managed to cover himself up a little more: boots, jeans, a white T-shirt, and then the hi-vis vest and hardhat.
“Pity,” Fox murmured. “I was looking forward to seeing your tongue fall out of your mouth.”
I shot them a furious look, but by then, West and Deputy Bobby had noticed us.
“Hey,” West said in that tone people use when they’re trying to pretend everything is great. “I didn’t know you guys were coming.”
“They made me,” I said.
For some reason, that made Deputy Bobby smile—just a quicksilver flash, there and gone.
“Keme and Millie are already out there enjoying themselves,” Fox said, jerking a thumb at the crowd. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the wallflower.”
“I hope someone said something to Keme about age-appropriate drinks,” Deputy Bobby said.
“Even though that’s none of our business tonight,” West said. He squeezed Deputy Bobby’s hand. “Because we’re here as a normal couple, right?”
Deputy Bobby said, “Right.”
“Indira talked to him,” Fox said. “I don’t know what she said, but his eyes were huge when he came out of that kitchen.”
“And that’s another thing.” I turned toward Fox. “Why didn’t Indira have to come?”
“Indira didn’t have to come because she’s an adult and a fully actualized human being.”
“I’m an adult. I’m a fully actualized human being.”
“Wearing a keyboard cat costume.”
“It’s not—” I drew a breath through clenched teeth. “You’re just saying that because you’re scared of her.”
“Of course I’m scared of her. My God, Dash, have you seen that woman debone a chicken thigh?”
“Okay, you two have fun,” West said. “We’re going to get drinks.”
