Page 6 of Malaise
THREE
People are every-fucking-where.The grove is a large grassy area just off the east bank of Whitecaps River. Kids have been coming here for decades, as far back as when my parents were teens growing up in the area. It’s perfect for nights like this when a huge group want to get together. Logs rot amongst the overgrown grass around the tree line, creating seating for the bonfire that rages in the clearing. Stars shimmer above the grey smoke, breathtakingly beautiful in the frame created by the tops of the trees. Oaks mix with native Pohutukawa trees, the odd willow thrown in for variety the closer you get to the water.
The spot is nature at its very finest, and every year teenagers celebrating the end of another school year trash it. Exams start next week, and for most of us, this is the last chance at living it up as young adults before plans for University or out-of-school jobs start us on the slippery slope to “adulting.”
“Heyyyy.” A half-baked chick in a dress that looks small enough to belong to a Cabbage Patch Kid wobbles her way toward Jasper. She looks familiar, but with the tonne of heavy makeup and shitty lighting from the bonfire, I can’t be sure if it’s who I think it is.
Everybody looks different when they’re given a chance to get out of the school uniform and show their true colours.
Jasper locks the car and rounds the hood to where I stand ignoring the chick and planning out my safe spots for the night—those niches where people are few and far between and the dark of night will hide me from public humiliation.
“Come pick what you want, Meg.” He gestures toward the boot of his car.
I follow, aware that the kid is also tracking our movements. She barges past me in her one-woman crusade toward Jasper, as though I’m invisible.
“Cassie, back up would you?” Thought it was her—Amelia’s mate. He gives her the kind of look I’ve seen my mother sport when she’s cleared the hair out of the shower drain, and shoves her away.
“I’ll wait here.” Her legs fold like a newborn deer’s and she plants her arse on a patch of daisies. Not even two seconds later she’s collapsed backwards and is out cold.
“Should we…?” I thumb at her uncomfortable looking position.
“Nah.” Jasper pops the boot and rustles about in a plastic shopping bag. “Someone will pick her up soon.”
Sure enough, by the time he’s re-emerged from the back end of his car with two bottles of pre-mixed JD, a member of the Catholic boys’ school rugby team has her under the arms and drags her back to a group sharing a joint.
“I’ve got this for you,” Jasper says, holding out the JD, “or beer.”
“This is great. Thank you.” I take the offered bottle and hold it to my chest. I didn’t grab a jersey before I left home, and the night air has already dropped a few degrees.
“Cold?” His hand runs a path up and down my arm, warming me with more than his touch.
“A little.”
He holds up a single digit and disappears behind the car again, coming out moments later with a dark grey hoodie sporting a huge green marijuana leaf on the back. “I can get it off you later.”
“Classy.” I chuckle. “Won’t you need it?”
He lifts another jacket I hadn’t noticed in his other hand. “I’m sorted.”
“Thanks.” His kindness humbles me and the damn tears I’d worked so hard to stave off on the way here edge back to the surface. No, don’t do it. I can’t make an ass of myself now. Not when I’m just starting to feel like I belong somewhere.
“Shit, Jasper. Didn’t know we could bring our dogs.”
And there it is—the love I’m so used to. I spin around and face our basketball captain, sucking in a breath between my teeth with a hiss. “Sheesh, Marcus. Pity huh? Maybe then you would have been guaranteed a shag if you’d brought Coco.”
He grimaces at the mention of his mother’s prize German Shepard. “Fuck off, Andrews.”
“You got somewhere you should be, Marcus?” Jasper steps up beside me, his forearm resting possessively on my shoulder.
I fight the urge to beat my chest like an ape and bare my teeth at the arsehole who now backs away. Yeah, that’s right, motherfucker. He’s standing up for me.
“Right where I need to be,” Marcus answers cockily. He moves his critical eye between the two of us and frowns. “Why’s she even here?”
“I think she’s got as much right as the rest of us, don’t you?” Jasper steps forward, shoulders back and chest pushed out. His head cocks to the side as he finishes, “What exactly is it that makes you so much better than her anyway?”
“Dude,” Marcus says with a laugh. “She’s a troll. When you’re finished playing martyr over here, we’ve got plenty of talent over by Damien’s ute.”
I look across to Damien’s truck, and sure enough, there they are: the “talent.”It’s a code name for “hot chicks.” It shouldn’t bother me, the shit Marcus says, but when somebody calls you ugly there isn’t a single way to avoid the fact it stings.