Dangerous Boys

Oliver sighed. ‘Look, I’ll come get you. Where did you say you are?’

‘No thanks,’ I replied shortly.

‘Seriously?’ Oliver laughed. ‘What are you going to do, walk home? Come on, don’t be like this. Baby brother would never forgive me if I left his girl all alone in the dark.’

I hesitated. I didn’t want to see him, or worse still, owe him, but I didn’t have a choice.

‘Fine,’ I replied at last. I gave him my address and hung up, snuggling deeper in my jacket as I settled in the cold car to wait. I had nothing else to do, so I found my notes from class and the assignment for next week. I had the book with me, so I read through the first chapters, making notes as I went, until lights shone through the night. The Reznicks’ black BMW cruised slowly around the parking lot and came to a stop in front of me, engine running. The window lowered, Oliver leaned out.

‘Come along, Chloe,’ he called, beckoning. ‘Time to stop playing damsel in distress.’

I grabbed my bag and locked up the car; hurrying over to slide into the passenger seat. I hoped that Oliver would give his usual acerbic wit a break, but instead, he regarded me with amusement. ‘Your chariot awaits. Just call me your knight in shining armour.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, reluctant.

‘Don’t go crazy with gratitude,’ Oliver smirked. He drove away, turning down the dark streets towards the highway. ‘And what did we learn today?’

‘Just leave it,’ I replied, gazing out at the lights blurring by.

‘Leave what?’

‘This. The smirky comments and all your bullshit. Not tonight, OK?’

There was a pause.

‘What happened?’ Oliver’s voice was quiet. I glanced over. His expression was open, no sarcasm in sight, and, despite myself, I felt my defences slip.

I swallowed, feeling it all well up again. ‘A girl died. A friend of mine. No,’ I corrected myself. ‘We weren’t friends, but I knew her. She was getting out of this place, she didn’t deserve . . . She didn’t deserve to just be gone. She was a good person. And I know you’re about to say there’s no such thing as good, or evil,’ I added fiercely. ‘But there is. Crystal never hurt anyone, she deserved better than this.’

There was silence for a moment, then Oliver’s voice came, clear beside me. ‘Aren’t you good too?’

I stopped for a moment, weighing the question. What I should say? Ethan thought I was good. He told me all the time, how kind I was, how sweet. ‘I’ve got a good one,’ he’d say, like I was a prize he’d won at ring-toss at the county fair. The truth was, his compliments just made me feel guilty, like he was blind to the flashes of anger and bitterness that rose to the surface, too often these days.

‘No,’ I admitted quietly, resignation ringing hollow in my chest. ‘No, I’m not.’

I braced myself, waiting for a glib response, but Oliver didn’t reply. The miles slipped past, until he turned in at a rest stop gas station. ‘Wait here,’ he told me, stopping the car.

I watched him walk up to the store, a dark figure in the neon lights. He went to the counter inside and chatted with the clerk for a moment before emerging with a brown paper sack. He passed it to me and started the engine again.

I looked inside. A six-pack of imported beer and a bottle of whiskey.

‘I don’t drink,’ I told him, confused.

‘You don’t, or you haven’t?’ Oliver countered. ‘Pass me the M&Ms.’

I did as he asked and he ripped open the packet with his teeth, driving again, too fast, out on highway back roads until I didn’t know where we were any more.

I didn’t care. Home was nothing but a new bundle of frustrations. The further we went, the less I had to think about: cocooned in the warm car with the headlights cutting through the night, the music playing something dark and sweet. Oliver didn’t ask me anything, didn’t make a single demand, just stayed there, silent in the driver’s seat, taking me away from everything.

At last, he turned on to a gravel road, slowing to ease the car over the bumpy ground. He drove a while, snaking through shadows and vast piles of rubble, until finally he came to a stop at the edge of a huge quarry.

‘What is this place?’ I asked.

He shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’ Oliver reached over and took the bag from me, then got out, walking around to hitch himself up on the hood of the car.

I paused a moment, watching as he took a swig from the whiskey bottle. I got out too.

The night was clear and crisp, my breath fogging in the air. The quarry stretched in front of us, several football fields in size, the carved edges disappearing down who knew how far into the dark. There were some buildings visible on the far side, with lights shining weakly in the dark, but, aside from their pale glow and the distant flash of cars on the freeway, we were completely alone.

I took a deep breath, feeling the cold chill me from the inside out.

I climbed up on the hood next to him and held my hand out. Oliver raised an eyebrow again in that now-familiar smirk, but he passed the bottle.

I took a sip, almost choking, but forcing the burning liquid down. ‘Why do you drink this?’ I spluttered.

‘Wait for it,’ Oliver told me and, a moment later, I felt the warmth slipping through my bloodstream, the deep burn.

I took another sip.

The silence stretched. I snuck a sideways look at him. Oliver was leaning back on his elbows, looking at the stars. His coat had fallen open, revealing a thin white T-shirt and his usual skinny black jeans. He wore dress shoes, I noticed, and a leather-banded wristwatch. He wasn’t as built as Ethan, who had broad shoulders and a solid, muscular torso; Oliver was tauter, lithe.

He turned his head and caught me watching him. I glanced away and took another drink.

Oliver sat up. ‘Chloe, Chloe . . . ’ He said it sing-song and my skin prickled. I didn’t like the way I was on edge with him, not knowing what he thought, or how he felt.

‘Quit that,’ I told him, tensing.

‘What?’ Oliver sounded innocent.

‘You know what.’ I stared out at the dark quarry, the endless black night. A whole world out there and I was still right here. ‘Why did you come back?’ I asked him. ‘You could be anywhere, doing anything. Why would you choose this?’

‘I’m not here to stay.’ Oliver took the bottle back from me and lifted it to his lips in a long swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Just a month or two, I’ll figure something out.’