The Cemetery Boys by Heather Brewer Page A

acceptance into their little club. That was serious. This was nothing. So why was I being such a jerk to him over some bad joke gone wrong?
    Sighing heavily, I ran my right hand through my hair, raking it back from my face. “We could have gotten seriously hurt.”
    Devon finished his cigarette and then dropped it on the ground. “Don’t be such a pussy. Come on.”
    Once we reached the group, Devon made the kill sign, slashing his finger across his neck. Immediately, Thorne turned off the music and all eyes were on Devon. Devon said, “So, Stephen just asked me what the hell we were doing last night here in the Playground.”
    To my left, Markus snorted. “If I remember it right, a shitload of vodka.”
    â€œBut mostly schnapps,” Nick chimed in.
    Devon let them have their laugh, but then said something that made the very air change. It felt heavier, somehow, and tasted kind of metallic. But maybe that was the last of the hangover talking. Devon said, “He seems pretty worried that we might throw him off a cliff or something.”
    I glanced at the others, who were all watching him quietly, fearfully, as if waiting for him to speak again. I cleared my throat in embarrassment. Why had I come here tonight? Even if I was remembering right about the cliff and all, why did I feel the need to break up the party? Maybe I was determined to ruin the small bit of happiness I’d found here in Spencer. Maybe I didn’t really believe that I deserved happiness anywhere.
    Without waiting for their response or approval—he needed neither, when it boiled down to it—Devon looked directly at me. “Like I said last night: once you know it, you can’t unknow it. You’re either in, or you’re out. We want you in. In on all of our secrets. In on all of our fun. But we don’t let people in lightly. So be careful with your choice here, Stephen.”
    Everyone seemed very concerned about my ability to make the right choices lately. Everyone but me. I seemedhappy enough to let everyone else make the decisions for me.
    Devon stepped up to me. The group hushed, like maybe we were going to brawl or something. I hoped not. Devon was lean, but he looked tough. And I’d never been in a fistfight before. In a low voice, he said, “So. Are you in . . . or not?”
    I looked around at the boys and, last, at Devon. “What happens if I’m not?”
    Markus and the other boys laughed like I’d just said the funniest thing they’d ever heard. Devon shrugged casually, but something about the light in his eyes said that he was feeling anything but casual at the moment. Maybe I’d surprised him with my response. Or maybe I was wrong and he didn’t really give a crap what I wanted. “Only one way to find out.”
    I glanced at Markus, who offered me a reassuring smile. Then I met Devon’s eyes, wondering what exactly I was getting myself into. I swallowed hard. It was my life. And it was my choice how I decided to live it. With a nod, I said, “I’m in.”
    Devon wore a small, knowing smile, as if he’d never had a doubt. “Then let’s do this.” Thorne turned up the music again and Markus placed a bottle in my hand. I had no idea what was in it, or even whether I could really trust this group of guys. I just knew that I wanted this moment to last, and I didn’t care what came next.
    Now mattered. Not then . Not someday . But now .
    I pressed the bottle to my lips, tipping it up, letting the clear fluid empty into my mouth, burning my throat. A hand backlit by the bonfire reached out and lifted the bottle farther, and I drank and drank until it was empty. I knew that hand belonged to Devon. I knew that he and the boys probably got piss drunk in the cemetery every night, all summer long. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to belong. And forget. And enjoy.
    The evening became a happy blur. At one point, Devon