The Cemetery Boys by Heather Brewer Page B

challenged me to a race back into town—just him and me. The boys all paused then, watching us with expectant looks on their faces. I wasn’t sure how to read them. Did they feel left out? Annoyed? I wasn’t sure.
    Once Devon said the words, we both stood there, facing each other, waiting to see if the other would go through with it and run. Devon moved first, so fast that I might have fallen behind if I’d hesitated for even a moment more. But I darted after him, my lungs burning, my legs aching as we moved from dirt path to asphalt to sidewalk. We ran until my stomach cramped from laughter, and when we reached William Spencer’s mansion, Devon began to climb. I followed, pulling myself up on grates and pipes while planting my feet on bricks that stood out from the building’s surface. I used whatever footholds and handholds I could find, and we scaled the building all the way to the roof. Devon wasfirst to reach it, and he balanced his way to the small tower at the very top, gripping the weather vane with his right hand to steady himself. I climbed up beside him, knowing that Devon had won the race, but not giving a damn.
    The night sky stretched out above us, an endless velvet blanket riddled with millions of bright holes. I was feeling breathless, but not out of breath. Tired, but not at all ready to sleep. This was our time—the midnight hour—and there wasn’t a single damn thing that anyone else could do about it.
    From way up here, the town of Spencer looked beautiful. Magical, almost. I took it all in for a moment before speaking. “So, I gotta ask. What would you have done to me if I’d said I wasn’t in?”
    â€œKilled you.”
    He hadn’t even hesitated before answering, and there wasn’t so much as a hint of a smile in his expression.
    â€œYou’re full of shit.” I was pretty sure he wasn’t, but what did I know? Too little, I feared.
    â€œSo’s the world, Stephen. It’s also full of monsters with friendly faces.”
    I shrugged. “Yeah, well. You’re still full of shit.”
    A smile touched his lips, but faded quickly as he looked out over the town. “From up here, it almost looks like a nice place to live.”
    A chuckle escaped me. “Alcohol has a way of making things look different.”
    â€œMaybe that’s not such a bad thing.” He withdrew a flask from an inside pocket and unscrewed the cap, offering me a swig. When I shook my head, he took a gulp of whatever was inside, then closed the flask and put it away. “Tell me about Denver.”
    I shrugged, taken aback some by his sudden interest in my past. “What’s to tell? It’s cold in the winter, but the people are nice.”
    â€œI bet the mountains are awesome.” His expression looked almost dreamy, and I wondered for a moment exactly how much booze he could handle before falling off a roof.
    â€œWhy just bet on it? Why not move there?”
    Storms rolled into his eyes, casting out the dreams that had been there. “You don’t get it, Stephen. Some towns are like glue. And some people are just stuck. Entire families, man. For generations.”
    â€œWhat about after high school? Why not apply to college somewhere else? Or get a job and move?”
    Venom invaded him then, as if my suggestion really angered him. “Because some people don’t have the luxury of choice, Stephen. And I’m one of them. I have a D average at an already crappy school. I’m stuck. In goddamn Spencer, Michigan. Until the day I die.”
    We both went quiet for a few minutes, until finally, Devon broke our collective silence. “Cara was asking about you.”
    A record needle immediately scratched across the soundtrack that had been playing inside my mind. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my obvious interest in the subject hidden behind a curtain of aloofness. “Yeah?”
    Devon took a deep breath and