Read Online Save Yourself by Kelly Braffet - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kelly Braffet
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her cocoon of borrowed black. Layla glanced over her shoulder and said, “Eric, be nice to my sister or I’ll stomp you.”
“Take a fucking joke,” Eric said, and Layla said, “You’re a fucking joke.”
“Children,” Justinian said. His tone was dry, ironic, but the car went silent.
He drove fast. The music was loud, and at night, all the roads looked the same. Perched on the raised middle of the seat, Verna felt off-balance and precarious. She could see Layla’s boots propped up on the dashboard, wrists crossed lightly on top of her knees, the red coal of her cigarette an orange firefly hovering around her hands. The smoke made Verna dizzy. She wasn’t wearing a seat belt and she couldn’t stop imagining herself flying through the windshield as it shattered around her.
When the car stopped, before the headlights cut off, Verna saw trees: thin trees, broad trees, trees in layers, trees upon trees upon trees. They were parked on a single-lane dirt road. Outside, in the blissfully fresh air, Verna saw no lights and no houses, heard no highway sounds or barking dogs. Criss had a flashlight and was already disappearing into the woods. Justinian took something from the trunk of the car and handed it to Eric, and then he and Layla, arms twined together so they looked like one creature, melted into the shadows. “Come on, Vee,” Layla called over her shoulder.
Verna hesitated, then followed. Twigs and branches caught ather and her feet couldn’t seem to find the flat spots. She prayed she wouldn’t fall, not in front of everybody. Although technically she was behind everybody. From somewhere in the darkness, Layla called, “Verna, hurry up!”
“I’m trying.” Frustrated, she pulled at a grasping frond. “It’s dark.”
She heard Justinian say, “She doesn’t have any light?” The sound carried clearly in the silence. A moment later, Verna saw a white beam gliding through the woods toward her, a black shape behind it.
“Sorry. I thought you had a flashlight.” If there’d been contempt in his voice that afternoon, there was none now. His face seemed to float.
“I’m okay. Just clumsy,” Verna said. He reached out a shimmering hand to help her. She couldn’t imagine taking it. But then her toe caught a root and she found herself not just holding his hand but clutching it, almost desperately. His fingers were warm.
He steadied her. “I doubt that.”
“You haven’t known me long.” She sounded bitter even to herself.
“How long you’ve known someone isn’t important,” he said. “Sometimes you can see somebody every day for years and not know them at all. Other people, it seems like you’re born knowing. Come on. Eric has the fire going.”
Indeed, a warm light flickered through the trees and the air was full of the fumy tang of lighter fluid. Justinian led Verna to a small clearing, where Layla was draping a blanket over a fallen log. On the other side of the fire, Eric was doing the same thing; Criss was bent over, struggling with some object she held between her knees.
“Sorry, Vee,” Layla said. “I thought Eric gave you a flashlight.”
“Eric didn’t have a flashlight to give,” Eric said, settling down on his blanket. “Eric is not made of flashlights.”
Verna heard a hollow pop. “There, you son of a bitch,” Criss said triumphantly, and passed the thing she’d been fighting with—a bottle of wine, now open—to Layla. She tossed a small, silver thing down onto the blanket. “That corkscrew is a piece of shit, Layla.”
“Next time I steal a corkscrew from my nondrinking parents,I’ll try to make sure it’s top-of-the-line.” Layla took a swig from the bottle, spilling a little; a drop of wine ran down her chin. Grinning, she wiped it away and then held the bottle out to Verna. The look on her face was the same one she used to cast down from the tops of trees. “Drink, Vee?”
Verna could see Justinian over Layla’s shoulder, watching. The fire
“Take a fucking joke,” Eric said, and Layla said, “You’re a fucking joke.”
“Children,” Justinian said. His tone was dry, ironic, but the car went silent.
He drove fast. The music was loud, and at night, all the roads looked the same. Perched on the raised middle of the seat, Verna felt off-balance and precarious. She could see Layla’s boots propped up on the dashboard, wrists crossed lightly on top of her knees, the red coal of her cigarette an orange firefly hovering around her hands. The smoke made Verna dizzy. She wasn’t wearing a seat belt and she couldn’t stop imagining herself flying through the windshield as it shattered around her.
When the car stopped, before the headlights cut off, Verna saw trees: thin trees, broad trees, trees in layers, trees upon trees upon trees. They were parked on a single-lane dirt road. Outside, in the blissfully fresh air, Verna saw no lights and no houses, heard no highway sounds or barking dogs. Criss had a flashlight and was already disappearing into the woods. Justinian took something from the trunk of the car and handed it to Eric, and then he and Layla, arms twined together so they looked like one creature, melted into the shadows. “Come on, Vee,” Layla called over her shoulder.
Verna hesitated, then followed. Twigs and branches caught ather and her feet couldn’t seem to find the flat spots. She prayed she wouldn’t fall, not in front of everybody. Although technically she was behind everybody. From somewhere in the darkness, Layla called, “Verna, hurry up!”
“I’m trying.” Frustrated, she pulled at a grasping frond. “It’s dark.”
She heard Justinian say, “She doesn’t have any light?” The sound carried clearly in the silence. A moment later, Verna saw a white beam gliding through the woods toward her, a black shape behind it.
“Sorry. I thought you had a flashlight.” If there’d been contempt in his voice that afternoon, there was none now. His face seemed to float.
“I’m okay. Just clumsy,” Verna said. He reached out a shimmering hand to help her. She couldn’t imagine taking it. But then her toe caught a root and she found herself not just holding his hand but clutching it, almost desperately. His fingers were warm.
He steadied her. “I doubt that.”
“You haven’t known me long.” She sounded bitter even to herself.
“How long you’ve known someone isn’t important,” he said. “Sometimes you can see somebody every day for years and not know them at all. Other people, it seems like you’re born knowing. Come on. Eric has the fire going.”
Indeed, a warm light flickered through the trees and the air was full of the fumy tang of lighter fluid. Justinian led Verna to a small clearing, where Layla was draping a blanket over a fallen log. On the other side of the fire, Eric was doing the same thing; Criss was bent over, struggling with some object she held between her knees.
“Sorry, Vee,” Layla said. “I thought Eric gave you a flashlight.”
“Eric didn’t have a flashlight to give,” Eric said, settling down on his blanket. “Eric is not made of flashlights.”
Verna heard a hollow pop. “There, you son of a bitch,” Criss said triumphantly, and passed the thing she’d been fighting with—a bottle of wine, now open—to Layla. She tossed a small, silver thing down onto the blanket. “That corkscrew is a piece of shit, Layla.”
“Next time I steal a corkscrew from my nondrinking parents,I’ll try to make sure it’s top-of-the-line.” Layla took a swig from the bottle, spilling a little; a drop of wine ran down her chin. Grinning, she wiped it away and then held the bottle out to Verna. The look on her face was the same one she used to cast down from the tops of trees. “Drink, Vee?”
Verna could see Justinian over Layla’s shoulder, watching. The fire
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