Prologue
“Can you see me?” Cole yelled over to them. He was standing on the south shore of the reservoir, barefoot and facing the water. He looked like he was thinking, but Janet knew better. The scrunch in Cole’s expression came from trying to keep his belly in a six-pack.
“I’ve got you,” Victoria yelled back as she framed her brother. She was using his phone and struggling with the device. “How do you zoom on this thing?” she asked as she shuffled to the edge, not looking at her feet and focusing on Cole. Janet could see a pink stamp of tongue at the corner of Victoria’s mouth as she tried her best to get the shot her brother wanted.
“You’ve got to be in portrait mode when you go live.”
Janet meant it as a polite pointer, but as the words came out of her mouth, they sounded like a jab. She didn’t mean it to be a dig, but she couldn’t help it, either. Her tone was why people thought she was such a bitch. Her tone and that she kind of was. Whatever—it was fun to watch the sheep quiver.
“I, uh,” Victoria stammered, propping the phone upright, then looking over to Janet for confirmation that she was holding it correctly.
“Never mind,” Cole yelled, exhaling, letting his six-pack deflate to a four-pack. Cole was effortlessly hot. Really. And Janet thought he looked better when he didn’t try. “Maybe just let Janet do it, okay?” Cole hollered, frustrated. “Please?”
Janet crept over to the edge to join Cole’s sister, careful not to slip. As soon as Janet had the phone away from Victoria, she was adjusting focus and framing. It wasn’t Victoria’s fault she was inept. She was young, inexperienced. What was she? Twelve, thirteen? How old were eighth graders? It didn’t matter. Victoria Hill was naive. Janet had mastered the stomach-in-ass-out art of the selfie before Victoria had been old enough to remember her own passcode.
Janet gave the signal and Cole performed a backflip—well, a half flip—with a splash into the water that was probably bigger than he meant it to be.
Behind her, there was a cascade of can tabs being pulled, twist-off bottles popped. Matt must have given a signal that the party was safe. It was Matt Trent’s job to figure out when his fellow security guards would next patrol the reservoir. He must have seen them head back to their cabin at the mouth of the driveway. That meant they had about an hour until they’d need to think about leaving. Plenty of time for the lightweights to get wasted.
From over Janet’s shoulder there was a deep rumble and then a familiar voice.
“Outta my way!” Ginger Wagner shouted. Ginger wasn’t her real name; it was Annabeth. But she’d tried lightening her hair in seventh grade, the process had gone all sorts of wrong, and her hair had ended up this clown-red color. She’d kept it, claiming she liked it that way, and had been “Ginger” ever since. Janet turned, forgetting Cole’s phone in her hand, and watched Ginger skateboard past.
“Watch it, slag!” Janet yelled as Ginger rolled by. She got a playful finger in response.
Janet smiled, eyes moving with Ginger. The wheels of the girl’s skateboard were loud on the old, pitted concrete.
Janet tracked her with the camera. “You’re live, Ginger! Do something,” she shouted, and Ginger complied, popping her board over the knee-high lip of concrete that passed for a safety barrier. Ginger cannonballed into the reservoir, her board following her on the thirty-foot drop. Live content gold. Janet made a note to Boomerang the first few seconds of airtime and tweet it out when she got home.
Kids pushed to the lip of the reservoir, watched the water.
The party seemed to hit the pause button as they waited for Ginger to surface. Nobody opened drinks, nobody talked or laughed.
On the shore below, Matt had climbed down to join Cole at the edge of the water. Looking out of place in his security guard shirt and swim trunks, Matt had his phone out. It was a big Samsung Galaxy that used to be his mom’s. Mom hand-me-downs, yuck. Janet shivered. Not that she was rich like Cole, but at least she didn’t have to live in constant fear of her battery overheating and exploding.
“Uhhhh, dudes.”
They were still waiting for Ginger. She had been holding her breath for a long time . . .
Matt yelled up, “If she drowns, I get to keep the body.” Janet wasn’t even sure what he meant, but assumed he was being disgusting. Even though he was the guy who let them into the reservoir to party, Matt was a fucking dick—and Janet knew she wasn’t the only person who thought that.
They waited. Janet could feel her own lungs begin to strain—she didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath—but then Ginger’s head broke the surface of the water. She was waving her bikini top. “Impact knocked it right off! Come on in!” she said. “Water’s warm.”
Kids didn’t need any more of an invitation. The dam of propriety broke and everyone rushed for the water. Some climbed down to the shore, while some took the more direct route of a high-dive. Fuck, who are all these people? Janet recognized most of the kids from their year, knew all the juniors. A few more of the faces she knew, but not the names. Some she recognized as seniors of little note. A handful were older kids who’d graduated but hadn’t gone off to college for one reason or another. The older kids made Janet a little uneasy, but then they were probably where most of the beer came from.
No, the older creeps weren’t what was really troubling her. There are underclassmen here. Janet felt the back of her neck prickle with indignation. She looked at the young faces. Singling them out by the way they sipped their beers. They’d be taught a lesson later. Maybe she’d encourage Tucker to get them drunk and then abandon them out by Tillerson’s field. Every year some drunk frosh wound up knocking on the Tillersons’ front door to use their phone because no one could get a cell signal out there and the little punks needed to call Mom for a ride home. So why not a whole bunch of them, dropped directly from the reservoir?
No, it wasn’t just the trespassing freshmen pissing her off, either. It wasn’t like she’d remember tomorrow to launch a full investigation, but Janet was annoyed that someone in their group had open-invited everyone. Tonight should have been their night, just the six of them—seven if you counted Victoria (Janet didn’t).
This trip to the reservoir was meant to be for just them.
“Give me that,” Janet said, swiping a beer from a terrified-looking first-year. “We can’t be drinking on camera, dickhead.” She drained the half beer and tossed the empty can over her shoulder. The boy watched, something like admiration—infatuation?—creeping onto his face. Janet shoved him and told him to “Fuck off.” It made her feel better.
“Yo, Janet,” Cole called up. He was halfway up the stairs. “Ready to try the backflip again?” He made a “start rolling” motion with one finger.
Oh yeah, she still had his phone.
She didn’t even remember ending the feed. That wasn’t good. She hit the button to reconnect. There was a hazy moment of the phone fighting for a connection, then the five-second countdown.
“Look out below!” Tucker Lee yelled as he ran into frame with a lit M-80 in hand.
“What the fuck—” Janet heard herself starting, but then Cole lifted a hand. She cut the stream before it could go live again.