“Tully!”

Before she could respond, her old friends surrounded her, pulled her away from Kate. She went to the keg first and let one of the boys give her a plastic cup full of foamy gold Rainier beer. She stared down at it, jolted by the memory that came with it: Pat, pushing her to the ground . . .

She looked around for Kate, but couldn’t see her friend in the crowd.

Then everyone began chanting her name. “Tu-lly. Tu-lly.”

No one was going to hurt her. Not here; tomorrow, maybe, when the authorities caught up with her, but not now. She chugged the beer and held the cup out for another, yelling out Kate’s name as she did.

Kate appeared instantly, as if she’d been just out of view, waiting to be called for.

Tully shoved the beer toward her. “Here.”

Kate shook her head. It was a slight there-and-gone motion, but Tully saw it and felt ashamed that she’d offered the beer, and then angry that her friend was so innocent. Tully had never been innocent; not that she could remember anyway.

“Ka-tie, Ka-tie,” Tully yelled, getting the crowd to chant with her. “Come on, Katie,” she said quietly. “We’re best friends, aren’t we?”

Kate glanced nervously at the crowd around her.

Tully felt that shame again and the jealousy. She could stop this right now, protect Katie—

Kate took the beer and chugged it.

More than half of it spilled down her chin and onto her halter top, making the shimmery fabric cling to her breasts, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Then the music changed. ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” blared through the speakers. You can dance, you can j-ive . . .

“I love this song,” Kate said.

Tully grabbed Kate’s hand and dragged her over to where the kids were dancing. There, Tully let loose and fell into the music and the movement.

By the time the music changed and slowed down, she was breathing hard and laughing easily.

But it was Kate who was the more changed. Maybe it was the one beer, or the pulsing beat of the music; Tully wasn’t sure. All she knew was that Kate looked gorgeous, with her blond hair shining in the light from an overhead fixture and her pale, delicate face flushed with exertion.

When Neal Stewart came up to them and asked Kate to dance, Kate was the only one surprised. She turned to Tully. “Neal wants to dance with me,” she yelled during a lull in the song. “He must be drunk.” Putting her hands in the air, she danced away with Neal, leaving Tully standing alone in the crowd.

Kate pressed her cheek against Neal’s soft T-shirt.

It felt so good, the way he had his arms around her, his hands just above her butt. She felt his hips moving against hers. It made her heartbeat speed up, made her breathing quicken. A new feeling overtook her; it was a kind of breathless anticipation. She wanted . . . what?