Clare nodded, her lids heavy, her smile lopsided and slack. “’K!” she shouted back over the music. She watched, trying to force her eyes to focus as Kaylee gripped the porch railing but tripped on the stairs anyway. “You’re drunk, you bitch!” she shouted out to her friend, who didn’t hear a word she said because of the blaring music and noise of voices. Clare laughed and returned to her dance.

They had been dancing for a pretty long time—and she hadn’t seen Adam since they arrived. Not that she would expect to ever see him dancing. It was totally not something he would ever be caught dead doing. She should look for him, she thought. He was probably inside somewhere, playing darts or pool, maybe even sharing a bowl with someone out in the backyard. Adam usually gravitated toward the smaller, quieter groups during parties.

“’S’cuse me,” Clare said as she pressed past several globs of dancing bodies toward the stairs Kaylee had just tripped up. “Sorry, just trying to…’s’cuse me.”

She grabbed the white-painted porch banister as soon as she reached it and used it to guide her uncooperative legs upward. The image of the stairs and the people sitting on them blurred before her. God, she was totally wasted. If she passed through the kitchen, she should get a drink of water.

Inside the house, it was just as loud as outside but also hot from the collective press of bodies and lack of fresh air. To her left, she could see Kaylee now leaning on the dining room table with one arm and smiling at Ryan Edwards over his nearly empty punch bowl. She tried her best to scan the room for Adam, but her eyes refused to align and cooperate.

She sighed deep and asked the nearest person to her left, “Have you seen Adam Collins?”

The girl was Becca Mack, and if Clare had realized that before opening her mouth, she never would have asked the question. Becca was one of Heather’s crew, one of her admiring hangers on, forever competing for position within Heather’s closest circle. Clare was pretty sure she had been one of the girls leaving the auditorium with Heather the night of the Cleaver High talent show.

Becca’s eyes widened into two large white ovals as her lips disappeared between her teeth. She stared at Clare, having clearly heard the question, but didn’t say anything as she shook her head and took a sip from her own cup. When she turned away from Clare, she immediately whispered into the ear of the guy sitting on the couch in front of her.

Whatever.