Veronica was watching me with narrowed eyes, a smirk on her face. What did she think was so funny? She probably expected me to decline, I bet she would love that. It would be a victory for her if I was so uncomfortable that I stayed behind. I’d go to spite them all at this point.

“Sure, whatever,” I said. “Let’s go then.”

“See, Alex?” Danielle said. “I told you, Jess is always down for some fun.”

Trepidation prickled up my back, although I wasn’t entirely sure why. Everything felt wrong. But I’d be damned if I was going to let them intimidate me.

“All right.” Alex nodded. “Let’s go have some fun.”

The air was cold as it whipped through my hair and it wasn’t long until I was shivering. I didn’t know where we were going, but we were barreling down a dark road at midnight huddled in the bed of Nate’s lifted truck. Danielle and Alex were in the cab with Nate, while Veronica, Candace, and Matthew sat in the back with me. Nate was blasting the radio but otherwise we were silent, tension resting over us like a poisonous cloud.

As Nate took a few more turns, my nervousness rose. I recognized this dirt road, pot-holed and barely wide enough for his truck to pass. Low-hanging branches from massive black walnut trees whipped the truck’s cab as we slowed, the suspension creaking with every bump and dip.

I knew where we were going.

The Reed residence was set back from the road with a large dirt yard. The chain-link fence was old and bent in places, but a new gate guarded the driveway, secured with a chain and padlock. Large trees flanked the house, which was a monstrosity built of dark wood with a wraparound porch. It would have been a beautiful home if it had ever been cared for, but Manson’s parents had never been capable or willing to do so.

“Doesn’t Manson’s mom live here alone?” I said, my voice barely a whisper. Last I’d known, Manson had been living with his social worker’s family, the Peters, while his mom lived here and his dad went MIA again. Nate turned off the radio and drove slowly along the road, past the front gate toward the far side of the property.

“She died,” Matthew said, and the declaration made my heart lurch. I’d never even known the woman, only that she was usually intoxicated and rarely left the house. “She left this place to Manson, and that freak hasn’t done shit with it. Whole place should be burned to the ground.”