They fall silent. Night has come, and the woods are dark enough that I’d be scared even without all this. Our footsteps crack fallen branches as we go, each snap going off like gunfire.

I wish I could see Chaz’s face. I wish I could hold his hand. I wish I could apologize.

The walk seems forever and apparently not just to me. “We should leave ’em out here,” grumbles Buzz Cut, and Red agrees.

“Don’t be pussies. We’re almost there.” Gordo doesn’t hesitate for even a moment.

“There” is an opening in the woods, where trees give way to rocky earth that stretches forward less than five feet. The edge of the cliff is uneven in both directions, remnants of a long-abandoned quarry. The cliff face is far from smooth—small outcroppings here and there form shelves that give the Ledges its name. Fall from the top, and your pain choices are plentiful: smash into a ledge on the way down or plummet straight to your death.

I’m crying. I can’t help it. I think I hear Chaz say, “Weese,” but I can’t be sure, and Red and Buzz Cut jerk me to a stop.

It’s so dark here, even with stars in the sky, that I can’t see their faces clearly. However, Gordo’s voice is distinct: the righteousness of someone who has gotten to act on the worst of his prejudices. “You ever been out here, Chaz, or are you too big a pansy to know about this place?”

“I know where we are.” His words come out heavy.

“Then you know what would happen if we threw you off the edge right now.”

No one says anything. There is no sound from the woods behind us. There is no wind.

Gordo almost purrs. “And culo, I want to. But I’m a Christian, and so I’m gonna offer you a little grace here …”

My head is pounding. Does he mean that? I can feel Red’s grip on one arm so tight it’s digging into my skin, and I think he’s wondering, too.

Gordo is pulling Chaz to the edge, and Red drags me forward too, and my heart is beating so hard it hurts. What are they going to do?

There is a little outcropping about five feet down from the lip just below us, maybe six or seven feet wide by three feet deep. “You’re going to have a romantic night on your own private ledge.”

“And we’ll even help you get down there cause we’re that nice.” Vin Weasel is loving this. “If you want to climb back up, that’s on you. I wouldn’t recommend it—one false move and …” He trails off, laughing.