Maddie stared at the baggie. “Maybe I’ll just try half,” she said, then stuck out her tongue like June had. Hunter placed the whole pill on her tongue.

“Hey!” she said, but she’d already swallowed. Hunter just laughed.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take good care of you. You’re going to love it.”

Will headed for the door. “C’mon, man,” he said to Hunter. “Let’s go throw the ball around before you’re too stoned to do anything but roll around in the grass.”

They tapped the keg and filled their cups. Someone plugged in an iPod and speakers, and a few kids set up a table using sawhorses and plywood from the garage. Soon a beer pong game was going strong, with Trip O’Connor landing his balls without fail. Kids were hanging out in the kitchen and on the deck. Will came back inside just in time to see his brother arc a perfect shot into his opponent’s last cup. Trip’s opponent, who looked like he was about fourteen, gamely tossed back the beer, and then stumbled away from the table. “Lucky shit,” the kid slurred. “I mean, lucky shot. I’ll get you next time.”

Trip laughed. “Drink some water!” he advised the kid’s retreating back.

Will looked into Trip’s cups. He’d only had to drink half of his beers, but he already seemed a little toasted. Will checked the time on his phone—they’d only been there for an hour.

“Had enough?” Will asked Trip, already knowing the answer. His brother lived for this kind of thing.

“Are you kidding?” Trip asked. “I can’t quit while I’m ahead. Come on. I need a partner.”

Will watched as Trip arranged the cups and poured fresh beers. Some kids from school wandered over and began to do the same on the other side of the table. “I have track practice in the morning,” Will reminded his brother. But even as he said it, Will was already bouncing the ping-pong ball off the table, testing out its spring. He loved any kind of competition, and beer pong was the sport of drinking.

“Consider this carb-loading,” Trip replied.

Will grinned, giving in. It was almost the end of senior year. How many more nights like this would there be? He watched his brother make his first shot, and then he closed one eye, focused, and sank his own ball. Trip slapped him on the back. “Team O’Connor!” he roared, and Will echoed him: “Team O’Connor!”