Someone else throws another gargoyle mask at me.

I block it with my arm. “What the fuck?”

“Dude,” Hunter emphasizes. “We’re leaving in a second, and you’re playing Sims.”

Nathan laughs after taking a shot of whiskey. “Did your virtual girlfriend cheat on you with the virtual pool boy?”

I flip them both off. They saw me playing The Sims one time, and they’ve never dropped it. I actually like that game—but if I even tried to admit it, they’d bring it up every minute of the day. And I’m avoiding that headache.

“Let’s go.” Kyle stands and puts his mask on. He thumps at his chest with his fists.

“You’re a gargoyle, not a gorilla,” Nathan tells him before sliding his own mask on his face.

“Same family.” Kyle’s muffled voice comes through. Not long after, everyone begins heading out. I stuff my laptop and headphones into my backpack but leave it and just carry the mask.

Each step I take, I feel worse, and excuses start blazing in my head. To get out of this, to leave. I’m going to throw up.

I wipe my forehead with my arm, the mask heavy in my hand. I close Nathan’s front door behind me, and they laugh, practically skipping down his driveway to the road.

I’m the only one unmasked at this point.

As soon as my feet hit the asphalt, I just tighten up. I freeze in place. They’re about five paces ahead of me when Nathan notices I’m missing. He turns around and gestures for me to follow. “Come on.”

I shake my head tensely. “I can’t,” is the only excuse I can purge.

Nathan lifts his mask halfway up his head, tufts of red hair exposed. His eyes narrow at me, and he comes closer, our friends following. If I bail, there’s a chance others may bail too—and this was Nathan’s plan.

“Why are you being a little baby?” Nathan says loudly, so our friends hear.

“Just go without me,” I tell them—the words spilling before I can take them back.

Nathan steps even closer to me. He’s shorter and thinner than me, but still, my muscles flex and strain, my pulse accelerating and breath deepening.

“If you ditch us,” Nathan sneers, “that’s it—you know that, right?”

I glare. “Come on—”

“No, we’re in this together. That was the fucking plan.” Nathan gets in my face.

I shove him back, enough to give me space, and he’s about to put his hands on me—I lose it and shift out of his path. “Seriously, don’t fucking touch me!” I chuck the fucking mask at him.

“You’re the one who hit me! God, what the hell is wrong with you, Abbey?”

I run a hand through my hair, the strands out of my eyes now. I’m shaking, and I can’t say anything. I just walk back to his house, up his driveway, so I can grab my backpack and go home.

“Garrison!” Nathan shouts.

“Forget about him,” Hunter says. “He’s probably pissed he can’t spend time with his fake friends on Tumblr.”