Winterwood

She raises one sharp, pointed eyebrow, and I realize how tired she still looks, lids wanting to slip closed. “You mean, you’re just trying to figure out if your boyfriend is responsible?”

I breathe and look away from her, out over the crowd of boys. Someone is singing along to the music and his voice isn’t half bad, if it weren’t for the hiccups punctuating every few lines. “A boy is dead, Suzy,” I say, swiveling back to her. “And someone is responsible.”

Her mouth goes slack and she leans against the railing again. “Accidents happen,” she says, and she takes a long swig of her beer.

“What do you mean?” I step closer to her, breathing her alcohol-tinged breath, which is masked only slightly by her floral perfume. But she shakes her head and turns away, using the railing for balance as she wobbles up the stairs. “Suzy!” I call, but she’s already reached the top and disappeared down a hall.

Accidents happen. It’s similar to what Rhett said at the bonfire.

I glance back to the front door, still open from when I came inside. I should leave, go back home, lock the door, and wait for the snow to thaw—for the road to open and for everything to go back to normal.

But I don’t. I climb the stairs after Suzy. I go deeper into the house.

Maybe she does know what happened.

I pass two open doorways, bunk beds lining both rooms. A place for kids to pile into on balmy summer nights.

Muffled voices carry down the hall. The low chatter of boys talking.

I pause beside the last door, pressing myself up against the wall, listening.

“Your girlfriend’s drunk,” someone says from inside the room. Jasper, I think. The boys from the bonfire are here. He sounds far away from the doorway, though, across the room.

“Shut up, man,” Rhett answers. And I hear Suzy make a sound from her throat, like she’s offended.

“She shouldn’t be here,” Jasper adds.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Suzy snaps finally. “And I can go wherever I want.” She sounds wasted and I can imagine the boys’ faces, sneering at her, rolling their eyes.

“You’ve told her too much,” Jasper continues. I can hear footsteps and I wonder if he’s moving toward Rhett. A warning or a threat, perhaps. “She just runs and tells everything to that witch friend of hers.”

“I haven’t told her shit,” Rhett barks.

There’s more movement from inside. It sounds like someone shoves someone else. They don’t even trust one another, I think. They’re starting to crack, lines being drawn. Secrets wedged among them. They can’t stop talking about it—the fear rooted inside them now.

“Stop!” Suzy shouts, and she must step between them because everything falls quiet.

“You guys are only making it worse,” another voice interjects. Lin, probably.

Someone lets out a deep exhale and then there’s the sound of someone sitting, the depression of springs—probably a bed.

“We just need to wait it out,” Rhett says, but his voice sounds tight, strangled in his throat. Like maybe he doesn’t believe his own words.

A lull falls over the room, and I press myself closer to the wall, straining, unsure what’s happening.

But then someone finally speaks—Lin, the timbre of his voice like strings on a violin stretched too tight. “They’re going to find him eventually.”

Another long pause, as though everyone is too afraid to break the silence.

Suzy clears her throat, but it still sounds cracked when she speaks. “You guys know where Max is?”

There is a low, desperate undertone of grumbles. One of the boys says something I can’t make out, a hush of words like he’s afraid the walls will hear. Or a girl hiding in the hall.

“It’s only a matter of time until the counselors find him,” Lin continues, maybe in response to what I couldn’t hear. “He’s not hidden that well.”

This is the thing they’re keeping secret. The thing they’ve avoided. But now Lin has said it out loud.

My heart begins beating like a drum, thwap thwap thwap, and I press my nails into the wall behind me.

“They’re not going to find Max,” Rhett answers, his footsteps crossing the room, like he’s moving away from the others, toward a far wall. Maybe he’s looking out a window.

Max. His body, his corpse, tucked away somewhere.

Hidden.

“I can’t get in trouble for this,” Jasper says, his tone an equal measure of fear and threat.

“None of us can,” Rhett answers.

Jasper makes a balking sound. “It’s different for me. My dad will kill me if he finds out. This was my last shot, coming here. I can’t…” His words break off.