Home > The Rest of Us Just Live Here(52)

The Rest of Us Just Live Here(52)
Author: Patrick Ness

“I know. I’ve heard all about your uncontrollable attraction.”

“And I like you, Mike, though not very much tonight, I have to say.”

“There’s something up with him. Where did he come from? Why does he always join us late? Why doesn’t he–?”

“Jealousy makes you ugly.”

“And assuming this is all about you makes you ugly,” I hiss.

She turns from me, furious, and leans over the bridge, can at the ready.

But she doesn’t spray anything.

“Look,” she says, stepping back.

It’s hard to see in the way the streetlight is angled at us, but there are markings along the top of the railing of the bridge. Words.

“Names,” Mel says, looking close.

“Finn,” Henna reads, “Kerouac, Joffrey, Earth.” She looks at Mel. “It’s the indie kids who died.”

“But why up here?” Jared says. “Where no one can see them?”

I look at Nathan. “Maybe it’s the killers,” I say, still annoyed. “Maybe they put the names up here as trophies. Maybe this is the most dangerous place we could have come tonight.”

“Would you stop it?” Henna says. She touches the names on the railing. The paint is black, simple.

Just names.

“Look,” Nathan says, kneeling down. At our feet are small flowers, little more than tiny wild flowers, really, but different kinds, spread along the side of the rail tracks under the names of the dead indie kids.

Henna touches them, softly. “I’ll bet this is their way of remembering them. A kind of memorial.”

She stands. “One that no one can see, but that they know is here.”

“No one’s painted over it,” Jared says.

“Or kicked away the flowers,” Mel says. “I wonder if everyone knows about this except us?”

“I don’t feel like painting anything any more,” Henna says, handing her can back to Nathan. “Feels like tagging inside a church.”

I’m still holding my can of yellow paint. “I didn’t want to come and now you’re telling me I can’t even make my own tag?”

Henna frowns. They all frown. I frown, too, what the hell. I’m having one of those days where I can’t seem to say anything right, so screw it.

“Fine,” I say, throwing the can at Nathan harder than really necessary. “Let’s just go home.”

“Oh, shit,” Henna says, looking past me. I turn, and we all look.

Down the train tracks, deep in the dark wooded area where they disappear, a whole crowd of glowing blue eyes is approaching.

Henna is already running, scrambling down the embankment, trying to keep her balance with one arm. I run after her, checking only to see that Mel and Jared are running, too. Nathan’s lagging behind, staring into the darkness at the eyes.

“What are they?” he says.

“Just run, you moron!” I shout, grabbing Henna as she stumbles and practically dragging her towards my car. I shove her in the passenger seat and open the back doors for Mel and Jared as I run around the car as fast as I can. I hop behind the wheel and start the engine. Jared and Mel get inside.

Nathan is only just coming down the embankment.

“Don’t leave him!” Henna says, alarmed, as I put the car in gear.

And for a moment there, just for a second, I almost do leave him. He’s running. He looks as frightened as any of us.

But.

“Whose idea was this?” I spit. “We would never have been here if it hadn’t been for him!”

“Mikey–” Jared starts.

“I’m going.” I take my foot off the brake, but Nathan runs right in front of the car. He jumps in beside Jared, who’s kept his door open.

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