Gregg liked parties. He was a party dude. If there was a party, Gregg was going to try and get into it. Sometimes this led to problems, like the time Gregg crashed his cousin's (Not Jen, the cool one; the other one, who was a felon) birthday party.
But Gregg wasn't the kind of cool guy who'd let a few problems keep him from a party. That was why, when Mae told him about Dylan Peach's secret forest party, Gregg was 100% down for it.
Gregg barely had any idea who Daryl Peach was. He didn't really have the others' memory for names. Half the time, Gregg couldn't even remember his own parents' names. But not knowing who someone was wasn't a good reason to not go to a party being held in their honor.
It was nearly eight when Bea pulled up to the apartment. Mae was already in the passenger seat, which meant Gregg and Angus had the whole back of the car to themselves. That meant they could make out, or, more likely, goof around on Angus's phone. There was no reception, but there were still some nice games on it.
They were halfway to the forest when Bea finally asked the big question.
"Okay, do any of you guys actually know Daryl?" Bea asked. She glanced up into the rearview mirror to try and get a look at all of her passengers. "Would he even know any of your names?"
"Pretty much everyone knows my name," Mae pointed out. "I think I'd feel better if he didn't recognize me."
There was an awkward silence. Angus, thankfully, was the one to speak up and break it.
"I had home ec with him in senior year. We never really talked, though."
Gregg slowly came to the realization that everyone was waiting on him to answer. He didn't want to flat out admit he had no idea who Daryl was. That would be kind of improper. At the same time, though, he didn't want to lie about it.
"Let's see…" Gregg said, grasping at straws. "Was he the guy who carried around that weird puppet?"
"Okay, so none of you know him." Bea said matter-of-factly.
"Why's it a big deal if we know who Dylan Peaches is?" Mae asked. "Do you know him, Beatrice?"
"I know him well enough to know his name's Daryl," Bea said. "Aside from that, though, I mostly know him through his cousin. She's the one who put this whole welcome-back thing together for him. Remember Erika?"
"Our school had, like, five girls named Erika," Gregg pointed out. "How is anyone supposed to keep up with that many Erika's?"
Gregg himself was no stranger to having the same first name as someone else. Thankfully, he had the extra G in there, but that didn't stop Gregg from getting mixed up with Greg Wembley, or Greg 'Coffins' Andersson. That had happened a lot back in school. It didn't happen anymore, thankfully—Wembley had gone off to college, and Coffins had gotten his name changed in prison.
"Wait, I remember her," Mae said thoughtfully. "She was a cheerleader, right? Dyed her hair pink and then immediately tried to wash it out?"
"You remember all that, but you can't remember Daryl's name immediately after I tell it to you?" Bea sighed.
"Yeah, that was her. Anyway, she's the one who told me about the party. I messaged her last night, and she said it was cool to bring you guys."
"Is anyone else we know going?" Angus asked.
Gregg, who had basically tuned out of the conversation, was bouncing his legs up and down as the nighttime scenery whizzed by. He was anxious, impatient, and, most importantly, dying to get wasted and embarrass himself in front of the Cap'n.
"Well, Jackie's definitely going to be there," Bea said.
A low, mortified moan came from the passenger seat. "Oh, no," Mae grumbled in dread. "She hates me."
"I don't think she's still mad about that party we went to." Bea said quickly. "I mean, she's mad at you about a lot of other stuff, but I cleared that party thing up. So long as you don't do anything stupid…"
Bea trailed off worriedly. From the look Mae was giving her, it appeared they both suspected that that piece of advice was kind of futile.
Gregg, personally, didn't understand how anyone could hate Mae. He had the utmost respect for Jackie, but Mae was great. She could eat more sliders in one sitting than anyone else Gregg knew. He was probably a little bit biased, considering they'd been best friends since pre-K, but Mae was awesome.
While Bea and Mae kept talking about Jackie and bombs or whatever, Gregg leaned against Angus. He wanted to calm himself down before the party started. Luckily for Gregg, his boyfriend was a very chill guy.
Angus put an arm around Gregg almost instinctively. He knew how energetic Gregg could get. Cuddling helped him settle down, but it was also just nice to do in general.
Gregg would probably be too drunk to cuddle after the party, though.
Parties had definitely changed as Mae grew up. Half of them took place outdoors instead of in a friend's backyard. Decorations were nearly non-existent. Guitar-playing douchebags had become much more common than clowns or magicians.
Not that Mae was complaining, of course. Those parties had been perfectly fine for Little Mae. Adult Mae, however, wanted to enjoy a stimulating social event with likeminded adults.
"Mae, stop eating all of the cheese curls. We literally just got here."
Mae had already been reaching for another handful of cheese curls when Bea chastised her. The bowl someone had set up next to the beer keg was already almost empty. Mae would have proclaimed her innocence, but the orange dust on her hands and mouth were a dead giveaway.
The setup for this party was pretty okay. There was a fire, thankfully, to fight against the February cold. Someone—Erika, presumably—had set up some snacks. The only drink option, however, was a keg of beer that Mae was desperately trying to avoid. A guitar douchebag had already set up by the fire, and was trying his best to appear folksy.
Gregg had snatched up a few cups of beer and was off somewhere with Angus. This left Mae and Bea alone with a bunch of people from high school that Mae could barely remember.
And Jackie.
Mae had always been intimidated by Jackie. Even in grade school, she'd been an intense kid. Getting into social justice and political activism had only served to stoke the fires of Jackie's righteous fury. Bea insisted that Jackie was a lot of fun when she wasn't being serious, but the closest Mae had come to seeing that was at the party she'd ruined last year.
Bea and Jackie pretty much immediately buddied up and were off talking by the fire. Jackie either hadn't noticed Mae, or didn't want to talk to her. Both options seemed likely.
Mae scanned the crowd of people who'd gathered in the woods. There were quite a few familiar faces. She couldn't put names to all of them, but she still knew all of these people. Seeing them all gathered in one place gave Mae a weird feeling of nostalgia.
Mae approached the fire, hoping to get into a conversation with Gregg and Angus. Before she reached them, though, she was sidelined by a voice calling out to her.
"Mae? Mae Borowski?"
Mae didn't immediately recognize the voice. She'd never spoken much to its owner, after all. If the person speaking had instead been making awful trombone noises, though, Mae would have immediately recognized him. Mae had to get a good look at the person talking to her to realize that it was Daryl Peach.
Daryl Peach hadn't changed much since graduation. He was a little bit taller, and seemed to be a fair bit stockier. It looked as if he hadn't shaved in a while. He was wearing some sort of army jacket—Mae could vaguely remember Daryl had signed up with the military after graduation. Aside from that, though, he had the same oblivious smile he'd had back in school.
"Hey, Daryl," Mae said with a small smile. She figured it would be smart to be friendly with the guy the party was being thrown for.
"What're you doing here?" Daryl asked. He sounded genuinely confused, as if Mae was supposed to be in Jamaica or something.
Mae sighed and dug up that familiar answer to that familiar question. "I dropped out of college last year. I'm back in Possum Springs."
Daryl blinked. "No, I mean what're you doing here? Like, I'm not upset you're at this party; it's just surprising."
"Oh." Mae blinked. "Bea told me about the party. Your cousin invited her, I guess."
"Oh, okay," Daryl said thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'm just surprised to see you here. Me and you never really hung out."
There was a reason for that. Mae had been terrified that, if she associated with Daryl, she'd be subjected to his trombone-playing much more often. Now, Mae wasn't exactly a musical prodigy herself—but being bad at bass and bad at a trombone were two very different things.
Mae shook her head, trying to get her mind off of trombones. "So, you still in the army?"
"Air Force, actually," Daryl corrected. "I just got back from overseas. Looking forward to relaxing a little."
Mae's eyes widened in surprise. "Whoa, the Air Force? Do you get to fly a plane?"
A small, amused smile appeared on Daryl's face. "No, no. I work with ground vehicles, mostly, and play in a regional band. Not everyone in the Air Force flies a plane."
Mae's surprise and amazement turned into confused disappointment. "That's stupid," she said. "Everyone in the Air Force should do, you know, air stuff. Otherwise, why call it the Air Force?"
Daryl just nodded enigmatically. "I'll be sure to ask that question when I'm back on-duty. I'm sure no one in the Air Force has ever been asked that before."
Mae didn't say anything, but felt a sense of pride in knowing her questions would reach the top brass of America's military. It didn't occur to her that Daryl was being sarcastic. To Mae, there was nothing to be sarcastic about.
Mae exchanged a nod of parting with Daryl and wandered back towards the bonfire. Gregg had apparently moved onto a fresh cup of beer, and was laughing and joking with Angus. Mae hurried towards her two friends and sat beside them. The sounds of conversation and douchey guitar were filling the air.
"Heya, Mae!" Gregg exclaimed as Mae joined them by the fire. He looked like he was already a little tipsy, and was leaning against Angus for support. Mae couldn't help but think that being drunk looked like fun; she wasn't willing to take the risk, though.
"Party's kind of off to a slow start, huh?" Mae said. She took a seat on an overturned log facing the fire. Mae didn't know if the log had already been there, or if Daryl's cousin had overturned a tree all on her own. Mae wanted to believe it was the second option.
"Things'll liven up eventually," Angus said reassuringly. "I mean, we've been here for less than ten minutes. More people will probably show up soon."
Mae shrugged. There were already a good number of people at the party. Most of them were just sort of huddled together into little cliques, talking and laughing. None of them really seemed like party people, though. Daryl Peach evidently associated with a pretty low-key crowd.
The fire continued to crackle, and the douchebag continued to play his guitar. The acoustic version of a semi-popular pop song from the late 2000's filled the air. Just as Mae started wishing that someone would come and liven things up, she heard a voice. Unlike Daryl's voice, Mae recognized this one immediately.
That wasn't a good thing, however.
"'Sup, ladies?"
Erika Larsen, the cousin of famed trombonist Daryl Peach, was another Possum Strings success story. Like Bea, she'd been an enthusiastic student with dreams of going to college. Also like Bea, reality had put those dreams on hold indefinitely.
Erika's family wasn't exactly well-to-do. Economically, college simply hadn't been an option. That meant that Erika's only real hope for getting into college had been a scholarship. Despite her best efforts, though, Erika just hadn't made the cut. Someone with better grades or better connections had beaten her to the punch.
Things had only gotten tougher after graduation, too. Numerous complications, including a surprise pregnancy, had led to Erika, becoming a lot older in the last two years. Suffice to say, Bea was actually surprised that Erika had actually had the time to put together the party for her cousin, let alone attend it.
Erika had arrived with Daryl shortly after Bea and the gang. While Daryl went off to mingle with people who barely remembered him, Erika joined Jackie and Bea at the edge of the party. Erika wasn't exactly best friends with Jackie or Bea, but the three were friendly enough that they could hang out.
"God, this beer's awful," Jackie commented while the party picked up in the background. She was very slowly working on a red plastic cup of beer. "It's skunky and watered down as hell. Who got this stuff?"
"The beer was Levy's job," Erika sighed. She looked tired, Bea thought; she always looked tired. Then again, Bea always felt tired herself.
"Levy's smart enough to grow his own weed, but he doesn't know not to leave beer in the trunk of his car all week?" Jackie asked skeptically. "Wait, no; it's freezing out. If he left the beer in his car, it wouldn't be warm. What the hell happened to this beer?"
Bea laughed as she chewed on the end of her dummy cigarette. Covertly, she glanced over her shoulder and scanned the crowd for Mae. Bea was relieved to see that Mae was talking with Gregg and Angus, and hadn't gotten into any trouble so far. Content for the time being, Bea returned to the conversation.
"So, what've you girls been up to lately?" Erika asked. "I mean, aside from work and college or whatever."
Jackie groaned theatrically. "I've been so busy. Some jackass at my school's been creeping on some students, and I've been trying to do something about that. Haven't had the time to throw one of my parties in a while."
That was true. Jackie hadn't held one of her famous Jackie Parties since the one in November. That was probably a blessing in disguise, though. The more time passed, the more Jackie would calm down about what had happened that night. Then, Bea could bring Mae to the next party.
Hopefully. Bea wasn't too optimistic. Mae had matured a little bit since that party, but some things can't be fixed just by learning a lesson. Mae still had poor impulse control, and still tended to say things she probably shouldn't. Mae attending a party was like bringing a flamethrower to an oil rig.
This party was sort of a trial run. If Mae could get through it without puking on someone, Bea would feel better about bringing her to a Jackie Party.
"What about you, Bea?" Erika asked tiredly. "Anything interesting going on?"
If Bea wasn't so tired and the question wasn't so sad, she would've laughed. Work kept her so busy that the most interesting thing in her life lately was hammers. Really, the only thing of note that had happened recently was Mae finding that note from Casey. That was hardly something worth bringing up, though.
"Not particularly," Bea sighed.
For a while, the three girls were quiet. Jackie took another reluctant sip of her beer, her face scrunching up as she did so. When she looked up from her drink, her eyes were drawn to something behind Bea.
"Wait. Who's that guy over there?"
Bea turned around to see who Jackie was looking at. It wasn't very difficult to find him, either; he looked fairly out of place. A tall, stern-looking man in his late 30's stood at the edge of the party. He was bundled up in an old, flannel coat, and had what looked like a tribal tattoo on the left side of his face.
The older man's focus was on the partygoers gathered around the fire. He looked as if he was scanning the crowd, trying to find something.
"Is he someone's dad?" Erika asked obliviously. "Or, like… a forest ranger?"
"Ugh," Jackie groaned. "The guy looks like a total dealer. Erika, do you want me to go over there and tell him to get out of here?"
"How do you know what a dealer looks like?" Bea asked worriedly.
"I go to college and party at clubs, Bea; it'd be weird if I hadn't seen any drug dealers." Jackie shrugged mater-of-factly before hugging herself for warmth.
Erika opened her mouth to answer Jackie's question, but a noise cut her off. It was loud, sudden, and nearly gave Bea a heart attack. It was swiftly followed by another, and another, with no sign of stopping. For the briefest of possible moments, Bea couldn't identify the noise.
Then, when she turned and looked in Mae's direction, she knew what it had been.
"'Sup, ladies?"
Steve. Effing. Scriggins.
Mae didn't turn around. She didn't even want to look at this goddamn clown.
Mae had always hated Scriggins; this was no secret. The guy had always been bad news. The fact that he wasn't in jail right now was just another reason to hate the police. Instead of rotting away in a cell and forgetting about life on the outside, Steve was out in the woods, ruining Mae's night.
"What're you doing out here, Steve?" Gregg asked in confusion.
"Your mom," Steve retorted.
Mae groaned with displeasure as Scriggins walked into her view. He stood in the middle of the group, looking at them smugly. Mae had no idea what in the world Steve had to be smug about—he was basically a dumpster-man. From what Mae could tell, not even Steve's friends liked him.
"You always make that joke when people ask what you're doing," Gregg said, frowning. "You need to stop doing that. Mom jokes stopped being funny in junior year, Steve."
Steve scoffed. He glanced towards Mae, who realized with great displeasure that he was about to start talking to her.
"You seriously showed up to this thing?" He asked mockingly. "Didn't you throw up in front of your girlfriend at that other party?"
At first, Mae had no idea what Steve was talking about. It took her a moment to get that he was trying to be sexist and/or homophobic. Insults that took a while to register weren't really that effective. All that Steve's comment managed to do was A), make Mae hate Steve more; and B), remind Mae that having a girlfriend would probably be pretty nice.
"You showed up to this thing, too." Mae grumbled. "Why'd you even come? Who could have possibly invited you?"
Steve dropped his smug grin and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. "Levy told me about this party. Didn't tell me it was for Daryl Effing Peach, though. Like I care about that guy and his tuba."
"It's not a tuba; it's a trumpet," Mae corrected.
Steve scoffed once more. "Same difference."
Mae glared irritably at Scriggins. Either he didn't notice, or he thought her disdain was amusing. Most likely the latter.
"Anyway, I show up, and Levy's not even here," Steve said, speaking mostly to Gregg and Angus. "Can you believe it? Dumbass is probably off getting wasted somewhere in town while I'm stuck at this lame-ass party. Ain't even any grunge music playing. God damn."
Mae rolled her eyes. She wanted to get up and go somewhere else, but then Gregg and Angus would be all alone with this asshole. What kind of friend would Mae be if she left them both behind to get Scriggined?
Although Steve was right about one thing: the music at the party was terrible. The guitar douchebag's songs just kept getting douchier and douchier. Between Steve and the music, Mae's patience was running out fast.
"What do you even want, Steve?" Mae asked irritably. "Why are you even talking to us?"
Any mirth in Steve's expression slowly faded away. He took a moment to glance over his shoulder, as if looking for someone. Mae saw that Steve seemed to be checking on an older guy in flannel at the edge of the party. After a moment, Steve turned his attention back to Mae's group.
"Okay, here's the deal," Steve whispered cautiously. "Did Hartley talk to any of you before he skipped town? I need to find something he left behind."
Mae found herself unable to find the words she wanted to say. Steve's sudden serious tone had caught her completely off-guard. Was he talking about the lockbox full of money? How could Steve possibly know about that?
And, most importantly, did this mean Casey had seriously buried a bunch of money somewhere in town?
Mae had a lot of questions. She only managed to ask one of them.
"You knew Casey?" Mae asked in genuine surprise.
If Steve was going to seriously answer Mae's question, he never got a chance. As soon as Mae had asked her question, a noise Mae hadn't heard in years drowned out everything else. All conversation stopped, and everyone's eyes turned towards the source of the awful sound.
Daryl was standing beside the guitar douchebag, who had stopped playing his douchebag guitar. He was glaring angrily at Daryl, who was obliviously blowing into a large, shiny trombone. The uniquely terrible sound of someone who can't play the trombone filled the forest clearing, scaring the animals and making everyone sad.
"God damn it!" Steve screamed, hands clenched over his ears. "I thought I got rid of that effing thing!"
A chorus of complaints rose up in response to Daryl's attempt at jamming. The guitar douchebag, who Daryl had apparently been trying to play along with, picked up his instrument and left in a huff. All the while, Daryl kept trying and failing to play something related to music.
And Mae was just glad that, for once, she hadn't been the one to ruin a party.
"Well, that was a bust," Bea said.
The party had come to an almost immediate end after Daryl had fished out his trombone. Even Erika, the party's organizer and Daryl's cousin, had been ready to abandon ship. People had protested, and even tried to get Daryl to stop, but nothing had worked. The party died, and the night belonged to the trombone.
Mae and the gang had stuck around for a while just in case things got better, but eventually they piled into Bea's car and left. For all Mae knew, everyone had just left Daryl behind to play his trombone.
"I've never seen so many people leave a party so fast," Mae said as the lights of Possum Springs became visible in the distance. "Not even at that New Year's party where the building caught on fire."
"How is it that he was actually worse than he'd been back in high school?" Gregg asked from the back seat. "I mean, aren't you supposed to get better with practice? We still suck, but we've gotten kind of better. A little."
The car grew silent. Mae looked out the window at the passing buildings as they began to approach Towne Centre. As the last echoes of Daryl's trombone exited Mae's skull, her mind drifted back to Steve's question. More than anything else, it had been how serious he'd been when he asked it that really got to Mae. He'd almost seemed worried.
Mae tried to get her mind off of it. The more she thought about it, the more this deal with Casey's lockbox seemed shady. The possible addition of Scriggins into the mix only made things shadier.
Whatever. This was probably nothing. Steve was most-likely just trying to steal something of Casey's, right? After all, Casey and Scriggins had barely known each other. Casey had had no reason to hang out with a criminal like Steve.
Casey had been good. He hadn't been the kind of person those guys in the mine thought he was. Mae didn't believe anything about Casey working with his cousin, just like she hadn't believed the rumors about him in high school. Mae knew who Casey had been better than any of those other people.
Right?
The car pulled up to Gregg and Angus's apartment building. A few moments later, Bea and Mae were alone in the car. Moody music played from the radio, the volume turned down low. Mae's eyes remained focused on the passing lights outside the car.
Bea glanced curiously over at Mae before returning her eyes to the road. "Sorry that party didn't really work out."
Mae didn't turn to look at Bea. The landmarks outside, all recognizable, were guiding them closer to the Borowski household. Mae imagined that her parents would be surprised to see her home early. They'd probably be surprised to see she hadn't come home because she was drunk or sad, too.
"It's alright. We've both been to worse parties."
Bea chuckled. "Yeah," she said. "Though this was the first party I've been to that was ruined by a wind instrument."
Oddly enough, it hadn't been Mae's first party that had been ruined by a wind instrument. But that was a college story, and Mae was sick of talking about college.
As the car stopped moving and they pulled up to the front curb of Mae's house, Mae looked up at the starry night sky. Longest Night had come and gone, and the days were slowly getting longer. The hot months would be coming up; the trees would all be green again.
Even if things in Possum Springs stayed the same, they still changed.
"Hey, Bea?" Mae asked quietly.
"Yeah?" Bea raised an eyebrow. She didn't say anything about it, but it was pretty clear she was confused about why Mae wasn't getting out of the car.
"When we go on our road trip, do you think we'll go to any parties out there?"
Bea shrugged. "I guess. There'll always be more parties, Mae."
Mae, who was starting to feel weirdly melancholic, smiled. That was a nice thought. There always would be more parties. Something about that was good. Something about that made Mae tear up a little.
"Yeah," Mae sighed. "Yeah."
