Page 58 of The Last Special Thing

Madisson, Max, and Reyna shared the backseat. They sang off-key to The Chainsmokers, high on anticipation. Art and Max volleyed questions from the girls about what it would be like. This was the first time any of the girls had gone to a rave, but the guys had each been to a few. The group was too young for the bars but too old for the bowling alleys. A festival was the in-between. Amelia was most excited about dressing up—the glitter, the fishnets, the chaos of it all. Madisson had booked the hotel room with Max’s credit card so they wouldn’t have to worry about getting home.

Art peered over his seat and asked Reyna, “So... what inspired the panda?”

Black glitter ringed her eyes in a smoky mask, and her hair was pulled up into two tight buns. The rest of her outfit consisted mainly of lingerie, with faux-fur accessories.

She tilted her head and smiled. “Oh, because I’m Filipino, I can’t be a panda?”

“No!” Art threw up his hands in submission, “You look great. That’s not what I meant-”

“Oh, I know, I look great.”

Besides the dancer's physique, the playful teasing attracted men to Reyna. Amelia just wished it hadn’t been with her boyfriend.

Mr. Brightside came on next, and Art turned wickedly to Amelia. Serenading her to the lyrics, she bit back a laugh, loving the attention in front of everyone.

“Amelia!” Madisson shrieked.

A jeep ahead of her drifted into her lane. Her hands gripped the wheel, steering into the next lane where the neighboring truck lay on its horn. She spun the wheel back and eased behind the jeep, heart pounding.

“Fuck!” Madisson exhaled.

“I dropped my Swedish Fish.” Reyna pouted.

“I’m Mr. Brightside!” Art concluded the song.

Max slapped Art’s shoulder from behind him and snickered.

“How much longer?” Amelia asked, counting from ten and letting her adrenaline come down a few notches.

“We're getting close,” Art said.

Amelia’s stomach rumbled, and she took another swig from her tea. Art had warned her that eating would slow down the effects of the drugs. She wanted to do it right and feel its full effects.

“Take this exit,” Art directed, pointing ahead of the ramp. She followed the road to the traffic signal.

“There,” he said.

The light turned green, and Amelia pulled into the parking lot of a gas station.

“We’ll be back,” Art told the backseat.

“But I have to pee,” Reyna whined.

“Me too!” Madisson seconded, clapping her hands and leaning forward, her zombie face poking between Amelia and Art’s seats. She and Max dressed as a zombie bride and groom, and she had spent hours perfecting both of their makeup down to their collarbones. A zombie suited Max.

“Fine, fine. You guys go. Just be back in ten,” Art allowed.

Art climbed out of the car, and Amelia trailed behind him to the side of the building.

His dark hair was pulled back into a bun, and his aqua-blue eyes lit up. A prison cap pushed back at his forehead, and he wore a black-and-white jumpsuit.

“First, you look insane,” Art drawled, pulling her against him as he leaned against the brick building.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

His finger against her skin through the hole of her fishnets sent a jolt up her body. He walked his fingers up, underneath her blue police skirt, right below her butt cheeks. Leaning into him, she pressed him harder against the wall. They kissed deeply in the broad daylight, in the same place that the homeless probably relieved themselves, and yet she hadn’t a care in the world. She could never get enough of him.

Too soon, he released his grip on her. He pulled out a baggie from his jumpsuit, filled with green pills stamped with a paw print.