“Too bad you’re a video virgin,” he said. “I thought that was a pretty cool metaphor.”

“I know what zombies are,” she said. “They can’t be skeletons.”

“If you can have earth spirits in your world, I can have skeleton zombies in mine.”

His second whiskey arrived. He drank it fast while they ate their salads, then ordered a third.

“I thought you said your drunk side wasn’t asking me to dinner?” she said.

“I’m a big guy. It takes more than a little whiskey to get me drunk.”

“Will you be able to drive us home?”

“I’m eating a full dinner. That will absorb it. I’ll be fine.”

She hoped so. He already seemed affected by the alcohol. As they ate, he talked animatedly about why he didn’t believe in going to an expensive college like his brother. His bitter outlook on modern society and where it was headed reminded her of Mama. He even used the word machine to describe it once.

When they left the dark restaurant, he complained that the sun was still out. He wanted to go to a bar but said it was too early.

“I’m sixteen. I can’t do that anyway.”

“Oh, right.”

That he’d forgotten she was underage worried her. He’d drunk three whiskeys and a glass of brandy.

“Let’s do something else,” he said. “I don’t want to go back.”

“We have to. They might be wondering where we are.”

“They know where we are. Jasper sent me a bunch of texts asking why I went to dinner without him.”

“Did you answer?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because Jasper is a pain in the ass.”

Raven couldn’t imagine Jackie and Huck acting like that toward each other.

In the car, River opened a small paper envelope. “Want to try some of this?”

“What is that?”

“Coke—cocaine.”

The food she’d eaten seemed to rise up her throat. She had never seen anyone use cocaine.

“Want to try some?” he asked.

“No. And I don’t think you should do that before you drive.”

“I need to counterbalance the whiskey.”

“You said it didn’t make you drunk.”

“It didn’t. I just need a little pick-me-up.” He had a tube in his hand.

“River . . . I don’t want you to.”

“Calm down. It’s no big deal. Everyone does this.”

He inhaled two lines of the white powder, and his eyes turned bright.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try it? It feels really good.”

“Stop asking,” she said. “Are you sure you can drive?”

“Yep. I just need the perfect song . . .”

He took a long time choosing a song from his phone. He turned the volume on the car stereo too loud, but she said nothing.

Raven kept her attention on the road and his driving as he manically explained more about his reasons for hating the world. As they sped into the openness of the Paynes Prairie wetlands, he was looking at his phone to change the song. He glanced up at the cars parked along the highway.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“People come here to watch the sunset. Ellis told me it’s a ritual around here.”

“Let’s do that. Do you want to do that?”

“I think we should go—”

“There’s a pier over there,” River said. “Let’s park there.”

He changed lanes sharply to get to the pier on the other side of the median. He still had his phone clutched in his hand when their car collided with another. He jerked the wheel to the right with one hand to get away from the grinding metal.

Everything turned upside down. Raven squeezed her eyes closed. When she opened them, they were in water. The car had rolled over the concrete ledge at the edge of the wetland. They were right side up again but sinking, her side of the car higher than River’s.

“River! We have to get out! We’re going underwater!”

His head was bloody, his eyes closed. She could tell he was unconscious.

She had to get him out before the car sank. The water wasn’t up to her window yet, but she was afraid it would stop working when the water hit the mechanics. She pressed the button, relieved when it rolled down. Raven unbuckled her seat belt, trying not to panic at the sight of River’s closed window receding under the water. She unbuckled him and pulled. He was dead weight.

“River!” she screamed as the water gushed into her window. “River!”

The water buoyed his body and helped her move him. But they were going under. Somehow she had to get him out through the window. Warm, sulfurous water poured over her. River’s head was about to go under.

Everything vanished into a single thought—keeping him alive. She managed to drag most of his body out the window. But her head went under the water, and River’s face had been under even longer. He was drowning. She had to get him to the air. She heaved her arm around his chest and struggled to get him to the surface. He was weighing her down, and she needed air. But she wouldn’t let him go. She wouldn’t, not ever. He was in Florida because of her. He was in that water because of her. If he died, she wanted to die with him.