Hallie Weibel
Liberation (4 of 11)

At some point, I’d talked to this Jon guy a little, and we’d flirted a bit,
but I thought he was just trying to get me to hook up with his
dorky younger brother.  Yeah, right.  Like I’d cheat on Trav with that
hick chauvinist.  But this older brother, he was apparently another story. 

My throbbing head wasn’t helping to bring back any details. Slowly, like headlights emerging through the fog, I remembered we’d ridden to the old farm in some Chad guy’s truck, up a long sandy driveway toward a dismal yellow house.  People were scattered everywhere across the yard, some around the bonfire, some even in the old barn.  Guys surrounded the keg, so Ally and I headed for the tub of wop, filling up red plastic glasses with fruit and strong cherry-flavored alcohol.  At some point, Ally snuck off with some loser in a flannel shirt, leaving me to fend for myself with all these strangers.  I approached a small group of people near the porch, trying to look confident even though I didn’t feel that way.  Even the alcohol, more than I’d ever drunk before, didn’t give me much confidence.  These guys, including Chad with the truck and some guy named Steve, hung out with me, talking about trucks, college, NASCAR, and other things I knew nothing about.  When Ally hadn’t come back two hours later, the guys showed me where I could sleep inside, on a threadbare orange couch where I passed out almost immediately.

 

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