"The party will be over soon enough if the campus police catch us," Will pointed out.
"My father's the prez," said Gregory. "He'll get us off the hook."
"Or hang us from a higher one," said Eric.
Ivy looked at her watch: 11:45. She wondered where Tristan was and what he was doing. She wondered if he missed her. She could have been sitting next to him at that moment, enjoying the soft June night.
"Come on, Beth," she said, sorry she had gotten her friends into this situation. "Suzanne," she commanded.
"Yes, mother," Suzanne replied.
Gregory laughed, which stung Ivy a little. They're both wasted, she reminded herself.
It took a long time for the six of them to find Gregory's car again. When they did, Will held out his hand for Gregory's keys. "How about if I drive?"
"I can handle it," Gregory told him.
"Not this time." Will's tone was easygoing, but he reached determinedly for the keys.
Gregory yanked them away. "Nobody drives this Beamer but me."
Will glanced over at Ivy.
"Come on, Gregory," she said. "Let me be the D.D."
"If someone else drives," Will pointed out to Gregory, "you can drink all you want."
"I'll drink all I want and I'll drive all I want," Gregory shouted, "and if you don't like it, walk."
Ivy thought about walking-to the nearest phone and calling for a ride. But she knew Suzanne would stay with Gregory, and she felt responsible for her safety.
Will asked Ivy if he could borrow her sweater, then stuffed that and his jacket between the two front seats, making a seat in the middle. He pulled Eric into the front of the car with him, so that Gregory, he, and Eric sat three across. Ivy climbed into the middle of the backseat, with Beth and Suzanne on either side.
"Why, Will," Gregory said, observing the way he was squeezed in next to him, "I didn't know you cared. Suzanne, get up here!"
Ivy pulled Suzanne back.
"I said, get up here. Let Will sit back there with the girl of his dreams."
Ivy shook her head and sighed.
"Anybody likely to throw up has to sit by a window," Will said.
Ivy buckled Suzanne's seat belt.
Gregory shrugged, then started the car. He drove fast, too fast. The tires squealed on turns, the rubber barely holding the road. Beth closed her eyes. Suzanne and Eric hung their heads out the window as the car lurched sickeningly from side to side. Ivy stared straight ahead, her muscles contracting each time Gregory had to brake or turn the car, as if she were driving the route for him. Will actually did help drive. Ivy realized then why he had placed himself in a dangerous spot without a seat belt.
They were snaking south on the back roads, and when they finally crossed the river into town, Ivy let out a sigh of relief. But Gregory made a sharp turn north again, taking the road that ran along the river and beneath the ridge, past the train depot, beyond town limits.
"Where are we going?" Ivy asked as they followed a narrow road, their headlights striping the trees.
"You'll see."
Eric lifted his head off the door. "Chick, chick, chick," he sang. "Who's a chick, chick, chick?"
The ridge, looming high and dark on their right, crowded the road closer and closer to the train tracks on the left. Ivy knew they must be getting near to the point where the tracks crossed over the river.
"The double bridges," Beth whispered to her, just as they ran out of road. Gregory cut the engine and lights. Ivy couldn't see a thing.
"Who's a chick chick chick?" Eric said, swinging his head back and forth.
Ivy felt ill from the fumes of the car and the alcohol. She and Beth climbed out of one side.
Suzanne sat with the door open on the other. Gregory popped open the trunk. More beer.
"Where did you get all this?" Ivy demanded.
Gregory grinned and put a heavy arm around her. "Something else for you to thank Andrew for."
"Andrew bought it?" she said incredulously.
"No, his credit card did."
Then he and Eric each reached for a six-pack.
Though Ivy understood Gregory's need to blow off steam, though she knew how tough it had been for him since his mother's death, she had been growing angrier by the minute. Now her anger began to ebb, giving way to a slow tide of fear.
The river wasn't far away; she could hear it rushing over rocks. As her eyes adjusted to the country dark she traced the high wires of the electric train line. She remembered why kids came here: to play chicken on the railroad bridge. Ivy didn't want to follow Gregory as he led them single file to the bridges. But she couldn't stay behind, not with Suzanne unable to take care of herself.
Eric was pushing her from behind, singing in a high, weird voice, "Who's a chick, chick, chick?"
Small round stones rolled under their feet. Eric and Suzanne kept tripping on the railroad ties.
The six of them walked the avenue that sliced sharply through the trees, a path made by the trains rushing between New York City and towns north of it.
The avenue opened out and Ivy saw the two bridges side by side, the new one built about seven feet from the old. Two gleaming steel rails penciled the path of the new one. There was no railing or restraining fence. The fretwork beneath it stretched like a dark and sinister web across the river. The older bridge had collapsed in the middle. Each side was like a hand extending from the river banks, fingers of metal and rotting wood reaching toward but unable to grip the others.
Far below both bridges, the water rushed and hissed.
"Follow the leader, follow the leader," Eric said, prancing ahead of them. He stumbled toward the newer bridge.
Ivy looped two fingers through the waistband of Suzanne's skirt. "Not you."
"Let go of me," Suzanne snapped.
Suzanne tried to follow Eric onto the bridge, but Ivy pulled her back.