Under the Dusty Sky (Holloway Farms)

down on the grass right where I’m standing. I take another drink. Things are beginning to slow down, to numb out.
    After a few minutes, Dermott comes out from behind the bleachers and storms across the field. I hold the bottle out to him, but he won’t look at me.
    “ Keep it. You obviously need it for whatever shit you’ve got going on in your head,” he mutters and keeps moving.
    My vision starts to blur, and I fall back into the lush grass. I just wish the world would stop spinning for two seconds so I could think.

CHAPTER 16
    Bentley
    Carter hands me a beer, and I look at him warily.
    “ Oh, come on, Ben. One beer ain’t gunna kill ya. It’s been a hard week with our little spitfire off the roster.”
    He slaps my back. We’re sitting around the table after a game of cards. Carter’s three beers in but Asher, Archer, and I are only allowed one. I look at the grins on the twins’ faces, and I just can’t stop myself from asking.
    “ Yeah, about Gracie. What’s her deal anyway?” I ask, and three sets of Holloway eyes narrow in on me.
    “ What do you mean what’s her deal?” Archer crosses his arms across his chest. My heart stutters, but I let a slow smile splay across my face.
    “ Well, she’s very…” I stop to choose my word carefully. “She’s very particular.”
    The room is eerily quiet for a moment before Carter smiles wide and the twins both laugh.
    “ That’s nicer than we’da put it,” Asher says.
    “ I like to say she’s a pain in the ass,” Archer adds, and Carter just shakes his head, the smile never leaving his face.
    “ Gracie has a hard time forgiving people, Ben. She’s not one to let stupidity slip by her, and I don’t really think she trusts anyone, even us. She is very controlling of her surroundings, as you’ve probably noticed.” Her father says.
    “ But she’s not really controlling, though, Dad. She’s a collector.” Asher takes a sip of his beer and leans forward on the table. He scoops up the deck of cards we had used for a game of gin after supper and begins shuffling them.
    “ What do you mean a collector?” That sounds weird and a little creepy.
    “ Gracie compartmentalizes her life to feel like she has control of it,” Asher says as he flips a card over and places it face up. He flips another. He continues to flip as he speaks, laying each card next to the other.
    “ She thinks that experiences can be molded and that she can create the perfect memories. When it comes to day-to-day life she’s open, flexible, spontaneous even. That’s the fun Gracie. But when it comes to milestones, monumental events, or even symbolic gestures… it has to be perfect. She’s been doing it for years, and we’ve never figured out why.”
    Asher flips the last card, and it’s the queen of hearts.
    The story tugs at me somewhere I’ve long since forgotten. Perfect memories. How does that even happen? How can one sculpt their surroundings to perfection and then actually believe it to be so? I live in a world of constant perfection. Perfect body, perfect skill, perfect friends, perfect life. I hate perfect. But I’m starting to think Gracie and I have a very different definition of the word.
    I twirl my beer around in my hand and take a sip before chuckling to myself.
    “ So in other words, Thursday has to be perfect,” I say, and my smile is returned. Thursday is Gracie’s sixteenth birthday. For some strange reason, girls think it’s monumental.
    “ You’re a quick learner, Ben.” Carter stands, clapping his hand on my shoulder, again. “Well, I’m off to bed. Night, boys. Stay out of my beer fridge. I counted.”
    Carter points to his sons, who both shrug innocently, then disappears down the long hallway.
    Just then, my phone starts ringing in my pocket, and I fish it out to see ‘Gracie’ flashing across the screen. I frown as I answer. “Hello?”
    “ Bentley?” A frantic voice sounds, but it’s not Gracie. Looking at the twins, I stand abruptly and head out of the front door to the porch.
    “ Who is this?” I ask, and lean against the railing.
    “ It’s me, Lacy. I’m so sorry to call you, Bentley. But I didn’t know what else to do.”
    “ What’s wrong? Is Gracie okay?”
    There’s silence on the other end, and my heart sputters. I’m just about to ask again when she speaks.
    “ Um. She’s been drinking. We were out with some friends, and she got into a fight with this guy she, uh, kinda sees sometimes. She’s really