By the time they reached the clearing, Sammy was already in rare form—mid-transformation into whatever unhinged version of himself only ever showed up under the influence of bonfires, cheap liquor, and catastrophically bad decisions. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet like the ground itself couldn’t hold him, hollering at the top of his lungs, fingers already hooked in the hem of his shirt like he was seconds away from tearing it off and declaring himself the evening’s main event.
“Y’ALL SEE THAT RIGHT HOOK?!” he shouted to absolutely no one and everyone all at once, spinning in a slow, uncoordinated circle like he required a full audience to properly relive the moment. “I SWEAR TO GOD I FELT THAT FROM OVER HERE! GIRL GOT KNOCKED INTO NEXT WEEK!”
“Sammy—” Jake started, already drag
