Logan and I drove to the party. It was spread over a large grassy field surrounded by trees. Trucks were parked so their tailgates could be lowered. People were either leaning, sitting, or standing around them. A few had their own supply of liquor. Pony kegs and coolers were spread out and barrels were in the middle section. Each barrel had been lit so the fire heated the area. This party wasn’t like normal Public parties. No Academites were allowed. No one cared about coke and champagne at this party. This was a District party, held on Frisco land. As soon as I got out, people headed over and the divide was immediate. Fallen Crest people stepped toward us, and the rest of Roussou remained on the other side of the barrels with Budd Broudou.
“Mason, my man.”
A tall guy came towards us. He
