There are places around Briar Gap where people still sleep outside.
No camping. Not with nylon tents and portable stoves and lanterns that look like something designed for Mars. Just blankets, a cooler, and the open sky.
The ridge above Carter’s Field is one of those places. Teenagers have been dragging quilts up there for generations: first dates, bonfires, cheap beer someone’s older cousin bought. The usual rites of small towns trying to entertain themselves.
On a clear night, you can see the stars well enough to remember that the world is bigger than Briar Gap.
That was the plan anyway.
There were four of them that night. Tyler Bishop, who owned the truck. Marissa Clay, who brought a cooler full of Dr. Pepper and contraband White Claws. Eli Farley, who mostly came because Marissa invited him. And Hannah Pike, who said she just needed to get out of the house for a while.
The air had that late-August perfection that makes people linger outside long after they planned to go home.
They spread two quilts in the grass and watched satellites crawl across the sky.
Someone played music off a phone for a while. Someone told a story about a teacher getting caught drunk at the Dollar Discount on Route 16. The usual Briar Gap gossip. Eventually, the talking thinned out. The stars got brighter. The grass held the day’s warmth like it didn’t want to let it go.
Marissa fell asleep first.
She curled sideways on the quilt with one arm over her eyes and a half-finished drink beside her. Tyler lasted maybe another half hour before stretching out and announcing that if anyone woke him before sunrise, he would push them down the hill.
Eli stayed awake longer. He liked the quiet.