ace," he said. "Sure."

"Cabernet Sauvigon," she said with new authority. "Your basic meadow
red."

The firelight cast shadows; the group seemed smaller and more
vulnerable. "The first people . . . " Patrick repeated. They were the
first people, now, she realized. She bit down on her lip. Her heart
broke open like a swollen peach.

"There's a little bread left," she said. God, she was crying again.

"You cry a lot," he said.

"Oh, fuck you, Patrick." She poured herself more wine.

"I don't mind it," he said seriously.

"Look, do you want to go?" she asked.

"Sure." Amber was over by the band; she was staying all night or going
over to Art's. Willow told her that she was leaving, and she and
Patrick picked their way slowly through the woods. "I've got to get a
little flashlight," Patrick said as they splashed across the stream.

When they came out onto the road, a patrol car was parked in the
middle. Two cops were ticketing a long line of cars and trucks that
were pulled off to the side. "What's the matter?" Willow asked.

"Blocking the road. Obstructing traffic."

"They are not. What traffic? This is the top of the mountain, for God's
sake."

"You want to give us a hard time?" He was threatening. Patrick pulled
her away.

"Let's go, Willow."

"Have you been drinking, lady? I wouldn't want to see you driving."

"We're walking." Willow glared at the cops and let Patrick guide her
down the road. The band was working on a Dixie version of _America the
Beautiful_; the sax floated high over the tree tops into the night. She
looked back. One of the cops was answering a radio call; the other was
still ticketing. They were trying to ruin everything. "Why, Patrick?"

"Groups," he said, after a moment. "Tribalism. They're afraid of
change. When they get their backs up, Willow, you've got to work around
them. If you challenge them, they get worse. It's weird, but the more
powerful people are, the more frightened they are, usually. You'd think
it would be the other way around."

"We've got to fight back," Willow said.

"We do--by existing." The starlight was sufficient for them to walk
down the middle of the road. They were quiet and then they talked and
then they were quiet again. One person, who had been at the party,
stopped and offered a ride, but they decided to keep walking. Patrick
told her about his parents and his sister, Molly. Nice people. She
wondered where he got the hard edge she sensed beneath t