short story/ horror/ first draft “God, Gracie, you’re such a prude!” “Not everybody wants to be a drunk, Alison!” Grace Miller snapped back. She should have been used to name-calling at this point in her life, but her insides still went squiggly. She forced herself to turn away from Alison Bowers and her hard lemonade and looked out across the campfire at the other partygoers. The ground beneath her was hard clay, with a cold that seeped up from under her into her bones. S