November 17: Audrey

Fate is not something to be tampered with. It is impossible to beat his twisted game of chess. No matter how well you hide your secrets, he has a way of winding inside of your mind and figuring them out. He knows what you want, what you desire. And it is he who decides whether to give you those things. It seems as though Fate favors some over others. Fate seems to enjoy making you crazy, twisting your thoughts and making you think that something is meant to be- before snatching it from your grasp like an ice cream cone.
Tonight, fate is melting all over me. He toys with me, taunting me with sugary sweet cream and promises of a new beginning. I am terrified of Fate. I like to believe that I decide my own destiny. But not if Fate will have his way. No, he will continue to make me a pawn in his spiteful, manipulative game.
Checkmate.
“This can’t be happening.” I turn the key and try to start my car for the tenth time. “It’s not possible.”
But apparently it is. Apparently, cars can work one minute and not work the next. Fate must be terribly good with sparkplugs.
“Dang it.” I slam my hand on the steering wheel and lower my head.
I deserve this for being stupid enough to consider coming to a party. My parents would kill me if they knew I was here, rather than at the youth lock-in at church. Literally, they would lock me in my room and deprive me of food and water until I withered away in my bed. But right now, I would rather be dead than sitting down the street from Brian Phillips’ party. My eyes start to water and I curse myself for not owning waterproof mascara. A knock on the window shakes me out of my tantrum.
“Everything alright?”
I open the door and see Riley Sutton standing there holding a case of beer. He has on his leather jacket, like always. Even in the dark, I can tell he is beautiful. The street lights cast shadows on his perfect ace.
“Audrey,” he smiles. “You made it.”
“My car won’t start,” I tell him. My face flushes and I wipe my cheeks.
“Where are you going?” He asks. “You just got here, didn’t you?”
“This was a mistake,” I tell him. “I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t my scene. Nobody wants me here and I-”
“I want you here,” he says. “I asked you to come, remember?”
How could I forget? We were in woodshop putting the finishing touches on our dollhouse when he brought it up.
“What are you doing Saturday night?” he had asked.
“Nothing,” I told him.
“That’s not true.” He smiled at me. “I want you to come out. Brian Phillips is having a party and everyone is going.”
“I couldn’t.” I shook my head. “I don’t drink.”
“You don’t have to drink.”
“My parents would never let me go.”
“Don’t tell them.”
Every excuse I threw at him, he provided a solution for. Riley has the ability to get me to do anything. He got me to hold a drill, to listen to what my mother calls ‘Devil music.’ His voice is smooth and creamy, and I indulge in his every word. He wrote down the address on a piece of paper and stuck it in my notebook.
“In case you change your mind,” he had told me. Then he winked at me. That scene has played over and over in my head over the last week.
So I did it. I lied to my parents and told them I would be at the lock-in with the rest of my church youth group. I made a plan to sleep at Dakota’s house and go home in the morning. I put on jeans and a floral top that ruffles around my breasts. I left my grandma’s pearls and put in a pair of hoop earrings. And I drove to the address Riley had written on the piece of paper.
“I remember,” I tell him. “I just don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Well, I don’t think it is just coincidence that your car won’t start.” He smiles. “Sounds like fate to me.”
“I don’t know.” I close my eyes.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “You come inside and stay for an hour. Just an hour. And after that, I’ll come back out here with you and take a look at your car. I am a mechanic, you know?”
“I know,” I mutter.
He holds his hand out and stares at me. In this moment I have two options. I can keep trying to start my car, and eventually have to call my parents to pick me up. That would mean months of grounding, and the end of any chance I ever had at seeing Riley. The other option is to take Riley’s hand, and go to the party. It is only an hour, I tell myself.
How much could possibly happen in an hour?

Riley walks slowly with me down the sidewalk towards Brian’s house. I breathe in and out and try to remind myself that I want this. I have always dreamt of what this would be like.
“You look great,” he tells me.
“Thanks.”
“Wait a minute.” He stops me a few yards away from the house and opens the case of beer in his hand. “Try one.”
He offers me a bottle of Yueng Leng. The dark green bottle is cold and heavy in my hand. Everything in my heart screams at me to stop. My heart rate quickens with panic. But Fate punches me in the brain and my body says otherwise.
“Here you go.” He twists the top off. “If you don’t like it, you can give it back to me. I won’t be offended. I just want you to try it.”
Suddenly I am brave. I lift the bottle to my lips and take a quick sip. The beer doesn’t taste as terrible as I had imagined it would. It is surprisingly smooth, cold. Good. I take another drink, this one longer.
“I guess you like it.” Riley laughs. “I thought you would. A good drink can take your mind off of anything.”
“Thanks.” I take another sip from the bottle and hand it back to him.
“That’s it?” He chuckles. “That’s all you’re going to drink?”
I nod.
“Audrey, you are too good for me.” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t even be trying with you. You’re too good, too sweet. I’d kill you.”
“Too good?” I didn’t even think that was possible. What the hell is so wrong with not being an alcoholic whore? What is wrong with wanting to make good grades? When did it stop being okay to be good?
“Yeah,” he says. “You’re too good. And I’m bad. You’ve got too much going for you and I would just screw you up. I’m fucking crazy.”
“You aren’t that bad,” I tell him. “And you’re not crazy.”
“What the fuck are you doing with her?” Evelyn’s voice shatters my newfound bravery as she comes storming across the lawn.
“Evelyn, chill out.” Riley rolls his eyes. “We’re just talking.”
She ignores him and turns to me. “What the hell are you doing here, Bloody Mary? Don’t you have a book to read or something?”
“Don’t talk to her like that.” Riley steps in front of me.
Evelyn puts her hands on her hips. “What is she, your girlfriend? Riley Sutton doesn’t have those, remember?”
“Shut up, Evelyn.”
“Did you hear that, Goody-Two-Shoes?” Evelyn looks at me. “He’s just going to use you to get what he wants. That’s what men do. They use you.”
“I’m done with you.” Riley hurries off and Evelyn trails after him.
“Don’t walk away from me!” She struggles to keep up with him.
I stand there on the sidewalk with chills running down my spine. Fate had just taken a boy that made my entire body freeze and ignite in flames at the same time. Fate put him in front of me, enticed him to give me a beer, and urged me to accept it. Fate led me to believe that the most beautiful person I had ever laid eyes on could actually be interested in me. And then Fate pulled him away and pushed him into the hands of a harlot who used her body for everything she wanted. And as mad as I am at Fate right now, there is only one thought bouncing around the walls of my head.
Where can I get more beer?

Alcohol makes you brave. It makes you believe you can do anything. It allows you to put on a disguise, to be someone completely different. And for a girl, alcohol is very easy to come by. I walk cautiously to the back of the house. In the backyard, several kids stand around a keg. I don’t even know how the thing works, but after watching a few people, I think I understand.
“Whoa,” a guy says when I walk up to the keg. “Who are you?”
“Audrey,” I mutter. I stumble over my words. “Can I have a beer?”
“Sure.” He nods. His hair is dark and curls around his face. I assume that he is one of Brian’s friends, assigned to run the keg. “Usually it’s two bucks a cup. But you’re so pretty that I’ll make an exception.”
His words catch me so off guard that I cannot respond. He couldn’t have been talking to me when he said that someone was pretty. That is not a word that is ever used to describe me. But he fills up a plastic cup and hands it to me, free of charge.
“Drink up, beautiful.” He winks. “Just be careful.”
I take the cup from him and make my way across the backyard. I take long sips of the beer. It is not as smooth as what Riley gave me, but at least it was free. I venture up the steps to the deck where a few guys are playing a game. They take turns trying to throw ping pong balls into cups on the opposite end of a table. People stand around and cheer for them. The game seems stupid, but I stand and watch for several minutes.
I drink my beer faster than I thought I would. Just when I notice my cup is empty, a boy nudges against me.
“I’ve never seen you before.” He smiles. “Do you go to Five Points?”
“Yes,” I mumble.
“I’m Dillon. What’s your name?”
“Audrey.”
“Pretty name.” He looks at my cup. “Looks like you’re running a little low.” He pulls a bottle out of a book bag at his feet.
“Try some of this.” He pours a clear liquid into my cup. “It tastes like candy.”
I take his word for it and do not hesitate to take a sip. He is right- the liquor tastes like liquid strawberry candy, with a bite.
“Thanks,” I say.
He puts his arm around me and pulls me close. “So tell me about yourself, Audrey.”
I decide that him being this close could be dangerous. Taking alcohol from a guy I’ve known for five seconds could be twice as dangerous. But there are other people around us. And the liquor tastes so good. Riley was not lying when he said a good drink can make everything better. I decide to give Fate a run for his money. And a hard kick in the balls, while I’m at it.
With each refill, my head gets cloudier. Each sip is a train into vulnerability. I help Dillon finish off his strawberry rum and take a beer that his friend offers me. Dillon asks me to be his partner for the cup game, which I later learn is called beer pong. I am terrible at it, but with each drink, my aim gets a little better. When the ball lands in one of the cups, Dillon nuzzles his face against my neck.
“Good girl,” he says each time. “That’s a good girl.”
Sober Audrey would never be here. She would never allow a guy to put his hands on her, would never indulge in drinks provided by strange boys and giddy girls. She would never talk to every person she saw. But sober Audrey is the one who brought drunk Audrey to the party in the first place. So maybe I have always been a drunk. There is a reason my parents have kept me away from this stuff throughout high school. Because they despise happiness. And alcohol makes me feel happy. It changes who I am, strips away all of my worries and my fear.
It makes me feel incredibly good.

“You want to get out of here?” Dillon whispers in my ear after our sixth game of beer pong. He rubs his hand over my stomach.
Although I am drunk, I am not stupid. And I am still coherent enough to know that going home with a boy who has hands that wander like Dillon’s, is a stupid idea. But when his breath tickles the hairs on my neck, it is hard to want to say no.
Who am I, and what have I done with Audrey? I push him away softly and laugh. I cannot even remember the last time I actually laughed.
“I can’t,” I tell him. “I’m a good girl.”
He and the guys around me laugh. “Good girls don’t exist, sweetie,” Dillon tells me. “There are bad girls, and girls who are meant to be bad, but try to fight it.”
He pulls my shirt up and exposes my stomach. “Don’t fight it anymore.”
I push his hands away. “I’m a fighter. I am a good girl. I don’t drink.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” one of Dillon’s friends says.
“I don’t,” I insist. “I’m good. I want to be good.” My tongue feels like it weighs a hundred pounds as I try to speak.
“Don’t make me get rough.” Dillon wraps his arms around me and presses my body against his. He is stronger than I would have expected.
Fear fills me up until I think I could puke. It is a very sobering feeling. What have I done? What happened? I put my hands against Dillon’s chest as he kisses my forehead firmly.
“Fight!” Someone yells from inside the house.
“Dude, there’s a fight!” One of Dillon’s friends pulls on his arm. “Let’s go check it out!”
Dillon follows his friends in a drunken stupor and I let a deep sigh escape my lungs. I do not go inside, as Fate has just handed me a free move to get away from Dillon and his wandering hands. I make my way down the steps carefully with Dillon’s book bag strapped over my shoulder. I figure I deserve whatever he has left after letting him get a glimpse of my pasty stomach.
I stumble to my car, ignoring all of the screams and yells coming from inside of the house. When I get to my car, I remember that Riley was supposed to fix it. I reach into my phone and dial his number.
No answer.
Not that it really matters anyway. I am intelligent enough to know that trying to drive in my current condition would be lethal. I open the back door and climb into the backseat. In Dillon’s bag, I find several liquor bottles and a few cans of beer. I pop open a beer and lay across the seat.
As I fill up on a few more beers, my head begins to feel like a fish tank. My thoughts get lost, swimming around in the cloudy waters like little tadpoles. Dirt and leaves clog my brain until I am no longer awake enough to care about the thoughts swimming around. They gasp for air, beg to be brought back to life. But for the first time in my life, I do not think about anything. I simply slide down into the seat of my car and let myself swim. Gasp. Suffocate.

Pass out.

November 17: Alexander

“What are you doing here, Frosh?”
It isn’t the first time I have heard that tonight. I turn around and see Anderson standing behind me with James and Ethan. He takes a long drink from his beer.
“I was invited.”
“Oh yeah?” James laughs. “Who the hell would invite you?”
“I did.” Riley walks up behind them with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His clenches his jaw. “Anybody got a problem with that?”
Anderson chuckles. “No problem, bro. We were just giving the kid a hard time.”
Riley nods. “Yeah. Don’t you boys have something better to do than pick on the kid who busted his ass for you this weekend?”
Anderson crushes his beer can in his hand and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right.” He turns back to me. “Have fun, Frosh.”
He and the guys go out onto the deck to get in line for beer pong. Riley stands next to me in the crowded kitchen and hands me a flask.
“Thanks, man.” I take the flask from him.
“Don’t worry about it.”
The liquor in the flask burns all the way down. I am not an experienced drinker by any means. I have a feeling Riley knew that before he offered me his favorite whiskey. He laughs at my face as I force the hot liquid down and go for another swig.
“Easy, kid.” He takes the flask and tilts it back in his mouth. “Whiskey is a lot like people. If you take it too fast, it could kill you. Drink it slow, and it will taste a little sweeter.”
“People are like that?” I ask him.
“Take that asshole, Anderson, for example.” He points outside towards the jocks. “If I would have come up to him and started threatening him, we would have fought. He would have tested me, and he would have lost.”
“Naturally,” I say.
“But since I went up to him and kept my cool, he didn’t know how to handle it. So he kept his cool, too. You’ve got to know when to roll with the punches and when to punch back. Understand?”
“Kind of.”
He laughs. “I’m tipsy, kid. Don’t listen to anything I say.”
“No, I understand,” I assure him.
“And always look a man dead in his eyes.” He stares hard at me. “If you can do that, it really freaks them out.”
I nod. “I can do that.”
“Good.” He pats me on the back and hands me the flask again. When I drink it slower, it makes Riley happy. “That’s good. Where is your sister?”
I shoot him a look.
“Sorry.” He puts his hands up. “My bad. Where is that evil girl you’re living with?”
I shrug. “I don’t know where Evelyn is.”
“I better go find her.” He stumbles a few feet before turning back to me. “I left a case of beer under the porch if you get thirsty.”
“Thanks.”
He leaves and I am left in the corner of the kitchen. I do not really know why I showed up tonight. I guess I decided it was better than sitting on the couch watching TV with my dad. I had been sitting in my room doing homework when Riley knocked on the door.
“Hey kid,” he’d said. “What are you doing tonight?”
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
“It’s Saturday night.” Riley rolls his eyes. “And your boys just won the playoffs. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I insisted. “Just kept the bottles refilled and washed the towels. That’s my job, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” Riley shrugged. “Just think about how shitty they would have played without all that water you gave them.”
“Maybe,” I mumbled.
“Let’s go, Riley.” Evelyn wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him out of the doorway. “The party is waiting.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” Riley ignored Evelyn and turned back to me.
“I couldn’t.” I shook my head. “I mean, I can’t. I’m not dressed and I don’t really have anyone who wants me to-“
“We’ll meet you at the car in five minutes.” Riley smiled and closed the door.
“What the hell are you doing?” I had heard Evelyn say as they walked down the hallway. Riley never answered.
Evelyn had been silent for the entire drive to Brian’s house. She was pissed, but Riley did not seem to care, and neither did I. When we got out of the car, Evelyn slammed her door and turned to me.
“Stay away from me,” she warned.
And that was exactly what I intended to do.

“Alex, right?” Brian comes up to me a few minutes after Riley leaves. “What’s up, man?”
I shake his hand. “Nothing much. Great party.”
“Thanks,” Brian nods. “That’s why you’re standing in the corner?”
I stumble over my words and feel my face flush. “I just-”
“You need to loosen up,” he tells me. He hands me a plastic red cup full of beer. “Here. Take this. Most people pay two bucks for a cup, but you can have it free of charge.”
“Thanks, man.” I take the cup and push down a long gulp of the beer. It is cool and bitter compared to the spicy hot whiskey I just drank.
“Pretty good, right?” He pats me on the shoulder. “Now, go have some fun. Get out of this corner.”
I smile and raise my glass to him. “Alright.”
I am stupid for coming here. No one wants me here; Riley only invited me out of pity. I am just as invisible here as I am at school. Something has got to change.

The party is like nothing I have ever experienced before. I had heard about wild parties in Virginia from my older cousins, but nothing like this. Brian’s house is literally the biggest house I have ever seen. It has four floors, and it seems as though every one of them may be occupied by the entire student population of Five Points. I recognize guys from the football team, cheerleaders, and people from my classes. But most of the people here are not freshmen. I guess I am one of the privileged few.
Even Ruby St. Clair is here. She has broken down her good girl walls and walks around the party in a short red dress. I can tell she feels completely out of place, like me.
“Hey, Ruby.” I pass her and she turns and smiles.
“Alex, hey.” She looks at the beer in my hand and scowls. “Looks like the football team is breaking you in just right.”
With that, she walks away. I take another drink of the beer. Riley’s whiskey was very strong. I can feel it warming up my body and kindling a fire in my head. I find my way to the front door and venture outside to cool off. Several people are standing around on the porch so I make my way to the side of the house. None of them stop me to talk to them.
Someone is leaning against the side of the house. By the shadow, I can tell it is a girl. She is alone. I walk a little closer and recognize her as a girl from my class.
“Janey?”
Her head shoots up from her cellphone. “Hey, Alex.”
“What are you doing here?” I take a few steps closer to her.
She shrugs. “Being hopeless.” She lifts a clear bottle to her mouth and guzzles whatever liquor is inside of it.
“Whoa, slow down.” I take the bottle from her. Smirnoff vodka. I put the bottle on the ground and lean next to her against the house. “Why are you hopeless?”
She sighs. We have spoken a lot more lately since I started helping her with geometry. She clearly has a lot of issues. It is not just an image for that girl. Something is really wrong with her. And I have yet to figure out what it is.
“I’m in love with the host.”
“Brian?” I stifle a laugh. “Seriously?”
She groans and picks the bottle of vodka up. “I know it’s stupid. He’s a senior. I’m just a stupid sophomore. But he invited me tonight, and I thought…”
“You thought maybe he invited you as more than a friend?” She offers me the bottle and I take a swig from it. The vodka burns, but not as bad as the whisky.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I just thought maybe if I showed up tonight and got myself wasted, I could tell him how I feel.”
“But are you sure you really love the guy?” I take another swig from the bottle. “I mean, that’s a pretty strong word.”
“I know,” she mumbles. “But he’s so cool. He’s dark and twisted, I can tell. He acts like everything is okay, but I know it’s not. If everything was okay, he wouldn’t need the drugs. I just want to know him. I want to get inside of his head.”
“I see.”
“I dragged my friends here. They left after fifteen minutes. They were bitching at me and I told them they could leave. They’d rather get stoned at Cordelia’s place and chill out.”
“And you wouldn’t?” I ask her.
“I don’t know.” She sighs. “Brian invited me. I wanted to be here because he told me he wanted me to be here. And now I just feel stupid. Like the rest of the stupid girls in that house.”
“Why is that?”
She shrugs. “Because I thought that it was possible for a guy to like me. I thought that maybe I might have something to offer them.”
“And now you don’t?”
“I have nothing.” Tears stream down her cheeks in thick black lines. “Guys don’t want me. I’m ugly, and I’m stupid.”
“Don’t say that, Janey.” I put my hand on her shoulder.
“It’s true. You see it in geometry every day.” She takes a drink from the liquor bottle. “I’m stupid in math class and I’m stupid for thinking that some cool guy could actually like me. I suck.”
“Everyone isn’t meant for everyone,” I tell her. “Sometimes we like people, and they like other people. But the people they like probably like someone else. It’s a never-ending cycle. So you don’t suck. You’re normal.”
“Normal,” she sneers. “What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
She laughs and takes a long drink from the vodka bottle. “Normal doesn’t exist. Those people in that house think they’re normal. But they’re not.”
“I know.”
“I’m a total freak, aren’t I?” She lights a cigarette. “You think I’m crazy.”
I shake my head. “Not crazy.”
“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” She blows a slow trail of smoke out of her mouth.
“I think there is something wrong with all of us.”

Janey and I finish the bottle of vodka and I help her stumble to the front of the house. She says she will find a ride, but I am not so sure there is someone here who would be willing to take her.
“I’ll be fine,” she assures me while she trips up the stairs.
“Hey kid,” someone says behind me.
I turn around and see Manny Aviles standing behind me on the sidewalk. Four of his friends stand behind him in big coats and baggy jeans. They each have a black and gold hat on. The taste in my mouth goes sour, even more so than it was before.
I swallow hard and remember Riley’s advice. I look him dead in the eye. “What’s up?”
“Where is Riley Sutton?” Manny stares me down.
“I don’t know,” I stutter.
He licks his lips. “But he’s here?”
“Yeah.” I nod my head but immediately regret my response. If Manny is looking for Riley, it cannot possibly be for any good reason. I know for a fact that Riley hates the guy. I also know that Manny hates everyone.
“Good,” he sneers. He pushes past me and his friends follow me.
The people on the porch seem just as shocked as I am. They turn to each other and whisper, back away from the gang as they step onto the porch and into the house.
“What are they doing here?” A guy asks his friend.
“I don’t know,” the friend says. “But whatever it is, it can’t be good.”
“Let’s get out of here.” A girl pulls on her boyfriend’s arm and they hurry down the steps and away from the house.
“Trouble,” Janey mumbles.
I decide that I need to go inside and find Riley. If Manny is looking for him, Riley is going to need a heads up.
“I’ll be right back.” I put my hand on Janey’s back. “You sit out here and wait for me. I’ll be back.”
I hurry into the house and push through the crowd of people in the foyer. Everyone seems to be cramming towards the living room. I see with a few guys from the basketball team pushing towards the doorway.
“Jeoff, have you seen Riley?” I ask him.
He points towards the stairway. “I saw him go upstairs about an hour ago. Look kid, things are about to get real in here. Do you need a ride home?”
“What do you mean?”
But Jeoff doesn’t have time to answer. Someone does it for him. The music cuts out and something shatters in the distance. A voice echoes through the living room, out into the foyer, and up into the incredibly high ceiling.
“Fight!”

November 17: Ruby

This is bad. I should not be here. I am breaking at least five rules; and that constitutes months of grounding if my parents were to find out. The real trouble with breaking the rules is that it is invigorating. It makes you feel alive to know you’re doing something you should not be. The idea of getting caught makes adrenaline shoot through your veins at warp speed. At the same time, knowing that everything you have worked for could be crushed in an instant is terrifying. God help me if my parents find out.
I remember when Brian asked me. I remember exactly what he was wearing, how he had his hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. I remember that his fingernails were dirty and his chin was scruffy, but his eyes were just the same.
“You’ll be there, right Ruby?” He had asked me.
I was standing next to Anderson Wednesday morning while he and Brian talked about the party Saturday night. His dad was going out of town on business, and he wanted to throw the party to celebrate the first playoff game Saturday.
“What?” I asked him, shocked that he was speaking to me.
“The party,” Brian explained. “It will be a real good time. You should come, relax for a little bit.”
“Ruby doesn’t ever relax,” Anderson joked. He put his arm around me. “But it’s definitely going to be the party of the year. You need to come out, Miss President.”
I was too shocked by the fact that Anderson and Brian were even getting along, let alone talking, to say anything for a minute. I stood there in the parking lot with them and considered it. A party. Drinking. Probably drugs. Possibly sex. Dancing. Fun? I have not been to a single party since I started high school. I never had time for them. And my parents would never allow it. I am a good girl. I have to be good.
Good girls do not go to parties.
So when the words spilled out of my mouth, I nearly choked trying to force them back in. “Sure,” I had told him. Sure I would be there. Sure I would go to a party that my ex-boyfriend was hosting that was sure to include everything my parents had sheltered me from for the last seventeen years. Sure.
Now I sit outside of the house with Arianna, who is beyond excited. She has never been to a party either. And although my parents would ground me for a lifetime if they found out, she would probably get by with a month or two.
“I don’t know about this,” I tell her.
“Don’t be a baby!” She slams her hands on the dashboard. “Ruby, you are the student body president. You run the entire school. This is the party of the century. It’s only natural for you to be there.”
“People don’t expect me to be here.” I grip the steering wheel and consider starting the car. “We could turn around right now; nobody would ever know.”
“Ruby Saint Clair, we are not leaving.” She opens the sun visor above her and stares at herself in the small mirror. “Not until at least one, anyway.”
“One in the morning?” My eyes grow wide. “You’re crazy. Your parents would die.” Arianna had convinced me that I should tell my parents I was sleeping over at her place for the night. They bought it, and her parents believed us when we said we were going to Elle’s house for games and movies.
I’m already weaving myself a web of lies. This is why honesty is the best policy. It is nearly impossible to keep up with so many lies, so many excuses. And right now I would much rather be sitting in Elle’s living room with her and Skylar, playing charades and drinking root beer.
“My parents will be sound asleep.” Arianna pulls on my hair. “Ruby, relax. It’s a party, not a brothel. We’ve worked hard all semester. We deserve a break, don’t you think?”
“What the hell is a break?” I ask her.
“Exactly.” She takes her seatbelt off. “Which is why you’re going to reapply your lip gloss, and get your ass out of the car.”
I know she is serious. And I already drove the familiar route to Brian’s house. I may as well get out and see what all the fuss is about. After all, it is just a party.
“You’re right.” I take my seat belt off and open the door. “How crazy can it be?”
Crazy is an understatement. The Boomers won their first playoff game last night. When everyone said this was going to be the best party of the year, I have a feeling they were not exaggerating. Although I have never been to any of the other ones to make a fair comparison, I am sure this is the biggest function Five Points has ever put on. And I still cannot believe it is Brian who is throwing this monster.
Music is blasting through the house. Around the neighborhood, lights are off in every other house. I pray that all of Brian’s neighbors happen to be out of town this weekend because the music is echoing down the street. From the outside, it looks like every light in the house is on. My car is parked around the corner behind a long line of other cars. Arianna and I hurry down the sidewalk in heels and dresses.
She had insisted that I wear something sexy. Dressed in one of her short red dresses, I have to admit that I feel pretty hot. My hair tumbles over my shoulder in its natural curls. Arianna put makeup on my face and forced me into a pair of heels. My feet are already killing me.
“Oh my God,” she mumbles when we finally get to the house.
Even God couldn’t have created something this massive. Brian’s house is huge, but it is not big enough to hold all of the people who showed up tonight. There are people outside on his perfectly manicured lawn, hanging out on the porch and second floor balcony, and stuffing themselves into his house.
“Are we sure about this, A?” I look at her.
“Now or never,” she insists. “And I’m choosing now.”
I follow her up the sidewalk. I cannot even get to the porch before people notice me and huddle around me.
“Ruby, what are you doing here?” James from the football team puts his arm around me. He stands with Ivy and Reece from the cheerleading squad.
“I was told this was the place to be tonight,” I tell him.
“It definitely is.” Ivy sizes me up and smiles. I guess she is pleased with my outfit. “I never expected to see you here!” She hugs me a little too tightly.
“Yeah, me either.” I pat her bare back and pull away. “I’ll see you guys around.”
People call out to me from all around.
“Hey Ruby!”
“Ruby, you made it!”
“Oh my God, what are you doing here?”
Fifteen minutes of squeals and cigarette scented hugs later, I make it into the house. People are packed in the foyer like sardines. Ariana grabs my hand and pulls me with her into the kitchen. Through the glass door, I see people playing beer pong and hanging out on the back porch. Several people stand around in the kitchen talking and making drinks.
“Ruby!” Crash comes up to me with a beer in his hand. “What in the hell are you doing here? Did you get lost?”
“Very funny, Crash.” I roll my eyes. “Even the president likes to let loose sometimes.”
“I like that.” He sips his beer and sticks his tongue out. “This stuff sucks. You want some?”
“No thanks,” I refuse. “We’ll see you later.”
My throat is already hurting from having to yell over the music. In the living room, people are grinding and dancing on each other to the heavy bass. The large room that was once fancy and covered in white furniture is now dark, with the exception of a strobe light that shoots out quick, bright rays.
“This is crazy!” Arianna yells in my ear.
A hand rests on my shoulder and I turn around. It is Brian. He looks great, clean. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top and his hair hangs just above his shoulders. I guess he got a haircut.
“You made it,” he says.
“Yeah, I did.”
Arianna smiles at me. “I’m going to go… do something.” With that, she leaves me standing in the crowded foyer with Brian.
“I’m really glad you came,” he tells me.
“Thanks. I wasn’t expecting anything this… insane.”
He takes a drink from his plastic cup and nods. “Yeah, word really got around fast. I don’t even want to think about having to clean this place up tomorrow.”
I laugh. “Yeah, good luck with those carpets.”
He looks me up and down. I admit I am checking him out too, but it is hard for me to stand in front of the guy that I thought I loved. A guy who was amazing, until that place got the best of him.
“Look, thanks for coming.” He puts his hand on my elbow. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I say. And I do not know what else to say.
“Brian,” someone pops the bubble we have put ourselves in. “We need another keg, dude. And more ping pong balls.”
“Got it.” Brian nods. “I’ll see you later, Rubes.”
“Bye.”
He walks away and leaves me in the foyer with a bunch of people who are making out with each other. I make my way through the different rooms looking for Arianna. It seems like she disappeared.
“Ruby!” Someone calls behind me.
I turn around and see Anderson. “Hey!”
“You came.” He wraps his arms around me in a big hug. “What did I tell you? This shit is ridiculous, right?”
“Yes it is.” I nod. “Congratulations on the big win, by the way. I knew you guys could do it, Captain.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I do what I can.”
“Well, you’re a rock star,” I tell him. “I would expect nothing less.”
“Have you seen Sam anywhere?” He takes a sip from his drink. “I can’t find her.”
“Good luck,” I say. “I’m looking for Ariana. It’s impossible to find anyone in this madhouse. I’ll let her know you’re looking for her if I see her.”
“Thanks.” He smiles. “Well just do me one favor, will you?”
“What?”
“Have fun tonight.” He touches my face. “I’m serious, Ruby. Just let go for a few minutes and let yourself have a good time. Can you do that?”
“I will,” I promise him.

I finally find Arianna outside talking to a guy in the corner of the deck. She is downing something pink in her cup like it is lemonade. And I’m pretty sure it is not lemonade.
“This is Ben,” she tells me. “Ben is on the soccer team. He plays soccer.” Her words are slurred and I know she has been drinking.
“Hi, Ben from the soccer team.” I grab Arianna’s arm and pull her to the other side of the deck.
“Are you crazy?”
She pulls away from me. “What?”
“We had an agreement, A. No drinking, remember?”
She rolls her eyes. “Lighten up, Ruby. We also agreed to have fun, remember? So that’s what I’m doing. I’m having fun. And you need to do the same.”
“You’re being stupid,” I tell her.
“I’m just trying to have a good time.” She crosses her arm. “Ben is waiting for me. I’ll see you after the party.”
She walks away and I hurry back into the kitchen before anyone sees the tears welling up in my eyes. I practically break my ankles in Arianna’s stupid heels trying to make my way through the kitchen. I do not believe that things could get much worse.
Until I am covered in a sticky red drink. I look up at the boy standing in front of me. He is tall, with honey-colored hair and eyes that are almost gray. I recognize him from the soccer team and immediately want to punch him because that means he is probably friends with that idiot who is trying to sleep with my best friend outside.
“I am so sorry,” he says.
“Don’t worry about it.” I try not to pay attention to the people staring at us.
“No, please let me help you.” He grabs a roll of paper towels from the counter and pulls several off of it. “I’m such an idiot.”
“It’s okay.” I push his hands away before he puts them on my chest. “Really. Don’t worry about it.”
“At least let me make you a drink,” he offers and opens the refrigerator.
“That’s alright.” I wipe a few paper towels over my dress. “I don’t want anything.”
“One drink,” he insists.
“I don’t drink.” I throw the wet paper towels on the floor.
“Oh.” He scowls. “Then what are you doing here?”
The question catches me off guard, although it is the same one I have been asking myself since I got out of the car. I set the roll of paper towels on the counter and stare at him.
“I was wondering the same thing.”
I leave him standing there and hurry upstairs. Luckily I have been to Brian’s house several times, so I know my way around. Upstairs is a little quieter, with the exception of the sounds of giggles and unzipping pants in some of the bedrooms. I make my way to Brian’s room.
In the room, I hear heavy breathing and people moving around on the bed. I tiptoe across the room towards the bathroom.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I’m sorry.”
When I open the bathroom door, I’m not expecting anyone to be in there. So when I see Gabe sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, I do not know what to say.
“I thought I locked that.” He squints his eyes and looks up at me. “Hey, Ruby.”
“Gabe.” I sigh and close the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Puking up my guts and my dreams and all of the pointless shit that never really mattered.” He leans his head against the wall. “That didn’t make sense did it?”
I sit down on the edge of the bathtub. “No, not really. How much have you had to drink, Gabe?”
He shrugs and points to the sink. “How much is left in that bottle?”
I walk over to the sink and find a bottle of rum that is almost empty. The bottle is sticky. I dump the rest of it down the sink and toss the bottle in the trash can.
“Not much,” I tell him.
“I don’t do this.” His voice trembles. “I’m a good kid. I don’t drink. I don’t puke in random bathrooms. I’m not like my brother.”
“I know,” I whisper. “You’re still a good kid. You just got a little carried away. Stress can do that to you. We all get stressed.”
“How do you deal with it?” He asks. “You’re always so poised and graceful. You can handle everything. How do you do it?”
“I’m crazy,” I tell him. “And I’m miserable. You don’t want to be like me, Gabe. Don’t for one second think that you want to be like this. I’m a prude. I’m too good. I can’t live. I’m too scared to live.” The words spill out like vomit.
“Don’t be scared.” Gabe rubs my leg. “You don’t have any reason to be scared. Just let go. Let it all go.”
“Maybe I will,” I mumble. “Do you know who is in the bedroom?”
He shrugs. “I think it’s Samantha and Anderson.”
“Figures,” I laugh.
He starts to vomit again. Tears fill his eyes and I rub his back while he lets go of everything breaking down his system. His words become jumbled sentences of doubt and regret. When he stops to breathe, I get a towel from under the sink and wipe the sticky liquor off of my chest and arms. I stay there with him for nearly an hour before someone barges into the bedroom and busts open the bathroom door.
It is Brian. Panic rests all over his sweaty face. His lip is cut open and drops of blood seep into his shirt.
“Get out of here,” he tells me. “And take the geek with you.”
“Brian, what happened to you?” I stand up. “What’s going on?”
“The cops are on their way.”

October 12: Janey

There are only a few things I hate more than people. People have entirely too much power. They control everything: how you feel, where you can go, what you can and cannot do. They have the power to make you incredibly happy, but the desire to make you miserable. They want you to be more miserable than they are. So they manipulate you, use you, abuse you- until they are satisfied by your misery and move onto someone else who is too happy. People make me crazy; they make me miserable. Being in stuffy classrooms and crowded hallways with people drives me insane. No, there is not much that I hate more than people.
I hate geometry more than I hate people.
“Math is not for everyone,” Mr. Reeves tells me after class. The rest of the students file out of the room and stare at me while my teacher tells me how much I suck. “But you’re going to have to apply yourself more if you want to pass.”
“I understand,” I mumble.
“Maybe Alex here could help you.” He pats Alex Reid on the back as he walks by us. “He seems to be a math wizard.”
Alex stops and stares at us. “I’m alright.” He shrugs.
“Nonsense.” Mr. Reeves shakes his head. “I want you to sit next to Janey on Monday. When we do group work, I’d like for you to work with her.”
“Uh, sure.” Alex glances at me and my eyes shoot to the floor.
My face feels like it is literally on fire. It is bad enough that I suck at stupid angles and tangents. But now, Mr. Reeves feels the need to broadcast it to the entire class and get some kid who can barely look at me to remind me just how stupid I am.
“Excellent.” He smiles an ancient grin. “You all run along to your next classes. I’ll see you after the weekend. Go Boomers.” He pats Alex on the back again.
“Bye,” Alex mumbles.
I, of course, do not say anything.
“You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to,” I tell Alex once we are out of the classroom. I follow him through the crowded hallway.
“It’s no big deal.” He shrugs. “We all have our strong points.”
“Yeah.” I have yet to find mine.
“For some reason I’m really good at math,” he tells me. “But I hate science. Physical science is kicking my ass right now.”
I am surprised to find out we have another similar class. That is one class I am actually doing okay in, despite my deadbeat partner.
“Yeah, I have that fourth period. My partner is a waste of time, so I do all the work myself.” I realize that this is the most I have spoken to anyone outside of my group of friends all year.
“Oh really?” He laughs. “Who is your partner?”
“You probably don’t know him. He’s a real badass.” I roll my eyes. “Manny Aviles.”
“Oh, I know him.” Alex nods. “Such a badass.” I appreciate his sarcasm.
We stop at a set of lockers and he turns the combination on one of them. “Are you going to the game tonight?”
“Yeah, right.” I shake my head. “Do I look like I like football?”
He chuckles. “Stupid question, I guess.”
I decide that I have overstayed my welcome and I should leave before I say something completely weird that freaks him out.
“I’ll see you in class,” I say.
“Yeah, see you.”
Whatever just happened was weird. I hate people; especially people who can do something better than I can. But for some reason I am okay with Alex helping me in class. If it means passing geometry and never having to see Mr. Reeves again, then I like Alex just fine.
This is a speech week in communications class. Each day, five or six people give their persuasive speeches in front of the class. Ms. Gribbs sits right in the front and takes notes with a feathery blue gel pen. I made sure to sign up for the end of the week, putting off public speaking for as long as I possibly could. Today is finally my day, and by the time it is my turn, my nails are bitten down to pink nubs.
“Come on, Janey.” Ms. Gribbs turns around to me and encourages the class to give a courtesy clap. A few of them oblige; most of them are asleep.
I take my time walking to the front of the class with my note cards. She has a podium set up in the front of the room, and I take my place behind it. She gives me a nod and starts the timer.
“Hello,” I say. I clear my throat and remind myself to speak up. “How many of you own and iPod?”
The people who are awake all raise their hands, as I expected. Without making eye contact with any of them, I nod and continue my speech.
“Most kids these days own one or more electronic music devices. Music has become a way for students to express themselves, to escape reality, and…” I look down at my note card. “Um, for things such as studying and other activities.”
The class stares at me, wondering where I am going with this. I swallow hard and try to find my place on the index card in front of me.
“Today, I am going to talk to you about why I believe students should be allowed to listen to their music devices at school.” My voice starts to shake and I feel my face flush.
Ms. Gribbs smiles and nods during my speech, although I am sure she disagrees with my topic. A few of the kids listen, but I imagine it is painful for them. I stutter and stammer, trip over my words. I stop every few seconds to remember to breathe. The speech was absolutely terrible, and although it was supposed to be at least eight minutes, I barely reach four. That’s with all of the deep breaths and stupid ‘ums.’
“Good job, Janey,” Ms. Gribbs lies when I am finally finished. I hurry to my seat without looking up. She claps her hands lightly. Nobody else does. Not that I expected them to, anyway.
I do not need their applause.

“You’re coming over tonight, right?” Cordelia throws a crumpled up napkin at my face and snaps me out of my trance.
“For sure.” I take a sip of my chocolate milk.
“You don’t have baby patrol?” Jacey laughs.
“No. Crash texted me earlier.” I eat one of her cookies. “I’m off duty for the night. He’s taking care of Davie.”
“Shit yes.” Ross lights a cigarette and lets me take a puff from it. “In that case, let’s go crazy. Think you could score us some weed?”
“My mom bought us two cases of beer,” Cordelia tells me. “It’s the cheap stuff, but it will do the trick.”
“Sweet.” I turn to Ross. “And yes, I’ll get the weed.”
Mogley and Ross pound their fists together and I take another hit from Ross’s cigarette. We sit outside at our table and pick at each other’s food. Layne sits with her legs crossed right on top of the table. The rest of us surround her with our sandwiches, snacks, and sodas.
“Teacher alert,” Mogley says.
I press the cigarette into the table and throw it in Ross’s paper bag. Layne waves the smoke away and Cordelia spritzes a bottle of perfume in my face.
“Somebody tell a joke or something,” Cordelia says.
Everybody fake laughs and puts food in their mouths. We play normal as best as we know how. Mr. Cunningham is quickly approaching, and he loves busting kids for breaking rules.
“Hello, children.” Mr. Cunningham walks up and puts a sarcastic smile on his face.
“Hello, sir.” Mogley’s smile is just as sarcastic. He holds out his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Hungry?”
“No thank you.” Mr. Cunningham crosses his arms. “It smells funny over here.”
“What does it smell like?” Cordelia bats her eyelashes.
“It smells like,” he takes a couple of loud whiffs. “Menthol cigarettes, cheap cologne, and a bunch of kids who are up to no good.”
“We don’t smoke,” Ross says.
“Oh, is that right?”
“Nope.” Layne shakes her head. “We’re good kids. And besides, smoking is against the rules. We wouldn’t want to do anything to upset the wonderful administration here at Five Points.”
“Don’t be cute, Miss Jennings.” He rolls his eyes at Layne. “You kids are nothing but trouble. And eventually I will catch you.”
“Challenge accepted.” Cordelia winks at him.
He gives each of us a hard look before turning away. He starts to turn away, and then turns back to us.
“What’s that?” He points to the table. We all look at the table, where Cordelia’s iPod is resting next to her green tea.
“Oh, this?” She picks it up. “It’s called an iPod. It plays music, videos, and pictures-“
“I know what it is, Cordelia.” He picks it up. “And I also know that having it out during school hours is against the code of conduct.”
“Come on, Mister Cunningham.” Mogley smiles. “It’s game day. Cut us a little slack, why don’t you?”
“You can forget about the pep rally. I’ll see you in fourth period detention.” He puts the iPod in his pocket. “All of you.” With that, he walks away. As soon as he is out of sight, we all bust out into laughter.
“Did you see his bulge?” Layne asks.
Cordelia sighs. “Oh God, that was absolutely hilarious. That wasn’t even my good one.” She tosses her lunch in the trash and stretches.
“Well, now we don’t have to bother coming up with an excuse to miss the pep rally.” Ross pulls another cigarette out and lights it.
“Detention with my best friends, rather than watching a bunch of jocks have sex with each other in the gym?” Mogley takes a bite of his sandwich. “I’ll take it!”
I am the one to burst the detention-happy bubble. “Do you guys think they’ll call our parents?”
“Oh God, Janey.” Cordelia wraps her arms around me and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ve had about a million detentions since I got here. Your dad is never going to find out.”
“They wouldn’t waste their time.” Ross puffs on his cigarette. “It will be ninety minutes of mopping the floor and scrubbing tables in the cafeteria.”
“Sounds magical,” I mutter.
But what Mogley said was true. I would much rather spend fourth period busting tables with my friends. Sitting on the uncomfortable bleachers watching a group of fakes that I don’t even like almost sounds more torturous than the mounds of geometry homework I have to catch up on if I want to pass.
Almost.
“I’m going to need a cut before we go in.” Cordelia grabs her purse. “Who’s coming with me?”
Regardless of whether we want to go or not, we are expected to. So I follow Cordelia and the girls across the parking lot to her car. She pulls out her tin case and opens it on the top of the car. I consider asking her why she didn’t purge today. But that might give her ideas. Cordelia is crazy when she gets ideas.
We huddle around her while she pulls her bracelets back and drags a razor blade across her arm. She does it twice, in a perfect line with the rest of her scratches.
“Take it.” She hands the blade to Layne, who lifts up her dress and traces one of her old scars with the corner of the sharp metal.
“So good,” Layne mutters and offers the razor to me.
I shake my head. “Not today.”
“You’ve said that for the last month.” Cordelia wraps a piece of cloth around her wrist. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” I assure her. “I just don’t feel like doing it right now.”
“Whatever.” She snatches the blade from Layne and hands it to Jacey. She opens her purse and pulls out a cigarette.
Jacey takes the razor and looks at me before offering it back to Cordelia. “I don’t feel like it either.”
“Well aren’t you two just perfect little angels?” She blows a puff of smoke in my face. “Suit yourselves. What’s up, Riley?”
I look up and see Riley Sutton standing a few feet away from us. He looks like something out of a dream, or maybe a nightmare. I guess he had the idea to skip the pep rally too.
“Hey, ladies.” He stands there awkwardly. “What are you guys doing?”
“Nothing,” we all say.
He doesn’t ask any more questions, just gets on his bike and jets out of the parking lot. Cordelia smiles at me; I must be blushing.
“What a babe.” She hands me the cigarette. I hate when she does that. She knows how he used me. But I guess if she knew the whole story, she wouldn’t be so bitchy about it.
None of them know about my operation. No one does. I know if I told them, they would go crazy. Jacey is the biggest advocate for humanity and personal rights. Ross and Mogley would for sure get themselves killed trying to go after Riley. No, it is not worth it. So this is one secret that will stay between me and the razor blade.
And now I want to cut more than anything.
Jacey notices how uncomfortable I am. “Well I think he’s an asshole. And the bell is about to ring. Let’s go.”
Cordelia packs up her stuff without saying anything else and we hurry back to our table. The boys are picking at our food. When the bell rings, we take our time walking to the detention office in the main lobby.
Mogley knocks on the door and opens it before Mrs. Kendrick has a chance to answer. We follow him in. She is an older lady with white hair and big glasses. She looks at us over her glasses.
“Ah. The lunch guild, I presume?” She leans forward in her chair. “Mister Cunningham told me I should be expecting a group of… interesting students.”
“That would be us.” Mogley strikes a pose. “The lunch guild.”
“You’ve got cafeteria duty.” Mrs. Kendrick hands us a couple of buckets with rags and squirt bottles in them. “Mr. Cunningham said he would be checking after you himself. So I would do it well if I were you,” she warns us.
“Thanks, sugar.” Ross winks at her and we leave the office.
“That was easy,” I say.
Cordelia nudges me with her elbow. “Told you. Mister Cunningham did us a favor. The little bastard.”
Remind me to thank him later.

While the rest of the school sits in the gym and cheers for the Five Points royal court, I wipe tables with Jacey and avoid the bleach bullets that Ross and Mogley insist on squirting at us. I take my time with every table while Jacey tells me about the new poem she is writing.
“I just want it to be good, you know?” She tells me while we wipe down a table. “But it’s hard to write about love when you’ve never actually experienced it.”
“I’m sure,” I mumble.
“I mean, I’m seventeen.” She throws her rag down. “And I still haven’t ever been in love with a guy. And Hayden Christensen doesn’t count.”
We both laugh. “I’m sure it will happen,” I tell her. It is hard convincing her of something that I hardly believe myself.
“Guys are just assholes.” She moves on to the next table. “I hate them. Maybe one will love me when I become famous.”
“Of course,” I promise her. “Boys love famous suicidal poets.”
She throws her rag at me and we both laugh. I listen to her talk about her poems and her romantic dreams until we are done cleaning the tables. Cordelia and Layne finish mopping the floors and the boys take turns sliding around on the wet tile.
“It’s spotless,” Mogley assures Mrs. Kendrick when we return the cleaning supplies. “You could eat off of the floors.”
“But I wouldn’t recommend that.” Ross chuckles.
“Alright, lunch guild.” Mrs. Kendrick puts the buckets under her desk. “You all can just wait outside the office until the bell rings.”
“Best fourth period ever,” I whisper in Ross’s ear. He puts his arm around me and we follow the rest of them into the lobby.
“Agreed.”

Cordelia’s mom, Stacy, says that they’re house is “lived in.” The couches are worn out, the carpets are stained, and the paint is peeling. The place smells like hair grease and cigarettes. Her mom uses the den as a make-shift beauty salon. Ever since she lost her job at the hospital, Cordelia says money has been tight. So her mom cuts and colors hair for women around the neighborhood who can barely pay her.
They live across the street from Evelyn Rhodes- something that Cordelia tries to forget. The grass needs to be cut and the sidewalk is cracked. But Cordelia’s place is the best to hang out in. Her mom buys us beer and cigarettes, lets us do whatever we want, and doesn’t ask questions. She is quite the opposite of my dad.
“My favorite people,” Stacy says. She hugs all of us and plants dark red lipstick on our cheeks. “How was school today?”
“Lame,” Mogley says.
“Boring,” Ross mumbles.
“The same as it’s always been, huh?” Stacy chuckles and ruffles Mogley’s hair. “You kids come on in and make yourselves at home.”
Her hair is big and over-sprayed. It is dark, like Cordelia’s. Mogley and Ross practically drool all over her six-inch heels before she walks away and into the kitchen.
“Stop it,” Jacey punches Ross in the arm.
Stacy calls to us from the kitchen. “I’ve got Doritos, some donuts, cold pizza.” She walks back into the living room. “And beer.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Cordelia takes one of the cases of beer and kisses Stacy on the cheek. “We’ll be downstairs.”
She motions for us to follow her and we do. The basement is small, but comfortable. It smells like mold, but Stacy says she is getting that fixed. There is a small television with a couple of old couches in front of it. My favorite part is the stereo system- a Christmas present from Cordelia’s dad last year. She plugs her iPod into it and turns up the volume.
She opens the case of beer and we all help ourselves. I hate the taste of beer, but I am slowly getting used to it. The guys chug them like they are full of Kool-Aid. They sit down on the floor and pull out Cordelia’s PlayStation.
“Not today, boys.” I roll my eyes. “Please?”
“Come on, Janey.” Mogley bats his eyelashes. “Do you really want to deprive a man of his Black Ops?”
“It wouldn’t be wise,” Ross says.
“Just let them play,” Cordelia tells me. “Let’s go paint our nails.”
A few minutes later, Cordelia dumps a basket full of different colored polishes and glitters on the floor. We sit around in a circle with our shoes off and pick through the polishes, waiting for one to scream out at us. Layne chooses a deep red, like always. Jacey picks a pale pink. Cordelia picks several glittery polishes. I consider black, then decide against. I finally decide on a dark orange. We paint our nails and talk about pointless stuff that nobody else would ever care about.
Layne tells us about her mom’s newest boyfriend. “He’s a total creep. The guy is a pediatrician. And the way he looks at me, I’m pretty sure he does a lot of playing doctor with his patients.”
“That’s disgusting,” I say.
“I think doctors are hot.” Cordelia blows on one of her nails. “If things don’t work out with him and your mom, tell him to call me. And knowing your mom, I’m sure they won’t work out.”
“Gross, Dee. The guy is like fifty.” Layne rolls her eyes.
“Even better,” Cordelia insists. “I need an older man.”
“You mean twenty-four isn’t old enough?” Jacey looks at her. She is referencing the twenty-four-year-old felon Cordelia has been sleeping with.
Cordelia shrugs. “I don’t know. Chase is cool, but he’s boring. Bad boys aren’t all they are cracked up to be.”
I know that better than any of them.
“Plus he’s got that ugly tattoo on his neck,” Layne adds.
“I think it’s sexy.” Cordelia finishes her nails and stands up. “Alright boys, that’s enough with the video games. Let’s get the party started.”
“One last game,” Mogley insists. But Cordelia stands in front of the television and turns it off. They finally put up the controllers and grab more beer.
“Where is the weed?” Layne fans her hands away from her body to dry her nails. “I need it tonight.”
“I talked to Brian,” I tell her. “I’ll have to meet him at the football game to get some. I told him I would meet him there later.”
“Great.” She takes a beer out of the refrigerator and slurps it. “I need to get lost for a while. Brian’s stuff always does the trick.”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
Layne is not the only one trying to get lost tonight. I plan to get so lost that nobody can find me. Perhaps I will get so lost that nobody will ever find me. I will venture into my own world and not have to worry about anyone or anything. So lost that I discover new things in the depths of my being, figure out what I want. When I am high, I can stretch the depths of my own existence. I feel like I can do anything.
To be that lost would be magic.

I hold off on drinking so that I can drive to school to meet Brian. I search the masses in the parking lot and find him behind the concession stand. I take a few seconds to find a steady breathing pattern before I go up to him.
“Hey, Brian.”
“Janey.” He smiles at me. “I almost thought you weren’t going to show up.”
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“No problem.” He pulls out two small bags and I hand him forty dollars. “This should do the trick,” he whispers in my ear.
My heart stops for a second and I stand there, frozen. Finally I find words and energy to speak. “Thanks.”
“No problem, girl.” He winks at me. “Enjoy.”
With that, he turns back to his friends and I know that our conversation is over. My heart flip flops while I make my way back through the crowd of kids and out to my truck. With two tiny bags of green fairy dust in my pockets, I hurry back to Cordelia’s house.
They are drunk when I get back. I hurry into the basement and find them dancing around on the old white carpet. Mogley stands on the coffee table pretending to play guitar. Jacey sways from side to side. Layne and Cordelia move their bodies together. Ross dances around aimlessly on my own.
“I got the goods,” I yell over the speakers.
Mogley hops off of the table. “Green!” He yells.
Cordelia turns down the stereo and hurries over to me. She and Ross both have marijuana bowls. We pack both of them carefully with the fresh green buds. The smell alone is intoxicating when I open the bags.
“Light it up,” Ross insists.
I hand him a lighter and he heats the bowl up. He takes a long drag and puffs on the end of the bowl. He holds it in for as long as he can.
“It’s good,” he says.
I hurry over to the couch and grab two of the beers. As quickly as I can, I chug them. It doesn’t taste as terrible if you just hold your breath and drink as fast as your chest will allow you to. I finish both of them and grab a third before they are done with the first round of weed.
I am a lightweight drinker. With a cop for a dad, it is very hard to get around a house under the influence. He can smell alcohol and marijuana from a mile away. With the two beers combined with what I drank earlier, I am tipsy. When they pack the bowls again, I grab one from Layne. She hands me her lighter.
I take a long drag and watch the weed crumple under the heat. Orange mixes with the green as it burns. I take in as much as I can, puff, then take in some more. My lungs stretch like rubber bands. When they are on the verge of snapping, I let go of the smoke slowly. My eyes cross and the room spins.
Cross buzzing is true magic.
The alcohol teases the marijuana, coaxes it into my system. They tango together, waltz through my veins and straight to my brain. Everything becomes cloudy. Except, they become crystal clear at the same time. Everyone chills out almost immediately. We sit around the coffee table while the music plays on low volume. Nobody says anything for a long time. We just fill the bowls again and pass them around.
I take quick drinks of the beer and let myself float away. Finally, I am lost. My mind swirls away in purple and black streams. We move the table out of the way and lay down on each other. We are a ¬stack of stoners, a pile of pathetic losers with nothing but ugly scars and empty dreams. They are lost too, and I wonder what they are thinking. I wonder what epiphanies they are reaching, what secrets they are nursing.
Snuggled against Mogley, I find myself climbing higher and higher into the impossible. I think about everything I could be doing, where I could be. When I’m high, I have no sense of reality. I forget that I’m a fuck up, that I killed my little brother. I forget that my mom left and that my dad can barely speak to me. I forget that I have no reason to be proud of myself. I forget about the urges to slice myself open just to remember that I am, in fact, still alive. I forget about everything and nestle myself in the warmth of the misfits around me.
It is funny how easy it is to forget. How easily I can push out the memories. I wish I could do this without being high, but a girl has to settle for the simple things. I believe that cross buzzing on cheap beer and amazing weed may actually be magic. The potion is unbeatable. There seems to be a trick to being happy. A trick for making all of the bad stuff disappear. But my problems are not little white rabbits that I can put in a hat with a trap door. No, they are much bigger, much more serious. And I am no magician. But something tells me that it is still possible. And maybe I can do it. I have to do it. They say misery loves company, but I can’t be miserable anymore.

I vow to find the magic.

October 12: Anderson

When you’ve got a monster living inside of you, the best way to satisfy him is to feed him with empty carbohydrates and protein promises. If I can do that, the monster will usually stay in his place- tucked behind my ribcage, asleep on my puffy heart. But the monster is growing. Fast. And as his appetite increases, it becomes more and more difficult for me to keep him satisfied. So sometimes he erupts, explodes. He beats at my ribs, uses my heart as a trampoline, and pounces his way through my chest and up my throat. The consequences for not keeping him satisfied are grave.
And God help anyone who is in his path when he gets out.
My monster is exceptionally hungry today. It is game day, and he is ready to play. He bounces around in my chest. I chug water to try to keep him down. Starting the day off with a pop quiz in US History and a test in English are not exactly my ideas of school spirit. I walk out of my English class after the bell rings, knowing that I just made my first F.
“Will you slow down?” Samantha hurries after me in short, quick strides. “It wasn’t that bad, Anderson.”
“Easy for you to say,” I sneer. “Fossett worships the ground you walk on.”
“I took the same test you did.” She pulls on my book bag. “Maybe you should have studied, rather than playing video games all night.”
I spin around. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a little kid!”
The smile on her face disappears. People in the hallways stare at us for several seconds before continuing about their business.
“I wasn’t,” she insists. “It was a joke, Anderson. Just a joke.”
The monster simmers in my throat like hot acid. Her cool blue eyes wash over me and my breathing slows down. She is hurt, and the real Anderson feels terrible. The monster creeps back down into my chest for now. False alarm; kind of.
“I’m sorry.” I reach for her hand but she pulls away.
“Yeah,” she mumbles. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
With that, she walks down the hall. I feel like ramming my head into my locker, but that would mean that the monster won. Instead, I switch out my books and chug half a bottle of water. The water does not seem to be doing much good.
Apparently the monster is a great swimmer.

By the end of chemistry, I am dying to see Samantha. I need to make sure she is not actually mad at me. I ditch my lab partner as quickly as I can and try to beat the crowds out of the science building. James and Ethan are waiting at our lockers with Ivy and Lena.
“Does Jade have a date to the party?” Ethan asks Ivy.
She shrugs. “I don’t know, Ethan. Why don’t you ask her?” She points at Jade and Reece, who walk up with Tommie and Zack. “Hey, Jade-“
“Shut up!” Ethan puts his hand on her mouth and everyone laughs.
“What’s up?” Jade tucks her hands in her back pockets.
Ethan’s face turns bright red and everyone gets quiet. He is such a chicken. I look at James, who pats Ethan on the back.
“Ethan was just wondering if you wanted to come to my party tonight…” He smiles wide. “With him.”
Everyone stares at Jade. She blushes. But the girl is cool, and she knows how to hold her own in this crowd.
“Sure,” she shrugs like it’s nothing. As if it’s a secret that those two have been crushing on each other since we were sophomores.
“Great.” James squeezes Ethan’s shoulder. “Now was that so hard?”
Samantha arrives a few seconds later. She walks with the girls and I don’t try to talk to her just yet. The last thing either of us will want is a big scene in front of our friends. Once we have our food, she slides into the booth beside me.
“Figured out what you’re going to say at the pep rally, Captain?” Tommie sits down across from me and takes a bite of his hamburger.
I shrug. “I’m just gonna wing it. It’s just a damn pep rally.”
“And besides,” Zack says, “they worship you. They’ll eat up anything you say.”
Ethan laughs. “I dare you to just go out there, grab the microphone, and yell ‘fuck yeah, Boomers!’ And then just walk out.”
“Dude that would be awesome!” James chugs his entire carton of milk.
I smile. “I feel like Coach wouldn’t ever let me have the microphone again.” They all laugh. And the more I think about it, maybe yelling ‘fuck it’ into the microphone isn’t such a stupid idea after all.
Samantha talks to her girls and picks at my food. She thinks I don’t notice, but I do. I notice how the skin around her elbows and knees is not as soft anymore. I notice how her collarbone juts out a little more than it used to. I notice how she never orders food, but she eats off of my plate. I notice how the areas around her eyes are darker, how her stamina is lower when we go for our Saturday morning jogs. I notice.
I let her remain oblivious to my noticing, pretend I don’t see her grabbing for my fries. I hope that with a fuller stomach, maybe she will be more receptive to my apologies. When the bell rings, she hurries off with the girls. But she will never be faster than me. I put my arm gently around her and smile. She knows it’s me and she doesn’t pull away. We walk behind our friends.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“What?” Her voice is still a little cold.
I smile, and I know she won’t be able to stay mad. “Will you be my date to the after party tonight?”
She rolls her eyes and I know I’ve got her. “Of course.”
And just like that, the fight is over. Nobody suspects a thing about my angry monster or her reactions. All they see is Five Points’ hottest couple, walking intertwined and perfectly in love into the gym to get ready for their VIP party. Pep rallies may as well be just that- a celebration of me and all of the nothings that I have done. I separate with my better half to put on my uniform and get hyped with the guys.
“Alright boys, let’s get pretty.” The guys laugh and we start shedding our clothes and putting on our jerseys.
“What are you doing in here, Frosh?” James asks. I turn around and see Alex standing by the linen closet. He is holding a handful of white towels.
“Getting the towels for tonight.” He opens the door but before he can put them away, I snatch one off the top of the stack. A few of them fall to the floor.
“Give me that!”
“Who are you talking to like that?” I inch towards him.
“Can you just give me the towel, please?” He rolls his eyes. “Seriously, how old are you?”
A couple of the guys snicker behind me, which sets me off. I can feel the acid starting to boil as the monster wakes up from his hiding spot.
“I told you to watch the way you talk to me, Freshman.” I twirl the towel between my fingers. “Now you’re going to have to pay the consequences.”
“Whip him.” Ethan steps up beside me, shirtless.
I don’t hesitate to appease Ethan’s request. I snap the towel quickly at Alex’s shin. The snapping noise is crisp and satisfying. Even more satisfying is when Alex jumps back.
James howls. “Do it again! I don’t think he’s learned yet.”
I hit Alex again on the arm. This time, he doesn’t move. “You’re pathetic,” he says between gritted teeth.
The monster growls in my throat and urges me to pounce on Alex. The guys’ moaning in the background doesn’t do anything but set the monster off even more. I clench my fists and beg the monster to chill out. Everything ices over when I hear Samantha’s voice behind me.
“What the hell is going on?”
I turn around and see her standing in the corner of the locker room with her hands on her hips. She sexy in her tight cheerleading uniform. But she is definitely not trying to be sexy right now.
“Baby, what are you doing in here?” I force a smile.
“Leave him alone.” She looks past me at Alex. It makes me furious. “You guys need to leave that poor freshman alone.”
James cackles. “Don’t be such a girl. We’re just initiating him, making him part of the team.”
Samantha rolls her eyes. “Did you get your ass whipped when you were a freshman, James? Or did they skip that part? Maybe you need a spanking, too.”
“You can spank me anytime, sweetheart.” James winks at her and the guys laugh. The monster tells me to strangle him for talking to my girlfriend like that. But Anderson lets it slide.
“I expected more from the captain, Anderson.” She shakes her head. Her eyes are soft, pleading. They are like old, worn denim- comforting and worn.
I shrug. “It’s just the way it is. It’s my job as captain to put these freshmen in their place.”
She shakes her head. “Alright, well maybe I didn’t expect more from the captain. I expected more from my boyfriend.”
The guys all stare at me. I swallow hard.
She presses on, “If you want a place in my life, you’ll put that towel down. My boyfriend is not a bully.”
Everyone sits silently, waiting for me to make my move. As much as I want to pummel Alex for getting me into this, he is not worth losing my girlfriend over. And I can tell Samantha is serious by the way her left eye twitches a little.
“Whatever,” I mumble. I toss the towel at Alex and hurry out of the locker room.
The acid in my body is so hot that I think I could dissolve from the inside out. I hurry outside and Samantha follows me. Leave it to her to be the only person who would ever come after me while I was this angry. She knows just what buttons to push.
“Slow down,” she calls after me.
“Do you realize how embarrassing that was?” My voice is hot and harsh.
She doesn’t seem to care, because hers just as hot. “What? That you were picking on a freshman who looks up to you? I’d be embarrassed too. He wants to be you, Anderson.”
I can’t say anything because I know she is exactly right. But how do I tell her that she wasn’t watching me in the locker room? She was witnessing a monster.
“I don’t know why anyone would want to be you after that performance.” Her voice calms down. “Maybe I shouldn’t have handled it like that. But you are not a bully. That’s not you.”
“I know,” I mutter.
She smiles. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.” This day has been filled with too many apologies already. “I’m not a bully. I’m just an idiot.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah you are.”

Back in the locker room, James asks me if I showed Samantha who is boss. Rather than humor him with lies or fake stories, I just shrug.
“Something like that.”
“Alright boys!” Coach comes into the locker room and claps his hands. “They’ve started the pep rally. In a few minutes, they’re going to call us out there. I want you guys to go out there as hyped up as you can be. I don’t want to see a single one of you without some spirit, do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” everyone says.
“Alright. This is cake.” He adjusts his hat. “This is the easy part. You smile, you wave, you clap, and you cheer. You remind those people why they’re dragging their asses out to see you tonight.
Anderson,” he looks at me. “You know what you’re going to say out there?”
“Sure thing, Coach.” I nod.
“Alright, let’s do this.”
We all put our hands in and say a chant before following the coach out into the small hallway between our locker room and the gym. I watch as Samantha gives her speech with grace and poise. She is a natural. After the band plays a song, Ruby finally announces that it is our turn. The guys start to get antsy behind me.
“Put your hands together for Coach Allen Barnes and the Five Points Boomer varsity football team!”
The school erupts. School spirit is definitely not an issue. The gym is a sea of red and white. Confetti falls over our heads as we jog out onto the gym floor. The place is a madhouse. After a long-winded speech about Boomer pride, Coach Barnes hands me the microphone. I lied when I told him that I knew everything I was going to say. I actually have no idea. Because the things I want to say are definitely not what Coach would expect from me.
I clear my throat and tell my school what they want to hear from me. What they expect. “We want to thank everyone for the support. I love seeing all of that red and white and I hope to see more of it tonight. Go crazy. I want to see body paint, pompoms, all of it.”
Everyone laughs. The team gets them riled up for a few seconds before I finish. “This is my last first game here at Five Points. I’ve thrown a lot of footballs. I can promise you that this is the best team of the best guys I have ever played with. We are going to all the way this year. Everyone come out tonight and support us. We love you guys! Go Boomers!” The crowd goes crazy was we gather into our huddle.
“What time is it?” I yell.
“Game time,” they chant back.
“What time is it?”
“Game time!”
They never stop cheering as more confetti falls and we finish our chant. We scurry back into the locker room while everyone else starts to exit the gym. For them, it is over for a few hours. But for me, I’ve got weights to lift and plays to review. Today is my day. Everyone is depending on me, and I can’t let them down. Not my coach, not my team, not my school. Not my dad.
For me it is never over.
Game time is right.

Sometimes when I’m playing football, I forget that I hate it. I get wrapped up in the glimmer of the lights, the taste of sweat and dirt, the roar of the crowd, and the intensity of the moment. Tonight is a reminder of why I started to love football in the first place. Every play is a rush, a risk. Coach yells plays at me and I do my best to make sure my team follows through. The stadium is packed with people covered in red Five Points gear. Samantha is on the sidelines with her squad cheering away. She soars through the sky beautifully during their stunts.
My dad watches from his spot right on the fifty. He sits next to James’s parents, with Jenson right beside of him. I swear I can hear Jenson’s cheers over the rest of the entire stadium. He never sits down. He is my number one fan. He is holding a sign that says so: Anderson Stone’s Biggest Fan. Lexi is nowhere to be found, not that I’m surprised. And I like it better that way.
Our team is a machine. Each part is perfectly oiled, perfectly prepped so that when we come together, the machine runs effortlessly. We don’t get tired, we don’t stop pushing, we run and we run fast. The other team is good, but not good enough. By halftime, we have a strong lead.
“You guys are busting your asses out there,” Coach says. “And I couldn’t be more proud of the way that first half went. But you guys know that Woodcrest is a second half team. We have to stay smart and stay fast.”
“Yes, sir.” Our voices echo around the field house. My teammates take in long, deep breaths and chug Gatorade.
From inside, I can hear the band out on the field. I don’t know what they are playing, but I wish I could see them. I wish I could just be a spectator, watching from the stands at all of the mayhem on the field. The best thing about the game is that when I am in football mode, the monster gets his fix. He takes all of his aggressions out on the football and anyone who gets in the way of its path. The monster is calm for now. I am ready for the second half. I don’t like down time.
Down time reminds me of why I hate football.

Dad is waiting for me in the parking lot after our win. Once we are washed off and changed, the guys join me in finding all of our families, who have nothing better to do than sit in the cold and watch us throw a ball around. Whatever makes them happy.
“Andy!” Jenson runs towards me with his sign. The smile on his face is enough to make me happy. I pick him up and squeeze him.
“Hey buddy. What did you think?”
“It was awesome!” He squeals. “I made this for you.”
I put him down and he shows me the sign. The handwriting is messy and uneven, but it could possibly be the greatest thing I have ever seen.
“This is awesome, kiddo.” I ruffle his hair. “It’s going right above my bed, okay?”
“Okay!”
“Nice game, son.” Dad walks up to shake my hand. He has the dumbest grin on his face. He might be the proudest dad here. Although Ethan’s dad could give him a good run for his money.
“Thanks, Pop.” I shake his hand and move in for a hug. He hugs me for a little too long, but I don’t mind.
For some reason, I am okay with what is happening right now. My nerves are calm and the monster is asleep. I walk with Jenson and my dad to his truck. On the way, seventeen people stop me.
“Good game, Anderson!”
“Way to go, man.”
“You’re brilliant, dude!”
“See you tonight, right?”
“We’re so proud of you, Anderson.”
Yeah, I get it. I’m fucking awesome. But really all I want is to go home, make chocolate milk, and get in bed with Jenson with a Curious George book. That is his favorite thing to do. Mine too, except I never have time for it anymore.
“Going out, I’m assuming.” Dad opens the passenger door and Jenson climbs in.
“First game, Dad.” I shrug. “Celebrating is kind of mandatory.”
“I get it.” He nods. “I was in high school once too, you know. Just don’t do anything stupid, Anderson. I know you want to have a good time. But some of your friends are…”
“They’re idiots, yeah I know.” I pat him on the back. “I’ll be fine, Dad. Don’t worry about me.”
“I trust you.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Have I ever missed a game?” He chuckles. “This kid thinks he’s your number one fan. He’s sorely mistaken.”
“Hey!” Jenson squeals and Dad closes the door.
“Be good, son.” He pats my arm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He leaves a few seconds later and I wish I was on the back of the truck, headed home with him and my brother to the comfort of our home. But instead, I talk to a few lingering fans before getting in my own car to drive to Ethan’s house.
I love going to Ethan’s place after games. His parents order pizzas and wings, his mom makes cookies and cake. I drink two glasses of soda, which Coach would kill me for if he knew. I pile my plate with pizza, wings, potato skins, and chips. Games always leave me starving. And the monster is feeling hungry again, so I am eating for two. All of the food will make it harder to get drunk tonight, but I eat it all anyway.
I sit with Ethan, Tommie and Zack in the living room. Ethan’s dad connects his camera to the TV and plays the game. We look at each play and stuff our faces. Once we are done eating, we go upstairs to get ready. Everybody puts on their nicest shirts, the guys in polos and me in a button-up. I put on a pair of jeans that Samantha likes and some of my favorite shoes.
“I’ve got to make a stop first,” Ethan tells us when we get to the car. “My brother has all of our booze.”
We ride across town to Ethan’s brother’s apartment. It’s pretty shitty considering the way Ethan’s family lives. But Ethan explains that Charlie is the rebel in the family. He and Tommie go inside and come back out with several cases of beer.
“This should do us,” Tommie laughs.
“Yeah and David said he was bringing a couple kegs,” Zack says.
“The girls will have liquor,” I remind them.
“Yeah, we’re good.” Ethan starts the car and speeds to Ivy’s house to get the girls.

When we get to James’s house, the party is already bumping. We like to get there a little late, so that things are already going when we make an entrance. I hurry to the girls’ car to help Samantha out. Her black dress is tight and tiny. She looks so beautiful.
“You look great,” I tell her.
“You too.” She puts her hand in mine. I want nothing more than to push her back into the car and kiss her until the party is over and the sun comes up. But that is not an option. Her friends are already pulling her towards the house before I can even kiss her.
Some of our friends are smoking on the porch. The music is loud even outside, I can only imagine how it is inside. James always throws the best parties. Inside, every corner is of space is taken up by bodies. I think the entire student body may have come out to this party. I follow the guys into the kitchen to put our beers away.
“Let’s dance,” Samantha comes into the kitchen and pulls me towards the living room. The bass is thumping hard and we find the beat easily.
Sam moves like a cat, sliding her body against mine. She is sexy, but not trashy- like most of the girls around us. Her hands trail over my most sensitive spots and I chug the beer in my hand before I spill it all over her. I forget about all of the bodies around us. Her hands are the only ones I recognize on my back and arms. I run my hands over the thin fabric of her dress. Even in the dark room, her eyes sparkle and her smile screams at me. I can’t take my eyes off of her.
Ethan grabs my arm and pulls me from my intoxicated trance. “We’re up for beer pong, buddy.”
“Alright.” I turn to Samantha, who is sweating. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Go.” She pushes me lightly.
I follow Ethan into the dining room where the beer pong table is set up. We’re up against Mike and Chris, two guys on offense. Ethan is a pro at beer pong, and I’m pretty good myself. We sweep the board, skunking several teams who dare to go against us. Jade stays by Ethan’s side and cheers him on. I wonder for a second where Samantha is and realize I’m out of beer.
“Time out,” I say to our new victims. I go into the kitchen, where someone is standing at the refrigerator.
“Hey, could you throw me a beer?”
He turns around. Gabe. He looks me up and down and mouth goes sour. “Oh. Hey, Gabe.”
“Hi,” he mumbles and turns back to the refrigerator.
I haven’t talked to him since the incident in the ice cream shop. There was no point in telling him that it wasn’t me that called him those things- it was the monster. He already thinks I’m an asshole. No need for him to think that I’m crazy, too. But my dad always told me that a man admits when he is wrong. And although I’m barely teetering into manhood, I know what I need to do.
“Listen, I just wanted to say-”
“Don’t mention it.”
He throws me a can of beer and walks out of the kitchen with his nose in the air. I have to give the kid props. He’s got pride. A lot more than most of the people I know. I least I can’t say I didn’t try. I hurry back into the dining room where the guys are waiting for me.
“Finally!” Ethan looks up from Jade, who is rubbing her hands over his letterman’s jacket. “Let’s play.”
We play several more games throughout the night. I drink the beers faster than they can hand them to me. I drink for Ethan too, once he stops. Before I know it, I am swimming in a brown sea of Budweiser and Coors Light. My vision starts to get cloudy. Somehow, my aim gets even better with each drink. The monster is drunk, too. He finds his place padded beneath my heart and knocks out for the night. I let myself go and stop worrying about anything for a while.
Faces blur around me as people talk to me about the game and other pointless stuff that won’t matter tomorrow. At one point I search the house for Samantha, but nobody has seen her for a while. Sober Anderson would be concerned, but drunken Anderson follows a couple of cheerleaders out onto the dance floor with James. I let the music and the booze take me into the dark.
Sometime around three, everyone starts to leave. My vision is blurry and my head feels like it weighs a ton. But everything is fine, everything is okay.
“There she is!” Ivy points to Samantha, who is asleep on the porch in a rocking chair next to Gabe. I wonder if she has been out here the entire night.
“Come on, Doll.” I pick her up and carry her to the car. She rests her head against my chest and I wonder if she is as drunk as me. I stumble along the sidewalk and gently lay Sam in the backseat of Jade’s car.
“I’m going with David,” Maya tells us. David pulls on her arm and she follows him to his car. I don’t think anybody really cares.
Tommie leans against Ethan’s car with Ivy wrapped up in his arms. They kiss for a few seconds and she pulls away slowly.
“Damn,” Tommie mutters. “Did you know Ivy was hot?”
“Who didn’t?” Zack says from the backseat.
“Bye boys,” Ivy slurs and makes her way to Jade’s car.
Jade is still on the sidewalk talking to Ethan, who is slightly buzzed. He stopped drinking a few hours ago so he could drive us all home.
“Well I’ll see you Monday.” Jade smiles.
Ethan just nods like a dope. “See you.”
They turn away from each other without kissing or hugging. Zack and Tommie laugh in the back seat. Ethan gets in the car.
“You’re a wuss, man.” Tommie ruffles his hair. “A total wuss.”
“Timing, dude.” Ethan starts the car and pulls away. “It’s all in the timing.”
We wind through the streets of some of Chicago’s nicest neighborhoods, stopping at each of our houses. I tune out Tommie’s obnoxious singing and Zack’s jokes until Ethan shakes me awake outside of my house.
I stumble into my room as quietly as I can. Before I climb into bed, I notice that Jenson’s sign is now hung up right above my bed. It fits in perfectly with the rest of the Boomer banners and trophies. I wonder what my biggest fan would think of his big brother right now. I already know the answer to that.
Confused.
Ashamed.
Disappointed.
He would have no pride.
He would feel like me. He would know exactly what it felt like to be Anderson Stone. Without the monster, of course. And I would never want to make my little brother-my biggest fan- feel the way I do. The beer sloshes around in my stomach and knocks the monster out. Something has to change. I’ve got a beast to tame. And a kid to impress. I can’t keep feeling like this.

I vow to be proud of myself again.

October 12: Gabe

Morning breakfast has become quite a chore in the DeCarteret household. Dad leaves before sunup to avoid the inevitable awkward silences. James shovels cereal and toast into his mouth, washes it down with orange juice, and burps loudly. Mom stirs around the kitchen, struggling to keep his glass full and stashing power bars in his backpack. I sit across from him and pick at a blueberry muffin, trying to avoid eye contact and block out the sounds of him chewing.
“Today is the day,” Mom says and rubs her hand over James’s back.
“Yep,” he says without swallowing his food.
“Don’t forget we’ll be leaving after halftime.” She closes a box of cereal and puts it in the pantry. “We’ve got the church retreat this weekend.”
“I know,” James mumbles. Milk runs down his chin and I can’t take it anymore. I get up to throw my muffin away.
“Don’t waste that,” Mom takes it from me before I throw it into the trash can. “You need to be eating. You could stand to gain a few pounds.”
“Mother, I’ve been trying to gain weight since I was twelve.” I run my hands under the sink. “It’s not happening.”
She sighs and throws the half-eaten muffin in the trash. The way she is acting, you’d think she just buried her sister or something. And the muffin was staler than Aunt Susan anyway.
“And besides,” I pour a glass of apple juice. “I need to stay fit for the theater.”
She rubs her hands on her apron and shakes her head. “Not for much longer. You need to start thinking about what you’re going to after you graduate, Gabriel.”
“Theater.”
She spins around. “You can’t be serious.”
“Mom, I’ve been in plays since I was five.” I take a swig of the apple juice. “I have every musical theater vinyl ever made. For the past six years, I’ve only asked for Broadway tickets for Christmas- which Santa still hasn’t given me. I can recite every major Shakespearean monologue ever written. And I can’t go five minutes without bursting into song. What do you mean, I can’t be serious?”
“Theater is a hobby, Gabriel.” She purses her lips. “But once you are out of school, it will be time to get serious. You need to start thinking about a career.”
“Football is a hobby too, Mom,” I sneer.
“That is not the same thing.” She points her finger towards me. “Don’t you pull that, Gabriel.”
“Well, I’m only a junior Mom.” I tighten my grip on the glass in my hand to keep from throwing it at her. “And after that, I plan on going somewhere with a really good musical theater program.”
“Do you know how many people dream of being stars, Gabriel?” She steps towards me. “It’s just not realistic.”
“It is if you want it,” I assure her. “And I want it.”
She huffs. “Well I’m sure your father would agree when I say that we simply will not pay for some mediocre education in wants and wishes.” She puts her hands on her hips.
“You won’t have to.” I throw the glass in the sink. “I’ll do it myself.”
“Gabriel-“
“We’ve got to go.” James stands up from the table and puts his dishes in the sink. Clearly he’s heard enough. “I’ll see you at the game, Ma.”
He kisses her on the cheek and she squeezes his face between her tiny hands. She loves him; she really does. I envy him in this moment. I wonder what it is like to have your parents dote on you, love you just for being you.
Must be nice.
Mom looks at me. “You’ll be at the game, won’t you, Gabriel?” She raises an eyebrow and I decide not to test the waters anymore this morning.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” I grab my books and follow James out to the truck.
“Thanks,” I say once we are outside and out of earshot.
“Whatever,” he mumbles. To my surprise, he throws the keys at me. “Here.”
Sometimes I believe that James might actually have a soul, buried somewhere deep beneath the layers of tennis shoe laces and bacon. Somewhere inside of him, he possesses that twin psyche thing that they talk about on the Discovery Health Channel. Sometimes I think he cares a little bit. And then I remember that he’s throwing a party tonight after our parents leave for the retreat. He’s going to want me to keep my mouth shut.
“Just don’t kill me.” He smirks. “It’s game day.”

School is most definitely bustling with game day spirit. Everyone is wearing their school t-shirts for whatever club they are in or team they are on. I personally am rocking the red V-neck theater shirt that Mrs. Mashburn finally let the theater kids order. It hangs loosely under my favorite brown vest. Despite my school’s lack of spirit for me, I’ve got no choice but to show Boomer pride. So I wear my shirt with pride and dark skinny jeans.
My friends are waiting by our stairs, running lines for the fall play. Jessica stands up and twirls when she sees me. She’s wearing a long skirt that flows around her legs.
“Caramel macchiato with extra caramel,” she holds a paper cup in front of me.
“Thanks, Jess.” I take the hot cup from her. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Hey Gabe,” Cameron mumbles without looking up from his script. “Why can’t I just get that freaking line?”
“Because you’re excited about game day?” I say sarcastically.
The others laugh. Alana rolls her eyes. “Please, the only good thing about this shirt is that it makes my boobs look great.”
“At least we got somewhat cute shirts this year,” Jessica says. “Last year’s shirts were dreadful.”
“Gabe, you want to run lines really quick?” Cameron finally looks up from his script book.
I shake my head. “I wish I could, but the studio is calling me. It’s Friday, remember? And I’m still on camera duty.”
“Of course,” Cameron nods.
“But thank you for the java.” I lift my cup towards Jessica. “I’ll see you guys after break.”
Doing the morning announcements with Ruby has become a routine. She is nice and fun. I understand why everyone likes her. At the same time, I am slowly realizing that Ruby hates herself. And I am determined to understand why.
We leave the studio together and she sips the rest of my macchiato. She asks me about the football game, and I promise her that I will be there to cheer her on.
“The field is my stage,” she tells me.
“And I support all of the arts,” I assure her.
What is not an art, is Pre-calculus. It is more like a slow-acting poison that takes the life out of you, breath by agonizing breath. And I am positive that Mr. Evans is trying to kill me with his monotonous lectures. When he passes back our quiz grades, my paper looks like it has been slit open by a scalpel. All I see through the blood-red ink is ‘you suck.’ He might as well fail me now. I crumple the quiz up and throw it away, promising myself that I will study pre-calculus half as much as I study my lines. There is no room for failure in the theater.
Or in the ever-torturous DeCarteret household.

When I get to Ms. McConnell’s office for third period, I can tell she’s already had a rough morning. She sits at her desk with her head resting in her hands. I knock softly on the door and she perks up.
“Gabe,” she sighs. “You scared me.”
“Sorry about that.” I smile. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, everything is fine.” She takes a sip from her mug of coffee. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make. If you want to just get a jumpstart on your homework or something, that’d be fine.”
I nod. “I’ve got lines to memorize.”
“Perfect.”
I leave her to her phone calls and take a seat at my desk. While I run through my lines, I overhear several of her conversations.
“I know Manuel wants to go, Judith. It’s just a matter of getting the money. I’ll pay for it myself if I have to….”
“Yes, she’s doing fine, Misses Rhodes…. I understand your concerns, but she is going to all of her classes and….”
“Moving into a new home can be very hard on young teens, Mister Reid. I’m sure that working with the football team is a great way for Alex to get adjusted…”
I try to block it out, but I’m nosey and I can’t help it. I blame my mother; she is always sticking her nose in other peoples’ business at church. She’s a therapist, for God’s sake. She loves other peoples’ problems. And I’ve got a knack for them myself.
“Excuse me,” a man’s voice shakes me from my reading and eavesdropping. He is tall, older, with an expensive brown suit on. “I’m looking for Miss McConnell.”
“What’s your name?” I sit up and put my hands on the computer keyboard to seem more professional.
His voice is shaky. “John. John Phillips.”
“Just a second,” I hop out of my seat and knock on Ms. McConnell’s door. “Someone is here to see you.”
“Who?” She looks up from her computer.
I shrug. “John Phillips?”
“Oh,” she seems to recognize the name. “Tell him to come in.”
I turn to the man with the expensive suit and the shaky voice. “You can go ahead.” I smile, but he doesn’t smile back.
When he gets into her office, I settle back into my eavesdropping chair and listen. From what I can hear, Mr. Phillips is Brian Phillips’ dad. And he is saying something about Brian’s mom wanting to visit them from rehab. Rehab? Who knew Brian’s mom was in rehab? I must have just heard it wrong.
“She is going to be released in a couple of weeks. I’m not sure where she will go after that.” Mr. Phillips’ voice doesn’t stop shaking. “He hasn’t seen her in nearly seven years.”
I definitely didn’t hear it wrong. I guess addictions run in the Phillips family. I decide that I don’t want to hear any more of this conversation. I put my headphones on and turn my iPod up. I don’t cut it off until the bell rings and I see Mr. Phillips follow Ms. McConnell out into the lobby. I stuff my iPod in my book bag and hurry to lunch with the burden of Brian Phillips’ secrets clouding my head.

“Good news,” Alana says once I’m at our table. “Misses Mashburn got us out of the pep rally. We don’t have to go.”
“That’s fucking fantastic.” I sit down and bite into an apple. “How did she manage that?”
Mara smiles. “She told Mister Hall that the fall play is more important than some stupid exploitation of student athletes and their misdemeanors.” She holds her fingers up to denote quotation marks.
“Whatever that means,” Jessica rolls her eyes. “Either way, Hall says we can have the auditorium to practice.”
“That’s perfect!” I tug on my V-neck. “I guess we wore these shirts for nothing.”
“I don’t care,” Alana covers her lips with a fresh coat of lipstick. “I look great in red.”
Cameron kisses her and then turns to me. “So, anything exciting going on in the offices today?”
“Yeah,” Jessica rests her chin in her hands. “Any hot gossip?”
The thought of telling them about the stuff I heard doesn’t even cross my mind. Manny can’t pay for a field trip, Evelyn’s mom is worried about her, and Brian’s dad is pulling him out of fourth period to visit his mom in rehab. That’s not exactly small talk for the lunch table.
I shake my head. “Nope, nothing. Nothing at all.”

I love practicing in the auditorium. It gives you a feel for the real thing, gets you excited for the finished project. As soon as the bell rings, we hurry into the auditorium while the rest of the school piles towards the gym.
“Home sweet home,” Alana sucks in a deep breath as soon as we get into the dark room. This is the first time the auditorium has been unlocked all semester.
“I’m in heaven.” Cameron flips the lights on and we all hurry down the carpeted steps to the stage.
We collapse on the stage. The glossy hard wood is comforting to me. I lay my head on Jessica’s thigh and let Alana rest her head on my stomach. The equipment and makeup crews make their way into the room and sit in the padded seats in front of the stage. The auditorium is kind of small, with rows of seats that start high and descend to the front of the stage. We always have sold out performances, especially for the spring musical. I get giddy just thinking about it.
“Gabe!” Mrs. Mashburn opens the side door and stomps out onto the stage. “I need to speak to you.”
Everyone falls silent and Alana sits up so that I can stand. I follow Mrs. Mashburn out into the hall. She slides her glasses off of her nose and looks at me with worn out blue eyes.
“What did I do?” I ask. I’ve never seen her so serious.
“Everything,” she mutters.
“What?” I scowl.
She finally smiles. “I just got off the phone with the head of the theater department at the School for the Arts.” She wipes her glasses off and puts them back on. “They want you, Gabe.”
“What?” My face flushes. “What are you talking about.”
“They want you, Gabe.” She chuckles. “Someone saw your Grease performance last year, and they want you.”
“Chicago School for the Arts?”
“That’s the one.” Mrs. Mashburn nods. “They will be here to see the fall play, Gabe. And if they like it, they’ll want to set up a formal audition.”
“You’re kidding me.” I put my hands on my head and try to breathe.
“You wish I was kidding,” she laughs. “They want Jessica too. Both of you could very well be spending your senior year at the best school in the state.”
I try to breathe, but reality punches me in the chest before I can catch a breath. My parents would never let me go to an arts school, even if it was one of the best in the country.
“Misses Mashburn…” I stammer. “My parents. They would never go for this. Ever.”
“Gabriel, this is your future we’re talking about.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Graduating from the School of the Arts will make you a top candidate for the best musical theater programs in the country.”
“I know that,” I assure her. “Believe me, I know. But I just know that my parents wouldn’t even consider it.”
“Let’s not think about that right now,” she hushes me. “Let’s just get you ready for this play. You’ve got some big people to wow. And I have no doubt that you’ll do just that.”
“Okay,” I smile.
“Now get in there and start running your lines with Cameron. Tell Jessica I’d like to see her out here.”
“Alright,” I mumble.
“Gabriel,” she pulls my hand. “What did I tell you? You’re a star.”
“Thanks, Mash.”
I can tell by Jessica’s squeals a few moments later that she is nothing but pleased. And why wouldn’t she be? After all, her parents are artists themselves. They support everything she does, sit front row at every show, and would follow her anywhere if it meant her dreams coming true. Exact opposite of my parents. For the rest of rehearsal, I try not to think about it. Finishing high school at a place completely dedicated to helping me follow my dreams is too much to think about when I’m trying to focus on the task at hand.
Who am I kidding? Focusing is completely out of the question.

I can’t stop thinking about it while I scoop cones at the ice cream shop. Jessica had screamed in my ear for a solid five minutes after school. She was so excited about the prospect of us following our dreams together, making an impression on the officials from ChiArts that would leave them speechless. But as thrilling as it sounded, all I could think about was the lecture I would get from my mom if I even mentioned it. And I still can’t quite wrap my head around it.
The shop has been dead all afternoon. Everyone is out getting ready for the big game. I scoop myself a cone of cookie dough ice cream and slip into a tune from the Legally Blonde musical. When the bell on the front door rings, I spin around and see Evelyn Rhodes. A girl who looks just like her stands in the doorway.
“Hey, girls.” I smile.
“Hey, Gabe.” Evelyn walks up to the counter. They both stare at the selections for a few seconds before ordering and I wonder how old the other one is. She is wearing a lot of makeup and clothes that are too tight. They say the apples don’t fall far from the tree, and I’m guessing these two fell off of the same forbidden one. They order and the younger one goes to sit down without looking at me.
“Sorry about her,” Evelyn mumbles. “She’s barely a teenager and thinks she’s a grown woman.”
I chuckle. “Don’t they all?” I hand her their orders. “She looks just like you. Is she your sister?”
“Is it that obvious,” Evelyn sneers. “She’s a trip.”
“She’s pretty,” I admit. I know Evelyn isn’t someone to test, but I go for it anyway. “I think something is wrong with her.”
Evelyn stares at me. “What do you mean?”
I shrug. “It’s her eyes. They’re gone. You can tell she’s not here. They’re sort of empty… Like yours.”
Her face flushes and quickly, I add, “And mine.”
She hands me a wad of money but I just shake my head. “It’s on the house. Just talk to her.”
“Alright,” Evelyn nods and stuffs the money back in her pocket. “Thanks Gabe.”
They sit there for maybe half an hour. I overhear bits of their conversation and I can tell that Evelyn is trying to get through to her. The girl seems to have some walls up, just like Evelyn. Then again, I guess we all build our own walls. Keep your heart guarded, lesson number one. I’ve worn mine on my sleeve too many times, and in turn, had it picked and prodded at like a sideshow attraction. Now my heart is more guarded than the Wicked Witch of the West’s castle in The Wizard of Oz. I imagine those ugly monkey guards marching back and forth in front of my heart. No entry. Don’t even bother trying. Except, who am I kidding? I want to love everyone. And I just want them all to love me back.

I leave the shop early to get home in time to eat a turkey sandwich and change coats before my parents are ready to leave. They always leave entirely too early so they can get their favorite spot. I follow them to the ideal destination: the very top of the bleachers, right on the fifty yard line. From here, we can see everything.
I sit down, squished in between them on our red and white Boomer stadium seats. Mom lays a fuzzy red blanket over our laps and offers me a bag of trail mix. For a second, she is almost a human, rather than a prudish, Catholic robot. She even halfway smiles at me. Game day makes everyone a little crazy.
“Can I get some hot chocolate?” I ask her.
She hands me a five dollar bill and I take my time going to the concession stand. People have started to flood around the parking lot. I would hang out around here, except I don’t fit in with any of these people. My friends are all at the movies, while I’m stuck here to pretend to cheer for a sport that makes me want to puke. It just doesn’t seem fair. But then when was it ever?
My parents slip out of their strict, cold leather exterior on game nights. They stand up, they cheer, and sometimes my father even yells. My mom claps her hands a little too hard and yells James’s name even when he’s not on the field. James is great at what he does, which is something I can semi-appreciate. The home stands are full, and our fans are wild. When the buzzer rings and signals halftime, I think my mom might cry.
“I hate that we have to leave,” she says to my dad.
“Isn’t it just a shame?” I say sarcastically.
“I know, Tammy.” My dad stands up and folds his chair. “But they’re waiting for us at the retreat. We’ll be at the next one.”
“Alright,” she mumbles.
“Wait,” I say while they pack the stuff up. “Can we just stay to watch the halftime show?”
They ignore me and exit the stands before the band even marches on the field. I guess I’ll just have to pretend I cheered Ruby on.
The ride home is silent and awkward. They drop me off outside of the house before speeding off to their stupid church retreat. I wonder if they get a speeding ticket, will Jesus fit the bill. I hurry inside and start a hot bath. Our old house is so peaceful when it is empty. I turn on one of my vinyl records and go into the kitchen to make tea. I estimate that I have maybe two hours before James and his friends arrive to start raging.
I take my time soaking in the bathtub with my peppermint tea. I think about Chicago School of the Arts, and how they want me. I think of Brian Phillips and wonder how the trip to see his mom went. I think about Jessica’s parents and ask God why mine can’t loosen their restrictive grip just a little bit. I ask a million questions, but when I get out to dry myself off and change, I still don’t have any of the answers.
When James gets in, I am sitting in the dining room devouring a piece of strawberry cheesecake. He comes in and pours himself a glass of milk.
“We won,” he tells me.
“Nice.” I don’t look up from my script book.
He takes a long drink from his glass. “You’re cool with a party, right?”
I wonder if my answer really makes a difference. I suppose if I really wasn’t cool with it, I could stay at Jessica’s or Cameron’s. But the last thing I want is to be some stowaway who can’t hold his own at his brother’s stupid party. And besides, there needs to be at least one intelligent person in the house in case of an emergency- and neither James nor any of his friends constitute as that. So I shrug it off and decide that I am cool with a party.
“It’s whatever,” I tell him.
“Cool.” He nods and finishes the milk. “People should be getting here in an hour or so. And dude, can we kill it with the Broadway stuff?”
I look at him over my glasses.
“It’s not really party music, you know?”
Due to recent events of today, I am feeling nice. So rather than fighting with him and calling him a pig, I go into my room and turn off the record player. He brings his speakers into the living room and plugs up his iPod. A few seconds later, the rafters are echoing with heavy bass and trippy rhythms.
We go into our rooms, him to shower, and me to attempt to escape the psychotic Dubstep music that is seeping through the walls. I’ll be surprised if the neighbors don’t call the cops before the night is over.
Within the next two hours, our house goes from empty to full almost instantly. A couple of guys from the team carry kegs into the backyard. Girls with too-short skirts follow them around with Solo cups full of liquor and beer. The music pumps and people start dancing. I venture out into the house every half hour or so, just to make sure nothing is broken and nobody is dead. Someone is definitely having sex in the den. At one point, James is in the middle of the dance floor with two chicks in front of him and one behind. I won’t be surprised if one of them ends up spending the night.
The halls are crowded with people making out and talking. Different smokes swirl overhead and cloud my vision. I smell cigars, menthol cigarettes, and weed. I guess James forgot about my allergies. Hell, he forgot about his own allergies. He doesn’t seem to mind. I venture into the kitchen and find him there, funneling a beer. A couple of his jock friends play beer pong on the dining room table. Mom would be pissed if she knew they weren’t using coasters.
Red and blue Solo cups are scattered all around the floor. On my way to the refrigerator, I step in three different colored puddles. I don’t even bother asking what they are.
“Hey, could you throw me a beer?” Someone says behind me. I turn around and see Anderson Stone. He looks surprised to see me. “Oh. Hey, Gabe.”
“Hi,” I mutter. I pull a Budweiser out of the refrigerator.
“Listen, I just wanted to say that…”
“Don’t mention it.” I toss him the beer and hurry out of the kitchen before he can say anything else. I push my way through the masses of people until I get to the front door.
Outside, the air is cool. I close my eyes and take as much of it in as I can. The creaking of a rocking chair startles me. Samantha is sitting in my dad’s chair with a cup in her hand. She looks beautiful, but tired. I smile at her.
“Nice night, huh?” I lean out from under the veranda at the stars.
“Sure.”
“Sorry if you wanted to be alone.” I turn to her. “I just couldn’t take the sex noises anymore. And the weed messes with my allergies.”
She shrugs. “It’s cool. This is your house.”
I sit down in my rocking chair and push myself back and forth. She offers me her cup. I don’t know what is in it, but I imagine something fruity, smooth. Nothing too strong.
I shake my head. “Not my thing.”
“Mine either,” she mumbles.
I realize that this is the first time I have seen her without a smile. She looks different. She looks human. This can’t be right. I must have gotten a secondhand high or something, because Samantha West is always smiling. She has every reason to smile. I get lost in the darkness of the night for a moment, staring at the stars in the unfathomable distance.
“What’s it like to be a star?” I ask her.
She shrugs, completely apathetic. “I wouldn’t know. I’m just a cheerleader.”
“Yeah, but everybody loves you.” She isn’t listening but I keep going. “I dream of that. I hope that one day people love me as much as they love you.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” she warns me. “Be careful.” She dumps her drink into the bushes and we sit there, silently.
She stays there until the party is over. Anderson picks her up and carries to the car with all of her friends. He doesn’t say anything to me. I stay in the rocking chair long after the last person leaves. I am too scared to go back into the house, to see the mess that has been left. I hope James doesn’t expect me to help him clean it up. Then again, I know that he does. And he knows that I will. Twins have to look out for each other, I guess.
I rock back and forth until I’m teetering between being awake and falling asleep. I think about the play, what is at stake. I think about my parents and Samantha’s warnings. I finally begin to slip into sleep, where my daydreams take a nocturnal twist. Anything is better than the nightmare of my reality. Before I slip, I reach an epiphany. I cannot stop. I will not stop. I float up on a cloud of self-awareness. I will get there, no matter what it takes. Somehow.

I vow to make it.