Queen of the Southern Blues

Party on the Pontchartrain

Summary: Have you ever wondered what it would be like to fly; to just jump up into the sky and never have to come back down? I used to... And then reality set in, and I hit the ground. Hard. A love story.

xxxx

I didn't see Ben for the rest of the week. I mean, he was there at school, everyday, but he just didn't hang around with me anymore after Monday. I don't know why; I hadn't done anything wrong, right? In Art, he didn't look at me; maybe because he was a senior—I know, right? A senior.—and thought he had to look cool. Go ahead, ignore the sophomore. She doesn't matter anyway. Girls fawned over him at lunch, and any other time they could get their grabby hands on him. It usually resulted in one hanging on his arm as she cheekily smirked at her friends. Anyway, getting off-topic here.

So, it's Art, the end of class. The bell's gonna ring any second. Most of the class is already packed, but I'm trying to scribble in the last-minute classwork. He's sitting next to me—Ben—packed and ready to go, like always. Never a word in my direction, never a look. I'm not ugly, am I? I noticed that his ignoring me doesn't bother me. It did at first, but now, it doesn't matter. I guess that's why I was a little surprised when he actually bothered to talk to me.

"Hey, Grace?" His voice startled me and I dropped my pencil to glance at him. A wide, almost apologetic grin was on his face as he shyly looked into my eyes. His golden ones were questioning, and maybe a little confused and frustrated. "What're you doin later?" I ignored him for a second, wondering if I should even bother to reply.

"Party. With Elle," I mumbled, wondering what he was thinking.

"Oh. Too bad, then." He turned away from me, going back to ignoring me. I opened my mouth, then closed it. He turned his face to me, smiling. "In a few weeks me and my friends are going to have a bonfire. Wanna come with?" I almost fell out of my seat from shock; he was talking to me! Maybe he had just been settling in.

"Sure, I guess."

Rrrrrrring.

"Cool. See ya Monday, Gracie-Girl!" He was almost out of the classroom before I actually stood up from my chair.

"Don't call me that!" I yelled; I could hear his laughter echo down the hall. Secretly, I was happy.

xxxx

"Mamma, I'm going to Elle's house! That okay?" I called down the hall from my room. Mamma was in the kitchen, cooking supper.

"Yeah, that's fine darlin," I heard her call back. Well, I didn't expect that. "I'll leave a key under the mat!"

"Thanks!" I felt kind of guilty lying to her; she would never expect a thing. Shaking my head, I walked outside to see Wes leaning against his car.

"Can you bring me to Elle's?" I asked him, smiling innocently; he wouldn't see past my lies. "Please, please, please?" He seemed to think about it before shrugging.

"I guess—I have practice anyway," he jingled his car keys in his hand before getting in, while I rode shotgun. Wonder why it's called shotgun anyway?

Wes was just backing out of the driveway, when suddenly he slammed on the breaks. What the crap is his problem? Trying to give me whiplash.

"Why'd you lie to Mom?" I stared at him in shock; how had he known? The eavesdropping twit. "Look, I'm not stupid Grace. I know there's a party at what's-his-face's house. And that Elle's his girlfriend. If you're going to Elle's, then that means you're going to the party. You wouldn't just sit in her living room with her parents. It would be awkward." I blinked a few times, amazed that my brother knew all that. "I know you Grace. Just be careful, okay?" I nodded slowly as he continued to drive to Elle's. My heartbeat slowed down as I calmed.

"Thanks Wes," I mumbled, resting my head on my palm and rolling my eyes. At least he cared. Cared enough to probably use this as blackmail material. Yep. Definitely blackmail material.

"No problem, Grace." He winked at that. "Just don't take anything form anyone, unless it's unopened, alright? Stick to water bottles. Don't drink after anyone."

"Sounds easy enough." I could see Elle's house coming up, then Wes turned into her driveway.

"Be careful, Grace," he said as I stepped out the car. "And don't take anything from anyone!" I was just about to say something sarcastic, but he had already driven off. I opened the door to Elle's house and blinked.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" she asked. Elle looked all primped up. Her hair was straightened with her bangs held back with a few black clips. She wore a number '54' football jersey—from Thomas, of course—tied in the front to show off everything below her breasts, with a tiny pair of jean shorts and flip-flops. Mascara was on her eyelashes, making them dark and long(I don't know how she managed to keep it form clumping) with only a scant bit of eyeliner.

"Uhm... Yeah. Yes I am." I looked down at myself. T-shirt. Loose shorts. Tennis shoes. Yep, that's me.

"Can I do your hair at least?" Oh no, here it comes. I never let her dress me up—the last time I did, I looked like a hooker. And it was weird. I fingered my pony-tail and shook my head. "Please?" Grinning at her puppy-dog face, I shook my head again. "Fine," Elle huffed.

So, Anthony Wickers won't be at the party," she began, leading me into the living room. Cue goofy grin. "His sister has ballet recital in Texas, and he's spending the night there with the 'rents. I heard you're friends with Mr. Wakes! You have to introduce me!" How could she change subjects so fast? I could barely keep up!

"Well, we're kind of friends, but not really." I picked at pieces of lint on the couch, thinking of the past week. "I mean, he talks to me and stuff, but I don't think we're at the 'friends' stage yet." I could feel her eyes on me as she looked me over. Please no. She couldn't know.

"You think he's hot stuff, eh?" I blushed bright red as she said that. Elle could be so blunt at times. "Oh, my Gracie-lynn is growing up!" she squealed, launching herself at me in giggles. I laughed outright, feeling the burn in my face fade.

"He's pretty cute," I amended, shrugging.

"I knew it!" she yelled triumphantly. "Now, let's go! We are officially fashionably late!" I rolled my eyes; yeah, Elle cares about the unwritten rules of high school.

So, we went—fashionably late and all.

xxxx

Maybe going to the party wasn't such a good idea. I had never been to one before and it was making me nervous. There were college kids mixed with high school, and I'm sure I saw a middle-schooler or two. I had been knocked down three times already by drunken kids, twice into a group of groping boys, and once into a table. I could already feel the bruise forming on my back. Elle would feel so bad for leaving me; I would make sure of it.

Yeah. She ditched me two minutes after we got here, and I was seething.

It had taken awhile to get to the party on the Pontchartrain. You see, Thomas' parents owned a little cottage-type thing right next to the lake—probably used for family reunions and Superbowl parties. Go Saints!

So, I'm surrounded by a bunch of drunken teens, all alone, in a place I barely even heard of. Sounds good, right? Can't get any worse, right?

Wrong.

I pushed through the crowd of people to get out of the 'house'. The smell of sweat, alcohol and cheap perfume was clogging my senses, and the way these people were dancing was burning my eyes. It was a wonder what beer and hormones could do to the body. Trying to avoid the horny hump-fest, I slipped out the door. I was just getting off the last step of the porch, when there was a flash of something form the corner of my eye.

A wave of nausea hit me like a ton of bricks, causing me to stumble, then fall. I landed on my belly, scraping my knees and hands. Peeling my body off the ground, I managed to crawl to the pick nick table. My brain was trying to bust out of my skull as I hoisted myself onto the seat of the table. Damn all these stupid headaches to crap. I probably had a brain tumor. Or I could be pregnant. That thought alone made me grin through the stinging pain. Yeah, me pregnant. Can you imagine? It's not like I had done the deed yet... Awkward.

"Oh crap! Are you okay Grace?" Elle was shaking my shoulder—great, so now she remembers me. I never even heard her walk up. "I saw you fall! Did you hurt yourself?" I shook my head, not having the energy to say anything. "Do you need something? A doctor? Tylenol?" No. No. Nod. "Oh! I'll get Thomas to get some for you! Thomas!" And then I heard her footsteps retreat. Thank God. She talked too loud and it was making my head hurt worse, if that was even possible.

A few minutes passed, and my brain sickness seemed to fade, though there was a pounding behind my eyes. The beats of the music could be heard from the house, as well as the motors of boats and trucks. My eyes closed and I yawned against my arm.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Those were footsteps across random leaves. My eyes opened a crack. There was Thomas, coming along with a bottle of water and a palm opened with two pills. Sitting up, I noticed his flushed face. Drunk, or at least partially anyway, because somehow he still managed to walk straight. I'm surprised Elle wasn't dangling from his arm.

"Here." He dropped the pills on the table, along with the water, before sitting across from me. "Elly wanted me to see if you were lookin' okay. You know, a doctor lives down the road, he could check you out." I knocked back the pills with some of the water, nodding absently. "You look a little pale," he noted. No duh Sherlock. I had almost keeled over on his lawn. "Maybe you should lie down." Another wave of nausea hit me, and I wobbled. Sweaty hands grabbed my shoulders and helped me move to the grass to lie down.

"Thanks," I mumbled, but it came out as 'mfkss.' Through half-lidded eyes, I looked up to see Thomas leering at me. He was kinda cute, in that 'all American' boy kind of way. And he had nice, soft-looking lips...

"Ya know, Grace, without those loose clothes on, I'm sure you'd look just as pretty as Elle," I heard him say, but ignored it. It didn't matter anyway, he was just talking. A numb feeling was spreading from my fingertips, while a buzz set off in my brain. "You're a very pretty girl, ya know." I blinked. When had Thomas moved? He was leaning over me, hands on my waist. It was a pleasant feeling, warm and inviting. His hands inched under my shirt, rubbing against the skin, higher and higher.

Wait, no. This was wrong. Thomas is Elle's boyfriend.

I tried to move my arms to push him off, but they weren't listening to me. They felt numb and tingly. I could barely twitch my fingers. A fog seemed to settle into my mine—I couldn't think straight.

His hands were all over me, trying to yank my clothes off. His lips were on my neck, biting like a rabid animal. Breaking the skin. His hands gripped my arms, and tugged them above my head. I felt utterly helpless.

Be careful, Grace. And don't take anything from anyone!

The words echoed in my mind. I had let Thomas down. I hadn't listened to him. A whimper escaped my throat, and I felt a rumble of laughter vibrate against my body.

"Don't worry, Grace, I won't hurt you," Thomas whispered against my skin.

Too late.

I closed my eyes tightly, not wanting to see what would happen to me. A shock echoed down my spine as the buzzing in my ears turned into a roar. Then Thomas' weight was gone.

My eyes snapped open when I felt his weight lifted from my body, and the roaring in my ears died down. The meaty thump of a fist meeting flesh repeated over and over and over. But I didn't have the strength to look and see what was happening. There was a gasp and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

Then just the sound of heavy breathing, and the echo of the music.

Shakily, I sat up. It was tough, but I managed. My body was tingling. A nauseous wave hit me again, and I clutched my stomach. I was gonna hurl.

I turned, to where it wouldn't get on me, then it all came out.

I felt disgusting. Dirty. Numb. I could still feel his hands on me. Tears leaked from my eyes as I cried, heaving into the grass.

"Shhhh, shhhhh," a soft voice told me. Someone was holding my hair back from my face. "It's okay now. It's alright." A hand was rubbing my back as I emptied the contents of my stomach, the numbness going along with it. Looks like I puked up the drug.

A napkin was thrust into my face and I wiped my mouth. I felt so hot and sick. Clammy. My hands were shaking. Warm hands picked me up easily, helping me to stand on my own. I could see Thomas. He was lying in the grass, moaning and clutching his nose.

"Th... Thank you," I managed, wiping the tears from my eyes. Whoever it was said nothing, their hand still on my elbow.

"Thomas!" My head snapped towards the voice. Elle was jogging towards Thomas, fury in her eyes. She knelt down next to him, and he hurriedly whispered something into her ear. It was quiet for a few, long seconds, before her eyes met mine. "I can't believe you. You're a freaking slut! First, you try to steal my boyfriend, then you get your man-whore to beat him up when he tries to get away!" Her eyes were tear-filled as she stalked up to me. "I thought we were friends, Gracelynn. I didn't know you were jealous." I didn't even see her hand move, but, man, did I feel it.

Smack.

Stunned, I raised my hand to my cheek, feeling the sting. She slapped me. My best-friend since third grade slapped me. A whimper escaped my lips, as whispers erupted from the forming crowd. They were talking about me. Laughing at me.

"Don't cry, Gracie," someone said. "I'll bring you home." An arm wrapped around my shoulders, shielding me from the looks and whispers, at least for now. I felt safe.

xxxx

Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget.

-Anonymous