I stumbled out of bed on Saturday some time around four in the afternoon. I
never felt guilty about being as leisurely as I wanted to when it came to
waking up on Saturdays. I woke up so damned early every other day of the
week. I adored my one day of sleeping in. If you asked me, Saturday
mornings and afternoons existed for the sole reason of being wasted away.
I walked downstairs, sleepy-eyed, wearing blue cheerleading shorts and a white tank top. I moved to cross the living room and enter the kitchen, and I saw my mother relaxed on the couch. I half-expected to see a glass of liquor in her hand; I wouldn't put it past my mother to be smashed at four o'clock in the afternoon. To my surprise, she was sober.
She looked over at me and smiled a sad smile. "Hello, baby," she said. "Did you just wake up?"
"Yeah," I said. I curled up on the opposite end of the couch.
My mother let out an overly heavy sigh. She folded her hands on her lap and looked around the room, shaking her head. "You want to catch a movie tonight?"
I looked at my mother. Why on earth would she ask me that? My mother and I never did things together. I found myself looking for the catch. "Why?"
She sighed again. "I don't know. I just thought it would be nice to get out of the house for awhile." She glanced around again, wrinkling her nose at her surroundings. "I feel like I can't breathe in this old house. I hate being cooped up in here."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mom. But I already have plans. I'm going to a party with Ethan."
She said nothing. She seemed to ignore my comment, and continued sighing wistfully. We sat in silence; she seemed like she wasn't even aware of my presence. Her eyes had a lost look to them. It upset me. She had only been home for two days, and already she was tired of being here. I knew that look so well. She was like a caged bird, itching to fly. Blonde wisps of hair fell across her forlorn face. Her eyes mourned at the walls around her, as if our house was a prison.
Why were her eyes so sad? Was it really so bad to just be here, at home, with me? I couldn't help but think there was something I had done to make her so unhappy. The logical side of me made it quite clear that it wasn't my fault, that my mother was just a cold-hearted lunatic. The emotions in the back of my mind drew difficult conclusions, however. I was unable to prevent myself from wondering, What have I done?
My poor mother. Her dainty figure lay limp against the expensive couch. Her eyes flickered with pain. She turned to me with a makeshift smile. "Please, button? You wouldn't want to leave me here all by lonesome, would you?"
It was such a tempting offer. My mother, who rarely acknowledged my presence and flinched at the sight of me, wanted to spend an entire evening with me. Just me and her. My mother needed me, and feeling needed by her was the greatest feeling ever. My cynical side stepped forward. It wasn't me she needed; she would have been happy with anyone so long as she could get out of the house. She had called me button. Did she think I was still nine years old? She hadn't even noticed that I'd grown up, that I wasn't her little button any more. And, wait... had she said she didn't want ME to leave HER all alone?
No, I decided, I wouldn't be going out with my mom that night. I had a social life to attend to. I didn't have time to waste on something that wouldn't earn me anything in the end.
I showered and groomed myself. I molded my hair into flowing, perfect curls and painted my face with the usual weekend make-up. I slid into a denim fringed skirt and knee-high boots. The top I had chosen was pastel pink. Pink, my signature color. It wrapped around my neck and flowed down my middle. It left a bare patch of skin visible on my back. It was customary at weekend gatherings such as parties for everyone to go to the extremes in revealing clothing. Weekends were the only opportunity people had to show off their goods, due to the restrictive dress code of school. A majority of people got caught up in the freedom of clothes and ended up dressing obscenely whorish. I, however, knew the art of moderation. I would let only a shred of flesh show; enough to catch eyes and evoke thoughts, but not enough to prevent anyone from using their imagination.
Half an hour before the party, I received a telephone call.
"Hello?" I said.
"Hello, Kate," replied Penny on the other line.
"Oh, hi, Penny." It was huge; the first time Penny had called me.
"I heard you were going to Kayla's party tonight. Why don't you let Jordan and I give you a ride? That boyfriend of yours is already over here, hanging out with Jordan's little brother."
I grew excited. It never hurt to show up at a party with the most popular girl in school. "Sure. I'm all over it." I paused, realization hitting me. "Oh, my friend was supposed to ride with me. Do you think we could pick up Claire?"
"Sure, whatever." Penny seemed preoccupied. "We'll be there in twenty." She hastily hung up. She was all business, even when it came to socialization. But I suppose for her, socialization and business were one and the same.
Twenty minutes later, I went downstairs and found that my mother was still moping around. I felt equally guilty and disgusted. It's very hard to hate your mother and feel sorry for her at the same time. A car honked outside and my troubles were soon forgotten. I mumbled a quick, "Love you, Mom," and headed outside. I saw Jordan's car in the driveway. Penny, Nic, and Ethan were also in the car.
Penny was a vision. Her fire-like locks had been pulled into a loose, wild ponytail. Curly auburn strands flew in every direction. Her eyes were lined and accented with a blend of blue, white, and sea foam green shimmer. I made a mental note to remember to try that eye make-up trick some time. Her built contours were placed snugly in glittery jeans and a bright purple top. She seemed to glow. She was an interesting sight next to Jordan, whose untamed brown hair and baggy clothes made him look no different from his usual appearance.
"Katums," squealed Penny as I slid into the back seat. I didn't show my surprise at being called by a nickname. It was one of those subtle details that let me know I was moving up the ranks on her "list". The name was revolting, of course, but I'd rather have it than no nickname at all. "That top is totally boss. So few people can pull off pink like that."
A compliment on my party attire and a nickname. Two milestones in one breath. The evening was off to good start. Ethan swung his arm around me as Jordan started to drive off. He engaged Jordan on a conversation about football; every time his eyes wandered from me, Nic would steal a glance at me. It was endlessly annoying.
We pulled up to Claire's house. Jordan honked the horn and Claire came strolling out. She looked completely different. Penny's jaw dropped ever so slightly. Claire's already-curly hair had been crimped and frizzed out. Black leather pants gleamed in the headlights of the car. She wore a lacey black shirt with strips of black fabric hanging from random edges; it was purposefully sheer, and her black bra was visible through it. Her eyes were coated with heavy black and smoky gray shadow. Her lips were deep red. Various pieces of silver jewelry dangled from her wrists and around her neck. She was elegantly dark and necromantic.
"Hey, it's the lady from bewitched!" said Ethan playfully as Claire slipped into the car. "Can you wiggle your nose, like that lady?" Claire simply gave him a look, and he shrugged off his own question. Instead, he went slightly cross-eyed as he seemed to focus intently on making his nose wiggle by will alone.
The vibrations of a heavy bass line could already be felt as we approached the house of the party. I turned to Ethan. "Whose party is this again?" I asked.
His brow furled and he scratched his head. "I don't remember."
"Kayla McKinley," Penny answered promptly. "Junior, cheerleader, Beta club treasurer. Dating Bill Green." I nodded. Penny never missed a beat.
Ethan gently grabbed my arm, weaved his fingers through mine, and led me into the house. Claire sulkily walked behind us. The music was blaring. A group of boys dressed very much like Jordan were jumping around and head banging right next to the stereo speakers, in the small den to the left of the entryway. One of them beckoned Jordan to them; Jordan grinned and ran into their small mosh pit. Penny sighed impatiently and went after him. Nic and Claire seemed to be watching Ethan and me, waiting for us to take the lead.
Ethan swung a right into what was apparently the living room. The music wasn't quite as loud in here, but still enough to make you raise your voice when you wanted to speak to someone. Various circles of people were standing around with drinks in their hands, chatting, laughing, and swaying to the hard core music. A few guys were on the couch, hollering at a football game on the television. Through a door on the opposite end of the room I saw more people still, picking through the food on the kitchen table. I didn't see a single Freshman; it was mostly older students.
A giddy brunette with purple streaks and wild pigtails bounced over to us. She wore denim capris and a black wife-beater. I knew her from the cheerleading squad: Kayla, the girl throwing the party. "Hey, it's the grape soda guy!" she said excitedly, her eyes directed at Ethan.
"Yeah, man," Ethan replied. "Grape rules!"
Kayla guffawed stupidly. She seemed to have an energetic naïveté about her; she was like the female version of Ethan. Her eyes shifted to me. "And it's the girl. The girl I know from cheerleading..."
"Kate," I supplied.
She nodded. "Right, right. And you also brought... Other people! Hi, other people!"
Nic and Claire nodded vaguely.
Kayla's short attention span immediately shifted. "Hey, it's the shoe girl!" she cried, looking past us. "Hi, shoe girl! Hi, other person with the shoe girl!"
The four of us turned to see whom she was greeting. Claire and I exchanged looks of utter shock as we recognized the new comers to be Lizzie and Miranda. Suddenly, I vaguely remembered Lizzie talking in Mythology one day about an older student admiring her shoes. I deduced that Kayla, like Ethan, befriended any random person who could provide her with amusement.
"Hi, Kayla," Lizzie responded shyly. She and Miranda looked excitedly about the room, taking in the scene. Their eyes were wide with wonder and eagerness. This probably made their week. To me it was just another party, but to them it was "the" party. I could almost visualize them, sitting in Lizzie's bedroom before the party, squealing with delight and imagining this to be a life-changing event. I found the whole scenario laughable. I immediately made plans, of course, to rip the smiles off their faces.
Kayla quickly moved to something else. "Josh Briggs, shame on you!" she jokingly squealed, her attention on a person standing in the entryway. "I thought I said no booze." She ran over to greet Josh, and it seemed as though she didn't mind the booze at all, despite what she said.
A grin spread across Nic's face simultaneously with the look of horror on Lizzie's face. "Anyone need me to grab them one?" Nic asked, apparently planning on greeting Josh as well.
"No thanks, bro," said Ethan. "You know I hate that stuff." Lizzie beamed in admiration at Ethan's choice. I slipped my arms around Ethan, reminding Lizzie of her place, and shook my head no in response to Nic.
"Get me one," said Claire. Nic waited for half a second longer, making sure no one else would take up his offer, then left us.
My eyes fell condescendingly on Lizzie. I was thankful for my incredible height, because it allowed me to look down on her both literally and figuratively. "How cute," I purred viciously. "Sanchez and McGuire get their fifteen minutes. Enjoy it while it lasts, losers." I shoved my hand in Miranda's face as she opened her mouth to speak, and shoved her aside. I intentionally walked over to a group of popular seniors, Ethan wrapped around me and Claire trailing behind.
"Jimbo!" I greeted.
A large football player with a buzz cut turned to me. His father worked for my father, and I had known him since elementary school. "What's up, Sanders," he said to me. The other Seniors, all of whom I knew by reputation but had never personally spoken to, eyed us three Freshmen skeptically.
It was a good thing Ethan knew how to talk football, even if he didn't play it. He struck up a conversation with Jimbo on the tactics of a rival football team. The other Seniors got into it as well, a sign that they were willing to accept our presence. I pretended to follow the conversation, but seeing as I could care less about football, I tuned out. I watched Lizzie and Miranda out of the corner of my eye.
When we'd first left them, they simply stood there awkwardly. I could almost read their minds. Looking around, they realized they didn't know anyone. There were no familiar Freshman faces to join other than me and my friends, and they wouldn't dare approach us. Everyone around them was laughing obnoxiously and having fun, while they nervously looked around the room. They eventually moved to the kitchen and lingered around the table of food; it was a neutral area. They could bide their time there without calling attention to the fact that they were round pegs in a house full of squares.
Nic returned to us, carrying beers for him and Claire. He noticed with curiosity who we were standing with, but didn't make any comment.
"Hey, kid," said Jimbo. "Where's mine?" The other Seniors laughed loudly. Nic's eyes widened with fear under the gaze of the bulky Senior.
"Er.... How about I go get you one?" Nic struggled to reply.
Jimbo laughed and his beer belly jiggled. "Good plan." Within minutes Nic found himself bombarded with requests from the rest of the group. He left to fetch the alcohol, and I wondered how he would possibly carry all those drinks.
The night wore on. I eventually grew tired of football chatter, and wandered off to other circles with Claire at my side. Claire was unusually quiet. As I put forth effort to make conversation and meet my social quota for the day, she stood quietly and sipped her beer with a bored look on her face.
"What's the matter with you?" I scolded as we moved away from a group of cheerleaders and went on a search for more people to talk to. "You look like some one ran over your dog."
She shrugged. "I'm tired."
"Oh, really? I suppose you were too tired to pick out a decent outfit, too?" I scuffed at her dark ensemble. It was actually a really nice outfit, but it looked utterly ridiculous in the current setting.
"You're just jealous of how well I'm pulling this look off."
I smiled slightly. Claire hadn't hit me with a snappy comeback in days. I was beginning to think she'd gone soft. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Elvira."
Claire sighed and looked at her bottle. "I'm empty. Come with me to get another."
"How many have you had? I've never seen you drink this much."
"Spare me the lecture, Kate."
I sighed. "I'm not really keen on fighting my way to the stash of beer right now, Claire. I'll go find Ethan while you get another."
Claire rolled her eyes in response and walked away. I surveyed the crowd for my boyfriend. Everyone had gotten considerably more rowdy due to the introduction of alcohol. Jimbo was tripping over himself as he attempted to walk across the room. I noticed Jordan and Penny on a couch in the corner of the room. Jordan kissed pleadingly along Penny's neck and collarbone. His hand rested firmly on her thigh. Penny was half-heartedly pushing him away. "Come on," I read his lips say. "Come on." I saw Penny mouth, "Not right now." Jordan's eyes appeared hungry as he kissed and touched an irritated Penny.
I became suddenly grateful that Ethan was a gentle creature. He was never overly grab-happy. His affection was always extremely modest. Even when he was just chatting with friends, the very mention of something sexual made him blush. As I watched Jordan's desirous groping, I realized I took it for granted that my boyfriend never asked more of me. I despised the way it felt when a boy touched me. They crave something you don't want to give them, and they grab you as if you should completely succumb to their superiority and do whatever they say. No one tells me what to do. I insist on being the one who is superior. The utter lack of control boys have over themselves is revolting.
I found Ethan in the den, moshing with the hard core group. Much to my surprise, Miranda was also a part of the group, letting loose. I laughed when Ethan's head, swinging wildly about, bashed right up against Miranda's.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, dawg," he said, as Miranda clutched her head in pain.
Lizzie stood against the while, watching her friend and smiling encouragingly. I slithered over to her. "How are you enjoying your evening, McGuire?" I asked.
"It's great," she said. Neither of us spoke with kindness in our tone.
"Yeah, well, the night is young." I stepped closer to her and stared her down. "Don't expect one party invite to change your whole little world, McGuire. Dorks don't just transform over night. No matter what happens here, come Monday you'll still be a loser. Don't forget it."
Lizzie spoke coldly. "I'm just here to have a good time, Kate. Back off."
I shrugged and changed the subject. "So... no mosh pit for you?"
"I'm not really into that."
"Of course you're not. Big bad mosh pits are too rough for good girl McGuire. It's okay if you're too scared."
"Uh!" Lizzie folded her arms indignantly. "I am not scared."
"Oh yeah? Prove it."
Lizzie swallowed hard. "F-fine." She glared at me and marched determinedly to the mosh pit. Slowly, awkwardly, she started head banging and bashing around with the rest.
"Hey, hey! What do we have here?" A drunken, staggering Jimbo walked into the den with a foamy plastic cup of beer in his hand. I looked at him, then at Lizzie in the mosh pit. The evil wheels started turning. I grinned.
"Jimbo," I said. "Come here."
He stumbled over to me. "What'sssss up, Sssssanderz?"
I pointed to Lizzie. "See that blonde girl there? She's never moshed before. Why don't you help her out for me?" I grinned innocently.
Jimbo smiled stupidly and pat my shoulder. "Ssssssssure thing, Ssssssssanderz. Woo-hoo! Mosh pit!"
My eyes lit up as the events played out before me. Enormous Jimbo dived at petite Lizzie, who let out a high-pitched scream as he called out, "Mosh pit!" yet again. He knocked her to the ground; amber liquid spilled out of his cup and splashed all over her. For a moment I thought she might suffocate beneath Jimbo's massive weight, for he was so drunk he could hardly regain his balance. Lizzie kept screaming, but her cries were buried beneath the raging music and she went unnoticed by the moshers. A few people laughed as they spotted her on the ground.
She got up, still screaming, and ran out of the room. I saw tears coating her cheeks as she passed me. I expected to see Miranda dash after her, but Miranda was lost in the sea of moshers and apparently hadn't seen a thing. I felt an unexpected pang in the pit of my stomach. Making a fool of Lizzie hadn't felt as good as I thought it would.
Look, she's miserable, I told myself. That's exactly what you want. Right?
Unbelievably, I found myself going after her. I wandered past the living room and through the halls of the house, looking for where she'd gone. I opened the bathroom door and saw her sitting on the side of the bathtub, crying.
"Well, well," was all I could say.
"Please don't," Lizzie mumbled. "You've done enough. Please don't start with me."
Was she telling me what to do? I found myself furious at her request, but as I watched her rock back and forth and moan, I didn't have the heart to bring her down any lower. "It's not all that bad... Hardly anyone saw."
"Look at me, Kate!" She held out her arms and revealed her booze-soaked t- shirt. "My clothes are ruined, and I smell like beer. How am I going to explain this to my parents? They'll think I was getting drunk. They're going to murder me."
I said nothing. Lizzie continued to cry. I kept telling myself to get up and leave, to just walk away and let her deal with it. It wasn't my problem. But I was frozen. I sat there, listening to her cry, losing myself in the sad picture before me. Even with running mascara and clothes soaked in liquor, she was beautiful. She was a fragile and innocent creature. All she wanted was to come to a party and have fun. She just wanted to know what it felt like to be popular, if only for one night. Don't you see it's not worth it, Lizzie? I thought sadly to myself. All the gloss and glamour do nothing to make up for the pain and sacrifice.
My body acted without my permission. Much to the surprise of both Lizzie and me, I wrapped my arms around her and embraced her.
I walked downstairs, sleepy-eyed, wearing blue cheerleading shorts and a white tank top. I moved to cross the living room and enter the kitchen, and I saw my mother relaxed on the couch. I half-expected to see a glass of liquor in her hand; I wouldn't put it past my mother to be smashed at four o'clock in the afternoon. To my surprise, she was sober.
She looked over at me and smiled a sad smile. "Hello, baby," she said. "Did you just wake up?"
"Yeah," I said. I curled up on the opposite end of the couch.
My mother let out an overly heavy sigh. She folded her hands on her lap and looked around the room, shaking her head. "You want to catch a movie tonight?"
I looked at my mother. Why on earth would she ask me that? My mother and I never did things together. I found myself looking for the catch. "Why?"
She sighed again. "I don't know. I just thought it would be nice to get out of the house for awhile." She glanced around again, wrinkling her nose at her surroundings. "I feel like I can't breathe in this old house. I hate being cooped up in here."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mom. But I already have plans. I'm going to a party with Ethan."
She said nothing. She seemed to ignore my comment, and continued sighing wistfully. We sat in silence; she seemed like she wasn't even aware of my presence. Her eyes had a lost look to them. It upset me. She had only been home for two days, and already she was tired of being here. I knew that look so well. She was like a caged bird, itching to fly. Blonde wisps of hair fell across her forlorn face. Her eyes mourned at the walls around her, as if our house was a prison.
Why were her eyes so sad? Was it really so bad to just be here, at home, with me? I couldn't help but think there was something I had done to make her so unhappy. The logical side of me made it quite clear that it wasn't my fault, that my mother was just a cold-hearted lunatic. The emotions in the back of my mind drew difficult conclusions, however. I was unable to prevent myself from wondering, What have I done?
My poor mother. Her dainty figure lay limp against the expensive couch. Her eyes flickered with pain. She turned to me with a makeshift smile. "Please, button? You wouldn't want to leave me here all by lonesome, would you?"
It was such a tempting offer. My mother, who rarely acknowledged my presence and flinched at the sight of me, wanted to spend an entire evening with me. Just me and her. My mother needed me, and feeling needed by her was the greatest feeling ever. My cynical side stepped forward. It wasn't me she needed; she would have been happy with anyone so long as she could get out of the house. She had called me button. Did she think I was still nine years old? She hadn't even noticed that I'd grown up, that I wasn't her little button any more. And, wait... had she said she didn't want ME to leave HER all alone?
No, I decided, I wouldn't be going out with my mom that night. I had a social life to attend to. I didn't have time to waste on something that wouldn't earn me anything in the end.
I showered and groomed myself. I molded my hair into flowing, perfect curls and painted my face with the usual weekend make-up. I slid into a denim fringed skirt and knee-high boots. The top I had chosen was pastel pink. Pink, my signature color. It wrapped around my neck and flowed down my middle. It left a bare patch of skin visible on my back. It was customary at weekend gatherings such as parties for everyone to go to the extremes in revealing clothing. Weekends were the only opportunity people had to show off their goods, due to the restrictive dress code of school. A majority of people got caught up in the freedom of clothes and ended up dressing obscenely whorish. I, however, knew the art of moderation. I would let only a shred of flesh show; enough to catch eyes and evoke thoughts, but not enough to prevent anyone from using their imagination.
Half an hour before the party, I received a telephone call.
"Hello?" I said.
"Hello, Kate," replied Penny on the other line.
"Oh, hi, Penny." It was huge; the first time Penny had called me.
"I heard you were going to Kayla's party tonight. Why don't you let Jordan and I give you a ride? That boyfriend of yours is already over here, hanging out with Jordan's little brother."
I grew excited. It never hurt to show up at a party with the most popular girl in school. "Sure. I'm all over it." I paused, realization hitting me. "Oh, my friend was supposed to ride with me. Do you think we could pick up Claire?"
"Sure, whatever." Penny seemed preoccupied. "We'll be there in twenty." She hastily hung up. She was all business, even when it came to socialization. But I suppose for her, socialization and business were one and the same.
Twenty minutes later, I went downstairs and found that my mother was still moping around. I felt equally guilty and disgusted. It's very hard to hate your mother and feel sorry for her at the same time. A car honked outside and my troubles were soon forgotten. I mumbled a quick, "Love you, Mom," and headed outside. I saw Jordan's car in the driveway. Penny, Nic, and Ethan were also in the car.
Penny was a vision. Her fire-like locks had been pulled into a loose, wild ponytail. Curly auburn strands flew in every direction. Her eyes were lined and accented with a blend of blue, white, and sea foam green shimmer. I made a mental note to remember to try that eye make-up trick some time. Her built contours were placed snugly in glittery jeans and a bright purple top. She seemed to glow. She was an interesting sight next to Jordan, whose untamed brown hair and baggy clothes made him look no different from his usual appearance.
"Katums," squealed Penny as I slid into the back seat. I didn't show my surprise at being called by a nickname. It was one of those subtle details that let me know I was moving up the ranks on her "list". The name was revolting, of course, but I'd rather have it than no nickname at all. "That top is totally boss. So few people can pull off pink like that."
A compliment on my party attire and a nickname. Two milestones in one breath. The evening was off to good start. Ethan swung his arm around me as Jordan started to drive off. He engaged Jordan on a conversation about football; every time his eyes wandered from me, Nic would steal a glance at me. It was endlessly annoying.
We pulled up to Claire's house. Jordan honked the horn and Claire came strolling out. She looked completely different. Penny's jaw dropped ever so slightly. Claire's already-curly hair had been crimped and frizzed out. Black leather pants gleamed in the headlights of the car. She wore a lacey black shirt with strips of black fabric hanging from random edges; it was purposefully sheer, and her black bra was visible through it. Her eyes were coated with heavy black and smoky gray shadow. Her lips were deep red. Various pieces of silver jewelry dangled from her wrists and around her neck. She was elegantly dark and necromantic.
"Hey, it's the lady from bewitched!" said Ethan playfully as Claire slipped into the car. "Can you wiggle your nose, like that lady?" Claire simply gave him a look, and he shrugged off his own question. Instead, he went slightly cross-eyed as he seemed to focus intently on making his nose wiggle by will alone.
The vibrations of a heavy bass line could already be felt as we approached the house of the party. I turned to Ethan. "Whose party is this again?" I asked.
His brow furled and he scratched his head. "I don't remember."
"Kayla McKinley," Penny answered promptly. "Junior, cheerleader, Beta club treasurer. Dating Bill Green." I nodded. Penny never missed a beat.
Ethan gently grabbed my arm, weaved his fingers through mine, and led me into the house. Claire sulkily walked behind us. The music was blaring. A group of boys dressed very much like Jordan were jumping around and head banging right next to the stereo speakers, in the small den to the left of the entryway. One of them beckoned Jordan to them; Jordan grinned and ran into their small mosh pit. Penny sighed impatiently and went after him. Nic and Claire seemed to be watching Ethan and me, waiting for us to take the lead.
Ethan swung a right into what was apparently the living room. The music wasn't quite as loud in here, but still enough to make you raise your voice when you wanted to speak to someone. Various circles of people were standing around with drinks in their hands, chatting, laughing, and swaying to the hard core music. A few guys were on the couch, hollering at a football game on the television. Through a door on the opposite end of the room I saw more people still, picking through the food on the kitchen table. I didn't see a single Freshman; it was mostly older students.
A giddy brunette with purple streaks and wild pigtails bounced over to us. She wore denim capris and a black wife-beater. I knew her from the cheerleading squad: Kayla, the girl throwing the party. "Hey, it's the grape soda guy!" she said excitedly, her eyes directed at Ethan.
"Yeah, man," Ethan replied. "Grape rules!"
Kayla guffawed stupidly. She seemed to have an energetic naïveté about her; she was like the female version of Ethan. Her eyes shifted to me. "And it's the girl. The girl I know from cheerleading..."
"Kate," I supplied.
She nodded. "Right, right. And you also brought... Other people! Hi, other people!"
Nic and Claire nodded vaguely.
Kayla's short attention span immediately shifted. "Hey, it's the shoe girl!" she cried, looking past us. "Hi, shoe girl! Hi, other person with the shoe girl!"
The four of us turned to see whom she was greeting. Claire and I exchanged looks of utter shock as we recognized the new comers to be Lizzie and Miranda. Suddenly, I vaguely remembered Lizzie talking in Mythology one day about an older student admiring her shoes. I deduced that Kayla, like Ethan, befriended any random person who could provide her with amusement.
"Hi, Kayla," Lizzie responded shyly. She and Miranda looked excitedly about the room, taking in the scene. Their eyes were wide with wonder and eagerness. This probably made their week. To me it was just another party, but to them it was "the" party. I could almost visualize them, sitting in Lizzie's bedroom before the party, squealing with delight and imagining this to be a life-changing event. I found the whole scenario laughable. I immediately made plans, of course, to rip the smiles off their faces.
Kayla quickly moved to something else. "Josh Briggs, shame on you!" she jokingly squealed, her attention on a person standing in the entryway. "I thought I said no booze." She ran over to greet Josh, and it seemed as though she didn't mind the booze at all, despite what she said.
A grin spread across Nic's face simultaneously with the look of horror on Lizzie's face. "Anyone need me to grab them one?" Nic asked, apparently planning on greeting Josh as well.
"No thanks, bro," said Ethan. "You know I hate that stuff." Lizzie beamed in admiration at Ethan's choice. I slipped my arms around Ethan, reminding Lizzie of her place, and shook my head no in response to Nic.
"Get me one," said Claire. Nic waited for half a second longer, making sure no one else would take up his offer, then left us.
My eyes fell condescendingly on Lizzie. I was thankful for my incredible height, because it allowed me to look down on her both literally and figuratively. "How cute," I purred viciously. "Sanchez and McGuire get their fifteen minutes. Enjoy it while it lasts, losers." I shoved my hand in Miranda's face as she opened her mouth to speak, and shoved her aside. I intentionally walked over to a group of popular seniors, Ethan wrapped around me and Claire trailing behind.
"Jimbo!" I greeted.
A large football player with a buzz cut turned to me. His father worked for my father, and I had known him since elementary school. "What's up, Sanders," he said to me. The other Seniors, all of whom I knew by reputation but had never personally spoken to, eyed us three Freshmen skeptically.
It was a good thing Ethan knew how to talk football, even if he didn't play it. He struck up a conversation with Jimbo on the tactics of a rival football team. The other Seniors got into it as well, a sign that they were willing to accept our presence. I pretended to follow the conversation, but seeing as I could care less about football, I tuned out. I watched Lizzie and Miranda out of the corner of my eye.
When we'd first left them, they simply stood there awkwardly. I could almost read their minds. Looking around, they realized they didn't know anyone. There were no familiar Freshman faces to join other than me and my friends, and they wouldn't dare approach us. Everyone around them was laughing obnoxiously and having fun, while they nervously looked around the room. They eventually moved to the kitchen and lingered around the table of food; it was a neutral area. They could bide their time there without calling attention to the fact that they were round pegs in a house full of squares.
Nic returned to us, carrying beers for him and Claire. He noticed with curiosity who we were standing with, but didn't make any comment.
"Hey, kid," said Jimbo. "Where's mine?" The other Seniors laughed loudly. Nic's eyes widened with fear under the gaze of the bulky Senior.
"Er.... How about I go get you one?" Nic struggled to reply.
Jimbo laughed and his beer belly jiggled. "Good plan." Within minutes Nic found himself bombarded with requests from the rest of the group. He left to fetch the alcohol, and I wondered how he would possibly carry all those drinks.
The night wore on. I eventually grew tired of football chatter, and wandered off to other circles with Claire at my side. Claire was unusually quiet. As I put forth effort to make conversation and meet my social quota for the day, she stood quietly and sipped her beer with a bored look on her face.
"What's the matter with you?" I scolded as we moved away from a group of cheerleaders and went on a search for more people to talk to. "You look like some one ran over your dog."
She shrugged. "I'm tired."
"Oh, really? I suppose you were too tired to pick out a decent outfit, too?" I scuffed at her dark ensemble. It was actually a really nice outfit, but it looked utterly ridiculous in the current setting.
"You're just jealous of how well I'm pulling this look off."
I smiled slightly. Claire hadn't hit me with a snappy comeback in days. I was beginning to think she'd gone soft. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Elvira."
Claire sighed and looked at her bottle. "I'm empty. Come with me to get another."
"How many have you had? I've never seen you drink this much."
"Spare me the lecture, Kate."
I sighed. "I'm not really keen on fighting my way to the stash of beer right now, Claire. I'll go find Ethan while you get another."
Claire rolled her eyes in response and walked away. I surveyed the crowd for my boyfriend. Everyone had gotten considerably more rowdy due to the introduction of alcohol. Jimbo was tripping over himself as he attempted to walk across the room. I noticed Jordan and Penny on a couch in the corner of the room. Jordan kissed pleadingly along Penny's neck and collarbone. His hand rested firmly on her thigh. Penny was half-heartedly pushing him away. "Come on," I read his lips say. "Come on." I saw Penny mouth, "Not right now." Jordan's eyes appeared hungry as he kissed and touched an irritated Penny.
I became suddenly grateful that Ethan was a gentle creature. He was never overly grab-happy. His affection was always extremely modest. Even when he was just chatting with friends, the very mention of something sexual made him blush. As I watched Jordan's desirous groping, I realized I took it for granted that my boyfriend never asked more of me. I despised the way it felt when a boy touched me. They crave something you don't want to give them, and they grab you as if you should completely succumb to their superiority and do whatever they say. No one tells me what to do. I insist on being the one who is superior. The utter lack of control boys have over themselves is revolting.
I found Ethan in the den, moshing with the hard core group. Much to my surprise, Miranda was also a part of the group, letting loose. I laughed when Ethan's head, swinging wildly about, bashed right up against Miranda's.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, dawg," he said, as Miranda clutched her head in pain.
Lizzie stood against the while, watching her friend and smiling encouragingly. I slithered over to her. "How are you enjoying your evening, McGuire?" I asked.
"It's great," she said. Neither of us spoke with kindness in our tone.
"Yeah, well, the night is young." I stepped closer to her and stared her down. "Don't expect one party invite to change your whole little world, McGuire. Dorks don't just transform over night. No matter what happens here, come Monday you'll still be a loser. Don't forget it."
Lizzie spoke coldly. "I'm just here to have a good time, Kate. Back off."
I shrugged and changed the subject. "So... no mosh pit for you?"
"I'm not really into that."
"Of course you're not. Big bad mosh pits are too rough for good girl McGuire. It's okay if you're too scared."
"Uh!" Lizzie folded her arms indignantly. "I am not scared."
"Oh yeah? Prove it."
Lizzie swallowed hard. "F-fine." She glared at me and marched determinedly to the mosh pit. Slowly, awkwardly, she started head banging and bashing around with the rest.
"Hey, hey! What do we have here?" A drunken, staggering Jimbo walked into the den with a foamy plastic cup of beer in his hand. I looked at him, then at Lizzie in the mosh pit. The evil wheels started turning. I grinned.
"Jimbo," I said. "Come here."
He stumbled over to me. "What'sssss up, Sssssanderz?"
I pointed to Lizzie. "See that blonde girl there? She's never moshed before. Why don't you help her out for me?" I grinned innocently.
Jimbo smiled stupidly and pat my shoulder. "Ssssssssure thing, Ssssssssanderz. Woo-hoo! Mosh pit!"
My eyes lit up as the events played out before me. Enormous Jimbo dived at petite Lizzie, who let out a high-pitched scream as he called out, "Mosh pit!" yet again. He knocked her to the ground; amber liquid spilled out of his cup and splashed all over her. For a moment I thought she might suffocate beneath Jimbo's massive weight, for he was so drunk he could hardly regain his balance. Lizzie kept screaming, but her cries were buried beneath the raging music and she went unnoticed by the moshers. A few people laughed as they spotted her on the ground.
She got up, still screaming, and ran out of the room. I saw tears coating her cheeks as she passed me. I expected to see Miranda dash after her, but Miranda was lost in the sea of moshers and apparently hadn't seen a thing. I felt an unexpected pang in the pit of my stomach. Making a fool of Lizzie hadn't felt as good as I thought it would.
Look, she's miserable, I told myself. That's exactly what you want. Right?
Unbelievably, I found myself going after her. I wandered past the living room and through the halls of the house, looking for where she'd gone. I opened the bathroom door and saw her sitting on the side of the bathtub, crying.
"Well, well," was all I could say.
"Please don't," Lizzie mumbled. "You've done enough. Please don't start with me."
Was she telling me what to do? I found myself furious at her request, but as I watched her rock back and forth and moan, I didn't have the heart to bring her down any lower. "It's not all that bad... Hardly anyone saw."
"Look at me, Kate!" She held out her arms and revealed her booze-soaked t- shirt. "My clothes are ruined, and I smell like beer. How am I going to explain this to my parents? They'll think I was getting drunk. They're going to murder me."
I said nothing. Lizzie continued to cry. I kept telling myself to get up and leave, to just walk away and let her deal with it. It wasn't my problem. But I was frozen. I sat there, listening to her cry, losing myself in the sad picture before me. Even with running mascara and clothes soaked in liquor, she was beautiful. She was a fragile and innocent creature. All she wanted was to come to a party and have fun. She just wanted to know what it felt like to be popular, if only for one night. Don't you see it's not worth it, Lizzie? I thought sadly to myself. All the gloss and glamour do nothing to make up for the pain and sacrifice.
My body acted without my permission. Much to the surprise of both Lizzie and me, I wrapped my arms around her and embraced her.