January 28th
Friday
10:58AM
Parties in the middle of the week are such a bad idea. I'm not at school today, but that's really for more than just the fact that I didn't get in until three in the morning. I should really know better than to let Tristan talk me into anything.
Tristan came and picked me up around six-thirty. We went up around Palo Tech for one of the college parties, which surprised me since none of them are in college. I've been to college parties, but not usually. I spent the last five years going to high school parties, college parties turned out to be not that much different. The girls just have bigger boobs.
"I didn't know Thursday was such a big party night," I said.
"It is when you know where to go," Tristan replied. This is code for "These guys don't care about their lives either so they just party all the time."
I knew that, and I didn't insist on going back. Really, I just felt like I could relax. I feel bad about it NOW, but at the time, it felt sort of nice to just go to a party and know that I didn't have Dawn looking over my shoulder.
We went inside, and the house was pretty much packed with tons of people. All I could smell was alcoholic breath, cigarette smoke, and pot. Tristan got me a plastic cup of beer. Then he ran off with some girl. I'll never understand how a creep like that can always hook up five minutes into a party.
I wandered around the party, sipping on my second beer, feeling stupid since I didn't know anyone. It was too far for me to walk back home. I could have taken the bus, I guess, but it was cold out (I'm a spoiled California boy. This 50 degree winter is killing me), and I could just wait out Tristan.
I walked upstairs to hopefully find a nice bathroom to kill some time in, when I noticed that one of the doors was open halfway.
I peeked in, assuming that it wasn't a couple, because even drunk or high, they always close the door. And even if it was, I could use a show. Nope, not a couple. There were about seven people in there, sharing a bong.
"Come on in!" One of the girls shouted. She waved me in and patted the empty space next to her on the floor.
I did and sat there. I took a few hits and leaned against the dresser, not feeling too bad. I still had about half my beer left, so I drank that and watched the strangers in the room chatter. They sounded like birds.
I sort of dozed off, and woke up to two of the people having sex on the bed, not even minding that I was there. I looked over and the girl who had invited me in was staring at them. She rolled her head over and looked at me.
"Hot, huh?"
"It's just sex," I said. "Been there, done that."
"No way. You're like sixteen."
"Yeah, so?"
She laughed. "You should still be virginal and innocent."
I shrugged. "I'm not. Besides, how innocent could I be when I just smoked pot and drank a couple of beers?"
"Hmph. High school stuff. Let me show you what's really bad." She raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on my thigh. "You want to be really bad, don't you?"
I wasn't really looking at her face, but down her shirt, so I just nodded. She took my hand and we walked into the bathroom. I guess we could kill some time here. She locked the door and motioned for me to sit on the toilet. I dropped the lid and sat.
She busied herself at the sink for a minute and I looked over and saw that she was setting up coke lines. There were just three of them. Thick ones, though. They looked rough, no matter how finely she cut them.
"Been here done this too," I said.
"Awww, does that mean you don't want to play?" She fingered the blade end of the razor in her hand. "Come on, baby, play with me?"
"It's been a while, but... I guess it won't kill me." Well, it could, but that wasn't the point. I knew it was a bad idea. I've been in this situation before. I KNEW it was wrong, I KNEW that I should leave, but I didn't. Why? I'm an idiot. That doesn't even begin to cover it.
She handed me a rolled up dollar bill and I snorted a line of the coke. It HAD been a while. I'd forgotten the pain and then the rush. I stumbled backwards and fell against the shower door. I laughed and she, after she snorted her own line, started laughing with me. I slid down the door and sat on the floor.
"So, you've done all this," she said, dropping to her hands and knees and crawling across the bathroom floor toward me. "What else have you done?"
"Nothing impressive," I said. I reached up and wiped the residue away from her nose. She kissed me. First slowly, then with a lot of tongue.
I moved my head away. "I don't want to kiss you."
"Of course you don't." She unbuttoned my jeans.
"I don't want that either," I said.
"Of course you don't," she repeated. However, she didn't stop and I didn't stop her. I was thinking about that other coke line on the sink. I watched her head bobbing up and down on my crotch with fascination. I really couldn't feel anything, like my brain was detached from my nerves. I just stared.
She finally came up, and like the coke had been under her nose, come was smeared across her chin.
"Was it good for you?" she asked.
"No," I replied honestly. She slapped me. Which I probably deserved, but I still had that detached nerves feeling, so it didn't make a lot of difference.
"Bastard," she said. She stood up.
"Aw, come on. Don't be like that, baby," I said, trying to fill my voice with as much sarcasm and disdain as possible. I felt like I should blame her for making me cheat, making me do drugs, and make me betray everyone's trust.
Obviously, that wasn't her fault.
But it was nice to have someone to blame.
"Shut up, asshole," she said. She leaned over the sink, snorted the last of the coke (which was a lot) and she let out a scream, which, I'm sure, was from the pain. Then she grabbed a metal tray from next to the sink. Little decorative soaps and fluffy white hand towels flew everywhere. I could see her nose was bleeding. She didn't seem to mind as she slammed the tray against the side of my head.
I was completely knocked out. When I woke up hours later, the first thing I could see from my horizontal view of the bathroom floor was my wallet. I sat up, moaning, because of my headache from getting whapped across the head, from the beer, and from the coke. I grabbed my wallet and saw that all of my money was gone.
It was only twenty-three bucks, but that was my goddamned twenty-three bucks.
I guess if she's going to be a whore, she wanted to be paid like a whore.
Strange, I didn't even know her name. Not that it really matters.
I started to walk home, feeling so sick, I thought every step was going to make me throw up. I was doubled over, and my head was pounding. I had only gotten about half a mile when I hitched a ride with some guy in a pickup truck.
"Thanks," I muttered.
"No problem."
He drove me almost all the way home. I just had to walk down a couple of streets. I feel bad for Mrs. Moran. I vomited all over her hedges. That woman just can't cut a break, can she? What is it about those hedges?
It was about three when I got home, shaking and crying. Dad was asleep. He didn't miss me. I kicked off my shoes and slept in my clothes.
When I woke up, I felt sick from the drugs, sick from guilt. I felt like throwing up again. I took a shower and inspected the extremely large bruise that now covers the entire left side of my face. Even if I stay home all weekend, it'll be there on Monday and I can't afford to miss another day of school.
And then the questions will starting pouring in.
Dawn's going to think Dad hit me or something.
I could go along with that. It's better than the truth. It's easier than the truth.
I'm a horrible person. Why can't I stop?
