(Disc.: I don't own LoD or song lyrics.)

"I'm a war of head versus heart,
And it's always this way;
My head is weak, my heart always speaks,
Before I know what it will say."

- Crooked Teeth, Death Cab for Cutie

Chapter 8: Rubber Soul

"She probably hasn't eaten since yesterday," she heard Jay remark from above as her eyes opened. He knew it was a nervous ritual she performed; he, of course, also had some knowledge regarding her hidden eating disorder.

"Back off, fellas, give 'er some room," Skip moved his arms as if fanning her as a man in a suit approached.

"Excuse me, please let me examine her. Young man, lend me your jacket to put under her head," he requested of Stacy, who did what he was asked and unwrapped his jacket from around his hips. He stood and moved clear of the medic. "Hi, my name's Frank and I'm a medic. I understand you just won your category, congratulations! I'm going to examine you and figure out what's wrong."

PC stood close holding her trophy, turning it over and over in his hands nervously as he examined it. He squeezed through the crowd to find Bret, who'd wandered off to find a portable toilet. Peggy's heat was taking place, so she was down by the shore waiting with the other competitors. PC found Bret, explained what happened, and the two spread out to gather the remaining team members. Then, the pair rushed back to the area where the medic checked Jezebel's vital signs. "Everything seems to be okay, except for the fainting. Young lady, it's important to eat at least a snack before competing. Think of it as fuel for your body; I know it can be hard to eat a big meal when you're nervous, but even a small amount of protein and some fruit can help kick-start you. You'll be okay, you're free to go."

Jezebel was sitting up now, and Bret helped her up. "Let's get something from the snack bar," he led her toward a small outpost designed to look like a tiki bar. "Jez, why didn't you tell me you didn't eat this morning?"

She sighed a frustrated sigh. This was killing her winning-high. "I didn't need to, I was fine. I can't keep anything down on competition days. Plus eating before a workout makes me feel disgusting," she answered half-truthfully with a sulk, sounding annoyed. Bret shook his head and asked the girl behind the bar for a pack of crackers and some water, handing over a couple crumpled bills. She took the crackers and slowly began to eat, breaking them into tiny pieces and occasionally sipping some water. She didn't have pockets, or she would've saved some. She wanted to smoke, that would help her get hungry so she could continue to pretend she was fine. Wiping her mouth exasperatedly, she said, "I gotta find Jay."

She walked off, leaving Bret standing alone by the snack bar, completely bewildered. He looked after her with confusion, watching her disappear through the crowd. She was being extremely flippant about this. 'What did I say?'

Jez knew Jay was holding for her, but always kept it til she specifically asked. He spoke sullenly, tipping his head back: "Hey Bit, 'sup? You won, huh."

"Yeah, I did. Come with me to the truck," she asked with a shrug, offering her elbow to him. She was excited she'd won, but not excited she'd almost been discovered, and fainting on top of that had sucked a lot of energy out of her. "You got my stuff, right?"

Jay looked at her wordlessly, his chin raised, squinting his eyes as he surveyed her. He relented and hooked his arm through hers.

The pair sat in Skip's hot truck with the windows rolled all the way up. Jezebel unzipped her wetsuit and wrapped the arms around her waist, adjusting her black swim top, which was a high-neck tankini top with to help glide through the water and an open back. Jay offered her the joint he'd just lit. She lowered the massive, wet bun from her hair, letting it loose. They were missing the rest of the competition categories, but she selfishly didn't care.

As Peggy finished the final run of her division, winning second place, she was congratulated by the group. She vaguely wondered where her best friend was, but thought little of it as they wrapped up the morning and moved into the early afternoon. She was over the moon with her placement, but something in the back of her mind made her wish Jezebel was more enthusiastic about her having placed. Sure, she was older, but Jez was usually a great sport about letting others know she was happy for them. She, of course, had no idea what had gone down when she was prepping to compete, so had no knowledge of the fainting incident until Bret informed her. She shook her head in exasperation.

Jay and Jez re-joined their friends and they split into their respective groups; Jezebel decided to ride back home with Skip, Bret, and Chino, crowded together in the rumbling pick-up truck silently with her head in the clouds as she stared out the window she was essentially pressed against. The couple was going to meet up with friends later to celebrate. Stacy, Tony, Jay, Peggy and some others had ridden home together to prep for the upcoming party.

The quartet in Skip's truck stopped at a café, where Skip made sure to observe Jezebel eating at least some French fries and the tomato and lettuce off her grilled chicken sandwich, along with about two bites of the meat itself. It wasn't great, but it was a start. He'd have to start keeping an eye on her better, and asking her friends to do the same. He knew he wasn't that great at keeping tabs on her, he wanted her to be free, but not so free she killed herself or something else drastic.

Nightfall

"Bro, your hair literally looks like Robert Plant's right now! It's fuckin' hilarious!" Tony bellowed right in Jezebel's ear as she climbed to the top of the staircase. "We should call 'er Robert! Or Plantsy! Ha ha…"

Her hair was still filled with salty brine, having dried whilst riding back from the competition in Skip's truck with all the windows open; the humidity had continued to climb throughout the afternoon as they headed back, resulting in an extremely frizzy, ever-growing mop springing from her once semi-tamed, wavy/curly combination hair. They'd arrived home early afternoon, and Bret had to work an odd shift delivering pizzas from 3 to 11. His job wasn't glamorous, and bike delivery was killer on pretty much his entire body, but he didn't want to miss the fun. He would join the party when he finished.

She had just arrived at Jay's, solo; he was hosting the 'congrats' party for her and Peggy. People spilled out of the apartment complex, dangling their legs over railings and out windows, and one of these was Tony, who had just stepped outside for a moment while waiting for his flavor-of-the-week to show up at the unfamiliar venue.

"Fuck off, pendejo, don't you think I know that?" She retorted with a mischievous grin, shoving his shoulder all the way to the left and causing him to turn sideways, nearly toppling from his perch on the wooden stair rail from the way he was precariously balanced. She was so skinny, she barely moved him.

"Bruh, T.A., I dareya to ride that rail all the way down on your board!" Another Z-boy challenged with a dorky laugh.

"Nah man, maybe later – I'm raggin' on Skip's kid now!" He practically giggled, giving her a friendly, light shove and trying to pat her cheeks patronizingly.

"Yeah, and you look like a guy who puts his hand in an electrical socket every morning, what of it?!" She cackled, stepping back whilst simultaneously swatting his hands away from her face.

She paused and glanced down at herself. She appeared a little disheveled, which wasn't unusual, and she'd just chain-smoked three cigarettes she'd bummed from some girl she met on the way over from Bret's apartment, so she reeked of cigarette smoke. She didn't usually smoke cigarettes, but she was slightly on-edge now and it inexplicably helped calm her down. Not to mention the whole competition-winning-fainting thing. Her holey pants were dirty, and she had smudged rings of eyeliner around her eyes; her rumpled t-shirt was getting threadbare and filled with holes, probably from dropping ashes when she smoked. She shrugged her shoulders, then pushed past a group blocking the entrance into the small, smoky apartment. She spotted Jay on the couch and invited herself down on top of him mid-sentence as he was talking to Red Dog.

"Hey, ow! Shit," Jay exclaimed, exhaling loudly through gritted teeth. Jezebel and Jim ignored him.

"Hey, what's shakin' Mean Green?" Red Dog quipped, the conversation forgotten, using a shortened, well-known nickname that graced her since childhood: 'Mean Green Punching Machine'. This nickname was the result of her penchant for punching Jay when he 'misbehaved', or anyone else who might try to get in her way. "Congrats, by the way."

"Thanks!" She answered brightly. "Not much, Red, you get arrested at all this week?" She answered in jest; this was a running joke, as he aspired to hold the record for greatest number of times escaping the cops in Dogtown and getting away with whatever it was he'd done.

Jay, now only slightly uncomfortable, shifted the weight of her bony butt from one leg to another as she sat across him on the couch. She finally looked at him and shifted her attention away from the other boy. "What's eating you?"

"Oh, excuse me, princess. Allow me to be your personal throne… what's eatin' me is the fact that you're not eating… and it's seriously startin' to take a toll on me," he motioned to her body once more. She shrugged it off and shifted, crossing one ankle over the other, perched on his lap. Jay growled in frustration when she didn't vacate the premises, "hmmph."

Biniak sat on the floor at the foot of the couch with his knees up, next to Shogo who was passing him a rather fat blunt he'd just rolled. "Nah Sho, all you gotta say is, 'I'll take a ticket fer'. Not 'I'll take a ticket fer to', you don't gotta use the 'to' at the end bro." Shogo rolled his eyes in response.

"Bob, you can't even read – why ya tryin' to give my boy Sho English lessons?!" Peggy laughed, collapsing to roughhouse and shove him over, laying atop him. Biniak mumbled something into her extremely long hair which was practically smothering him, and began prodding her with a cigarette lighter in an attempt to get her off him. He succeeded, and she removed herself to settle under his arm and reach for the weed he held. They weren't an item, but they'd been close for a long time and lived on the same block.

Jez still couldn't get over the fact that mom was nearly always present at the parties Jayboy threw. 'It's like partying with my own mother', she observed as she looked at the other couch where Philaine was sitting with a group of Z-boys surrounding her, wearing a sarong and a tiny crochet top. One was playing absently with her sun-bleached hair, and she was smiling her dreamy smile with a wine glass in her hand. Jezebel couldn't pinpoint why this felt so strange, as her father also attended parties alongside them, but usually at his own place of business. Still, she tried to be on her best behavior whenever she was in the room with Philaine at one of these bashes.

She shifted her weight one final time to sit next to, rather than on top of, Jay with her legs draped over his lap. It was normal for all of them to constantly be on top of each other in a platonic way, up in everyone's business even though she was dating Bret and Jay was somewhat attached to Kathy. It was a space issue, really; there were so many places this huge group hung out where minimal space was provided. Jay comfortably laid his arms over her knees, skin resting on skin through the giant holes that were once the knees of her jeans.

"Hey, so, uh, JB… I got some stuff we should take, skimmed outta Skip's stash. Or maybe Chino's, don't remember. But I don't got much… you wanna go in our room and check it out?" She asked, leaning forward to speak quietly in his ear over the loud music. The tiny hairs on his arms stood on-end. She pulled a small bag half-way out of her pants pocket and showed it to him. Jezebel pretty much exclusively referred to Jay's apartment as 'their house', called his room 'their room', and referred to Philaine as 'our mom', or just 'mom'. She was one of the only other adult female figures in Jez's life aside from Ms. Oki. Jay felt a little more than awkward as Jezebel untangled herself and stood, grabbing his hand to lead him out of the room. 'Why does this feel so weird? Is she gonna stay with this Bret guy, or what?' He wondered.

"Bitsy, where'd you say you got this? Y'know I hate when you get this shit yourself, ya shoulda come to me," he scolded.

"I already told you, it was Skip's… or Chino's," she repeated, shrugging yet again, already a little buzzed from some drinks she'd had at home before she left. "It's just mescaline, anyway… just another plant. Heard it's good for depression. And lord knows we're all so damn depressed," she answered, pulling him along and followed by a small line of other friends.

"How d'you even take these?" Peggy asked, holding up a small, green button-shaped piece of the drug.

"Ya put it in yer back teeth and chew it," Jezebel answered, doing so herself. Peggy wrinkled her nose and held her open palm out to Jezebel, but Paul picked it up out of her hand, taking it himself. "You could dissolve it in water, but this is easier. It's a li'l bitter, though."

Tony, who'd done it before with his cousins, also took one, and Jez handed the last to Jay. They sat littered around the room, waiting for the drugs to kick in, passing around some joints to make time go by faster.

No more than an hour later, some were starting to feel the effects of the drug more than others. "Maaaan…. all I'm saying is 'Stairway to Heaven' is the single best piece of music ever created!" PC was saying loudly, talking directly to Jay's bed pillow which he'd propped up against the headboard as if it were a person.

"Okay, now I know he's tripping… since 'Won't Get Fooled Again' is obviously the single best piece of music ever created," Bob countered, a goofy grin spreading across his face. He'd abstained from the heavily-hallucinogenic drug, opting only to smoke the weed passed to him.

"Oh my God, Peggy, don't you dare start rambling about fucking stupid Grateful Dead…" Red Dog pleaded, rolling his eyes as he watched her sitting on the floor against the foot of Jay's bed. He added, "they're the worst."

Peggy rolled her eyes back at him, shaking her head in disagreement as she was passed yet another joint. "You're wrong, bro."

"Good thing Shogo's not here, then we'd have to fight with 'im over how 'Arlo Guthrie is the greatest thing since sliced bread', too," Tony chortled, ruffling his hair to make it appear even bigger. "Hey, you hiding more joints in there?" Stacy mused suddenly, sitting on Jay's bed on one knee with his other foot on the floor as he pretended to paw through Tony's unruly hair without actually touching it.

"Goddamn, why's everyone all up in my hair today!" He exclaimed, batting Stacy away, who just laughed and shoved him forward as he was passed one of the two joints being distributed around the room. Stacy took a hit, then passed it to someone else.

"You assholes are all dead wrong, 'Dark Side of the Moon's got summa the best songs ever… lemme play it! Prove all you fuckers wrong…" Jay walked to his cassette player and jammed the tape in, jabbing the play button as the first sounds of 'Any Colour You Like' exploded into the room at the highest-possible volume.

Jezebel, who'd been lying on Jay's floor with her arms over her head, began giggling uncontrollably; at one point, she even let out a snort. As she listened to the song, shapes and colors and morphing images began to flash past her vision, like staring at a series of brain-teasing puzzles that were actually optical illusions. She moved her hand over her face, floating it through the air like a bird. "I'm floating," she said before collapsing her hand down to her face, giggling into it. "You guys see the kaleidoscope?"

The song, a rolling instrumental, filled her ears and mind and eyes, and she licked her lips, swearing she could taste it. Her head swam and she moved it back and forth against the carpeting, tangling her blonde locks. She didn't notice the stares she garnered from her friends, including Red Dog and Peggy who exchanged a look with each other. Her shirt had ridden up, and you could see every crevice between her ribs; her stomach was almost concave. She convulsed with laughter again, tugging her shirt back down over her tummy as Jay collapsed onto the floor next to her in a fit of giggles.

She looked over, seemingly studying his face. Her eyes lingered on his for a moment, as she reached out to touch her friend's shoulder. Instead, her hand landed on the side of his face, royally missing its target, and he flipped himself unceremoniously so he was straddling her hips. The song seamlessly rolled over into 'Brain Damage', which made Jezebel laugh even harder as Jay leaned down over her, pressing her hands into the carpet with their fingers interlocked. He rested their foreheads together as he often did, breathing the salty, sea smell that lingered in her hair through the heavy odor of pot hanging thickly in the air. Everyone in the room watched them, dumbfounded and unable to speak.

There was a loud 'BANG' as PC fell off Jay's bed, whacking his elbow on the dresser. "Oh, owwww! Fucking shiiiit!", he howled as Jez and Jay's heads both snapped in his direction, wide-eyed. Jezebel turned her attention back to Jay and gazed at him, her pale blue eyes taking on a far-away look. 'Are we flirting?' Her brain asked confusedly, trying to get a grip on the situation. "Dude, Jay… you should get off her, man…" Stacy said finally, tearing his eyes away from PC, who was now dusting himself off as he sat up on the floor babying his injured elbow.

Jezebel looked up at him expectantly, and he climbed off, releasing her hands. When she sat up to lean against his bed, he leaned in and bumped their noses together, like they did when they were kids playing around. Jezebel began giggling uncontrollably again as her world continued to spin slightly. She brought her hand in front of her face yet again and waved it back and forth relatively quickly.

"I'm maybe… made out of rubber?" She asked aloud to no one in particular, continuing to flap her hand back and forth with vigor.

"Nah man, you're made-a skin 'n bones 'n guts, chica," Tony answered, and Jez grimaced, "ugh, that is sooo unpoetic; it's disgusting when you say stuff like that…"

Jay sat next to her, his left hip pressed to her right, appearing to be deeply pondering something. Stacy and Tony glanced at each other, noting how strangely both parties were acting at this moment. Tony tiled his face downward slightly and raised his eyebrows as he looked over at Stacy through his hair, which had flopped down into his face, and Stacy wrinkled his forehead and frowned in response. It was almost as if… these two friends of theirs weren't in their own respective relationships, but in fact a relationship together. They both silently decided to chalk it up to the drugs, and not mention the incident to Kathy or Bret. 'Do not leave them alone together', Tony mouthed to Stacy as he stood and exited in search of his girl who would never actually show up, and Stacy nodded in understanding.

Back in the living room, Shogo, Alan, Wentzle, and some others were passing around a bong as the clock struck 11:30. Jezebel stumbled from the bedroom and stepped outside onto the stair landing, staggering slightly with a beer clutched in one hand. Below her appeared Bret, riding Skip's bike in his pizza-delivery uniform, a polyester polo that was very unlike him, and a pair of black work pants. He wore his combat boots, and his hair was styled into a freshly-cut, six-inch tall Mohawk, half the size of the original; when worn down, it was still long enough for Jez to run her fingers through. She led him inside into the kitchen, intending to get him some leftover Mexican food Jay's mom made.

She was hanging all over him, something that made Jay feel a pang of jealousy, he noticed as the pair reappeared from the kitchen. Bret sat in an empty metal folding chair, and Jezebel attempted to do the same, but tripped on her way over and fell, essentially sprawling onto her face. "Oh, shit!" She yelled as she went down.

"Hey, you okay lady?" Asked Tony, who was also sitting on the floor next to the couch, pushing some hair back from Jez's face as she sat up and decided to remain on the spot sitting at her boyfriend's feet. When she nodded, he remarked, "that stuff's hittin' ya a little too hard, huh."

She glanced around the room and noticed a bunch of people staring at her. "I'm fine, y'all. Let's party!" She shouted, tossing her hair back animatedly, grabbing a half-full beer from the coffee table and swigging it down without bothering to figure out to whom it might've belonged.

"Hey, she stole my beer…" Bob trailed mock-mournfully, heading for the kitchen.

"Jez, you eaten yet tonight?" Bret nudged, his vision preoccupied with the taco in his hands, from which he was picking chunks of green pepper. No response. He looked away from his food and down at Jezebel, and she'd fallen asleep, snoring lightly on the floor at his feet. He sighed and finished his food slowly, savoring every bite.

"Dude, you didn't even get a chance to party… you need help getting her home?" Stacy asked, ready to leave. A considerable amount of time had elapsed and it was now approximately 1:15 AM, and he stupidly had a 7 AM shift at the restaurant. He hoped to God he could quit soon and live off his skating money.

Bret looked down at his essentially unconscious girlfriend, then back at Stacy. He thought of his bike - well, Skip's bike - under the stairs. "Guess so," he answered. Jay watched silently as the party of three walked out the door, Bret carrying Jezebel with Stacy trailing behind them, pulling his car keys from his pocket.

He wanted that; he wanted to be the one taking her home from someone else's house, to their own room somewhere. He turned back to the room, downing another beer, and wandering off in search of something to keep his mind off the rising jealousy he felt.