11th Grade, High School
Age: 16
October 2008
…
Mikey pulls the car up to an empty spot on the side of the road and Gus glances out the window. He has never been to this neighborhood before, part of the 102nd Street School zone. It's on the complete opposite side of town from theirs, more northern and closer to the Missouri state line. To get to their location, they pulled off the main road and down a few side roads, the houses getting further and further apart as they drove.
Gus steps out of the car when the rest do and glances around. He had never realized how rural the outskirts of town felt, but this neighborhood is about as far from downtown as they could get and still be in town limits and, as such, it's far from the other more populous cities that many of their parents commute to for work.
As their small group gets closer, they can see more and more of their classmates pull up in their cars, many of them pulling up onto the grass in front of the house where their group is heading. The house is set back deep onto the property and the front lawn now acts as a parking lot to nearly a dozen cars. When Gus glances around, he can see other homes, but he wouldn't exactly use the term neighbors. Which is probably a good thing because as they walk up the driveway toward the home, he can already hear the rumbles of bass that makes it seem like he never left the dance at all.
No wonder this is where the afterparty is being held.
Toward the end of the homecoming dance, Vince had told them that they had been invited to a post-homecoming party by the homecoming king himself. Gus figured that meant Vince had been invited and he would bring them along as plus-ones, not wanting to leave anyone behind. Although, to be fair, Gus wouldn't have minded being left behind.
That is, until he had gone to get a drink at the punch bowl and Ashley T had asked if he was going to go to the afterparty.
But now, as he walks down the stairs, the same music blaring through speakers as had been during the dance, he feels his gut churn. This is one hundred percent out of his comfort zone. But, typically, they go to TJ's after the dance to hang out and TJ didn't come, so when Gretchen and Mikey both seemed game to go, Gus figured he didn't have much of a choice. But this is not his forte and even if he wanted to talk to Ashley T, he isn't sure he'll even be able to hear her through the music blaring.
The parents of whoever's house this is – some football player, he assumes – are nowhere to be found and what had been billed to their group as a small gathering of the more popular athletes has clearly been blown out of the water. The basement has been saturated with teenagers that have begun overflowing to the first floor. Upstairs, teenagers converse with red solo cups in their hands while downstairs someone has hooked an iPod up to speakers. There are tables with the same red cups arranged in triangles and the entire room smells like beer.
This is not his first foray to an exclusive party – though, can it really be exclusive with all these people? The Fifth and Sixth Grader's Club at Third Street had felt very similar. There were people hanging around together, enjoying each other's company, and excluding people who they deemed less than themselves.
So, yes, it feels a bit like that. Just more illegal.
Gus nudges Mikey. "I don't know if we should be here."
He gestures to two seniors who walk by them, both tipping back a red cup as they approach a table that holds a mismatched array of bottles and a large metal container.
Mikey sets his hand on Gus' shoulder. "You don't need to drink, my friend. Here, watch this."
Gus does watch. Mikey takes a few steps away from him, walking confidently toward the table the two seniors have just left and reaches into a ripped plastic bag full of the red cups. He withdraws two and heads back, passing Gus one and smiling.
"Just hold onto this. No one will bother you."
Gus glances into the empty cup and then back up toward Mikey, who appears extremely confident in his suggestion. He frowns and wonders how Mikey came up with this idea so quickly. As far as he knows, none of his friends had ever been to a party like this. But, Gus reasons, Mikey is popular. Not by the high school's hierarchy standards, but he is well liked by many in his classes and has made quite a name for himself in the school's artistic circles.
He nods his head and clutches the cup like a lifeline.
"We already lost Vince and Gretchen," he says.
"We'll find them," Mikey reassures him. "They can't go far."
Gus keeps clutching his cup.
He can't help but think that this is illegal. Underage drinking could land them all in hot water, if not with the cops then with their parents. He can't even imagine his father's face if Gus was caught drinking at a party. Showing up at home in the back of a police cruiser? That would never fly with his parents.
His heart pounds in his chest in time with the thumping of the bass. It makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. He stays by Mikey's side, standing against a wall in the basement watching their classmates play games with each other and for the briefest of moments, Gus wonders what it might be like to be able to let loose and join them.
But then he thinks about what his parents would do if he came home accidentally drunk and forgets all about it. He is a terrible liar and as it is he isn't sure how he will not spill the details of this party to his parents.
What feels like many hours, but in reality is probably less than one, Gus leans against the wall and taps his fingers against the empty cup in his hand.
"Where do you think Vince and Gretchen are?" he asks.
His voice isn't loud enough and he has to repeat it, nearly yelling the question so Mikey can hear.
Mikey shrugs and Gus turns back to his cup. This does not feel like a Gretchen environment and perhaps Vince and Gretchen are in much the same location as he and Mikey. But Vince is always so popular and hard to pull away from the crowds and he begins to worry that Gretchen may be alone somewhere.
When he voices his concern to Mikey – again, feeling like he's screaming – Mikey pats his shoulder.
"I'm sure they're together," Mikey yells back. "But let me go try to find our dear friends. Perhaps they're ready to leave as well. Stay here so we don't get separated in the crowd. I'll bring them back."
Gus isn't sure if Mikey just realizes how uncomfortable he is or if he truly thinks that the others are ready to go as well, but Gus is thankful regardless that the end of the night appears to be approaching.
However, standing alone in the basement with Mikey off to find their friends, is a lot worse than standing with Mikey in the basement.
He understands why Mikey had him stay behind. Gus is always getting separated from the group at these types of things and in a big crowd it is probably easier for Mikey to walk around alone looking for the others than to have Gus trailing around behind him. But standing alone as the noise around him gets louder makes his heart pound harder. The music isn't the problem. Now his classmates are just talking louder than they had been before – due to the sheer number of them talking or due to the alcohol now running through their systems, he isn't sure.
He clutches his empty cup and looks around desperately for a face he recognizes. With his back against the wall, he is stuck surrounded by a few people who he recognizes but who would not recognize him. He knows there are people at this party that he should be able to find – the Ashleys, Sam and Dave, and Phil are all here but are seemingly nowhere near him.
He takes a breath and looks around. He can at least go to the bathroom. He'll come right back to his spot and maybe he'll even see one of the others on his way. Or he'll at least see someone that he recognizes and can steer him into the right direction. Someone had to have seen Vince or Mikey or Gretchen somewhere in this house.
There is, of course, a crowd at the bathroom door with someone pounding on the door, yelling for two people named Sally and Drew to hurry it up in there. Gus grinds his teeth and takes a few steps back, sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen island, where he can see the bathroom door but far enough away that he isn't involved in the crowd. There are quite a few empty cups, cans, and bottles on the island and Gus reaches forward to pick up a can to read the label.
Two boys walk through the sliding glass door that leads to the deck and pause in the doorway, talking loudly as Gus reads.
"Where the fuck is Detweiler?" one of the boys slurs. "He'd liven up this party!"
Gus swallows and glances at the boys. He recognizes them as senior football players not because they're the stars of the team but because everyone in town knows the football team. Even if riding the bench, Warriors are recognized for their positions on the field.
He drops the can he was reading to hold his empty cup with two hands, hoping that Mikey resurfaces with Vince and Gretchen soon. This party is getting too out of hand. He slides slowly off his stool and begins tapping his foot on the ground, looking around the first floor for any sign of his friends before he goes off to find them.
"Probably with that crazy girlfriend of his," says the other boy as he lifts his cup to his lips. He sounds considerably less drunk than his friend.
The drunk one snorts, something between a laugh and disgust.
"Dude, what a fucking shock," the drunk one continues. "Never in a million zillion years would I have pegged her as a crazy bitch." Then the boy snorts. "Pegged. Ha."
The other boy swirls his cup and then chugs the rest. Gus tightens his own hand around his cup.
"Yeah," the boy says once he has swallowed the contents of his cup. "She was cool."
"Was," the drunk one says. "She's a whack job."
The plastic cup in Gus's hand cracks under the pressure as the two boys start to laugh. He glares and steps forward.
"Hey, I don't like the way you're talking about my friend," he says.
The drunk boy squints at him. "Who the fuck are you?"
"We can talk about whoever we want. It's a free country," the other boy says.
Now that Gus is standing toe to toe with the boys, he can see that both are swaying just slightly with bloodshot eyes. Both stand taller than him, probably closer to Mikey and Vince, and are bulky from football training. Neither would have any problems taking Gus down in the event that things became physical between them and, based on the movies that Gus has seen, drunk guys like to fight.
But Gus stands his ground and puts his hands on his hips in what he hopes is a menacing stance.
"Please stop talking about my friend using derogatory terms about mental illness," he insists. "It's ignorant and unflattering – not to her, but to you."
The boys look at him and then turn to each other, starting to laugh.
"Guess we've alerted the morality police," one jokes. He turns back to Gus. "Scram, munchkin."
"No, I would like you to apologize."
The one that Gus had assumed was less drunk earlier leans forward and glares. "And I would like you to get the fuck out of my face."
Gus grinds his teeth, his entire body tensing under the boy's gaze. Maybe this isn't the battle he should be insisting on tonight. But his gut churns with anger. He hates hearing people use mental illness as the butt of their jokes. It always felt like a personal attack against his father, even though his closest friends barely knew the extent of what the war had done to his father's mind.
This, though, is different. This is a personal attack against Spinelli.
He isn't even sure anything he could say would change the mind of the two boys in front of him on a regular day, let alone now that they're both inebriated. It is a battle that is probably fruitless, futile in every way he could spin it. But, when Gelman was beating him up back at Third Street, his father had taught him an important lesson about war. There are many battles and he won't win them all, but he doesn't have to win every battle to win the war.
The war on ignorance is one he is willing to battle.
"I said that I would like you to apologize for your offensive language," Gus says and immediately winces, bracing for an incoming fist.
But it doesn't come. Instead, he sees a flash of dark curly hair come to stand in front of him and he opens his eyes fully. Ashley T stands between himself and the football players. In her heels, she still barely reaches Gus' chin, but her stature doesn't seem to matter. The two boys relax their stances and almost look annoyed.
"I'm not sure Coach would be thrilled if you were caught beating someone up at the afterparty," she states.
"If he found out," one of the boys reasons, but the other pouts. "He belong to you or something?"
"Why don't you two go play beer pong?" she suggests, not answering their questions. "I heard Ryan was looking for a partner."
The drunker one seems to forget all about Gus and starts toward the basement doors, but the other boy just shakes his head at her.
"Keep your friend on a leash next time," he tells her, before walking off after the other boy.
Ashley turns around as both the boys disappear, keeping her body in between Gus and the seniors until both are out of sight. Gus' eyebrows must be in his hairline as he stares at her in amazement. He knew the Ashleys had a considerable amount of social capital and that in high school that equates to power, but he hadn't expected her to be able to deflate the situation so quickly and with so little effort.
"Thanks," he tells her when she finally turns around to look at him.
She rolls her eyes. "Those two are just morons looking for a fight," she tells him. "Cody nearly got kicked off the team this summer for picking fights."
"I always seem to find the Gelmans," Gus mutters.
He says it more so to himself than to her, but she seems to hear him anyway. Her face softens and she reaches for his hand.
"Let's get you out of here," she says, still nearly screaming for him to hear over the music despite her softer features.
She keeps a hold of his hand as she leads him through the house to the door he had entered earlier in the night. The door has been propped open now with a chair, littered with half-empty cups. He lets Ashley lead him down the driveway, thankful to finally be able to hear. Although the bass is still bumping, it's much quieter outside and there are a few groups of students that have made their way out of the house, sitting in circles or on the hoods of cars to talk.
She leads him to the street, passing a few parked cars before motioning to a black Jeep. She hops up onto the hood, her sparkly green dress catching the little light in the darkness. There aren't any streetlamps like in their neighborhood, but the moon and the stars seem brighter out here.
Gus doesn't follow her to sit and instead stands in front of her.
"Thanks again," he says. "For coming to my rescue."
"You didn't deserve to get hit."
"It wouldn't be the first time." He smiles even though memories of being chased through the schoolyard at recess flood through his memories. Then he shrugs. "Probably won't be the last either."
In all honesty, he hasn't thought about getting hit in a while. Once Gelman graduated onto Spiro Agnew, there really weren't many physical bullies – or at least ones that bullied Gus. But Gelman bullied Gus for no reason other than he was small and an easy target. That felt a lot worse than what could have happened tonight.
Those boys were laughing at the expense of his friend and even if nothing he said or did would be remembered by either of them tomorrow, he had to intervene. Spinelli was not there to defend herself and so it was his duty to do it for her, for everyone else in her situation. He's sure nothing he said will sink in, but he can't help but try.
"I was listening a little," Ashley tells him, breaking into his thoughts. "Before it looked like you were about to get decked."
"Before you saved this damsel in distress," he jokes.
She frowns. "Hardly."
The dark hides much of her expression, but the tone of her voice gives away the solemnity he imagines is on her face. She isn't joking with him or teasing him for, once again, being the target of larger, angrier boys.
"I think it's brave," she says quietly. "That you stand up for what you believe in."
He chuckles awkwardly, bouncing from foot to foot.
"I'm not brave," he says, wrapping his arms around his back. "Naive, maybe."
Naive is what he would call the boy who tries to convince two drunk football players that their language is offensive as if he thinks they'll truly change the way they speak.
"Well, I think you're brave."
He doesn't quite know how to react, so he just smiles. In the darkness, it's hard to really see her expressions, but he thinks he sees her smile too.
"Do you want a ride home?" she asks, patting the roof of the Jeep.
He would like nothing more than to ride home with Ashley T, but there is the naive boy again. Ashley T came to the dance with someone and that someone is probably in that house looking for her. He can't even imagine what would happen if that got out.
"I should probably wait for Mikey, Vince, and Gretchen," he says. "Don't you want to wait for your date anyway?"
She shakes her head.
"He can figure it out," she grumbles, almost offhandedly, which makes Gus frown. "I just went with him because the other Ashleys didn't want lopsided pictures. We even drove ourselves. It was a last minute decision anyway."
Gus frowns and tilts his head. "You went with someone you don't like because your friends didn't want…lopsided pictures?"
He can't understand it.
"Yeah, Ashley Q was having a fit," she says with a shrug. "So Vance brought one of his lacrosse friends that didn't have a date. I barely talked to him all night."
He tries to think about what would have happened if all of his friends had had dates and he had been the only one single. Even in that case, he can't imagine his friends insisting on him finding a date. They would have included him in everything regardless. But the Ashleys have always been very keen on their aesthetics.
"Why was it so last minute though?" he asks. "I can't imagine that no one asked you."
Ashley T is so nice and so pretty that surely boys asked her to the dance. Even if that weren't the case, she's an Ashley and Ashleys always get asked.
"Oh, they asked," she mumbles, wrapping a piece of hair around her finger. "Just…no one I wanted to say yes to."
Gus frowns as a pit forms in his gut. She would have rather gone to the dance alone than with someone she didn't like and her friends all but forced her into going with someone just for the sake of their photos. But, of course, she had to have consented at the last minute. It makes him feel terrible that her friends would do that to her. Put her in that position.
"I'm sorry you had to do that," he says.
She shrugs it off, but when she talks again it isn't as lively as she was before. "It's fine. Just pictures."
He wants to say more, but before he can even think of what else to say, his phone starts to ring in his pocket. He withdraws it and sees Vince's name on the caller ID. He gives Ashley a small smile, pointing at his phone, and she gestures for him to answer.
"Hey, Vince," he says.
"Where are you? We've been looking all over for you!" Vince screams over the music. Even with the yelling, Gus can barely make out his words over the noise.
"I'm outside," Gus says.
He hears Vince garble something to what must be Gretchen and Mikey because when he speaks into the phone again, Vince says, "Great, stay there. We're on our way."
The line clicks and Gus slips his phone back into his pocket.
"Your friends are looking for you," she says.
"Yeah, I guess I did sneak off," he tells her. "It was really nice talking to you outside of class though. I enjoyed this."
She giggles and nods. "Same."
He nods his head once, trying to decide how best to say goodbye, because he should probably just head to Mikey's car to wait. The others will have no idea to look for him near Ashley T's car instead.
"I better go meet them," he says. "I'll see you on Monday."
"See you."
He turns around and gets about a step in the other direction before he hears his name called. He turns back to Ashley T, who is reaching her hand out toward him. She is still on the hood of her Jeep.
"Hand me your phone," she says.
He walks back to her to pass her the phone. She quickly keys into it and her fingers fly across the keyboard. When she hands it back, it's left on the contacts screen where she has added herself.
Given that they've been classmates forever and now sit at the same math table, they probably should have exchanged numbers long ago. But now as he looks into his phone contacts lists and sees Ashley Tomassian right after Ashley Spinelli in his list, he feels his cheeks heat up. He has Ashley T's phone number. He – little naive Gus Griswald – has an Ashley's phone number.
"Text me your number," she says. "We can hang out sometime. Outside of school."
He nods his head and quickly taps into a new text, sending her the information. He hears a quiet ping and she pats the small crossbody bag he hadn't noticed before.
"Great. I'll see you soon," she says with a smile.
His tongue is tied and so all he can do is nod his head. When he turns around to start heading back toward Mikey's car, he nearly trips over himself. She giggles sweetly behind him and his face heats up at the sound.
Maybe this party wasn't such a bad thing after all.
…
Notes
So, I know I said we were heading into a Vince section and this is a Gus-centric chapter. But as I was planning out the rest of this fic, I missed some important developments in the big jump from October 2008 to Winter 2009 that was originally what I was thinking. I promise that this isn't a filler chapter – this scene and storyline for Gus will actually be important later as we approach the end of junior year.
I now have a pretty solid outline on paper for the rest of junior year rather than just a vague idea in my head so, as long as nothing changes, TJ will actually be next up. Vince will be back in Winter 2009.
As for Arkansas driving rules: I don't know what those looked like in 2008. From my research, it looks like they became stricter in 2009 with the passing of a bill (Act 394) that restricted the number of passengers in the car of a person with an intermediate license to one unrelated person under the age of 21. I'm assuming (because I couldn't find anything in my research from before this bill) that there were no restrictions on passenger number prior to this bill. So, I went with my experience. I remember having to wait 6 months after getting my license before driving other minors without a licensed adult in the car.
In this fic they are all currently 16 and Mikey, who I imagine as a December baby (but, as I've mentioned in an author's note somewhere before, is canonically the oldest and born between Spinelli/October and Gretchen/March), is therefore almost 17, making him plenty old enough by the above assumptions to be driving the gang to homecoming, even if he was born the day before Gretchen.
I rewatched Gus' Last Stand prior to writing this chapter. At the end, Gus tells his father "I guess I lost the battle" about his standing up to Gelman and still getting beat up. His father tells him, "But it looks like you won the war," and they go get ice cream. This is the lesson that Gus is talking about in this chapter.
Thank you for reading and your continued reviews and support. It truly means everything to hear what you all think and I greatly appreciate it!
