Chapter 23

Stan frowned pensively as they all sat in various spots around Henrietta's room. The scene at Benny's was still fresh in his mind, putting him in an already sour mood. Seeing Wendy again, doing something so normal while he was still moping around with the goth kids, made something burn in his gut. Sure, she left him for Token, but did she really already move on? It made him feel pathetic that he was still so hung up on someone who tossed him aside. It'd happened before, and he was the one that asked to get back together basically every time. The bliss and normalcy of being with her again usually drowned out any self-doubt -or shame- he had at practically groveling for her.

He could just leave.

His friends already took him back, it's not like he wouldn't have anyone to hang out with. Hell, they'd already hung out since Kyle had invited him to the other day.

He was tempted to ditch the goths, the doom and gloom he blanketed himself with was getting old and Michael was especially getting on his nerves.

He remembered the taller goth being cooler from their previous interactions, but this time he was almost foaming at the mouth like some rabid animal, something Stan didn't have to deal with. Not to mention all the absences, all the smoking, and all the constant negativity they threw at other people.

If he were smart, he'd leave.

"Raven is one of us, right? If he came to help, he should at least be able to ask."

But he couldn't.

Sophia had a typical tragic backstory, and her life sucked. He compared her to his friend Kenny; living in the same kind of house with alcoholic and irresponsible parents. Though she wasn't as mean as the other goth kids, she could cut with her words when she wanted to. It was a bit frustrating, even to him, how she didn't want to accept the Biggles' offer of letting her live with them. She smoked just as much as the rest and seemed to have a sort of detached way of looking at the world.

There were things he liked about her though.

She helped to bridge the gap between him and his friends, and was nice to him from the start. She shared her secrets with him and even defended him a few times against the rest of the group. Whenever Stan felt like he was starting to get pushed to the background of their interactions, she usually seemed to know and did something to include him or keep him in the loop. They were all attentive toward her in different ways and she was gentle in return.

"She has cemented your place among us and if you do anything to jeopardize that, if you throw it all away with a simple 'screw you guys, I'm going home' just as you did last time, well, we'll make sure you regret it."

Conflicted was an understatement.

I sat uncomfortably at Mrs. Biggle's kitchen table, not escaping the Smithings' this time.

I had just stepped out of the shower, a bit flushed from the steam and a heavy towel-turban holding up my long hair.

"Sophia, dear?" I looked toward the stairs and Mrs. Biggle was looking up at me from through the wooden handrail bars.

"Yes Mrs. Biggle?" I asked softly, hyperaware of how my bangs were plastered to my forehead and we were actually making eye contact for once.

"Mr. and Mrs. Smithings want to talk to you. They were just about to leave but decided to wait for you." I swallowed the lump in my throat uncomfortably. She could see I was hesitating to answer, and her eyes softened. "I have a plate of food ready for you, come eat at the table." I sighed before nodding, going to Bradley's room first to drop off my dirty clothes and wring out my hair a bit more so I wouldn't be dripping all over the kitchen.

The plate in front of me had a square of broccoli casserole, shredded chicken with a creamy sauce over it, and a little bowl full of cut fruit.

Mr. and Mrs. Smithings sat in front of me, sipping on their mugs of coffee. Mr. and Mrs. Biggle sat on my right, offering their silent moral support.

I sighed tiredly before picking up my fork and beginning to spear pieces of broccoli.

"So, Sophia, what happened today? You said you got fired?" Mrs. Smithings asked gently and I shrugged.

"I guess I haven't been a good employee lately. I've missed too many days and there've been too many scenes at the diner." I looked down at my plate as I spoke, and it was true. If anything, I was grateful to have had my job this long. Between missing work over my mom, then over these two, and the scenes I caused with my panic attack, that karen that wanted cake, and today's issue with the two tables, it was a miracle I hadn't been fired until now.

"That isn't fair." I could hear the frown in Mr. Smithings' voice.

"Whatever, I'll have to find another job." I shrugged again, taking a sip from my own coffee mug.

"Why is it so important to you to have a job? Shouldn't you focus more on school and hanging out with your friends?" His wife's voice was gentle and I patted down my bangs out of habit.

"Well, where else am I going to get money from?" I twirled my fork around a few times. "I have things to buy and bills to pay, also I need to eat somehow. It's not like I get an allowance or anything." Tilting my head to the side, I looked away and put some chicken in my mouth, humming a bit at the taste.

"Christine makes you pay bills?" Mr. Smithings' eyes were wide and I shrugged carelessly.

"She only really cares about keeping the lights on. I pay the water and gas bill. I don't like cold showers." I added on at the end a little quieter. Mr. and Mrs. Smithings shared a look.

"What about food, does she keep the refrigerator full?" It was his wife's turn to ask, I guess.

"Oh yeah, totally." Just as she seemed to give a sigh of relief, I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Full of cheap beer." My sarcasm wasn't appreciated as Mrs. Biggle tutted quietly.

"So, how did you work it out with the school for them to let you keep a job?" Mrs. Smithings folded her hands on the table.

"I was able to get early dismissal by opting out of taking electives and replacing them with extra core classes. Also, I take classes during summer school. If I keep going like this, I should be able to graduate early and get out of my mom's house."

"Oh yes! Sophia is the most dedicated to school in their little group! She's always doing homework and attends class. Even my poopsie skips once in a while, but not Sophia." Henrietta skips a lot more than 'once in a while', and I've even skipped a few times, but Mrs. Biggle's praise made my cheeks go slightly pink.

"Sophia is a polite girl compared to the rest of the hooligans our princess hangs out with." Mr. Biggle rarely spoke so I was naturally a little startled when I heard his voice. "She's a good kid." He said gruffly.

I looked down at my plate, a little overwhelmed by their praise, a warm feeling growing in my chest.

"Sophia," I looked up at Mr. Smithings, staring into his own pair of mismatched eyes. His gaze was as intense as it was that day at Benny's and I had to keep myself from squirming uncomfortably in my seat. "I want you to live comfortably and without having to stress out about things someone your age shouldn't have to. I'm going to do all I can to better your quality of life, trust me." Though his expression was honest, I couldn't help but scowl.

"I've kind of already been living like this my whole life. I'll be eighteen soon, what's a few more months? Theres no need to get involved now." The unspoken I don't need your help was pretty loud.

And it's true, even after all this, I still couldn't understand why he wanted so badly to make it his problem. He should just go back to his perfect family and forget I exist.

Picking through the cut fruit, I watched as he and his wife sent each other uncertain looks.

"Also," I chewed on a strawberry slowly. "I'm not going to leave. Whether you want to take me with you or send me somewhere else, I'm not going to leave my friends. When I do go, it'll be of my own free will." Mrs. Smithings sighed and stood up.

"Your father and I," she ignored my slight recoil. "Need to talk some things over, but we'll be around to talk to you again." I looked down at the table and didn't meet their gaze as they said their goodbyes to the Biggles and left.

"I'll be upstairs." I mumbled, putting my plate and mug in the sink, and going upstairs.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Ugh, fuck!" Henrietta suddenly threw the journal she was writing into off to the side, slightly startling me as I looked up from my spot on the floor.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Pete scowled, flipping his bangs out of his face.

"More than usual?" Firkle piped up making Pete smirk.

"All we've been doing is sitting around, any more of this and we'll start growing spores." She stood and walked over to her closet, slamming open the door and rifling inside. "Fuck whatever's been going, we're getting out of here."

"Surprisingly conformist of you; should we make some friendship bracelets while we're at it?" Michael tilted his head over his shoulder, a few of his curls splaying over his forehead as he responded sarcastically.

"I hope a demon sodomizes you in your sleep." Henrietta threw over her shoulder making Michael flinch back, not expecting that sort of response. Firkle giggled behind his hands, delighted at the shock on his face.

"Where do you want to go?" I stood up and walked over to where her torso was deep in her closet.

"We're going to sit in the moonlight and get wasted." She popped back up with a few bottles of liquor in her hands. My eyes widened before a large smirk spread over my face. I looked over my shoulder at my friends, grinning excitedly.

"Let's go."

. . . . . . . . . .

Somewhere in the woods behind Pete's trailer, there was a clearing where, sometime long ago, other teenagers must have come to hang out. There were already old and half-rotten logs in a circle around a fire pit, and there was old trash strewn around with vintage labels. We never picked it up but kicked it over when we walked through. No one ever came here, at least it didn't seem like it. The same trash was always here, and the trash we left didn't move until the next time we came. Settling into our spots on the logs, we cracked open the bottles and started passing them around.

I remember feeling really uncomfortable the first time I drank with my friends. It reminded me too much of my mom, and back then I thoroughly had it in my head that alcohol was evil; beer was the problem, not my mom.

Looking back, I could admit that I felt peer pressured. They were all doing it, and at twelve years old I felt much too young to be drinking something like that, and the truth is we all were. But I wanted, desperately, to hang out with them. In order to do that, I had to do what they did, and so I did.

It wasn't too bad, and we didn't do it often considering we were at the end of elementary school and didn't have much money. Back then we'd only buy a box of cigarettes at a time and shared them for a few days until they ran out. We didn't drink too often; it was saved for special occasions like birthdays or school breaks, even a few times after particularly long and agonizing days, but not too often.

I liked it when we drank. My friends were more relaxed and laughed more freely. I liked seeing them have fun and how they exaggeratedly told stories of a few adventures they had before I met them. It was fun and silly and childish hearing about them talking to Edgar Allan Poe's ghost, or the time they sent Mike Makowski to Scottsdale, or even their brief stint with the Cult of Cthulhu. After I joined their group, the adventures seemed to have taken an indefinite pause. At first, I thought that maybe they didn't want to include me in their adventures; I was the newest in the friend group and it was understandable for me not to be included in everything, but I brought it up once to Henrietta and she only rolled her eyes at me.

"We don't on purposely involve ourselves in trivial 'adventures' like some shitty-book-series turned shitty-movie-franchise," we were sitting in her dark room, it was one of the first times I slept over. "The trouble seemed to find us, and we were just along for the ride." Her shoulders shrugged boredly, and she looked at me through her eyelashes caked in mascara.

I admired the confidant way she spoke; she was my first ever female friend and I wanted so desperately to be just like her.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn't right for Firkle to be drinking with us. He was the youngest of the bunch and the most knife-happy, but I couldn't bring myself to be a hypocrite and stop him. When I joined, he was still the youngest of us and at this point he's older than me when I drank for the first time, so I kept my opinions to myself and took a swig of the spiced rum that had been sitting in Henrietta's closet.

Pete pulled out a small portable speaker and started playing Skinny Puppy, Henrietta's preferred choice of music, even if she always insisted that having a favorite band was something only horny groupies did to spice up their empty lives. She got up to sway her arms and body rhythmically and, after a few gulps of spiced rum, I stood up to join her.

Unbeknownst to Sophia, there were two pairs of eyes on her as she swayed her willowy body next to Henrietta's; arms flowing gracefully as they moved up and down with the fluidity of water.

Stan blinked blearily as he watched the two girls dance and pass their own bottle between them. Sophia was smiling as she whispered back and forth with Henrietta, the bigger girl smirking and whispering something back that had Sophia covering her mouth to hide a small laugh. Pete passed him the bottle of rum again, opting to share when Michael ignored him and passed his bottle to Firkle. Stan decided, as he unflinchingly swallowed more than a mouthful, that he liked watching her dance. He was used to more upbeat moves that went to way faster music, but this wasn't bad at all. Though Sophia didn't really fit into the category of "smoking hot" (Kenny's words, not his), he couldn't look away. It wasn't often he couldn't keep his eyes off someone -his eyes were usually reserved for Wendy-, but he didn't mind the way her long hair seemed to hypnotize him as it followed her movements. Adjusting the way he sat on the slightly soft log, and spreading his legs a bit in a move his sister Shelly would probably complain was "manspreading", he took another big sip before passing the rum back to Pete.

Michael felt his mouth dry as he watched Sophia dance. There wasn't anything particularly sensual or seductive about the way she was dancing, but he couldn't keep his eyes off her as he watched her hips swing lazily, moving with the rest of her body. It was moments like these, where he was half-drunk and the tension was slowly leaving his body, that he could admit to himself how attracted he was to the tall girl. No matter how much he liked her, he usually didn't let his thoughts about her get far, a lifetime of dealing with divorced parents will do that to you, but in moments like these his body yearned for something he didn't know the name of. His eyes were glued to her and Firkle had to kick his ankle for him to pass the bottle back to the younger kid, wordlessly handing it over.

"Fuck you." Henrietta called as Pete changed the music to Type O Negative once the song that had been playing ended.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" He smirked, surprisingly flirty after some alcohol entered his system.

"Eat shit." She called again and turned back to Sophia, who also liked Type O Negative. The skinny girl murmured something that had Henrietta suddenly letting out a sharp cackle that would have startled birds out of the trees.

Sophia arched her back in a smooth dip toward the ground, arms still swaying above her as her hair tumbled down, almost touching the floor, bangs falling off her forehead. Her face was upside down, but not any less beautiful as her two-toned eyes looked entranced at the full moon above, a soft smile on her mouth. When she straightened again, reaching where Henrietta and the bottle were supposed to be, the other girl was already gone. Sophia shrugged and went back to sit on the logs, noticing that Pete was also gone but choosing not to mention it. Instead of sitting on the slightly damp wood she sat on the damper floor and leaned her back against one, leaning her shoulder against a warm thigh.

"Tired?" Michael smiled down at her and she recognized the slightly hazy look in his eyes as him being drunk.

"Not yet." She murmured back, leaning her head against his side, looking up at him as he clumsily lit a cigarette.

"We'll probably be out here all night." He said quietly, accepting the bottle back from Firkle without turning to look at him.

"I like coming out here, it's nice." Her eyes trailed to the sky, taking in the full moon and the stars. Since the moon was so bright, they didn't even need a lantern or a fire to see each other.

"We'll have more time to come out here now that you don't have a job." As the words left his mouth, a twinge of guilt pulsed through his body. He pressed the bottle to his mouth so he wouldn't say something he'd regret later.

"Sorry." She winced, knowing that since her friends were very 'group oriented' they didn't do a lot if she wasn't there.

"Don't be." His voice was slightly horse as he pulled the bottle away. Sophia suddenly put one of her hands on his thigh, making him jerk in surprise. Heat flowed up his neck as she grabbed the bottle in his hand, a few of their fingers overlapping, and tilted it toward her mouth with her eyes half-lidded. He couldn't do much besides stare at her as her lips puckered against the mouth of the bottle, slowly drinking slightly cold rum.

He couldn't have looked away even if he wanted to. Which he didn't want to, not really.

Her long fingers gripped his thigh, keeping herself steady and doing the opposite to him with every passing second. Michael was sure he wasn't even breathing as he seared the image of Sophia at his feet, gripping something she was putting against her mouth. As she finished her sip and licked her lips, her tongue a rosy pink he was sure he had never paid attention to before, she smiled lightly and let go of the bottle.

"I have to pee." He blurted out, standing and wincing as he felt the front of his tight black jeans strain. Sophia nodded and settled back against the log, Firkle glaring at him disgustedly as he passed.

Sophia stared up at the moon again, not for the first time thinking it looked beautiful and wishing she could sleep under a beautiful sky like this every night.

"So," Raven walked over and settled down with his back against her log next to her. "Uh, Henrietta and Pete have been gone a while." His words, though slightly slurred, were awkward and questioning.

"Their thing is pretty casual; they never make it awkward or anything." She started to explain, surprising herself at how drunk she sounded. The dancing paired with all the rum was making her start to feel hot.

"Oh." His eyebrows slowly rose, looking out into the trees. In front of him, next to the fire pit, Firkle sat back on his ankles, using one of his knives to play with a spider he found. "Do you all… ?"

"No, just them." Sophia immediately waved away the unfinished question, her face feeling even hotter at the implication. "They're both sort of hot heads so its easy for them to let off some steam together." At least that was how Henrietta had once explained it to her.

"Right." He nodded, fishing out a cigarette to light it. Her gaze trailed over him, thoughtfully.

"Have you spoken to your friends?" She scooted closer to whisper to him. He smiled lightly at the thought of his friends.

"I've been talking to them more. They want to hang out, and I've already gone once, but…" He wasn't sure whether to tell her that he felt obligated to be here and that was preventing him from seeing his friends; he wasn't sure how she'd react.

"That's good, they were really worried. I can tell they care about you a lot, especially the one with the green hat."

"His name is Kyle." Smoke slowly blew out from his lips.

"Whatever." She shrugged, putting a cigarette between her lips. "Ah, fuck." Her silver lighter was sparking but no flame was coming out.

"Need a light?" He asked as she nodded sheepishly, running her hand through her bangs over her warm forehead. Just as Stan pulled out his lighter, a rough grunt sounded out from the trees, making him jolt and drop it in a pile of snow. Sophia's face went pink at the sound.

"Um..." She awkwardly tugged on a piece of her hair as she held the cigarette between her teeth, slightly biting into the filter. Off to the side, Firkle groaned and pretended to throw up, standing up and turning up the volume on the speaker.

"It's fine." Stan tried his best to ignore what was going on in the trees behind him. Looking down at the cigarette in her mouth, he couldn't help but stare at her lips. They were slightly chapped, and he raised his hand to gently pull it away from her mouth. Silently, he put her cigarette in his mouth, holding it as he gently used the lit tip of his own to light it.

Sophia couldn't have looked away even if she wanted to. Which she didn't want to, not really.

The thought confused her.

Her gaze was locked on Raven as his lips held her cigarette, feeling something like anticipation gnawing at her stomach.

"Here." He held it out, not to her hands, but instead to her mouth, gently putting it up to her lips. She slowly opened her mouth, accepting the lit cigarette that was just in his mouth two seconds ago.

I stared and stared and stared at the spider in front of me, jabbing one of its legs with the tip of my knife when it tried running away. Already, nausea was rolling through my stomach; no matter how hard I stared at the spider, I couldn't ignore the intense secondhand embarrassment I felt.

Usually, hanging out in the woods was fun. At least it used to be. We'd all trade drinks and stories, laughing while we talked shit about the conformists we delt with at school or in our personal lives. It was simple, easy.

Now, I was surrounded by highschoolers with disgusting hormones.

Henrietta and Pete (old news, really) would sneak off through the trees where they thought we couldn't hear them anymore, but if they were any closer, we'd be in the splash zone. I was just glad their little trysts were reserved for when they were drunk and could pretend they didn't remember anything as soon as they sobered up.

Usually Michael's pinning toward Sophia, who either cruelly ignored him or was stupidly ignorant of it (I still wasn't entirely sure which one it was), would serve to amuse me. But adding Raven to the mix was a cringe-bomb of nuclear proportions. Watching the two of them peacock for her attention was fun at first, but it was getting pretty boring at this point. Maybe it'd be funnier if Sophia actually realized what was going on and pulled the strings a bit, subtly manipulating each one until they were at each other's throats. Well, more than they are now, anyway.

If anyone asked, I'd say she was better off on her own, she certainly said it often enough and Michael was the same as he stubbornly insisted that love was for animals who couldn't control their base urges.

Well, look at him now; hiding his boner behind a tree while Raven woos drunk-Sophia. (Note sarcasm)

I shuddered to think that I'd be joining them next year. I'd rather chemically castrate myself than start acting like a dog in heat. As Michael stomped out from behind the trees, I sighed and turned the music up more.

Sometimes I really hate these fucking assholes.

. . . . . . . . . .

(link to a commission piece of the goths+stan in my bio)