“What about me?” Tex punches him on the arm. He winces and rubs it.
“Fine. I'll pick you up too, Tex.” Jamie doesn't drink, ever, so he's usually our DD. He's also really good at driving Sam's mom's minivan full of drunk people without getting distracted. A valuable skill.
“Sweet.”
There's not much to do in Maine for teenagers except to hang out at Seagull Stop, our equivalent of a 7-Eleven, or build a fire and get drunk. The only other alternatives involve Family Game Nights and movies at the library, or hanging out in cemeteries, my activity of choice.
I needed to stop thinking about him. I'm usually able to shove the other less-pleasant memories far down into my subconscious where they will no doubt cost me years and thousands of dollars in therapy. Not him. I wake up in the middle of the night and I swear I can hear his voice.
Seven
“You look great, baby.” Mom waits for me at the bottom of the stairs with a camera, like it's prom. Dad got her a digital camera and she's been taking picture after picture. Things like me sneezing or eating or doing something awesome like sitting on the couch. I'll see the flash out of the corner of my eye and try to stay still and not do anything weird with my face. I pretend like I don't notice when she does it. I have no idea why she's taking a picture of me doing nothing, but I don't ask.
I smile and pose on the stairs, and give my best Miss America wave. Dad's right behind her, arms around her waist, laughing. I make some funny faces and she takes so many pictures I'm blinded by the flashes.
Jamie's truck sounds in the driveway like a hurricane hit a chainsaw factory. He loves that truck, even though he could never use it in a getaway.
“That's my ride.”
“Have fun, Ava-Claire. Be safe. Don't be home too late.” She hugs me tight. I wish she'd hug me like this forever and never let me go. I don't want to go to the party, but I let her go and walk out the door. She takes one last picture as I look back at her. The flash makes my eyes burn for a moment.
“I will, I won't.” Dad looks like he wants to add something, but he gives me a look that says it all. I smile and wave as I grab my jacket.
“Ready to roll?” I say as I launch myself to get into the truck. Jamie reaches out and hauls me in. Even though he's never had a cigarette in his life, his truck still smells like moldy cigarettes. It's a hand-me-down from his dad, who smokes like a chimney.
“Always.” I ride bitch, since I have the shortest legs. We get Tex a few minutes later, and her skirt rides up so much she has to haul it down after she gets in.
“Classy.”
“I have great legs, what can I say? It would be a crime to cover them up.” I sigh. She does have great legs. I've got stubs.
My knees are crunched up under the dashboard and Tex keeps brushing crumbs off her seat. Jamie also has to reach between my feet to get his coffee cup, but that's part of the charm of riding around with Jamie.
Sam Weston lives at the end of a dirt road, like a lot of people in Sussex. Secluded in the summer, hell to drive on in the winter. His house is closer to the water than mine, and even has a little cliff so you can watch the waves. The neighbors are all rich summer folks that hibernate in Florida and haven't made it up for the summer yet, so the location is ideal. Cars are haphazardly parked in the ditches on either side of the driveway, and some have made their way onto the lawn. The cold air bites at my legs and exposed arms. I should have brought a sweater to cover the blue t-shirt I've worn.
“I didn't think there would be this many people.” Tex seems surprised. I have no idea why. A car full of people who sound like they're already three drinks in skids next to us, nearly jamming into Jamie's truck. They all stumble out and have to hold onto each other to get up the steps and into the house. It's practically vibrating on its foundation from the music.
“Can we stop staring and go in? I'm freezing,' Tex says. No wonder, considering what she's wearing.
“Put a coat on,” I snap. This was her idea.
“But I might lose it. You know coats disappear at these things.” She holds her arm up, showing me the wristlet that holds all her identification and cell phone. Style before function.
“Shall we?” Jamie leans down and offers each of us an arm. I fake a smile and link up with him on one side, Tex on the other. A Jamie sandwich.
No sooner are we through the door than beers are chucked in our direction. The music is loud, the rooms packed, it's hot and smells like sweat with a hint of pot. If I'm going to be here I might as well enjoy myself as much as I can.
Each beat from the music moves through the floor, making its way up my legs and through my body like a spark of electricity. I want to plunge into it, to lose myself in it, but Tex drags me into the kitchen. Now that I'm here, it's not so bad. Jamie heads to the next room where beer pong is in full swing. He has to say hello to his buddies, who are already slamming each other around and laughing too loudly at something that probably isn't even funny.
I grab a lime wedge and stick it in my beer can. Tex discards her beer and grabs a cup of something pink some girl ladles from a huge metal bowl. I think her name's Angela, but I'm not sure. She catches me staring and gives me the hairy eyeball before clopping away in her gigantic heels.
“Are you going to drink that?”
“Why not? You know I hate beer.” She peers into the cup and pulls something out.
“Because you have no idea what's in it.”
“Alcohol.” She takes a sip. “And... fruit punch? Maybe lemonade? I don't know. It's good. Try it.” She shoves the cup under my nose. It smells good, but that doesn't mean I'm drinking it. There could be anything in there.
“No thanks. I'll stick with what I know.” I sip my beer, which is improved by the lime. Drinkable. I haven't had a whole lot of experience with alcohol. I mean, I've had one here and there, but my experience with it was nothing compared to most of my classmates. I've never actually been wasted. Maybe now is a good time. At least I don't have to drive. I take a bigger swig.
“Slow down there. You want it to last.” Tex practically has a degree in drinking. “Water is the key,” she tells me, “and food.”
I ignore her and nearly choke on my next gulp. I barely even taste it.
The beer kicks a few minutes later. My body warms and I don't feel so tense. It's nice. I stop thinking about Thing One and Thing Two.
As soon as she's gotten one drink in her, Tex goes off and mingles. I hang out with my beer in the kitchen, waiting for the right moment. I say hello to a few people from school who come in to get a refill, but for the most part I'm alone.