Miraculously, the audio equipment never hits the ground.
Janessa Suher has bounded across the room with arms extended, catching the sleek dinosaur egg like it’s a loose ball.
“YO!” The room explodes, louder than any of the reactions I got for my dance moves.
“That was insane!”
“Did anybody film that?”
“Chris, she saved you from getting your throat slit!”
Soon the walls echo with a chant of Janessa’s name, and I join in too because it really was spectacular, but also I’m feeling a little empty inside, and my knee is still in pain. Bodhi passes me a new beer, and I drink it fast because maybe it will make me feel better,and it sort of does. Then everything starts to blur.
I’m wandering from the family room to the kitchen, and different people keep asking me to purchase things for them, like notright nowbut sometime soon, and I say sure, and it makes them happy, and I thinkI should keep a list of all that in my phone, but I don’t, and Bodhi and I are laughing about something, and I’m wandering some more, and I don’t even know what I’m looking for, butofcourseI knowwhoI’m looking for, but she’s not in the backyard anymore, and then Tatiana is talking to me, I think flirting with me actually, and she’s really hot, but I don’t even know what’s happening, and then we’re in a new room with lots of books in it, and we’re kissing, and then I tell her I have to pee, because Idohave to pee, and so I do, and it feels like four straight minutes of pee, I’m not even kidding, and when I’m walking out of the bathroom, I look to my left, and I see the back of Maggie’s cardigan, she’s so stylish, and I’m so glad I finally found her, so I walk over to say something, but I realize she’s no longer talking to Glowy Adult Guy, she’s MAKING OUT with Glowy Adult Guy, and I make a surprised monkey noise, which I wish I could take back, how embarrassing, what even was that, and I walk the other way, and I’m struck by the overwhelming feeling that I don’t belong here, that if I wasn’t a freak with an authentically old driver’s license Iwouldn’tbe here, and no one would care that I existed, and that’s hard to face, but it’s the truth, and I need to get out of here, so I do.
Maggie
I might be imagining Chord Ramirez. It’s the only explanation.
He is charming; he is composed; he is a delight to stare at; he has alife plan.
And he seems to be very into talking to me.
Like seriously: Where did this guy come from?
It’s not that I have zero self-esteem; I’m just not used to being hit on in this way by someone of this caliber. I guess I haven’t been single for a while, and during that time, I changed and evolved as a person. And also got older. So now guys like Chord—guys who are in their first year of community college, while also working a part-time job at the front desk of an urgent care clinic, with an eye on transferring to a state school after their second year, to be followed by medical school and the ultimate goal of becoming a doctor, ideally a cardiologist but possibly a gastroenterologist—are guys interested in chatting me up at a party.
It’s blowing my mind a little bit. Or a lot bit.
We’ve been talking in Shana’s backyard, and it’s kind of freezing, but thankfully I wore my cardigan, which I’ve wrapped around myself so that the patch of belly skin exposed by the stupid rip in my T-shirt doesn’t get frostbite.
“Should we go back inside?” Chord asks, like the gentleman he is.
“Oh, maybe,” I say.
But then I remember that Drunk Carter’s pinballing around inthere. Another chant is happening, probably of his name.
“How about in five minutes? I kind of like the fresh air. And the stars and everything.”
“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Chord says. He sips from his beer and looks up at the sky. “If it’s a choice between whatever’s happening in there and the chill vibes out here, it’s an easy call.”
“You mean chill-y vibes,” I say, which is so bad and dorky, I feel my face instantly turn red. It’s just shadowy enough out here, though, that he probably can’t tell.
“Ha,” Chord says, the ultimate courtesy laugh. “Right.”
I’m so embarrassed, I can’t speak again for fear that another clunker will unexpectedly emerge.
“Plus,” Chord says, pointing deeper into Shana’s backyard, “I’m really hoping to try out that killer swing set. You interested?”
I forgot that was back here. Shana’s parents haven’t taken the swing set down because her dad is insanely nostalgic. I remember competing with Shana to see who could climb across the top of the monkey bars fastest.
I also remember sitting with Carter on those swings in October. We held hands. We talked. We made out. We migrated to Shana’s brother’s empty bedroom. Where we did other stuff.
So Drunk Carter is inside the house, and Ghost Carter is out here.
“No swing set for me right now,” I say. “Worried it might make me barf.”
“Fair enough,” Chord says. “Maybe instead we can find a baseball bat to balance our heads on and spin around as fast as we can, see who can stay upright longer.”
