Page 7 of Dirty Chorus

“Right,” he says, flipping another burger. “Listen, uh, I gotta ask you something.” He keeps his eyes on the grill when he talks. “I’ve got a graveyard shift tomorrow.” The spatula hisses against the meat. “And Amy, she’s been sneakin’ out, hittin’ parties, drinkin’. I get she’s eighteen but I just don’t feel right about her going to this graduation party,” he says. “I trust you, so I figured maybe you could do me a favor. Keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

The beer bottle sweats in my hand, cold against my palm. “Yeah,” I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, I can do that.” Great, that means she’ll probably be slobbering all over me again trying to hook up.

“Thanks, man.” He nods, turning back to the grill. At that second the screen door opens and Amy comes out with a beer in hand, racing over to the hot tub squealing loudly with a group of girls.

Chapter 6

Charlie

Istroll across the grass after getting out of the pool in my backyard and slide the screen door open, dripping wet, as I walk into the house. I’m instantly covered in goosebumps from the air kicking on. I grab my phone from the counter to check the time, and see a bunch of missed calls and text messages from Brody.

Brody: I’m sorry. Can we talk about the other night? I haven’t heard from you in two days.

Brody: Hey, what are you doing? You can at least call me back.

Brody: I know you have your phone. Why are you ignoring me??

Brody: Answer your phone.

Brody: We need to talk. I miss you, and I need you.

Brody: I’m sorry, I fucked up, okay. I can fix this. I can’t live without you. You’re my girlfriend. Answer your phone!

Brody: I love you so much!! You know you love me, too. In this world, all I want is you. You’re my everything. I’d be lost without you. If you answer, I promise I can make it better. Don’t do this.

Brody: Answer your phone!

Brody: Why are you doing this to me?

Brody: I’m sorry, babe. Answer your fucking phone!

I’m numb to these types of messages and that’s not something I’m proud of. I know for damn sure I can’t function anymore. So yeah, I haven’t talked to him in two days. He left me on the side of the road, and it was embarrassing enough to call my brother to pick me up.

But if I don’t answer him, he won't stop harassing me like this. I press his name and call him back. The phone rings several times before it goes to voicemail. I hate leaving messages. I never know what to say, and I choke up. I try again, and this time it doesn’t ring even once. It was fully sent to voicemail.

I open up my Instagram and click on his story. It looks like last night he had been drinking. Again. Wow, what a surprise. Not. Loud music, cheering, and he’s standing in someone’s backyard.

It’s his entire night from beginning to end. There’s beer pong, people chanting, chug, chug, chug. He gets more and more intoxicated as the videos progress. Wobbling back and forth, slurring something I can’t understand.

Two blonde chicks I’ve never seen before swarm him. They’re wearing tight body-con dresses with their nipples poking out because bras are so last year. It makes me want to chuck the phone against the wall. But I keep watching, and they hold up their red cups, cheering and kissing him on the cheeks.

These videos are burning under my skin, and I can’t put out the fire. My heart pounds. My fingers start to shake. Not a little minor tremor, but full-blown trembling where my phone falls onto the kitchen counter. I lean against it, swaying back and forth with my palms flat against the granite, watching the story on repeat. I snatch up my phone, typing with heavy thumbs, each word being written with pure anger coursing through my veins.

Charlie: Looks like you had fun last night.

Brody: Maybe if you didn’t have a little tantrum, I would have invited you.

Charlie: Classic you. If you really want to talk, then you would stop acting like a child and answer your phone.

Brody: I tried calling you for over an hour, and you ignored me.

I call him again and place the phone to my ear. He picks up, grumbling on the other end. “I ain’t acting like a child.”

“Please, I was in the pool with Payton. I’d eventually call you back. You don’t have to start acting possessive.”

“Why the fuck are you hanging out with Trash?”

“Don’t start calling her that! She’s my best friend.”