Hoops and Dreams

[2] He's not so pretty up close

I underestimated the distance between the bathroom window and the azalea bush on the ground below it. One word to describe the experience: Disorientating. When I land, I stay still for a second in the plants, just in case my thud happens to wake anyone up and I need to find an escape route. I push myself up, dust off, and head for the car.

The beauty of living in a trailer park, if that sentence can be read without a heavy dose of incredulity, is that on nights like this when one needs to borrow the family vehicle for unspecified but totally selfless reasons the car park is so far off from the trailers that I can start the engine without fear. Or only a moderate amount of fear. When I get to my parent's blue Honda, I hesitate for just a moment before unlocking the car and shutting the door behind me.

After a quick prayer, I start the car, hoping that the engine isn't too loud. I keep the headlights off until I am far away enough for it not to matter.

It is as I'm driving that I discover the most critical flaw in my plan. My outfit. I'm wearing my light blue care bear pajama pants and a cotton t-shirt. No wonder it's so cold. Though this outfit is a must-have for Netflix binging and late dinners, it isn't at all what you'd wear at a turn-up.

I shouldn't care, after all, I'm only here to help out a friend but it's still my hand fruitlessly searching for anything in the glove compartment that helps me hide the fact that I'm in my sleepwear. I give up when an old tube of lip gloss and a hand sanitizer are the only useful things I can find. The self-care properties of watermelon lipgloss are severely underrated. Instead I promise myself that I won't know anyone there anyway. This is wishful thinking because by my calculations half the school district is there.

All I can do now is pat my hair down and hope for the best.

I'm not a very good driver. The man who honks at me repeatedly as I join the highway can attest to the fact that I'm skilled in several areas but not on the road. Later I realize he's honking because my indicators are still on and have been since the last turn off. Rookie mistake.

I have to squint to see the white lines and double-check with my rearview mirror that I'm in the right lane almost constantly. But I don't die, so team Hazel for the win. Soon my GPS kindly tells me to pull into the tree-lined street of a suburb and that I have arrived at my destination. I didn't need her to say it though. I can hear the telling thump of a Kanye song and see the sparkling lights strung up into the trees.

It's a party alright.

And it must be in full throttle too because I have to park at the end of the road, a few houses away from the home due to the sheer number of vehicles wrapping right around the block. I pull out the key and check if the gears are in park and the lights are off before I leave. I yank at the door too, confirming that it's locked, I don't care if this is a rich kid neighborhood I'm not letting anything happen to the Honda tonight.

The thrill comes back as I walk toward the house, this time coupled with the force of a few thousand butterflies making camp in my stomach.

My first ever high school party, it's hard not to get a little excited

In and out. That's the plan. Should be simple enough to accomplish, at least it is in theory. I shoot Anika a text telling her I'm waiting outside as I pace up the driveway.

Xavier's home is stunning even in these cheap, flickering party shop lights. Sprawling grass, and cobblestone in various shades of gray. Wide arching windows and stone walls. A behemoth of a home. I can only wonder what it's like to live here. The only deviation from the norm is the varying levels of aforementioned teenage debauchery going on in select areas. The driveway is mostly empty but a couple of yards away, a few people are laughing and shoving, surrounded by a cloud of smoke.