The Best Years

Chapter Two

Why is pulling skinny jeans on so much harder when you rather stay in your sweat pants. I relinquished my power against the slick skinny jeans with blown out knees as I jump as if they'll pull up easier. These jeans were my favorite and showed the wear, I didn't buy them distressed or pre-faded.

I didn't want to go to this party in the slightest, but I relinquished my power to my social life too. I learned to play along now that I understood you can't wear a mask and not pretend. Otherwise you're one of those actors that doesn't really get into character enough for the audience to be emotionally invested.

I didn't bother changing my cropped hoodie and I tucked the tank top into my jeans. I debated putting on mascara but none of these people would ever see me again expect for holidays. How many ex-peers can you really bump into on a holiday break.

The mirror mocked me as I grabbed my phone off my bed. I stopped in front of the reflective surface pulling out the hair tie holding my hair in a bun. With a few shakes my hair ironed out the bumps from the hair tie. I sighed loudly examining myself and even said our loud to my reflection, "Not half bad for not caring."

B would pick me up, but I would end up driving home. This was typical of our friendship. I was designated driver, always, and everyone else would be obliterated with substances. I wasn't post rehab, a snob or even straight edge but I had never taken advantage of my high school experience.

I was always responsible. I grew up very fast, very young and learned there's no way to shake that sensation once you acquire it. It somehow always prevailed no matter the situation or decision. It's no surprise that I didn't drink enough to throw up or have sloppy sex in a stranger's bed, take a pill that changes the world to technicolor, or even break the law. Every rite of passage was robbed of me by this sensation of responsibility I carried.

The beauty was when you're in a room filled with people intoxicated no one notices how sober you are. I developed a trick of filling my solo cup with whatever I pleased, making up new fibs.

One time a kid named Jason took my cup after celebrating a beer pong win and was convinced my beverage was too strong. He must have forgotten what just the chaser tasted like. Florida was the spring break destination, it's no surprise the tolerance teenagers could build.

My mom was a chef and work an abundant number of hours, so my half-sister was daunted with the task of watching me. No sister wants to babysit but especially when we are 13 years apart.

Our age gap wasn't our only difference. Rachelle was smart without trying, artistic, edgy, and a no apology attitude. Something I loved and hate about her. When the attitude wasn't directed at you it was pure admiration but when she wore her ear rings spelling out bitch on her lobe she made it easier to hate her. She led her own backwards life now - sleeping all day and up all night.

She did exactly what I was about to do - make my life my own she just forgot how awkward it is to leave people behind without the miles in between them.

B arrived in the car that was too big for her to be driving. Nearly pulling onto the side walk's raised edge I only laughed pulling my jean jacket on top my shoulders. I smirked realizing everything was cropped and this might have to be a fashion choice I leave behind when I arrive on the East Coast.

Her music was loud enough to alert the neighborhood she arrived. My mom wasn't home but even if she was I was granted freedom to make my own decisions. I never had to ask to go somewhere, beg for rides or throw a tantrum like people did in middle school. I was simply free to go. Why 1,230-something miles never seemed far.

As soon as I stepped up in her SUV I realized what I was getting myself into. Adrian was the one throwing the party at his parent's beach house, not to be confused with their main house. Sarcasm should really be considered a language if we can live among the slang of today. B kept the conversation going as I looked out the window capturing our city mentally before I left it behind.