“Wait, wait, wait. Who’s Finn again?”
Lying upside down over the edge of my bed, I rolled my eyes, even though Isak couldn’t see me over the phone. I’d ended up dangling right in the view of the mirror, meaning I was now staring at my upturned reflection while the accented voice of my best friend sounded in my ear. Unfortunately, my lack of gravitational direction was not improving the out-of-control curl situation, and my hair currently looked as if it had been zapped with an electric current. Add this to the way my face was slowly coloring as the blood rushed to my head, and I wasn’t really sure why I’d chosen to lie like this in the first place.
“Seriously, Isak? Have you not been listening to anything I just said?”
In the background, I could hear a blaring TV; it sounded like a high speed car chase. Considering the way he kept trailing off every few seconds, occasionally pausing to swear in Swedish, I knew he was engrossed in his newest video game.
That was, after all, how Isak and I had come to be friends in the first place. I had turned into a partial video game nerd somewhere in middle school – probably around the time I stopped hanging out with Finn, because I had to do something with all my newfound spare time. Freshman year, I got into an argument with some foreign kid via the game headset over his cheating habit, which continued every time we got placed on opposite teams. I wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, but at some point the verbal insults had turned into a sort-of-brutal friendship, and we’d been close ever since. Well, as close as we could be when he lived five thousand miles away, and we had never met in person.
Isak topped anybody I’d ever met at high school. Even if our friendship did have to be long distance.
He swore again in Swedish, before switching to a language I could actually understand. “Goddamn police,” he shouted, way louder than necessary, and at nobody that could actually hear him. “Get off my ass!”
“Isak.”
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
“You know, the game has a pause button,” I said, though I knew my best friend would sooner hang up on me than use it. When it came to anything involving virtual car chases, or any kind of zombie apocalypse, there were few things you could do to drag him away.
“No need, I’m multi-tasking.” Another round of sirens started up, but I could sense Isak’s attention had settled a little. “Who’s Finn? I’m sure you’ve never mentioned anybody called Finn before.”
“That’s because I haven’t had to think about Finn in six years.”
“So, hold on, let me get this straight.” Isak paused. “This guy used to be your best friend, then turned into a jerk and cheated off your test, and now he’s trying to be your friend again by inviting you to a party?”
“I don’t think he’s trying to be my friend,” I pointed out. “It’s his half-ass way of apologizing, I think. Maybe this kind of thing is just etiquette when you’re popular.”
“You know,” Isak said thoughtfully, “if you get popular now, I’m going to officially crown you as the world’s biggest hypocrite.”
“I’m not going to be popular.”
“Good, because I still need somebody to play video games with me, and a hectic schedule of partying might interfere with that. I’m thinking of getting you to sign a contract and everything. You know, just to make sure.”
“So what should I do? Do I go to this thing?” I pulled a face at my reflection, as if this would prove to somebody the extent of my dilemma, before swiftly realizing how tragic this was. There were certain side effects of having a best friend in a different country, and unfortunately, I had experienced all of them.
There was a rustling on the other line, and what sounded like the opening of a bag of chips. When Isak spoke again, it was through a ridiculously big mouthful. “Maybe you should,” he said. “There might be free food.”
“I don’t think there’s going to be free food.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s a party, Isak. A party for popular people. I don’t think free food is on their agenda.”
I was beginning to regret consulting him for advice; he often fell short on that front. While he was good enough at support in the form of video game therapy, or teaching me the most explicit words of the Swedish language, genuine guidance was a lot harder to come by.
“You don’t know that.” More rustling, and more chips being shoveled into his mouth. “It’s probably worth the risk.”
“I didn’t call you to be told to take advantage of the nonexistent possibility of food,” I told him.
“Really?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Then why did you call me?”
“Because I need help. I don’t know what to do.”
All of a sudden, the video game noises stopped, and I realized he’d paused his game. He’d actually paused it for me. “Here’s the thing, Meredith: only a fool would turn down free food. Even the potential of free food. Are you a fool?”
“Isak, I really don’t think there’s going to be—”
“Are you a fool?”
I stopped. “No.”
“Then you’re going to the party, you’re going to scout out the food, and then leave. How does that sound?”
I rolled my eyes again, trying not to feel a sense of comfort when my reflection did the same. It was official: I desperately needed money for plane tickets to Sweden, for the sake of my sanity. “Isak, I am never coming to you for advice again.”
“Fine by me,” he said cheerily. “Less effort that way. Go to the party, though. I want to hear more about this Finn dude. Specifically what happens when you sass him and tell him to shove his friendship up his ass, because I’m the only best friend you need in your life.”
“I’ll let you know how that one goes,” I told him, and I could hear his laughter even as I hung up the phone.
***
Isak’s advice may have been kind of stupid, but I couldn’t fault his words of wisdom entirely - seeing as I ended up not ignoring them.
I didn’t know what happened. I had been so convinced I wasn’t going to show – even preparing my excuse for Finn the following Monday about how I had gotten sick – but, in the middle of it all, something had changed, something that continued to perplex me long after I changed my mind.
If only I could work out what stationed me in front of my mirror, armed with a hairbrush and a resolution to tame my wild curls into something more presentable. Or what had sent me rifling through every inch of my closet, digging right to the back in the hope of finding something both suitable and forgotten.
But my top suspicion was one I preferred not to think about. In the back of my mind was that niggling possibility: the thought that maybe I was doing this because of Finn. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but somewhere, I knew his pleading look had weaselled its way into my head.
He had given me the address the Friday before; Reagan’s house was within walking distance. At first, I assumed this gave me a free escape from an interrogation by either dad, provided I slipped out quietly enough. It wasn’t that I was trying to hide my plans for the night – just that it was easier to avoid any questions with a potential lead back to Finn.
It was obvious enough we were no longer friends, but I could tell they hoped we might backtrack to our younger days, with that sweet kind of boy-girl friendship we’d grown up knowing. I had to tell them about my after-school detentions of course, but conveniently skipped the part about Finn and I spending extended periods of time together. I didn’t want them jumping to any crazy conclusions.
But my plan to slip out unnoticed didn’t work out too well. The moment I set my foot on the last step – even carefully avoiding the spot that had a tendency to creak – was the exact same moment Calum emerged from the living room.
Seriously. It was like he had radar, or something.
I should’ve tried to talk my way out, but words had failed me, and they’d chosen a really bad time to do it. His gaze had already dropped, sweeping over my smarter-than-usual outfit, and the coat of make-up I never otherwise bothered with.
I was busted.
Coming clean may have gotten me out of a punishment for sneaking out, which would’ve been two’ weeks grounding at best, but it had another drawback. Reagan’s house was only a few roads away, and the late September evenings were still light enough for me to find my way there, but the thought of me roaming the streets alone at any time past dinner didn’t sit well with Calum.
He offered me a ride, and I declined. But then he insisted.
To make things worse, the car journey was every bit as uncomfortable as expected. Calum was always one for questions, but this increased tenfold upon developing what he assumed was a partying habit. Though I managed to dodge most of them, I was forced to promise I would call one of them the moment I wanted a ride, and no later than one a.m.
But I did get through the entire ten minutes without having the conversation venture anywhere near Finn. And I considered that an achievement.
Still, as convinced as one of my dads might’ve been that I would be partying into the night, he couldn’t have ended up being further from the truth.
I regretted my decision to go pretty much two seconds after I’d walked inside Reagan’s front door. She let me in with a slightly surprised smile, like she wasn’t quite sure who I was or who had invited me, but tried her best all the same. It was kind of surreal to see her outside of school, anyway. As head cheerleader, interaction with her almost felt off-limits to anybody who wasn’t part of her group. That night, her fiery red hair had been tousled into impressive curls, and her flawless coat of make-up made mine feel like a shoddy kids’ job.
She gestured vaguely toward the living room, before getting distracted by a group of her cheerleader friends tottering up the driveway. When Reagan broke into a round of double-sided squealing about how pretty they all looked, and I figured I was not about to get any further instructions from the hostess, so I wandered through myself.
The lights in the living room were dimmed, and somebody’s phone had been plugged into the sound system on the opposite wall, so a crappy dance track vibrated through the room. All around, people I vaguely recognized were collected in huddles, like their groups were only for an exclusive few. It wasn’t the sort of formation I could weasel my way into and laugh along like I’d been there the entire time. Here, I was out in the open, unnervingly exposed and wondering why on earth I had come in the first place.
I would’ve headed for a couch, where I could at least try and look a little more at ease than hovering by the door, but most of the space had already been occupied by sets of couples so squashed they looked in danger of swapping make-out partners. Since I didn’t feel like sandwiching myself between anybody and playing the ultimate third wheel, I was kind of trapped.
Why
had I ever thought this would be a good idea? Of course Finn’s idea of a fun party was never going to match up to mine. Maybe things like this were fun when you had a secure spot in the popular crowd and a free pass into any of the huddles.
But for someone like me, who’d suddenly found myself surrounded on all sides by people I actively disliked, fun was the last word on my list.
I spent maybe forty-five minutes wandering from space to space, darting between groups of people and the flailing limbs of several overenthusiastic dancers, checking my phone every five seconds in the hope of finding that my curfew had miraculously arrived. And yet it never did; each minute crawling by was just another reminder that I didn’t fit in, and that I probably stuck out like a sore thumb.
And there was no sign of Finn. It was like he’d vanished into thin air.
As time wore on, and I found myself feeling increasingly awkward with each second spent hovering alone, I decided to give up. Nobody could say that I hadn’t given it a try; I’d accepted Finn’s invitation, come along, and that was sure to be a good enough answer for him when we saw each other again on Monday.
The last twenty minutes had seen the living room get suddenly packed, so much so that I could barely see through the throng of people now packed into the small space. I knew I’d have to push my way through if I wanted to get to the front door, but with so many sweaty bodies packed against one another, I was sure there had to be a better way of doing it. Backtracking, I headed in the direction of the kitchen to where I’d previously spotted a back door, hoping Reagan had a side gate I could let myself out of.
The outside air was a shock on my bare arms; we’d barely gotten into fall, but the wind had picked up and a chill had fallen. I had emerged on a back porch, where several couples were braving the cold and huddling together on Reagan’s patio furniture, and the thumping beat of the music had been dampened considerably.
All of a sudden, I spotted a side gate and was already heading over when a voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Meredith! Hey! There you are.”
Turning round, I saw Finn a couple of yards away on the porch. It was strange seeing him in something other than a swim team jersey with a backpack slung over his shoulder. Instead, he wore an unzipped hoodie and jeans, while his hair had been raked through with a little too much product.
“Finn.” I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed to see him.
“I’ve been looking for you all evening.”
Had he? To think so was kind of odd. He should’ve been in his element at the party; people who knew and adored him surrounded us on all sides, and he would surely have no problem inserting himself into any of the huddles. Why would he have been wasting his time looking for me?
It was then that he noticed my direction, and the way I’d been heading toward Reagan’s side exit. “Are you leaving? Already?”
I considered lying, but knew I didn’t have the conviction to pull it off. There was really no option but to tell the truth. “Yeah,” I said eventually, keeping my eyes on Finn’s face, which I could’ve sworn drooped in disappointment. Then again, I was probably just imagining things.
“Why?”
It hit me then, how ridiculous the entire thing was. I didn’t belong here, not in the middle of a head cheerleader’s party, surrounded by other people all infinitely better at fitting in than I was. The outfit I’d pulled on – my best jeans and a floral-patterned shirt I’d had to pull the tags off – seemed to suddenly scream trying too hard, while my black boots had me towering over the rest of the girls. It was if someone had turned on a blinker over my head, a huge neon sign that told everyone I wasn’t meant to be there. I’d come on a pity invitation, a half-assed apology from a guy probably only concerned that I would damage his reputation if I stayed pissed.
I had been about to make up some excuse about not feeling well, but the words never got there. Those that replaced them were certainly unexpected.
“Because I don’t belong here, Finn.” He was staring at me, in a way I couldn’t work out, and I felt obliged to continue. “I know you invited me to try and be nice, but… this isn’t me. I’m not going to stand around feeling awkward any longer. I know when I’m not wanted.”
It probably wasn’t fair for all my anger to be redirected toward him, but I couldn’t help myself. He was the beacon of popularity, the entire party personified. And standing before him only made me feel that much more insignificant.
I turned back toward the gate, expecting him to return to his friends. I assumed he would pull a face, muttering something about how crazy I was, before going back to the party like nothing had happened.
But he didn’t.
Instead, for reasons that were beyond me, he followed.
His presence only registered when I was out of the gate, and I could hear his footsteps on the concrete behind me. When I spun around, he came to a stop a couple of yards away.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Go back to the party.”
“I’m not going to let you walk back alone,” he told me, “and we live on the same street, so it’s not like it’s out of my way.”
“I’m fine.” His offer was kind of embarrassing, like he actually thought I couldn’t handle walking through a few streets on my own. It wasn’t even that late. “I’ll be okay on my own. Just go back inside and have fun.”
I went to continue walking, heading down Reagan’s driveway towards the sidewalk, but I heard Finn’s footsteps before I’d even made it there. He wasn’t giving up. Spinning on my heel, a little abruptly, I wondered why I suddenly felt so angry at him. “Finn. Stop doing this. I’m not kidding around.”
“And neither am I,” he said, like it was that simple. A step closer dwindled the distance between us, and his eyes locked onto mine with more intensity than I felt able to handle. He swallowed, and when he next spoke, his tone had dropped a few notches. “Look, to tell you the truth, I’m not having that much fun myself. I was considering making an escape too.”
I raised an eyebrow, a little dubious. “You’re not having fun?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a house party, but it’s a house party like we go to every weekend. Believe it or not, they get old pretty quickly.”
The words sounded so strange, coming from him of all people, that I half-wondered if he was kidding. “You’re telling me Finn Alford isn’t a party guy?”
He laughed then, genuinely, so a smile lit up his entire face. The sight was kind of startling; there was something a little more honest about it, like a hole in his usual exterior. For a moment, it was like I was seeing through the image, past Finn Alford, captain of the swim team and most popular guy in school. I was getting to something else. Maybe even just… Finn.
“You heard it here first.” His voice dropped, and he leaned a little closer. “Just don’t spread it around. I’d prefer to keep that kind of thing on the down-low.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. The news had come as a shock, and enough of one to make me forget about my previous anger. Finn was still looking at me, the ghost of his smile still curling the edge of his lip, seemingly amused by the look of disbelief painted across my expression. He probably expected an answer, but in that moment, I couldn’t quite force myself to offer one.
“So,” he continued, still smiling slightly, “are you going to let me walk you home now, or am I going to have to keep a ten-foot distance to make sure you don’t punch me?”
At this, a breathy laugh escaped me, and for the first time that evening, a real smile crept onto my face. “It’s okay,” I told him. “You’ll be safe with five feet.”
He fell into step beside me as we headed down the rest of the driveway and onto the sidewalk. Reagan’s house was still pounding with the noise of the music, and the occasional shouting from overexcited partygoers, but everything about it was muffled. Each step took us further away, putting another few inches of distance between us and the normal social conformities of North Valley High School. Out here, where the most popular guy in school was walking me home, it almost felt like they didn’t matter.
We had barely got onto the sidewalk before the wind picked up, a particularly strong gust blowing past us both, tugging my hair out of its previous style. I shivered, hugging my bare arms around myself, and Finn looked over.
His hoodie had been taken off before I had a chance to realize it, and when I did, he was already draping it over my shoulders.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to shrug it away. Without his jacket, he was only wearing a T-shirt, which was hardly enough against the chill of the evening air. “My house isn’t that far. Keep it.”
“Meredith.” Just my name, a single word, and it was enough to make me stop in my tracks. When I looked at him, his eyes were boring into mine, conveying something beyond what his words dared to. “It’s the least I can do, after everything. Take it.”
I would’ve argued, but his tone suggested against it; he’d already made up his mind.
“Okay,” I said eventually, as I pulled it on properly. The warmth was immediate, the fluffy inside of the jacket providing more than enough of a barrier against the wind. “Thank you.”
It was a tiny action, probably insignificant, but something about it resounded with me. I had never assumed Finn, the guy whose confidence more often than not bordered on arrogance, would be one for chivalric gestures.
Then again, it was not the first thing about him that had surprised me that night.
And, for some reason, I felt like there would be more to come.