I fought through an onslaught of exhaustion, sipping a mug of my mother's good coffee. The expensive kind she doesn't even offer company. I didn't want my lack of rest to be noticeable. I had been deprived of sleep lately and it was starting to take its toll. Ache splintered across my body. A constant assault weighing on me like a harsh gravity. Thankfully an expert use of makeup hid the bags under my eyes.
I wore a cream-colored lace dress. The soft fabric traveled down my arms creating semi see-through sleeves. It was tight above the slim brown belt but loose and flowing below and it stopped just below my knees allowing my legs to feel the cold air's embrace. I fixed my hair so the curls framed my face, bringing the strands in front of my ears.
Dressing to impress for the first party of the year was a high school ritual. You had to look good in order to set the tone for the year. It also prevents waves of judgment from the hierarchy. It was unspoken but legally binding. High school is both spiritual and political; if you don't conform you're screwed.
I glanced into the mirror, just for a moment, to do a last minute check. I was fidgeting with the coils of my hair, annoyed with how much I cared, when there was a sudden movement behind me.
My eyes widened, fear swelling as I saw a man's form in the glass. I wanted to turn and run but found my body iced with fear and curiosity. He began to move closer, quickly and violently. I turned to face him although my every instinct told me to run. His piercing red eyes rushed at me, I shut mine as two hands slapped on my arms. The burning force of the assault tightened my lungs, forcing them to fight for air. My arms felt like they were breaking under his tightened grip.
The pain left me as quickly as it came. I opened my eyes and the man was gone. I sat on the edge of my bed, trying to regain my breath. I was hesitant to get up and look around for a way to understand the insanity I had experienced, out of fear that the man might still be there. But I did it anyway.
I dragged myself up to my feet and looked around, slowly, trying to prepare myself for whoever might be there. There was nothing. I was alone. My lack of sleep was starting to make me see things. My nightmares were bleeding into my waking life, and that was scarier than anything I could imagine. I shook it off as best I could and made my way outside.
Chris leaned against his car, in the same tee-shirt and jeans he'd worn to school earlier, making me feel way overdressed. The night sky supplied a nice backdrop for him: at this moment, he looked like he could be an advertisement for overpriced cars. Expensive cars were rare in Green Haven, and Chris took advantage of his. It was a gift from his uncle, who lived in New York, running a fancy car dealership. The car made Chris a hero within our school. Personally, I never understood everyone's fascination. It was just a car. But it was nice to have a friend held in high esteem.
He impatiently tapped his foot as I struggled to walk in the shoes I'd borrowed, which were a size too big. "Come on, we still have to grab Hanna," he said, opening the back door for me.
"About that, you have to promise you won't make fun of her," I commanded as he began to drive the short distance to her house. "Her sister completely took over, and she's not exactly looking like herself."
"I really don't care," he told me. "I just want to get there already!"
We arrived at her house and patiently waited outside. Before he could start complaining, there was movement at the house.
Hanna emerged clad in a white, sleeved dress which was gorgeously embroidered with gold that glittered as she walked. Her long legs extended freely underneath the short, round skirt that swished to-and-fro with every step. The gold sequin heels that her sister included with the dress were almost blinding. The illumination of the full moon, reflecting off of the gold detail made her glow in the night. Her blonde hair was framed around her face in a short, wispy bob.
"You look... You look... good," Chis said, with an awed expression plastered on his face.
"Ew. Don't be nice to me," Hanna said, half joking, glaring at him through curled eyelashes. "Can we please, just go?" Hanna pushed past him, jumping into the passenger seat. I sat down as Chris shut the door for me. He ran around and sat behind the wheel.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yes," Hanna said. Her voice was heavy with annoyance.
"Fine, sorry," He said as we drove off.
The three of us had been friends for as long as we could remember. When my mom was preparing for motherhood she reached out to Eliza and Jeanette, who had just welcomed their son to Green Haven. My mom had told me how worried she was about raising me alone, especially being the white mother of a black child. Eliza, a woman of color, and her wife Jeanette; a white woman raising a child of color, became good friends of my mother's. They were like a mini support group of women navigating interracial parenting. A necessity in a town like Green Haven, which has very little diversity.
Hanna's Dad, Leo Lynch, was also a big help to them. Her dad and my mom had been close in high school. Hanna was his second kid, so he offered my mom a lot of help, knowing how hard first time parenting was. As a result, he ended up offering Eliza and Jeanette help as well. Eventually the four of them became a tight knit group of parents and we were the kids that kind of grew up like siblings.
"It's not your fault, it's my family," she sighed.
"What did they do?" he asked her.
"My sister comes into town, and suddenly our entire lives revolve around her stupid wedding. To a guy that she doesn't even know. She completely took over my outfit choice, forcing me to wear this dress which is way too extra for a house party. She just wanted an excuse to brag about her fabulous life and hard work for two hours. And that's not even the worst part!"
"She designed that?" Chris interrupted.
"Yes she did," Hanna said, staring daggers at him. "The worst part is, they are making me stay with my dad until Gwen gets her own place. She and her fiancé are taking my room from me."
"So what?" Chris said with a shrug of his shoulders. "He's just down the street from your mom. It's not that big of a deal."
"I don't want to be in that house anymore," she replied plainly.
"I have a question," I said from the back seat. "Why do you need your dad to marry my mom if you hate him so much?" Hanna had this fantasy that our parents would get married one day just because they dated when they were younger. She really wanted us to evolve from best friends into real sisters. But I was pretty sure that wasn't going to happen. Especially since my mother seemed really attached to the new guy she had been hanging around with lately.
"I love my dad, and I want him to be happy. Your mom makes him happy. Just because I'm mad at him, doesn't change that." I had offended her with my assumption. I could tell.
"Why are you mad at him?" Chris asked her, almost sounding sincere.
"Does it matter?" She asked with a monotone voice.
"I guess not," Chris said. We drove around Green Haven for a little while, enveloped in a still quiet. Green Haven was named for the lush green trees and grass that flow through the area. It's pretty but not at all exciting. Other than the town-wide Fourth of July celebrations in the park, Chris' occasional clam bakes, and the annual lobster festival, there wasn't much going on here. The streets were filled with homes and small family-owned businesses. The biggest thing in Green Haven was Green Haven High School, a sad but true fact. We are a small "know your neighbors" kind of town. We are not a "have the time of our lives" kind of town.
We drove by the high school. The first thing you see when looking at campus was a giant statue depicting two massive king cobras locked in combat on top of a pile of rocks and rubble. The serpents glared into each other's eyes while flashing their fangs. Amongst the fake rubble was a large stone, with a decorative crack going straight down the middle. The stone read "Green Haven High, home of the cobras."
Breaking the silence that lingered as we continued going through the town, Chris asked, "Have you guys ever been to one of these parties?"
"I haven't," Hanna answered.
"I go to parties with you all the time," I answered.
"Not these kinds of parties," he said. "The kick off parties get pretty wild." The car pulled to a stop and I suddenly realized what he had meant. This was not a bunch of random people, standing around a bonfire with red plastic cups.
I stepped out of the car, to get a better look at the sight in front of me. In the middle of the street, a group of young people stood around dancing wildly to the music blaring from inside. Through the window, I saw a mob of people moving furiously. On the lawn, a group stood in an inflatable kiddy pool, splashing water which came from the hose taped to the side. Another small group, too intoxicated to function, wobbled around laughing at nothing. A girl, wearing a yellow crop top and ripped jeans, stood in the bushes where she was continuously vomiting. An old, raggedy sofa sat in the grass at the end of tracks of dirt created during its move. Three girls stood on its cushions, dancing with the loudspeakers. A solo male, who looked too old for these teens, crept between them. This was not tame or controlled, like the parties I had been to in the past.
"This is a real party. Wait till you get inside," Chris said, slamming his door shut. As we got closer, the music became louder, almost unbearable. I squeezed through the enormous crowd of people, unaware of where we were going. I tried to shut out my anxiety, the feeling of red eyes looking at me from within the mob of people. I just followed Chris, focusing on him and where he was going.
Various people around us still took part in the usual party activities. There were dancers, talkers, drinkers, pill poppers, smokers, and kids who were attached to each other at the lips. It was all kinds of overwhelming.
Chris reached behind his back and grabbed our hands as he began to push through a tougher group of drunk teens, pulling us along. In the crowd, it felt harder to breathe. The loud noises filled my head, blurring the sights in front of me together. I nearly fell, trying to move in my awkward footwear. Finally, we had entered a less crowded area of the house, the kitchen. It felt like a strange place to hang out, but it was the only comfortable place to be, with breathable elbow room.
"I'm going to go grab us some drinks!" Chris said trying to speak over the music.
"None for me," I unsuccessfully tried to tell him, as he slipped away.
"Are we even going to have fun here?" Hanna asked, clearly sharing my doubts.
"Honestly, probably not!" I said, trying to be loud enough.
"What?" Hanna asked looking confused.
"Probably not," I repeated.
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"I was answering your question," I told her.
"I didn't say anything," Hanna said as her confused expression turned to concern.
"Oh, maybe I heard someone else," I said, not giving it much thought.
"Oh no," Hanna said, looking across the crowded house. "The twins are coming over here."
"What! To us? Or just this general area?" I asked in fear.
"I don't know. But there's some good news. It looks like it's just them. The third is mysteriously missing," she told me.
"Esmeralda is way better than them," I said trying to locate the nearing threat. "She focuses more on obsessing over Chris than being mean to us." Esmeralda and the twins had been into Chris since elementary school, and tried to start the Christopher Zepeda-Moore Fan Club in junior high, but when the school wouldn't allow that they just joined the cheerleading team so they could perform at his football games. Once he got into high school, he switched to soccer and they switched to obsessed soccer fans.
Before I knew it, Madison and Mackenzie St. George stood before us. The same prominent jawline, same squinty-eyes, the same bleached-blonde hair, the same footballer-on-steroids shoulders. They were complete copies of each other, with a slight difference. Madison had a kinder quality to her, while Mackenzie had a meaner one. They were both awful, Madison was just... less awful.
"Nice dress," Mackenzie told Hanna, with a smile. Something told me she didn't mean it as a compliment.
"Don't you think it's a little too much?" Madison asked, looking her up and down.
"I do think it's a little too much, actually," Hanna agreed. "Just like I think yours aren't quite enough." I noticed the twins were wearing identical outfits. Their tanned skin peeked, unashamed, through thin polka-dotted sheer blouses while their hips existed happily in very short plaid, ruffled skirts.
"What did you say?" Madison said clenching her pearly white teeth. "Sounded like slut-shaming to me."
"You better think twice before showing up at our party, uninvited, and insulting us," Mackenzie warned.
"Your party?" I asked, afraid of getting involved but doing it anyway.
The twins did not like me. There were rumors going around about their family and the racist tendencies that the older St. George's had. There were stories that their Grandfather ran an unofficial neighborhood watch, back in the day, which he used to police people of color in the streets of Green Haven that he deemed suspicious. There were whispers about the kind of offensive things Jennifer St. George, their mother, said behind closed doors. And their older brother, Guy St. George, adamantly refused to date girls who were "too dark."
The theory was that the twins inherited some degree of this ugliness and therefore didn't like anyone who didn't look like them. But, surprisingly enough, they were close with Esmeralda, who was not a Barbie. Esmeralda was short, brown, and dark haired.
"Oh please! Esmeralda is lucky we let her throw this thing," Mackenzie said, putting her focus on me. Her dark brown eyes penetrated my defensive layer, enough to shut me up.
"And the only reason we do is because she has a pool and a Jacuzzi," Madison added. She forgot to mention that they happened to live right by the sheriff's station, while Esmeralda lived on the edge of town.
"She might think she's the high bitch in charge, but I promise you, she's not even close," Mackenzie said, growing tense.
"Maybe one day she'll make it to our level," Madison said, sounding doubtful.
"But for now, we're just humoring her," Mackenzie said matter-of-factly.
"We should probably go before someone sees us and makes the mistake of thinking we're friends or whatever," Madison whispered to her sister.
Dealing with the twins made me feel like I was in a crappy teen movie. I half expected a dashing but brooding hero to swoop in and save me from them. But life wasn't a 90's movie.
"But we came over here for a reason," Mackenzie told her.
"Oh yeah! But someone interrupted," Madison spoke with a glare towards us.
"Although you overdid it, the new look is good on you," Mackenzie reluctantly told Hanna.
"The way you dressed before made you look like a tomboy," Madison said bluntly, as if it were a bad thing. Hanna had many looks in her arsenal; tomboy, femme, vintage, or chic. Hanna could pull off any aesthetic necessary for her mood, and I always admired her for that.
"It wasn't a good look on you," Mackenzie added, even more bluntly.
"And spending so much time with little miss loner over here doesn't look good either." Madison was clearly referring to me. I didn't know if that "loner" comment was meant to be an insult, or if it was just a simple observation.
"What are you trying to say?" Hanna asked, becoming defensive.
"For some reason Chris likes you. I don't really understand why. Long story short: we are tired of sharing him," Madison said with a roll of her eyes. I wasn't even aware that he hung out with them that much.
"If you keep it up, but tone it down, there might be a spot for you in the winner circle," Mackenzie said in a honeyed voice.
"If you drop the dead weight," Madison said, once again referring to me, with a vicious smile that really didn't suit her.
They wanted to recruit Hanna into their friend group. They were willing to accept her as competition because Hanna was a Barbie. She would fit in with them; she was tall, blonde, and fair skinned.
This didn't bother me. I didn't want to be a Barbie. My mother taught me a long time ago to love the skin I was in, no matter how dark it was. I was grateful for that. Especially since she would never know what it was like growing up with brown skin in a white neighborhood. Despite our different experiences, she never once seemed unable to handle any problem I had.
"I think you're the dead weight," Hanna said through her teeth.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Mackenzie mocked. "Do you want to say it again?"
"You heard me," Hanna replied with a fake smile.
"Don't try to intimidate us, it's not going to work," Madison said before they both turned to walk away.
"Can you believe them?" Hanna huffed, thoroughly upset. "I don't understand why they think they own everything and can do or say whatever they want."
"It's fine," I told her. I wasn't wanting to talk about it. I was not in the mood to deal with them.
Hanna was such a kind-hearted person, she was blind to the truth. She would never be able to admit that the reason they were more open to her instead of me was purely skin deep. No matter how much I wanted her to. No matter how much I needed her to. We've had these discussions before, and she understands these concepts, but it was difficult for her to see the dynamics at play right in front of her. Especially when someone she cares about is at the pointed end.
I was surprised the twins allowed Esmeralda to be a part of their crew. But I suppose they were able to look past their prejudices in order to get access to her house and money.
I wondered what justified their obsession with Chris. Chris and the St. George twins were not of the same ilk. I probably would never understand why they were able to overlook or ignore his brownness. I didn't necessarily want to understand. Trying to dive into their mindset just angered me.
"I have bigger things to worry about, honestly," I told her.
"Are you talking about the nightmares?" Hanna asked. "It's still not getting better?"
"Not really," I said. I wasn't thinking about the nightmares, one good thing about the twins was their ridiculousness had distracted me from that. But Hanna had reminded me.
I was being plagued by nightmares. The same exact dream, multiple nights a week. A woman named Imogen being attacked and murdered by a man she called Raven. The dream was so vivid and visceral. I could smell the forest of trees, feel the frenzy of rain on her skin, hear the booming thunder ringing in her ears, see the bright white flashes of lightning light up the London sky, and taste the blood in her mouth.
What I remembered most was his hands around Imogen's sturdy throat, choking the life out of her. She gasped for air as his grip tightened. His nails dug into her skin and red streams poured out from underneath his fingertips. I could feel the life being siphoned out of her as she looked into the flaming crimson eyes of her killer. The same eyes I saw in the mirror. She gazed at them, knowing that would be the last thing she saw in the world of the living.
He continued until she was no longer strong enough to fight, and she slipped slowly into blackness. The world around her disappeared, the violent storm became quiet, and her pain would vanish.
And then I wake up.
One thing that stuck with me though, was her name.
Imogen.
She felt important.
"I'm sorry," Hanna said, ripping me away from reliving that hell. Her voice brought me back to the present and I realized I had been so wrapped up in thought that I wasn't taking in breath. She clasped my hand as I brought air back into my lungs.
"I'm fine," I tried to convince her, finding my voice again.
Chris returned, awkwardly moving along to the music, with three plastic cups in his hands. Without words, he shoved them in our direction. His wicked smile grew larger as we each took one. He raised his cup before taking a giant swig. He glanced at us with a raise of his eyebrows, telling us to join him. Following his lead, I gulped down the contents of the cup. I cringed at the bitter aftertaste of the fruity cocktail, but I embraced it. It was time to let loose. A new year, and a new Justice Montgomery. I refused to be dead weight.