"What happened to you?" Keri's voice is strained with concern at the sight of my tear-stained face.
"It's nothing," I mumble climbing into the passenger's seat. "I got a bad grade on my paper."
"You got a bad grade?" Keri's eyes widen and she swivels to look out the window of her car. "Did hell freeze over? Because my dad hasn't put the snow tires on the car yet!"
"Not funny," I grumble and click the seatbelt into place. "Can we just go?"
"Sure," she's using the same measured tone she gives Joey when he's mid-meltdown. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," I huff before exploding. "It's just so unfair! I know I wrote a good paper. That jerk gave me a bad grade because I got sassy on the first day of class!"
"Hottie McHotpants gave you a bad grade because you sassed him?" She pulled away from the curb.
"I don't want to talk about it!" I am making no sense.
"Well, I hope this mood is gone by the time we go out tonight," Keri says, her eyes fixed on the road. "Use this anger to fuel your passion to party!"
"Believe me, I will," I answer firmly while concentrating on the rain.
"So, do you have my dress?" Keri changes the subject to get me out of my funk.
"It's in the back," I motion toward the garment bag I tossed into the backseat.
"Yay!" She squeals in delight. "Let's get you back to my house and I'll do your makeup."
"Perfect," I grumble and slump in the seat.
The Gotlieb's van rushes through the rainy streets while Keri keeps promising that little fun is all I need to numb the sting of my bad grade.
After sprinting from the car through the rainy downpour, we tumble into the Gotlieb's front door giggling like kids.
Keri oohed and ahhed over the reflective green snakeskin print of her dress as she zipped it over her hips.
Her hair was already styled in a playful bob of curls that barely fit under the hood I sewed into the collar. My beatie was so beautiful that I fully planned on employing her as a model (if I ever got my fashion brand off the ground, that is).
On the bathroom counter, Keri sets out glasses, jars, tubes, and cubes of different colors and sizes, all meant to alter someone's face.
I eye the instruments of torture skeptically, but thankfully, Keri has me close my eyes while she's working.
So, of course, my silly mind drifted back to Mr. Benedict.
A small part of me didn't want to go back into that classroom or face the devastatingly handsome man that gave me the lowest grade in my educational history.
That's crazy, though. I needed his class to graduate and I've worked too damn hard to just walk away because I was throwing a hissy fit about my grade.
"Ok Moira, take a look!" Keri exclaims.
I blink to be sure the mysterious beauty in the mirror is me.
Keri made my green eyes pop against the smudged royal blue liner rimming my lids. The rest of my makeup is simple, but it's enhanced my natural look just enough to make me feel pretty.
"Oh, Keri!" I breathe. "It's perfect!"
"I know silly." She jokes. "Now for your hair!"
Keri sweeps my mane back from my face to pile my hair into a messy bun that looks too cool to be accidental.
Then, I shoo her out of the bathroom to change.
"Girl, you are going to melt some men tonight!" She whistles playfully as I step into Keri's bedroom. "I don't think we'll be paying for any drinks!"
I laugh off her comment tugging at the velvety fabric hugging my curves, "The designated driver is always a cheap date."
When we're ready, Keri gives Joey a quick kiss in bed, then, we head out in heavy coats to protect us from the rainstorm outside.
Keri drives us to The Yella Beak near the center of town and I'll be driving her mom's van back to the Gotlieb's house.
From the outside, The Yella Beak is a cheap dive bar. It's also the place to be in Auburn when you're over twenty-one.
The bar is packed already with people all clamoring for a drink or a spot on the improvised dance floor (really just a bunch of tables shoved back into a messy circle).
It was so muggy and crowded that I immediately started sweating. So, I shrugged out of my coat and folded it neatly over my arm.
Keri was already a few feet ahead of me bouncing with the movement of the boisterous crowd.
Our flashy dresses look a little ridiculous against the sea of denim on the dance floor. In our small town, you're supposed to dress to fit in.
"Mama needs a drink!" Keri shouts over the thumping beat and grabs my hand.
We snake through the bodies while I stare down at my booties hoping that I don't trod on someone's shoe.
Keri lets go of my hand to wedge herself in between people and leans seductively over the bar to flag down someone that can make us a libation.
"I didn't recognize you!" A young man's enthusiastic voice pipes in my ear.
"Oh hey, you," I turn and search my memory for the name of the strangely familiar and strapping dude pressed up against my back. I think we went to high school together. "Chad!"
His hazy eyes roam my body in a way that makes me uncomfortable.
"Yeah, that's right! You look awesome!" He shouts and jams a hand through his gelled brown hair. I don't know why I find it sort of funny that Chad still hasn't said my name yet. "My boys and I are out on the dance floor. You and your friend should come and find us!"
"We will!" Keri answers for me, turning around to grin at him.
"Keri!" He exclaims in surprise. "Woah, you look awesome too. You both look awesome!"
That's three awesomes from Chad (and counting).
"Thanks! Moira made our dresses!" Keri shouts over the bar noise.
Chad bobs his head, but I'm pretty sure he could care less. He's mostly talking to my boobs anyway.
"Well, see ya!" He holds up a beer ina one-sided toast.
"See?!" Keri says happily. "We're already having fun!"
"Yup, fun!" I agree (even though my bad grade is still bothering me).
"Two Long Island Ice Teas please!" Keri shouts at the bartender.
"Here, allow me," a much less drunk and much smugger man's voice volunteers behind us, "Hey, Moira."
Rory is smirking at my sour expression as he hands a fifty to the bartender, which is also his excuse to drape his hulking arm over my shoulders.
He's wearing a light blue shirt with one too many buttons undone. Rory ran track with Keri in high school and I'm pretty sure he was all-state his senior year. He clearly kept up with his fitness routine because he was pretty comfortable flashing his bare chest.
"I was wondering who my boy Chad was talking to," he leans in, too close, and whispers right in my ear. "You look amazing, Moira."
"Ugh," Keri practically spits in Rory's direction, looking as disgruntled as I feel. "There goes our fun."
For as long as I can remember, Rory and Keri have hated each other. She always blamed it on his merciless teasing while they were on the track team together.
"Keri," Rory sneer-smiles at my best friend.
Their brief, but intense, exchange gives me the opportunity to squirm out from under Rory's arm.
"Well, we're leaving," Keri declares as the bartender plunks two giant glasses of foggy brown liquid on the counter.
"Let me get those for you," Rory insists, picking up the drinks before Keri can get to them.
She gives him a look that could melt paint before she grabs my hand to stalk away.
Miraculously, Keri found us an empty table near the back of the bar.
Unfortunately, Rory followed us.
"Happy belated birthday Moira," Rory raises the drinks he bought us to cheers with himself, then sets them down.
And without regard for Keri's death glare, he motions for his friends (including Chad) to leave their table across the room and join us.
"Thanks," I mutter, "But no thanks. I'm the designated driver."
I push the sweet alcoholic drink away.
I don't drink because the thought of losing control or even possibly becoming addicted to a substance that's stronger than me is terrifying. I watched as pills stole the light from my mom's eyes and ruined her life, and I was determined to stay away from that path.
"So, you actually made that dress?" Chad leans over to ask, genuinely trying to make conversation out of an awkward situation.
"I did," I answer with a smile.
Chad's eyes glint and he nods excitedly.
"Do you make lots of stuff?" His next question is less confident.
"I make lots of clothes," I try to help.
"Now that's fascinating!" Rory interrupts Chad to force himself between us. "You're really talented, Moira."
"I have to go to the bathroom!" Keri shouts from across the table, "Moira?"
"Oh, thank god," I mutter as I slid off my stool to escape.