There are no secrets that time does not reveal ~ Jean Racine
A light layer of foundation covers my face and I begin to apply a dark shade of burgundy lipstick. Standing in front of the tall mirror, I feel different. I look different. I seem... happy.
It's probably just the makeup.
A pair of high-waisted, black denim shorts hug my small figure and a loose khaki shirt hangs over them. The shirt is tied into a knot, turning it into a crop top rather than a plain t-shirt. My hair flows in curls relentlessly over my shoulders. A frown falls on my face. It makes me look like a hippie. I reach for a hair tie and tie half of it up.
My frown turns upside down into a satisfied smile.
Better.
My phone lights up and a text from Peter appears on the screen.
We're here ;)
I peer out to see a car parked on the curb, its headlights beaming. I grab my leather jacket from the chair and my feet carry me down the stairs hurriedly. A pair of white Converse are the first shoes I see so I pick them up and quickly shove my feet into them.
"Where are you off to dressed like that?" mom appears behind me, Phil by her side.
"A party," I mumble.
Phil gasps, "a party?"
"You didn't tell me there was a party," mom's arms fold across her chest, "who's party?"
I sigh, "Cassie."
"I thought you guys weren't friends anymore," she says with her mom-like I told you so expression.
"We're not," I reach for the door, "but the whole school is going."
A hand reaches for my shoulder. But it's not mom's hand, it's Phil's. He speaks softly, "no drinking and no drugs. And be home by--"
"--you're not my father, Phil," I snap, cutting him off. His face falls and mom winces. That's probably the most I've ever said to him in one sentence and I hurt him. He has no right to be telling me what to do and what not to do and it's common sense, especially considering he knows that I don't like him.
I jog towards the car and hop into the vacant backseat. Peter sits behind the wheel and Ned, in the passenger seat. "Hey," Ned grins goofily into the rear-view mirror.
"Hi," I grunt.
Peter smirks, "someone's feisty today."
I ignore him, "where's MJ?"
"She's already there," he shrugs.
My brow furrows, "what do you mean she's already there?"
"She's already there," Ned repeats, "Michelle likes to be early so then she can go home early."
That makes a load of sense in her own messed up way. I realize how Peter was right about MJ being so smart even if this is just logic. Ned turns the radio up and an old and unfamiliar 80s song begins to play. The two of them sing along, completely out of sync and out of tune, but it's entertaining none the less. A smile grows on my face as I watch these two dorky guys sing to a song that was made two decades before they were even born.
We turn into Cassie's street, potentially one of the most expensive ones in the whole of Queens. Her parents work as lawyers which explains why they are so rich.
"Which one is it?" Peter asks quietly, scanning the street.
I take off my seatbelt and lean over, "gee, I don't know, Peter. Maybe the one with a bunch of people on the front lawn?"
Ned snorts and Peter shakes his head, pulling over towards the end of the street. I jump out straight away, feeling the desire to go in and drink my problems away. If smoking doesn't help, drinking might.
"I'm the designated driver," Peter declares, "so you can drink, but please don't pass out." He spins his keys around his finger and appears beside me. He wears a geeky science t-shirt, the catchphrase covered by a gray jacket. This is accompanied by pair of blue jeans, cuffed at the ankles. I begin to laugh softly at this. Peter tilts his head, "what's so funny?"
I eye his ankles, "you're short."
I walk ahead and hear him scoff behind me. "You're shorter than me!" he calls out.
Ned is already walking up the steps, gesturing at us in an attempt to get us to hurry up. I turn around to face Peter and walk backwards. "At least I buy the right size jeans," I retort.
He opens his mouth to reply, but clamps it shut, evidently having zero good comebacks. I beam at him and swivel back around, speed-walking into the triple story house. We're greeted by loud speakers blasting graphic hip-hop songs and the overwhelming smell of booze. The crowd roars as a guy seems to have beaten the keg handstand record.
Cassie approaches me and smiles. She looks stunning with her blonde hair falling in perfect waves over her left shoulder. A short, baby blue skirt compliments her stand-offish eyes, tight white blouse and white pencil heels. "Raven, you came," her expression is soft and inviting.
"Of course I did," I shrug, "I wouldn't want to miss the party of the year."
She chuckles modestly, "so who are your friends?"
"This is Ned," I say, nodding towards him. I rest an arm on Peter's shoulder, "and this is Peter."
"I'm Cassie," she introduces herself, acknowledging the both of them who grin in response. "Well, come in. Drinks are in the kitchen, so help yourselves," she shoots me an apologetic look before running off towards a commotion in the lounge room.
"You're friends with Cassie?" Ned shouts in shock.
I excuse his comment with a wave of my hand, "we were friends and now we just know each other." He registers what I'm implying and bites his lip to refrain from saying anything else. "I'm going to get a drink, do you guys want anything?" I ask.
Ned shakes his head, "I don't drink."
Peter puts his hands up, "I'm the driver."
"You guys are boring," I say with a roll of my eyes.
"I should find MJ," Peter states and gives me a smile before sliding between the dozens of people dancing and drinking. Ned presses his lips together and follows Peter.
Of course he's finding Michelle. It seems abundantly clear where his feelings for her lie.
I make my way to the kitchen where plastic, red cups are littered across the once clean island. A memory in this exact kitchen flashes across my mind.
I throw a spoonful of cookie batter at Cassie who doesn't mind. She picks it off of her dress and shoves it into her mouth. "I don't think that's hygienic," my nose scrunches up.
"Hygiene? I'm not familiar with the word," she smirks.
I giggle, "you're disgusting."
"That's me," she says, hopping and sitting up on the kitchen bench. She reaches for more cookie batter, but I swat her hand away. Cassie pouts and I instead lick my finger clean. "Bitch," she hisses.
"That's me," I retort.
"So, Raven," she rests her chin on her hand, "what are you doing here?"
I know what she means but I decide to play it off. Avoiding her gaze, I reply, "what do you mean?"
"Well it's Thursday night. You do family things on Thursday nights, don't you?" she asks, cocking her head.
My eyes meet her's and I shake my head, "they're fighting again." Tears pool up in my eyes.
"Oh," she realizes and slaps a hand to her mouth, "I'm so sorry, Raven." I sniffle and she hops to the floor, enveloping me in a hug. I hate hugs, so much. Especially if I'm the one receiving them because they make me feel weak. They make me feel like I can't do anything. But I don't fight her. I collapse into the hug and bury my face into her neck, letting my pain flow away with the tears.
I need a drink, that's for sure. A keg sits in the middle of the kitchen, a group of guys just leaving now much to my relief. I walk over and fill up a plastic cup I find thrown to the side. In one breath of air, the entire cup is emptied. The beer is warm and bitter down my throat despite the sweet smell tingling my nose. I can hold down my drinks and that's what pushes me into refilling it.
Someone else approaches the keg and waits patiently as my cup fills up. I grab my cup and face them... Nate.
"You drink and smoke, huh?" he says.
I scoff and walk off. "Wait," he sighs and grips my arm firmly.
"What the heck do you want? I already told you that you shouldn't expect me to be nice to you and--"
He cuts me off, "--it was a misunderstanding. I wasn't making fun of you. I'm sorry it seemed that way. Chuck was making fun of me."
A frown falls over my face. This literally made no sense. "Why would you both look at me if he was making fun of you?" I snap.
He licks his lips and raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his beer. "I saw you earlier and I thought you... looked kinda hot," he blushes.
My brows furrow and a shadow falls on my face. Nate, the most popular guy in school, thinks I'm hot. This has to be a joke. "That's pretty funny," I laugh coolly and begin to walk off.
"I'm being honest!" he shouts out after me. I pretend not to hear him and enter the living room where the song is beginning to transition into another.
"Hey! It's our best friend, the intimidating rabbit, Raven!" Flash yells into the microphone behind his spot at the DJ table, "where's Penis Parker, your hall monitor friend?!"
I am not in the mood for any of his bullshit. The stairs are directly to my left and I storm up them quickly, having the practice from running from my mom. The second floor introduces a wave of deja vu from all the times Cassie and I had met up at her place. I shove all of the memories to the back of my mind.
It's never going to happen again, so you might as well forget them.
The stench and the sound of someone throwing up forces me to snap out of my daydream. I peer into each of the rooms as I pass, eventually seeing a figure hunched over the toilet bowl, throwing up. Her familiar rogue brown curls pull me towards her. "MJ," I run over and hold her hair back as she vomits again. "You're drunk?" I chuckle gently, "Peter was looking for you."
"Peter...?" she moans and looks towards me, a hint of desire in her eyes.
I shake my head, "yeah. Peter."
"I want Peter," she starts to cry.
If there's anything I can't do, it's comfort someone when they're crying. Especially a drunk somebody. I stand up and offer her a hand, "let's go find him, okay?"
MJ takes my hand and I stumble as I pull her up. She struggles to stand up on her own so I tend to her and pull one of her arms over my shoulder. This slows us down and we make it out of the bathroom within a couple of minutes. I let out a breath as the smell of her vomit reaches my nose again.
She nestles her head on my shoulder, "I'm in love..."
"Don't fall asleep, MJ, you have to help me here!" I slap her face softly with my free hand. I'm desperate.
Her eyes become droopy, "I'm in love... with Mr Parker."
Oh.
So MJ likes- loves Peter.
She passes out and I almost fall over with all of her weight toppling on top of me. I can't take her downstairs. I sigh in frustration and slide to the floor with my back against the wall. MJ's head rests in my lap and I realize that there's only one thing I can do.
My hand reaches for my phone and I dial on a contact before pressing it up to my ear.
There's only one person I can call.
"Raven, where are you?" Peter asks against all of the blasting music.
I gulp, "I'm upstairs with MJ, she's passed out and--"
"--what?" he shouts, "I can't hear you. Let me just go upstairs or something..."
I hang up and in the next instant, I hear footsteps pounding up against the stairs. "Raven? Raven?" I hear a voice sigh, "she hung up."
Peter appears in front of me with Ned by his side. He takes in the scene in front of him and within a second, kneels down towards MJ. "What happened? Is she okay?" he asks worriedly.
"She's just passed out. She's drunk," I tell him.
A look of concern falls upon his face. "I should take her home," he says and then effortlessly places his arms underneath her knees and neck, carrying her bridal style. "I can drop you home now or come back and pick you up or--"
"--I'll find another ride home," I interrupt him.
"No, it's okay. I'll come back for you and--"
I cut in again, "--Peter. Seriously. It's okay. Take MJ home."
He stands up and his brown eyes scream I'm sorry over and over again. I smile at him from the ground and he returns it before disappearing down the stairs. Ned gives me a small wave and follows Peter.
I stay upstairs for a while, my arms wrapped around my knees. I don't like parties. Why the hell did I think it was a good idea to come? The minutes pass by and then my phone lights up on the ground beside me. The time reads 12:42am and the text is from Peter.
Are you still there? MJ is home. I can come for you now.
I don't want him to come back. I don't want him to think I'm weak. I grow some balls and run back downstairs to the party. A large group of jocks are playing beer pong and one of them stands out from the group entirely. I tap his shoulder with my finger and he turns around straight away.
"If you're sorry, take me home," I state firmly.
Nate grins.