When we finally arrive at the bonfire, it's dark outside. The location that they chose is close to the train tracks. So close that when a train passes by I can feel the wind whip my hair and it gets so loud that I can barely think. They spend no time getting set-up. They move like a well-oiled machine; each person having their own share. Nick and Zach light the fire and Sammy and Blair unload the chairs from Max's truck. I can tell that Bruce is on drink duty by the cases of beer he unloads from his car, throwing a can to each of us.
When he gets to me I shake my head no. Drinking isn't really my forte. I don't like the idea of not being in complete control of my thoughts and actions. I do enough stupid things without something clouding my head.
I tried it once back home, when Jack had successfully broken into Bethany's parents' liquor cabinet and scored an expensive bottle of scotch for us. I was curious about drinking and I didn't want to look like a wuss in front of Jack, so I took a shot with the rest of the group. All I remembered is this fog, clouding my head, clouding my senses, and this feeling of lightness. It was fun and freeing, that is until I spent the other half of the night sprawled out on the floor of Bethany's bathroom, puking my guts out. Nothing says sexy like projectile vomiting in front of your crush.
Nick doesn't seem to give it a second though before nimbly catching the drink from Bruce and downing the can. He doesn't seem to have a single regard on how he is supposed to drive home after. It isn't until then that I notice that I'm the only one without a can in their hands, yet everyone took a separate car. They take large swigs, drinking for the sole purpose of getting drunk, I can feel panic rise in me as I realize that unless they plan to turn the bonfire into a campground, everyone here will be driving home intoxicated.
"Nick," I say, nudging his shoulder. "How do you guys plan to get home?"
He swats me away, his speech slurred. "Stop worrying."
And I try to take his advice but I can't, because I'm a worrier and therefore worrying is what I do best. They each throw their empty cans onto the train tracks as they finish and grab another, and I suddenly realize that I'm the only one here concerned with worrying at all.
The night continues how you would expect any group of sloppily drunk teenagers to act. There is a lot of giggling, most courtesy of Sammy as she presses against Nick, leaning her head on his shoulders. They all share embarrassing stories from high school, their excitement for the upcoming town festival, which is supposed to have some semi-famous country singer perform, and little things like annoying parents and needing a new cell phone. They remind me of my friends back home in a lot of ways, always cracking jokes, usually at someone else's expense, but they're different in a lot of ways too. Here it seems fake, in a way, like everyone has characters that they need to fill, like no on can truly be themselves.
Like for example: Bruce is the group clown. He's always the one cracking the jokes, but when it comes to the serious topics like the future and everyone's dreams, he's silent. Or Sammy and Blair. They fill the stereotypical girl role; their only interests are boys, fashion and gossip. But I can see the interest in Blair's eyes when the boys talk about last nights basketball game, but still she stays radio silent. I don't believe that they can be as one-dimensional as they make themselves appear to be. There's something more to them, there has to be, but it's almost like they're too afraid to show it.
Nick, however, is different. There's not a single one-dimensional thing about him. He's silent most of the time, and it feels like even though he's listening and sitting right there in front of you, he's not truly there. I feel like I could study him for years and still not have a single clue on what's going on in his head.
"What about you Leighton, do you have any special guy back home waiting for you?" Blair's on to her two favorite topics, boys and gossip, and I can tell that she enjoys having someone new here who she can extract for information. I hesitate before answering, which is rookie mistake number one for girls like Blaire. Sammy's interest is suddenly piqued, and instantly they are on me, prying eyes digging into mine.
"What's his name? Is he cute?" Sammy asks. I huff, but let out an answer anyway because if there is one thing I learned from high school, it's that girls like this won't give up once they've found a topic that interests them.
"His name is Jack," I say, intentionally leaving the second question unanswered. Despite the fact that Jack is hundreds of miles away, I didn't even want them to be interested in him in the slightest. I wanted him to stay private, to stay mine, even if the idea is a little irrational and a little bit creepy.
Satisfaction, glimmers in Sammy's eyes from knowing that her intuition was right. "What is he like?"
What is he like?
Well that's a hard one to answer because he's so many things at once that I wouldn't know where to start.
"He's really smart, not so much in a book smart way, but in the way that it feels like he's already lived a lifetime and kept all the lessons he's learned. He's funny and he's a really good baseball player..." and despite the fact that I wanted to keep the idea of him private and guarded, I can't help but go on about him.
"He's really adventurous, so no day is ever boring with him, and he's easy to read, so I never have to wonder where I stand with him." By the time I finish talking, Sammy and Blair are sporting a pair of dreamy eyes that I can only guess resemble mine, and Bruce, Zach, and Max are all making gagging noises.
Nick sits silently, his shoulder no longer sporting Sammy's head. His stare is hard and glassy, but before I have the chance to ask him what's wrong, the sound of a train sounds from the distance and he's up, out of his seat. He races to tracks and stands in the middle, his feet firmly planted as the group whoops and hollers and goes up to the track to watch.
"What is he doing?" I ask Sammy.
She looks at me, the excitement bright in her dilated pupils. "He's playing chicken." And despite not having anything to drink, I still feel like I have to throw up.
The sound of the train is louder now, the lights growing brighter, illuminating Nick as he stands there. Their whoops and hollers and cheers grow louder now, and I can tell that the alcohol is the reason for their drunken excitement. But then I remember that Nick drank too, much more than anyone else, and that his reaction speed is going to be slower, and the feeling in my stomach gets worse.
The train gets louder and louder, the lights brighter and brighter, and the train gets closer and closer, not stopping or slowing down for him. I push my way to the front of the group so that I'm right by the tracks, right by Nick.
"Nick, this is really dangerous," I say the panic evident in my voice, but he doesn't even seem to hear me, his eyes focused in front of him. The train is so loud now that I have to shout just to be heard.
The lights of the train are blinding now.
"Nick this isn't funny anymore!"
And that's when I see it.
The slight tilt of his head up, the closing of the eyes, the slight outstretching of his palms as if he's saying to the train "take me".
I see now that he has no intention to move.
The sound of the train is deafening.
"Nick!" I shout, and because he doesn't react I reach out for his hand and yank him off the tracks, just as the train whizzes by, blowing our clothes and our hair and the breath out of my lungs as if it was a tornado.
Nick lays on his back, sprawled out on the floor as his friends hoot and holler in the back. My heart is beating out of my chest because holy shit Nick almost died and all I can see is red, red, red because Nick wasn't going to move and if I wasn't here everyone would have just watched it happen.
"What the hell Nick! What were you thinking?" I scream at him, but all he does is lay there with that same empty, glassy stare.
"Relax," Bruce calls from behind me. "You're going to kill our buzz." I want to spin around and punch him square in the jaw, but I don't because I'm too mad at everyone to take it out on anyone.
"Where are the keys?" I ask Nick sternly, outstretching my hand.
Nothing. He just lays there.
"I said, where are your keys?" My voice cracks, giving away my state of distress. "We're going home."
Finally, Nick pushes himself off the ground. "Leave me alone."
"Well obviously I can't trust you enough to do that." He makes his way back to his chair like nothing has even happened, and I'm hot on his heels following him.
"I said leave me alone. You're not my mom."
"Then stop acting like a child and give me the damn keys."
He reaches into his pocket and throws them at my feet. "There. Now go home."
"Don't be stupid. Everyone's drunk. You need me to take you home."
He looks at me with his same empty stare. "I. Don't. Care."
It's at that moment that I can't help but get angry. Angry that he doesn't care about himself enough to think about his safety. Angry that he's so indifferent about making Kelly mourn the loss of another person in her family. Angry that he's doesn't care enough about the people who care about him. And angry because I'm one of those people who care.
"You're a really shitty person, you know that?" I yell, picking up the keys from the ground and stalking towards the car.
He calls out behind me. "I know."
But it's the way he says it, so sad and so empty, makes my hurt break.
Later that night, I have a nightmare. Nick is on the tracks and the train's lights keep getting brighter and brighter, but I'm not there to save him. Right as the train is about to make impact, I leap up from my sleep, panting, grasping at the covers to make sure that it really was just a dream because it had seemed so real.
I hear Nick come into the house. He opens the front door, stumbling and knocking into something, before finally making it to his room and closing the door behind him. The relief I feel from him coming home safe is almost enough to hide the panic from my nightmare. Almost.