Author's Note: This chapter contains unsafe drug and alcohol usage that will be represented poorly. Please don't hurt your body. Drink water. Be nice. Love yourself. Eat the rich.
Ten minutes until Stan would arrive. Why was I so nervous? And giddy? This wasn't like me at all.
None of this was like me, actually. But this was a new Kara, one who actually tried to live a bit instead of staying stuck at home with her awful father. One who was going to go to a party with Stanley Barber and do some stupid shit.
Hell. Yeah.
I pushed myself from the floor, grunting from my own weight, and waddled over to the door. It closed with delight, giving me the privacy I needed as I peeled off my jeans for a nicer pair.
Shirt-wise, I didn't really have anything better than my work polo, but Jacob did. After some heavy cleaning yesterday, I had finally taken out the dirty clothes from Jacob's room, and washed them with my own. Now they all sat in my dresser drawer in not-so-neat bundles.
It was a hard decision, but I chose a red button-up with floral designs. Melissa had gotten it for him on his sixteenth birthday, I believe. I tucked it into my pants, playing with the top few buttons to see what felt good.
The mirror called me a lesbian when I stood in front of it, but that was fine. I wasn't entirely opposed by it; the outfit was one I would find rather attractive on anyone, so why not wear it myself? Besides, I needed a boost of confidence for tonight.
"Kara?" Dad shouted from outside my room. That was unusual.
I unlocked my door, and wandered into the kitchen. Dad stood awkwardly near the door, one hand draped over the door knob.
"Some kid is asking for you," Dad explained. "He said his name is Stan."
Oh. Oh God no.
"Well? Do you know him?" Dad asked. I put on my best smile, and tip-toed toward the door.
"Yeah, he's my friend," I said. Did he know what those were? "We're, um, going out."
Neither of us really knew what to say, but luckily he let me get to the front door without an objection. Stan stood on my porch, and he gave me his usual gigawatt grin. He looked great, even with a formal, olive green tweed jacket over a plain white shirt. In fact, nothing he wore made sense, with his oversized khaki pants and black dress shoes to go with the outfit, but that was just Stan. He probably couldn't look better.
Seeing him brought a warmth to my chest that I wasn't expecting. With the porch light shining on him just so, he looked like my flamboyant guardian angel sent straight from heaven. I really hoped he wasn't gay. He sure did dress that way, though.
"Hey," I mumbled, trying to hide my smile. I stepped out onto the porch to meet him. A cool breeze drifted by, sending a shiver down my bare arms. It was too late to go inside now for a jacket, especially with Dad watching. Besides, I had my phone. I literally had nothing else important to carry on me.
"I'll have her home by twelve," Stan promised. My dad just grunted, and slammed the door closed. Stan winced, so I gave him a little reassuring pat on the back.
I followed Stan to his car parked by the curb. He opened the passenger door for me politely, and I thanked him as I got in.
"Your dad seems nice," Stan said when he got to the other side.
"He's not."
"Okay, good. That's what I was actually thinking, but I didn't want to offend you." He turned the car on, and it hummed happily. "You look great, by the way."
"Thanks," I said. "The same goes back to you. I love the green."
Stan pulled the clutch from park to drive, and we were off. The weed smell was especially strong today, so I cranked the window down, and leaned onto its sill. Rock music softly played from the radio, mixing well with the noises of the night.
As we crossed a bridge, a strange thought occured to me: This was the latest I've ever been out for something besides work. The world looked entirely different at night, like a new type of animal was out and thriving. It was a funny thing to say, but it almost made me feel alive.
The party was already in full swing when we got there. I rolled up the window as Stan found somewhere to park. He managed to snuggle into a tight spot before turning off the car. He grabbed a tin box of mints, placed them in his pocket, and began to exit the car.
Brad's house was huge. It fit in nicely with the rest of the suburban neighborhood, a neat lawn and clean windows greeting us with grace. Strobe lights flashed from the inside, sweeping in and out of the house. There was so much going on already, and we haven't even been outside.
"You okay?" Stan asked.
"I've never been to a party before," I said. "Like, ever, and I..."
"At least you don't have to do this alone, right? I'll always be here for you."
"You better be."
I swallowed down my nervousness, and got out of the car. Chirping crickets greeted me outside. Stan met me on the sidewalk, and offered out his arm. I took it, and we took a leisurely stroll to the front of the home.
"So what are you actually supposed to do at a party?" I said. "Asking for a friend."
"There's a lot you can do. You can meet new people, eat the shitty food provided, drink, smoke, whatever." He opened the door for me.
"Thanks."
"Of course." He took my arm again, and led me through the house. It was almost like he'd been here before. "But if you're going to a party with another person, you should also expect them to get you a drink before you do anything else."
The kitchen was easy to find, since it was the busiest place in the house. He grabbed a clean red cup, and offered up the many bottled selections. I wasn't even sure where I should start. I just shrugged, so he grabbed a bottle with a fancy Russian name, and poured some into the cup. Stan handed it to me, and got himself the same thing.
"To new beginnings," he said, raising up his cup.
"To new beginnings."
We both took a sip while standing at the table. It was bitter, and it's "vanilla flavoring" did nothing to help it go down. I swallowed hard, and noticed Stan make the same face. It made me laugh a bit. He was just as much a loser as I was.
"I knew alcohol was supposed to taste bad, but damn," I said. "What next?"
"Next, I pretend to be really nervous." Stan rubbed the back of his neck, and rocked on his heels. I giggled. "Then I take a drink and ask if you wanna dance?"
"That sounds extremely cheesy."
I took his hand, and pulled him out of the kitchen towards the sound of incomprehensible music. The living room was a big, open space filled with dancing kids and booming speakers. I took another sip of my drink, ready for whatever after-effects it would take on me, and found Stan and I a spot in the crowd.
"So," I said, "dancing."
"Dancing."
The situation was just so ridiculous that another giggle came out of me. What even was dancing? You just moved your body because it seemed... fun? Because it made you feel happy? What a silly thing to think, and yet everyone around here did it. I took another sip, forcing it down, then another.
Stan let the music take a hold of him. He was always dancing, actually. He'd do it down the halls at school, or in the shoe box when he was happy. Mostly when he was happy, actually, which was probably why he was doing it now. Good. I was glad he was happy, because he deserved it more than anyone else in the world.
"I don't know how to dance," I told him, frowning. "I'm sorry."
"Everyone knows how to dance," Stan said. "You just gotta loosen up; let the music go through you."
"But how?"
"Okay, start with your feet. Step from one foot to the other, like this." He switched his weight, and I followed. It was a bit dizzying at first, but I began to get a hang of it. "Yeah, so you can sway like that, or..."
He stepped out, and his other foot followed. It looked easy enough, until I tried it myself. I took one foot off of the floor, and my standing leg gave out. I would have fallen to the floor if Stan hadn't caught me. His breath smelled just like my drink. Oh no, I had stopped him from dancing.
"Sorry," I said, standing back up. "I told you I can't dance!"
"We'll just have to fix that." He downed the rest of his drink, and set it down on the floor before holding out his arms to me. "I'll hold you this time."
"Are you sure?"
Stan nodded. I finished my drink, and put it down besides his. That last drink went without a fight, making me feel warm inside. So this was why people became alcoholics.... I grabbed onto Stan's forearms, holding tight so I wouldn't fall again.
"Okay, so you take your... right foot... and place it right next to your left," Stan explained. I just looked down at his feet and followed. "Good! Now let's go the other way."
We started out slow, but I quickly learned. It was such a simple thing to do. How the hell did I manage to mess up the first time? But it didn't matter. I wouldn't have redone it in a million years if it meant that I wouldn't be holding onto Stan like I was now.
Stan began to speed up to follow the music, and I did the same. Our arms pushed and pulled. Stan attempted to give me a turn, just like they did in Cinderella and shit like that. Nothing felt important, except for what we were doing right now. Just Stan and Kara: the inseparable duo.
I was dipped and pulled in closer, just like when he had caught me only five minutes before. He was sweating under the lights, but his smile was brighter than ever before. If I was at fault for that, then I would happily take the blame. My very first friend.
"Hey! Stan!"
I was ripped away from my dance by another guy. Stan looked agitated, but when he noticed who had interrupted him, he grinned.
"Harvey, my friend, I was wondering when you would stop by," Stan teased.
"I have a group of people who want to buy," said Harvey. He looked familiar. A sports kid, maybe?
Harvey pulled out a wad of cash, and handed it to Stanley. I couldn't help but goggle at it; there had to be a hundred bucks in there, at least!
"Yeah, okay," said Stan, looking through the money. "Kara, wanna come with?"
"For what?"
Stan didn't answer. Instead, he took my hand, and we followed Harvey out of the living room. The guy easily slipped between people, sometimes giving pats on the back, or yelling words of encouragement to others. Stan and I followed him to a long set of stairs going up. He opened a door to the master bedroom, where a small group sat in a circle on the floor. Some of them looked familiar, others were completely new to me.
Stan recounted the money before looking up at the group.
"Yeah, this should cover five people," he said. Stan pulled out a bag from the inside of his suit jacket, and carefully placed it inside of the circle.
"Ay caramba," I muttered. How the hell had he fit a giant baggie of pot in his jacket without me noticing? It explained why his car was so pungent, I guess.
"This calls for our own little party," one of the kids said. They pulled out a giant bottle from under the bed, and held it out for the group to see. The group cheered, and began to talk to each other.
I looked to Stan for what to do next. The circle opened up a spot, and he sat besides a guy with heavy piercings. Stam waved for me to sit besides him. I did, joining my very first cult. Nice.
They passed around the alcohol easily, and I drank straight from the lips of the bottles. The bag of marijuana was put in bongs and smoked for a pleasure that was alien to me. I watched the pipe go from person to person, feeling a bit like Wendy Darling during the super racist tribal ceremony in Peter Pan. I watched Harvey blow out a cloud of white before passing it to me.
The pipe sat in my lap, and I gingerly picked it up with both hands. It took me a couple tries to fully focus on it. I slowly raised it to my lips, and tried to inhale.
Nope. Nope nope nope.
It was much harder than the booze. I coughed the smoke out, and quickly shoved the pipe into Stan's hands.
"You've never smoked before, have you, Forsman?" Stan asked, a playful smirk on his lips.
"Shut the hell up." I coughed again. "I'm just not a loser like you."
"The first few times will be really strong," he agreed. Stan put the pipe to his lips, and he closed his eyes. When the plume escaped him, he opened his now dilated eyes. "Want to try again?"
"No. I'll keep drinking, thank you very much."
"You don't have to smoke it, you know," the piercings guy piped in, giving me a hungry smile. "There are other ways."
He looked like the type of person who would murder me and leave my body in a random person's lawn. Very hot if anyone asked me.
"Like what?" I asked.
Piercings guy bit his lip, and grabbed the pipe from Stan. Stan was not pleased, even in his drugged state. Whatever this second option was, he didn't seem to like it.
"Let me do it," he told the piercings guy. "She's my friend."
"Oh, but Taylor is absolutely swell at it," another kid drawled.
Piercings guy, Taylor, suddenly appeared right in front of me. The ceiling lights shined off of the gold and silver rings in his ears and nose. His brown eyes interlocked with mine, and I watched them expand as he inhaled his take of the pot. His hand found my chin, and he pulled me close enough that I could smell his sweet cologne. He exhaled with a smile, and the fumes went into my system.
It was as if my head was filled with cotton. Either that, or cotton was being taken out of my brain. I was caught in his serpentine trance, feeling myself float towards him. Taylor's fingers traced up to my lips, and he gave a little head tilt.
"You'd look cute with a little lip stud," he said. "Right there in the middle. Don't you agree?"
"Yeah, totally," I said.
"I can do one for you." Teddy took another inhale. "Right now. Just for you. What d'ya think?"
"I would love that."
Teddy pushed the pipe to the next person, and grabbed my hand. He led me out of the circle of comfort, and onto the bed. It was soft. Like, really soft, and really blue. Blue was a stink color. I liked yellow, like, a lot more. Yellow was the queen color.
I blinked, and Taylor had a giant case in front of him. He pulled out a smaller case full of jewelry, and fished for a little silver stud. He dropped it in my hand, and grabbed a strange sort of needle-gun.
"Is this safe?" I asked.
"I went to beauty school." He let out a barking laugh. "Of course it's safe."
He shoved his hands into my mouth, a very odd sensation to have when you're high. I could feel the tip of the gun on my lip, but it couldn't have prepared me for the excruciating sensation of getting the piercing. If it wasn't for Taylor's fist in my mouth, I would have screamed.
He took the stud out of my clammy hands, and quickly placed it in the hole he created. Once I was out of his grip, I backed away.
"Thah hurf!" I tried to shout, but my lower lip wasn't working.
"Oh my god, you're bleeding!" Stan said, standing up.
I could feel him yank on my arm, and we were leaving the room. We went down the hall towards a bathroom. He sat me down on the toilet seat as he grabbed a white rag to soak in water.
Water sounded really good at the moment. I stood up using the counter as my support, and leaned against Stan.
Mhm, water. Yummy yummy.
My eyes glanced up at the mirror, and froze. There was Stan alright, but there was someone else with him. A pale, pudgy girl with messy yellow hair and a bleeding lip. She was scary enough that it made me jump, but the girl jumped right with me.
Oh my god, that couldn't have been me, could it? And was that blood? Blood. Blood, the color of fresh paint, just like after the accident. Jacob was covered in
(blood)
cherry red paint. There has been a ringing in my ears, and I wanted to see if Jacob was awake, but I couldn't move. Blue and red lights flashed in my vision until it was the only thing I could see.
But now I was in a bathroom, bleeding that same patriotic red. It made my stomach knot up. I couldn't breathe. I stepped back, and pushed the bathroom door open. The halls were jumping and swaying with the music, but it was just too much.
Someone was shouting my name from... somewhere... but I couldn't see. I needed to get out of the house. I stumbled my way down the stairs, and I managed to find the front door. I had to push through a happy couple to get to the sidewalk.
Now where did Jacob park his car? I wandered along the street, every foot dizzily following the other. The air was nice out here, but I couldn't find Jacob's car, and I was thirsty. I turned around, but the house was nowhere to be seen. The ground beneath my feet was wooden, and I could smell sewage water nearby.
Where was I? A bridge? That seemed wrong.
"Kara!"
Jacob? He couldn't see me this bloody. I stumbled around in a circle, trying to think. My head was pounding, and the trickling lake right behind me wasn't helping.
"Kara! Kara, please get away from–"
I tried to turn towards the voice, but my feet just couldn't work. I tripped, and managed to go over a railing, falling momentarily. I closed my eyes as my back found water.