Life of the Party (14 page)

I pictured them
in the car, passing the flask around, the music loud. What were
they going to do tonight? Was he going to meet some other girl he
could have fun with? I kicked at a random pop can thrown
negligently on the street. I was so naïve. So stupid.

Maybe I had
wanted him to like me too much. Maybe I had imagined all his
special looks and soft smiles and grins for my benefit. But we’d
had such a good time, we’d connected, more than I ever had with
anyone else. Was that just a result of my wishful thinking as well?
Was I really nothing more to him than a warm body to party
with?

Whatever. My
poor self was so exhausted. Even despite the cocaine that slowly
crept from my system, I was totally drained … emotionally,
physically. I could feel the edges of a headache looming. Our town
was small enough that it only took fifteen minutes to walk
practically everywhere. I spent the remainder of the time thinking
of Grey and the night before and how wonderful it had all been. How
good it had felt waking up to him this morning. How he had cupped
my head to kiss me right when I was leaving.

How it had been
much, much more than just fun to me.

“Mackenzie …
Mackenzie.”

I groaned at
whoever was shaking my shoulder.

“Mackenzie …
wake up. You’re going to be late for school.” My mom spoke quietly,
prodding my shoulder gently.

“No … no mom,
I’m not going to school.” I decided. My head still ached.

“What’s the
matter? Are you sick?”

“I don’t feel
good.”

“What about
classes? You have exams coming up so soon ….”

“It’ll be fine.
I don’t have any tests today.”

I could
practically hear her frown. “Are you sure? Hmmm …. You don’t seem
to have a fever ….” She placed her forearm to my forehead.

“I have a crazy
headache.” I complained, pushing her arm away. I thought about
telling her the truth. Actually mom, I’ve done a ton of cocaine the
last few days, I just really need to sleep it off … then I should
be fine.

“Can I get you
something?”

“No, thanks. I
just want to sleep.” I snuggled back into my pillow.

“Okay, then.
I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“Okay.” I
yawned. That was at 8:10.

At 3:23, I woke
up again. I did feel better. I stretched, yawned, and thought about
doing more cocaine. I spared a thought for the poor suckers just
leaving school. I wondered if Riley had noticed my absence.

Then I
remembered that he and his stupid Christian girlfriend were going
on
our
camping trip with
her
family. My mood soured a
little. I wondered how to buy cocaine … where I could get it from,
some of my own. How much it cost. Surely Charlie would know.

I wondered if
they had all woken up in Charlie’s living room again. If Alex and
Zack were animatedly talking about all the good times I missed out
on. If Grey were on the living room floor with some girl, one who
could lay in his arms all day because she didn’t have to go to
school, because she was his age. I grit my teeth and got out of
bed. All this imagining wasn’t helping.

I headed
downstairs, still in my pyjamas. I could see my mom as I came
around the corner. She hadn’t noticed me. She was sitting at her
desk, her back to me, her short, faded dark curls shaking slightly
as she moved. A large stack of embossed wedding invitations sat
before her. I watched as she stuffed an envelope, affixed a stamp,
and then used a little water sponge instead of her tongue to wet
the envelope glue. She sealed the envelope, looked at it crucially
for a moment, then moved on to the next one, apparently
satisfied.

I laughed
quietly to myself, and rolled my eyes. My mother may have been one
of the most frustratingly annoying people I knew, but she was also
the cutest. Once upon a time, she had heard that cockroaches lay
eggs in the glue of envelopes. Since that day, she had never licked
a single one, relying on her faithful little sponge roller
instead.

Technology
moved too fast for my mother. She was terrified of the internet,
convinced that all her personal information could be swiped just by
hitting the Explorer button once. She yelled—no, screamed her order
at the drive-thru box, and I could just imagine the poor person
inside, cringing at the volume in her headset. She did the same
thing on a cell phone, one finger in the opposite ear, nearly
shouting into the handheld.

I was reminded
of Homer Simpson, trying to order a tab from his computer. That was
my dear old mom. I sprang lightly into the room and grabbed the
next envelope from her hand before she could sponge roller it.

“Hey mom. Can I
help?” I asked sweetly. Before she could answer, I dragged my
tongue over the entire strip of glue.

“Mackenzie
Anne!” My mom exclaimed. “What are you thinking? You’ll get eggs in
your tongue!”

I laughed at
her a moment. Her sheer ludicrously was so very entertaining.

“I’m glad you
think it’s funny now. You won’t be laughing the day you hatch a
cute little baby cockroach out of your mouth.” She shuddered, but a
smile crept onto her lips. “You’re feeling better.” She
observed.

“Yeah. I think
I just needed to sleep.”

“Probably
stressed. All that studying.” She smiled knowingly.

“Oh, yeah.
Totally. Studying all night, all day. It’s exhausting.”

“Uh huh.”

“So … can I
help or what?”

“You really
want to?” She asked, surprised.

“Sure. Why
not.” I pulled a chair up to the desk and she slid half the pile
over to me. I looked at the invitation a moment—the sweeping
calligraphy, the translucent paper edged with delicate silver
embellishments. It was pretty. Fairly over the top, but pretty.

I sat with my
mom the rest of the afternoon. We actually had a good time; my mom
could be cool when she wasn’t ragging on me for every little thing.
It helped when I wasn’t going out of my way to be a pain in the ass
too—though I did lick every envelope by tongue, just to bug
her.

When we were
nearly done, I suddenly had a brilliant idea. I started touching
the edge of my tongue with my fingertips, as if it were a
subconscious gesture. She noticed, but didn’t think anything of it,
at first. I kept doing it, but progressed from just touching my
tongue to kind of scraping it, as if it were itching. She watched
me more carefully, but continued talking. Suddenly, after a few
more moments, I sat up abruptly, made my eyes widen with horror,
put my hand to my mouth and made a perfect, choking/gasping
noise.

Her face went
as white as a sheet. She stared at me, aghast, too petrified to
even move from her chair. All her medical school training, right
out the window. I couldn’t help it, I tried to keep it up, but she
was too funny. I collapsed in my chair, giggling, holding my sides
with laughter.

“Mackenzie
Anne!” She screamed at me in total shock, only when it became
evident that I was, in fact, not hatching a cockroach from my
mouth. I laughed harder, and her face went beet red. After a few
minutes of disgraced anger, she began to laugh as well, shaking her
head at her own foolishness. “That’ll teach me.” She muttered.

We were still
laughing when the front door opened unexpectedly. Marcy came in,
flushed with happiness, perfection in a black blazer and white
blouse, dark pressed jeans and shiny black pointy-toe boots. My
laughter subsided at the sight of her.

“Marcy!” Mom
exclaimed. She got to her feet and hugged my sister
enthusiastically. “We just finished up the invitations.”

“You helped?”
She asked me in surprise.

“Yeah.” I
shrugged.

“She was a
great help.” Mom added.

“Still in your
pyjamas? It’s five-thirty.”

“I was sick
today.”

“What was so
funny? When I came in you were laughing pretty hard.” Marcy set her
purse down and unbuttoned her jacket.

“Oh, Mackenzie
made a joke. She pretended to hatch a cockroach off her tongue.”
Mom laughed again in remembrance.

“Nice.” Marcy
raised her eyebrows sarcastically. “That sounds funny. So, mom, I
wanted to run some things by you ….”

“I’m going back
to bed.” I announced quickly. “I feel my headache coming back.”

“Don’t you want
something to eat?” Mom gazed at me with concern. “It might help. I
could make us some nice pasta or something.” She suggested
hopefully.

I looked from
her to Marcy. “No, I’m good, thanks.” I decided.

“Oh, okay ….”
She sounded doubtful, but then her attention was diverted by a
sample that Marcy held up. I took the sudden opportunity to make my
escape, back to the quiet of my room.

I was dying for
a cigarette. I sat cross-legged on my bed, painting my nails to
keep from biting them. I had no excuse to leave the house, and no
way could I light up without my mom finding out. I blew on the
black lacquer, tapping my foot impatiently. It was Friday night. I
wondered what everyone was doing. I wanted to call Charlie, but I
just couldn’t. I didn’t want them to view me as a little, annoying
kid always tagging along. If they wanted to hang out with me, I’d
wait for them to call.

I just may be
waiting forever.

I thought about
Ben and Toby and Jacob. I wondered if they were sitting in the same
spots on Ben’s nice leather sectional, eating handfuls of munchies
and reciting the lines from
Half Baked
as it played on the
big screen. Even that would be a more welcome scenario than hanging
out in my bedroom all night, but I doubted my mom would let me
leave since I’d been “sick” all day.

Just then—like
an answer from heaven—my cell phone started to ring, lost in the
bottom reaches of my purse. I fell to my knees, wet nails and all,
and dug through the bag until the purple Nokia was safe in my hand.
It was Charlie calling. I answered excitedly.

“Hello?”

“Hey, chicka.
What’s happening?”

“Um … not too
much.” I sat against the bed. “Just hanging out at home. Painting
my nails.”

“Why? It’s a
Friday night!”

“I know. But I
stayed home from school today, so I can’t really go out.”

“Oh, really?
Why’d you stay home?”

“I didn’t feel
well.” I shrugged.

“Huh. Hey, what
happened to you last night? Why didn’t you come with us?”

“Oh ….” I felt
the heat rush to my cheeks. “I just wanted to walk.”

“How come? What
did Grey say to you?”

I groaned.

“Come on? Was
it bad? I thought you two were going to be something.”

“So did I.” I
sighed, and took her through the whole conversation that Grey and I
had shared. “He just wanted to make sure I didn’t think I was like,
his girlfriend or something now.”

“Really? That
sucks.”

“I know. I
thought we hit it off.”

“Hmmm ….”
Charlie paused in thought. “… Well, why don’t you come out tonight?
Take your mind off things?”

“Oh, I don’t
know ….” I wanted to, I really did. But the thought of seeing Grey
again made me uneasy. Still excited, but uneasy. I didn’t know how
I should act around him now.

“Come on. Just
you and me … no boys allowed. We can have a slumber party. A
tequila slumber party. And tomorrow you can come with me to see the
guys play.”

I laughed out
loud. It sounded like a ton of fun, and the thought of seeing Grey
with a microphone made it all the more enticing. “Oh, I’d love to,
I really would … I don’t know … I could check with my mom.”

“Do it.”

“I’m in my
pyjamas still.” I laughed again.

“That’s
perfect. We’re having a slumber party, remember? Go talk to your
mom and call me back. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Okay … are you
sure? You wouldn’t rather go out with your friends or
something?”

“Mackenzie, you
are my friend. Now, shut up, go talk to your mom.”

“Okay, okay.
Bye.” I was laughing as I hung up the phone. I smiled. I couldn’t
believe I had ever thought badly of Charlie. She was so awesome, so
cool, and really, really nice. She wasn’t Riley, but was fast
becoming a close second.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“One, two,
three … go!”

Quickly,
without looking, breathing or smelling, I flipped up my shot glass
and forced down the strong, pungent tequila in one gulp. It burned
all the way down my throat. I picked up a wedge of lemon and sucked
the sour juice from the yellow rind.

“Woooooh!”
Charlie screamed, and filled our shot glasses again.

I giggled and
clutched the counter for support. After convincing my mom that
Charlie and I would spend a quiet night in front of a chick flick
or two, my friend had picked me up—half-cut already—and we’d been
drinking tequila ever since. We were alone at her house; she had
told Zack specifically that it was girls only tonight. Charlie was
still fairly dressed up from work; she wore some tight back Capri’s
and a red low-cut blouse. I felt kind of plain compared to her, in
my jeans and white Deftone’s t-shirt. But I was comfortable.

And I was
drunk.

“Hit this,
bitch.” She pointed to the shot and clambered up onto the counter,
far less than gracefully. I laughed, throwing my head back.

“Okay, but
after this I need a break.” I was only partially aware that I
couldn’t speak coherently.

“One, two …
go!”

This shot
burned less than the one before it, even less than its eight or
nine odd predecessors. I barely sucked the lemon over my numb
lips.

“K, k enough,
enough.” I waved my arm wildly at her. My limbs didn’t seem to be
connected to my body anymore. The room wavered dizzily. I grabbed a
smoke and stumbled my way to the couch, flopping down heavily upon
it.