Smashed (24 page)

*     *     *

Stan lived in a grand old Federal-style house in a historic part of Deerfield, an area of five beautiful antique homes separated by acres of what used to be farmland.

“Have I ever shown you the whole house?” Stan asked after we’d arrived.

I brushed the snow off my parka and stepped inside the kitchen. “You sure haven’t,” I said.

“You already know the barn,” he said, and waved toward a dark gray building, windows lit up. They’d insulated the barn years ago when Stan’s older brothers and sisters needed a place
to hang out with their friends. There, a massive stone fireplace generated enough heat to keep the whole space warm, even in the dead of winter. A small bathroom in a nearby shed kept nearly everyone out of the main house. Stan only had parties when his parents were away, and only out in the barn. We could go into the kitchen, but the rest of the house was supposed to be off-limits.

Downstairs, Stan took me through a living room, a family room, and a formal dining room furnished with antiques that had come down through both sides of the family. A center chimney meant fireplaces in nearly every room. The wide wood floorboards creaked and gleamed, and everything was in its place.

“It didn’t look like this when I was little, when all six of us were here,” Stan said. “I think my mom couldn’t believe it when it started to stay neater and neater as each kid left. Now she’s kind of compulsive about it. Making up for lost time, I guess.”

“I can see why she doesn’t want any of us in here.”

Upstairs were four bedrooms. “The boys had one room, the girls had the other, and the oldest kid got his own—which meant I never did until Dave graduated six years ago.” Stan laughed. “I know a few girls sneak over here when the line in the shed bathroom is long and use this one.” He pointed to a door down the hallway. “I don’t mind as long as they don’t wander around the house. It’s been okay so far.”

“I have to admit, I’ve used it before.”

“Listen, you’re free to use it anytime, sweetheart. Just don’t tell too many people. What I hate,” he said, “is a few times I’ve
found couples in the bedrooms—once even in my parents’ room. No respect, you know?”

When we got back downstairs, the barn was full of people. Kids were crowded around the roaring fireplace at one end; at the other, a beer pong tournament was in full swing.

Scott slammed the tiny white ball. It landed in the mug on Marcy’s side.

“Drink!” Megan hollered. If the ball hit the mug, you took a sip. If the ball landed
in
the mug, you chugged the whole thing. Marcy flung her head back and drank the entire beer.

“Damn, he’s good,” Marcy said, pointing at Scott. “Who’s next?” she shouted, her words slurring. “Hey Meg, can I have a ride home? I forgot to ask you.”

“Sure,” Megan said. “I’m up!” Megan took the paddle from Marcy’s hand.

“
Bitch
,” Marcy said under her breath, and walked past me like I wasn’t there.

Great
, I thought.
Megan’s already shit-faced
and
Marcy’s riding with us.
Marcy hadn’t looked me in the eye since the state championship game. When Cassie and I were together, she’d talk to Cassie and look through me like I wasn’t there.

“I’ll take you home.” Stan appeared next to me and put his arm over my shoulders.

“You just read my mind. How’d you do that?”

“State secret, sweetheart. When do you have to be home?”

I smiled. I knew he’d be sober enough. Stan drank, but slowly, and not much. I’d never seen him drunk. His brother Dave, who
was twenty-three, got Stan whatever we wanted: kegs, top shelf, special requests. But Stan always played the gracious host, caring for girls who had too much and threw up, taking car keys away from drunk drivers. Anyone who wanted to could crash in the barn, where there were plenty of old couches and blankets.

“Whenever,” I said to Stan. “Whenever is good for you.” Across the room, Alec had Sue Tapley against the wall, making out with her.
Get a room
, I thought, then turned back to Stan. “As soon after midnight as you can manage would be good.”

“You got it, sweetheart.”

If I wanted to drink, I could do that at home. I was beginning to wonder why I came at all.

*     *     *

At eleven thirty, the line for the bathroom in the barn was five deep—all girls—which meant the wait would be forever. I left the barn without my coat, shivering as I ran across the yard, my shoes sinking into the new snow. Inside the main house, the kitchen was empty. I ran up the stairs toward the bathroom, but the secret was clearly out: Four girls stood waiting there, too.
The guys must just pee outside
, I thought, and considered doing that myself. Midnight was only thirty minutes away; I wanted to be back downstairs for it. And squeezing my legs together was not helping my urge to go. I had a better idea. Down at the far end of the hall, a door led into Stan’s parents’ bedroom. Earlier, when Stan had given me the tour, I’d noticed they had a private bath off their room.

I knocked once quietly, then again, remembering what Stan
had said about couples sneaking up here. Back in the hall, there were now five girls in line. I waited until no one was looking, then slipped into the empty bedroom. Stan would not want half the school traipsing through his parents’ private space. Quietly, I closed the door behind me.

Framed photographs of Stan and his older siblings covered his mother’s bureau. I picked up one of Stan and studied it, then walked past the bed and into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

*     *     *

When I stepped out of the bathroom, I jumped, jerking back. I hadn’t heard a sound, but someone was there, waiting.

It was Alec, sitting on the edge of Stan’s parents’ bed, unfazed by my appearance.
Had he followed me here?

“Where’s Sue?” I asked, trying not to look startled.

“She’s on the rag. She got all pissed off and left.” Alec’s eyes were bloodshot and unfocused. “That’s what you get when you go out with a sophomore.”

He looked around the room, then back at me, like he was noticing me there for the first time. I wondered if he was on something. I’d heard somebody in the barn talking about doing OxyContin.

“She’ll be back—”

“She’s a wench,” he interrupted. “I can’t wait to get out of here next year. Meet some
mature
women.”

There was something not right with Alec. Something beyond the usual. He didn’t seem like himself somehow—not
like the cool, confident guy who had showed up at my house past midnight, demanding to be let in nearly four months before. There was something different tonight, simmering right below the surface.

Music blasted from the barn; even with the house shut up tight against the cold, I could hear it. You couldn’t have a conversation out there over the music. I glanced at my watch.

“That’s right,” Alec said, “it’s ten till midnight. Everyone’s gone back to the barn to do the big countdown. We’ve got the whole house to ourselves, Martini.”

I started for the door, but Alec reached out one long arm from where he sat on the bed and wrapped it around my thighs, tripping me and pulling me back.

“Alec!” Adrenaline rushed through me and I jerked away quickly, making for the door, but Alec stood up, jumped in front of me, and blocked my way. I was tall, but he was bigger. My forehead just touched the tip of his nose. His breath was musty and sour with beer. He reeked like a kitchen floor after a keg party.

“We could’ve had a great time, Martini. Why did you have to fuck it all up?”

He let me take a step backward. He still blocked my only exit, and he knew it. Except for the door to the bathroom. That was behind me. If he wouldn’t let me by, I’d go in there and lock the door, and wait until Stan or someone came looking for me.

“I told you, Alec, I’m sorry about the accident. I really am. I wish it had never happened.”

He shook his head and scoffed. “Not that, Martini. That’s
over.” He put his hand up to his face, feeling the ridge of the scar that was already not as strikingly purple as it had been four months ago. “I’ll always have this to remind me of you, though. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a better memory?”

My heart raced. Maybe Stan would come looking for me now. He’d been sticking close to me all night, joking with me, making me laugh. Talking about toasting in the new year with me. He must be wondering where I’d disappeared to.

“Stan’s waiting for me . . .”

“Stan!”
Alec’s wide eyes mocked me. “So it’s
Stan
now? What happened to your little friend Matt? Couldn’t keep up with you?”

“Matt and I . . .” I stopped. Why explain myself to Alec? I put a hand out boldly to push him aside. I was damn sick of Alec. I was getting out of there. “I’ll see you later.”

“Whoa, Martini,” he said, and grabbed my wrist, twisting my arm around and down to my side.

“Hey—!” I started, but I tried to stay calm. Alec had always been a bully, but he was all bluff. That’s what Cassie had said once. But this time Cassie was wrong.

“Are we finished?” he whispered, twisting my wrist harder. “I don’t think I said we’re finished.” The pressure on my arm was intense.

“Let go of me, Alec,” I said quietly.

“I’d like to, Martini, but I can’t, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.”

“You’re over me, is that it? Forgotten all about your pal Alec who saved your
ass
?”

I wasn’t looking at him now. My wrist was twisted, my arm pinned to my side, but he still couldn’t make me look into those eyes.

“Remember how sweet it was over the summer? All the time we spent at the lake? You fell for me, Martini. You wanted me.” He twisted my arm harder. “What was it, Martini? What was it about me you
liked
?”

His face pressed against my cheek, his breath rancid. He had to let go of me. My wrist was strong, but not as strong as he was. It was going to snap, I could feel it.

“You seemed like a nice guy,” I whispered.

He released my arm and I let out a single cry as my wrist dropped to my side, limp, throbbing.

“
You seemed like a nice guy
.” He stepped away from me now, but he was still blocking the door. “I don’t think so, Martini. You wanted to fuck me that night after the Bethel party. You were practically begging for it.”

“You’re disgusting, Alec.”

“You know, you never thanked me for the gift I left in your jacket pocket.” He shook his head. “And all I’d wanted was to remind you of the good times. There are a lot of things I like about you, but when it comes to gratitude—I gotta tell you, your attitude really
sucks
.”

My heart was pounding. His eyes burned into my face. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Tell me how we can end this properly. Tell me that.”

My palms were sweating, my left wrist still pulsing. I
had to get away from him. “I don’t know.” My voice cracked.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said. His voice was low and even. “You owe me, Martini.”

I made a break for it. Faking one way, then moving the other, I threw him off balance for a moment and ran for the bathroom, but he was behind me and as I tried to slam the door shut, he caught it and pushed harder on the other side.

“Open the door, Martini,” he said, and heaved his body against it. “Open the fucking door.” He shoved it against me, knocking me back.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Martini. You know, you really have a way of taking the fun out of things.”

There was no way I could get around him in this little bathroom. His whole body filled the door. What had I been thinking? I was trapped, cornered. Suddenly, I was enraged.

“Fuck you, Alec!”

He grabbed my throat with one large hand and shoved me against the wall. I felt my body slam into the floor, my head smash into the tile, a blast of pain. The bathroom was a blur of light and color. I could barely see his face, but I could feel him pushing me down with one arm, tugging at my jeans with the other.
Kick
, I thought, and I did, but he tackled me with his full weight, pressing me into the frigid floor. How had this happened?
You fucking bastard
, I thought, and I tried to say the words, but nothing came out. A hand gripped my throat; he was fumbling now, one knee shoved hard into my stomach, up under my ribs. I thrashed, tried to kick, tried to move so I
could breathe, but trying to free myself made it worse.
There is no air
, I thought.
He is crushing me, crushing the life out of me
. Voices rose from the barn, counting down the new year in unison. No one was here. No one was near. He was going to kill me and no one would ever know. I struggled, but Alec gripped me harder, his movements growing more intense. He ground me into the floor, burying me.

I stopped moving then.
I’m dying
, I thought, and with this, a sense of relief fled through me. My eyes found the ceiling light above and focused. Such a white light, bright, piercing. Spots danced before me: gold, gray, fuchsia. Fuchsia. A funny word to think of at a time like this. But I was floating, my mind flowing like a river. My soul drifted away, severed itself from my physical body, and now I felt nothing and was nowhere but in this space with colored lights flashing before my eyes. Alec’s weight, his nasty breath, his lunging body were gone, on some other girl in some other space far away while I floated on to a safer place where none of this was happening.

The house is quiet below.

Stan knocks on the bathroom door, turns the handle:

Katie?

I’m sick. (Is that my voice?)

You sound horrible. Are you okay?

Shut the door please. I’ll be down soon.

I’ve been looking all over for you.

Sorry.

Sorry
—as if I just hadn’t been thinking, or had spent too much time fixing my hair. But Stan didn’t know.

I’ve been sick—really sick, I say. The flu.

Somehow, my clothes are back on, nothing ripped, nothing askew. I find a brush, grip it in a shaking hand, pull it through my hair. A searing pain at the back of my head. I don’t look in the mirror.