town. “We can sleep tomorrow. No school, remember?”
At least there was that. Teacher in-service meant we got the day off.
“So who is he, Tennyson?” I looked pointedly at her outfit. “Is the makeup and all the skin for Matt?”
“What?” Her smile was fake.
“Oh, it’s nothing… just that your ‘desperate’ is showing a little.” I laughed.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, and keep your hands off Matt.”
“I’ve never seen you with makeup,” I said.
“Yeah, well, some of us have to try a little harder to be beautiful. You, with the whole long, perfect hair and creamy skin, have it way too easy. Do you even have pores?”
“I could ask you the same question,” I said. “When I first saw you, I thought you’d been photoshopped into the classroom, with your ironic wiener dog shirt.”
“That reminds me,” she said, “who are you on Instagram?” She picked up her phone from the center console and held it out to me to enter my information. “I posted pictures from last night.”
“I don’t have an account.”
“That’s weird,” she said.
“Yeah. It’s weird. We’ve discussed this already.”
We drove into the foothills north of town for at least half an hour. Tennyson turned onto a dirt road that skirted the banks of a river. There were cabins every so often along the road and she parked beside one of them. The brown paint covering it was cracked and peeling, and one of the windows was taped up with cardboard.
Obviously Taylor’s family didn’t spend a lot of quality time here, but now cars surrounded the place. We stepped out of Tennyson’s car and walked toward the cabin, right through the middle of a group that I recognized from school. They greeted Tennyson as she passed, but mostly ignored me. Thank God for small miracles.
Tennyson didn’t hesitate to open the door and walk into the cabin. She grabbed hold of a tall blonde who looked enough like Sara that I assumed he was Matt, her brother. He bent down to kiss Tennyson. And then again with feeling.
He introduced her to his friends. I should have taken her car keys, but before I could, she tucked them into her pocket and grabbed a beer.
Sara and Taylor introduced me to the people standing around. I recognized a guy named Blake from English class. He reached into a cooler at his feet and handed me a bottle.
“No, thanks.” My dad’s father died of alcoholism and seeing one person turn yellow from a failing liver was enough for me. When my friends drank their parents’ Scotch, I poured myself a soda.
I looked around for a place to wait for Tennyson. A television played loudly in the front room and several guys were lounging around, watching an NFL game. I found an open chair and made myself invisible. The sports enthusiasts looked up and grunted at me—amazed that there was a girl interested enough in football to sit and watch the game with them. One of them I recognized from school, where he was kind of a loner.
Loner boy grinned at me. “Hey, Meg Kavanagh,” he slurred. “I find myself fantasizing about you all the time and here you are.”
“Really?” I was completely unsure how to follow that. “Awesome.”
One of the guys next to him laughed. “That was messed up, Josh.”
Josh kind of snorted and then turned back to the game. Every now and then someone came by and offered me a drink. The game ended. Since I was the only one who stayed in front of the TV, I flipped channels until I found
The Last of the Mohicans
. An hour passed and things went downhill. Tennyson, Sara, and Taylor played “Never have I ever” in the kitchen for a while until the never-evers were no longer funny. They spiked generic energy drinks with cheap vodka—double the self-destruction.
There were so many kids packed into the cabin, the air got thick. I stood up, marveling at how shaky my own legs felt, to open a window. I took a tentative step and trampled a couple wrapped in a blanket next to the couch.
At least there was that. Teacher in-service meant we got the day off.
“So who is he, Tennyson?” I looked pointedly at her outfit. “Is the makeup and all the skin for Matt?”
“What?” Her smile was fake.
“Oh, it’s nothing… just that your ‘desperate’ is showing a little.” I laughed.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, and keep your hands off Matt.”
“I’ve never seen you with makeup,” I said.
“Yeah, well, some of us have to try a little harder to be beautiful. You, with the whole long, perfect hair and creamy skin, have it way too easy. Do you even have pores?”
“I could ask you the same question,” I said. “When I first saw you, I thought you’d been photoshopped into the classroom, with your ironic wiener dog shirt.”
“That reminds me,” she said, “who are you on Instagram?” She picked up her phone from the center console and held it out to me to enter my information. “I posted pictures from last night.”
“I don’t have an account.”
“That’s weird,” she said.
“Yeah. It’s weird. We’ve discussed this already.”
We drove into the foothills north of town for at least half an hour. Tennyson turned onto a dirt road that skirted the banks of a river. There were cabins every so often along the road and she parked beside one of them. The brown paint covering it was cracked and peeling, and one of the windows was taped up with cardboard.
Obviously Taylor’s family didn’t spend a lot of quality time here, but now cars surrounded the place. We stepped out of Tennyson’s car and walked toward the cabin, right through the middle of a group that I recognized from school. They greeted Tennyson as she passed, but mostly ignored me. Thank God for small miracles.
Tennyson didn’t hesitate to open the door and walk into the cabin. She grabbed hold of a tall blonde who looked enough like Sara that I assumed he was Matt, her brother. He bent down to kiss Tennyson. And then again with feeling.
He introduced her to his friends. I should have taken her car keys, but before I could, she tucked them into her pocket and grabbed a beer.
Sara and Taylor introduced me to the people standing around. I recognized a guy named Blake from English class. He reached into a cooler at his feet and handed me a bottle.
“No, thanks.” My dad’s father died of alcoholism and seeing one person turn yellow from a failing liver was enough for me. When my friends drank their parents’ Scotch, I poured myself a soda.
I looked around for a place to wait for Tennyson. A television played loudly in the front room and several guys were lounging around, watching an NFL game. I found an open chair and made myself invisible. The sports enthusiasts looked up and grunted at me—amazed that there was a girl interested enough in football to sit and watch the game with them. One of them I recognized from school, where he was kind of a loner.
Loner boy grinned at me. “Hey, Meg Kavanagh,” he slurred. “I find myself fantasizing about you all the time and here you are.”
“Really?” I was completely unsure how to follow that. “Awesome.”
One of the guys next to him laughed. “That was messed up, Josh.”
Josh kind of snorted and then turned back to the game. Every now and then someone came by and offered me a drink. The game ended. Since I was the only one who stayed in front of the TV, I flipped channels until I found
The Last of the Mohicans
. An hour passed and things went downhill. Tennyson, Sara, and Taylor played “Never have I ever” in the kitchen for a while until the never-evers were no longer funny. They spiked generic energy drinks with cheap vodka—double the self-destruction.
There were so many kids packed into the cabin, the air got thick. I stood up, marveling at how shaky my own legs felt, to open a window. I took a tentative step and trampled a couple wrapped in a blanket next to the couch.
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