about an impending train wreck that made it impossible to look away? That’s what Renee’s life looked like—a big messy train ride to doom. But as much as I wanted to jump on the tracks and stop it, I knew my intervention would not be appreciated. Being Renee’s friend of late meant perfecting the art of tongue biting. And I had damn near bitten my tongue in half.
We walked the two blocks to campus in relative silence. It was uncomfortable and forced, and I was wishing I had decided to heat up a pack of ramen noodles instead.
Renee cleared her throat. “So what did you think of Compulsion? Not really your scene, huh?” she asked in an attempt at teasing.
I tried not to jump to the defensive, to stick my tongue out and stamp my foot in a fit of immaturity while shouting, It is so my scene. What do you know about it?
But Renee was right. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that a place like Compulsion was typically the last place you’d find straitlaced, in-bed-by-ten-o’clock Aubrey Duncan on a Saturday night.
There was something really annoying about that.
“I was thinking about going back next weekend,” I said belligerently, just to see what Renee would say to that.
See, I can be as wild and crazy as the next chick.
But it was the truth. I wanted to go back.
I had strangely enjoyed myself. Attempted drugging and possible death by mosh pit aside, it was something I wanted to experience again.
From the look on Renee’s face, I might as well have told her I was planning on shaving my head and starting an all-girl pop group. “You’re going back? Really? Why?” she asked incredulously.
My thoughts drifted to the man in the baseball cap. He had been insistent that I didn’t belong there, that I was the proverbial fish out of water. And now it was obvious that my roommate felt the same way. It made me oppositional and more than a little defiant. Because I was struck by the insane drive to prove them wrong.
And something else had become clear to me: being at the club, dancing in the constricting darkness, I felt like I was able to be a person that I couldn’t be anywhere else. Someone who was a lot more interesting than watching paint dry. Someone who got a thrill out of more than organizing her sock drawer. An Aubrey who was spontaneous and slightly out of control. An Aubrey who was wild.
That Aubrey was fun.
That Aubrey was free .
I gritted my teeth and forced a smile paired with an indifferentshrug. “Why not?” I asked flippantly.
Renee shook her head and followed me into the commons. We got in line for the salad bar, but I had lost my appetite. “You need to be careful in places like that, Aubrey. Sure, they look fun on the surface, but crazy stuff happens there. It’s not exactly like going to the mall or something,” she responded in that worldly way of hers that never failed to make me feel like an idiot.
I gave her a cheesy grin. “Hey, I remember when the Peach Pit was turned into a nightclub. I’ve seen what happens when those crazy Beverly Hills kids get their drink and drugs on. I’m so prepared.”
Renee laughed.
“Watching 90210 is like a manual for life!” I added. Even though I joked about it, I was slightly annoyed at her insistence that I didn’t know what to expect by going to a club like Compulsion. Where had she gotten the idea that I was some silly little shut-in who would be scared of the big bad world?
I knew Renee was just trying to be a good friend. But I didn’t appreciate anyone, whether it was a mysterious stranger who made my insides flutter or the girl who up until six months ago had been my very best friend, treating me as though I was incapable of making sound and reasonable decisions.
“That makes me feel so much better,” Renee responded dryly. She turned to the salad bar and started dumping lettuce onto her plate. I watched in mock horror at the food she was putting on her tray. I had never understood the concept of eating salad
We walked the two blocks to campus in relative silence. It was uncomfortable and forced, and I was wishing I had decided to heat up a pack of ramen noodles instead.
Renee cleared her throat. “So what did you think of Compulsion? Not really your scene, huh?” she asked in an attempt at teasing.
I tried not to jump to the defensive, to stick my tongue out and stamp my foot in a fit of immaturity while shouting, It is so my scene. What do you know about it?
But Renee was right. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that a place like Compulsion was typically the last place you’d find straitlaced, in-bed-by-ten-o’clock Aubrey Duncan on a Saturday night.
There was something really annoying about that.
“I was thinking about going back next weekend,” I said belligerently, just to see what Renee would say to that.
See, I can be as wild and crazy as the next chick.
But it was the truth. I wanted to go back.
I had strangely enjoyed myself. Attempted drugging and possible death by mosh pit aside, it was something I wanted to experience again.
From the look on Renee’s face, I might as well have told her I was planning on shaving my head and starting an all-girl pop group. “You’re going back? Really? Why?” she asked incredulously.
My thoughts drifted to the man in the baseball cap. He had been insistent that I didn’t belong there, that I was the proverbial fish out of water. And now it was obvious that my roommate felt the same way. It made me oppositional and more than a little defiant. Because I was struck by the insane drive to prove them wrong.
And something else had become clear to me: being at the club, dancing in the constricting darkness, I felt like I was able to be a person that I couldn’t be anywhere else. Someone who was a lot more interesting than watching paint dry. Someone who got a thrill out of more than organizing her sock drawer. An Aubrey who was spontaneous and slightly out of control. An Aubrey who was wild.
That Aubrey was fun.
That Aubrey was free .
I gritted my teeth and forced a smile paired with an indifferentshrug. “Why not?” I asked flippantly.
Renee shook her head and followed me into the commons. We got in line for the salad bar, but I had lost my appetite. “You need to be careful in places like that, Aubrey. Sure, they look fun on the surface, but crazy stuff happens there. It’s not exactly like going to the mall or something,” she responded in that worldly way of hers that never failed to make me feel like an idiot.
I gave her a cheesy grin. “Hey, I remember when the Peach Pit was turned into a nightclub. I’ve seen what happens when those crazy Beverly Hills kids get their drink and drugs on. I’m so prepared.”
Renee laughed.
“Watching 90210 is like a manual for life!” I added. Even though I joked about it, I was slightly annoyed at her insistence that I didn’t know what to expect by going to a club like Compulsion. Where had she gotten the idea that I was some silly little shut-in who would be scared of the big bad world?
I knew Renee was just trying to be a good friend. But I didn’t appreciate anyone, whether it was a mysterious stranger who made my insides flutter or the girl who up until six months ago had been my very best friend, treating me as though I was incapable of making sound and reasonable decisions.
“That makes me feel so much better,” Renee responded dryly. She turned to the salad bar and started dumping lettuce onto her plate. I watched in mock horror at the food she was putting on her tray. I had never understood the concept of eating salad
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