lesson, weaving between and around us. A freshman bumped her on accident, and she scowled at him before looking at me again.
“You used to be so chatty,” she said with an accusing tone to her voice. “Now a perpetually sad melody follows you around.”
Without giving me a chance to respond, she turned and disappeared into the throng of pushing and shoving students.
The day turned into night, and once again I found myself jostled and bumped, not by throngs of students shoving through school halls, but by those same kids, now drunk, pushing through a packed party surrounding a bonfire.
“I used to be a lot of things,” I muttered to myself. I sighed, releasing the pressure weighing heavily on my chest.
Two talkative girls standing next to me, with plastic red cups in both of their hands, glanced my way, but not finding me all that interesting, looked back at each other. I put my hands out, feeling the heat of the bonfire touch my skin. The temperature was crisp, October rolling in with the promise of a cold winter, and the contrast between the warmth from the fire and the chill was comfortable.
I grinned at a familiar face; Juliette and her friend, Kari, made their way through, bringing me a farewell book to sign. Juliette was leaving, her family moving, and she had decided earlier in the day to attend this party as one last goodbye. Though I wasn’t close to anyone but Violet, there were a few people I’d never forget. Juliette was one of them. After I signed her book and hugged her, they both disappeared, leaving me alone amongst the crowd once again.
Even with all of these people surrounding me, I still felt alone. Pathetic.
I settled my back against the rust-colored Ford Taurus behind me. The metal didn’t feel as chilled as it had been. The owner of said vehicle sold some type of gelatinous lime shots out of his window for fifty cents each. He said he didn’t mind that I loitered outside of his business.
Thank God for small favors.
This small favor was almost dismissed in light of his next comment: “Stay as long as you want. You’ll bring the boys in, like bees to sweet honey.”
Violet danced up to me, a guy trailing right behind her. Her wild blonde hair made her seem more lioness than human in the glow of the fire. The light but abundant hairs on her arms were silhouetted when she threw them up in excitement.
“I can’t believe we’re here!” she shouted over the music, which wasn’t really that loud.
“Yes,” I said into my cup of Coke, feeling like a rebel, “me either.”
I gave the party another once over. A bunch of underage (and perhaps some actually legal) pedestrians were hanging out by the train tracks, music drifting with cigarette smoke and ashes from the non-permitted bonfire burning rebelliously in the center of the party.
Strict instructions had been given upon arrival: If anything should go down, run like hell. And if you’re caught, blame it on the homeless. Now have fun.
I had to give it to the organizers of the shindig. They were proactive.
The air was laced with alcohol, almost enough to blow up the fire if enough fumes made contact with the robust heat. Laughter and freedom were just as rampant as the illegal substances; apparently there’s nothing quite like the freedom of being parent-free.
Violet squished up her eyes and nose. “Always the life of the party, huh, Sandy?” She turned to her companion, a guy who I was willing to bet met or had surpassed the legal drinking age. “Want to dance some more, Ben?”
Ben bumped his head to the sound of the music in answer to her question.
I guess this was my problem. I always lost the dare. Once I was out and about in the real world, suddenly I wanted to run home. Once home, it never really felt like home. And once home doesn’t feel like home anymore, where do you go?
Back to the dare. Then the circle continued in much the same way. It was exhausting, and I found myself needing a nap.
Setting my red cup on the roof of lime-shot’s car, I turned my face up to heaven and closed my eyes. An image of my brother floated past, his smiling face like clouds rolling across the moon. I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes. There were times when his memory seemed to come to me sharp like a knife in my heart, almost