Please Don't Tell - Laura Tims Page 0,48

the nature documentary with a daydreamy smile. I swallow, but he’s not looking at me in the way that boys look at you when they’re picturing you naked.

“How long have you been here?” he says.

I shrug as Adam’s guitar music floats between us. “A bit.”

“I’m sorry.” He waves at the TV. “Antelopes. Totally captivating.”

I laugh. The alcohol starts taking hold. I reach up, catch his wrist. I have no idea why I do it. “This spot on the back of your hand, it looks like a flower.”

“You think?” He examines the lighter skin.

“And this one here, it’s a comet.”

“I have another one like that on my leg, too,” he murmurs. “I was born under a comet.”

Kennedy-Ben-Sarah laugh hysterically, and Ben throws his cards at them. A couple hit my foot. I flick them across the floor. All our preparation for this seems so silly.

“Maybe that’s why you look so special.” I say.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he asks simply. No accusation. He’s just curious.

Because I know how much it sucks to hate the way you look. Maybe that’s how people become kind, by not wanting others to feel the things they felt.

“What’s up, Cassius?” Joy’s back, blasting through everything, handing me a big glass. It tastes like nail polish, maybe two drops of Coke.

“Not much.” He shies back. She has no idea how to talk to people who need quiet voices.

“Mmm.” She gulps, grimaces.

This is terrible.

The two seniors with the weed disappear and never come back. The video game guys argue loudly over a controller. Ben rolls under the foosball table and falls asleep. Kennedy and Sarah are in a corner, tangled up in each other. Poking each other’s stomachs. Laughing with their foreheads together. Cassius goes mute, the glow of the TV on his forehead. Taking himself someplace else. Adam plays his guitar and sings to himself, but every so often he glances at us to see if we’re listening.

“When can we leeeave,” Joy whines in my ear. “This is really boring.”

We’ve only been here an hour and a half. “Ten minutes,” I say. I want to listen to Adam sing. I drink all the nail polish. It’s bad enough to distract me from how awkward this is.

And then.

Suddenly.

I am very.

Very.

Drunk.

“Joy?”

“Mmmyessss?” She drapes her arm around me. She drank hers, too.

“This is a shitty party,” I whisper.

And suddenly both of us are laughing so hard we’re not making a sound. Mouths open. Tears. Nothing has ever been this hilarious.

“I shaved my knees for this,” she gasps.

Kennedy-Sarah have vanished. Ben is still passed out. Everyone else? When did they leave? Time’s choppy, minutes disconnected from each other instead of moving along in a chain like normal. The ceiling spins. Cassius says something I don’t catch. He sounds worried.

Suddenly: a man! In the basement. Wobbling. Wearing sweatpants. Shirtless. Do all middle-aged men look like that?

“Adam?” he says.

Joy and I are frozen. Shoulders pressed together. Will he call the cops? Do we run? I’m still giggling.

Adam throws down his guitar. Snarls, “What do you want?”

“You got my rum?” he slurs.

Adam shoves a mostly empty bottle toward him. “Jesus, Dad, get the fuck out.”

His father sways. Looks at us. “Nice,” he hiccups before stumbling upstairs.

Joy keels over with a noise like air escaping a tire. We’re bent double. Dying.

Adam, glaring at us. Especially me. I stop laughing, which sucks because I notice how nauseous I am.

Then, Adam and Cassius: in the corner. Talking. Adam gestures at Joy. Cassius shakes his head. Then, then, then, both of them: taking shot after shot from a new bottle. Weird that they’re best friends. They’re so different. Do they tell each other their secrets? What are boy friendships like? Do I even know what girl friendships are like?

Joy’s standing up. Swaying. “I have a speshul announcement to make. Speshul Joy announcement, everyone. Listen up. You!” She’s pointing at Cassius, who puts his empty shot glass on the foosball table. He looks at the carpet. Joy doesn’t lower her finger. “You. Are fucking. Attractive.”

“There it is!” Adam hoots. “Yes! Cassius, my man.” Cassius forces a smile, steals a glance at me. Holds it a little too long. Adam moves next to me. Tucking me under his arm, just like the night on the middle school field. My face hurts. I’m grinning too hard.

“You,” he says in a low voice only I can hear, “are fucking attractive.”

“You,” I whisper, terrified, “are fucking attractive.”

“Is that a suggestion?” he says, confusingly. Then: two more glasses in his hands. Full.