Page 22 of Yours

Seven

Darcy

The night of the party, Willow comes over, and the three of us do each other’s’ hair and makeup. Tiffany turns up the music, and more than once, the people above us tap their broom handle on the ceiling, letting us know we’re too loud. Before we leave, Willow pulls out a small, metal canister and slips what looks like a red hard candy into my palm.

“What’s this?” I ask while Tiffany pops hers into her mouth.

“Just suck on it,” Willow says, her hazel eyes bright.

“What’s it for?” I ask. I’ve seen Willow crouched over a bong at parties before.

“It’s an edible,” she says, slipping hers between her lips. “It’ll make you mellow.”

“So, it’s pot?” I ask, sure that I sound like a prude. I generally don’t do stuff like this.

“Yes,” Willow groans. “Now eat it so we can bounce.”

I glance at Tiffany. “It’s mild. Like baby weed. Don’t worry.” She shrugs. “Or you can save it for later.”

I decide to wait and see what the party’s like before I try something like this. I slip the little disc into my palm and don my full-length coat. I can’t add my hat because of my twin pigtails that Willow curled into ringlets with big, blue ribbons. We pile into Willow’s car. I sort of wonder if she’s okay to drive while on edibles but decide not to say anything.

The party’s only a few miles away so we arrive before the heater has warmed Willow’s tiny car. Inside the house, it’s already loud and full of people. Willow, Tiffany, and I shuffle through the crowd to where a guy is manning the keg. It’s one of Ellis’s friends, though I’ve never learned his name. He’s dressed as a devil, with red, pointed ears somehow attached to his head and a wide, shiny, red cape.

“Trick or Treat, ladies,” he says, filling the first cup for Willow. He nods to a place down the hallway. “You can leave your coats in Dylan’s room.”

Willow hands her beer to me and slips out of her coat. Her name totally suits her, and at first, I thought it was a nickname because she’s tall and slender with almost no curves. I’ve heard her and Tiffany discuss whether or not she should get a boob job. If only we could swap—I’d give anything to be smaller. But then I think of Brian, and how he seemed to worship this part of me. Just thinking about this makes me miss him so much it hurts.

The guy at the pump hands me a beer, then Willow takes it so I can remove my coat. I instantly feel the beer pump guy’s eyes on my mounds. My face goes bright red.See?I want to say to Willow.Is this what you want?

Willow and Tiffany make small talk while the guy at the pump—Brent, I learn—fills another beer, this one for Tiffany, and then more guests as they swing by. I stand there feeling awkward, tongue tied. I’ve never been much for parties, and I’m starting to regret coming to this one. All these kids are rich and move in circles I’ll never understand. Willow and Tiffany are my only real friends, and I appreciate them trying to pull me into their world, but I feel more out of place than ever.

“I’ll go put these away,” I say to Willow and Tiffany, taking both of their coats and heading down the hallway. Inside the cool, dark room, a bed is piled with coats. I have a sudden desire to fall into them and curl up until it’s time to go home. Then I remember the little hard candy in my coat pocket. Maybe it’ll help me relax. Willow made it sound practically harmless, so I scoop it out of the pocket and place it on my tongue. It tastes like cherry—like those cough drops I used to beg my dad to buy when I was a kid. The thought of him at home right now, still recovering, and Brian there to watch over him brings on a rush of emotions I don’t understand. Quickly, I store our coats and return to the main room.

“There you are,” I hear as I approach my friends who are still at the keg. I turn to see Ellis McKeever watching me with a look that feels scandalous, as if he can undress me with his eyes. I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest.

“Hey,” I say, trying not to notice his bare, sculpted chest and toned biceps.

“Let me get you a drink,” he says.

“Oh, I already have a beer,” I say, moving toward Willow.

“Here, try this,” he says, handing me a red solo cup full of a red liquid and chunks of ice. It seems like an affront to refuse, so I take a sip. It tastes like something tropical and only faintly of alcohol.

“Good?” he asks.

I nod.

He leans against the wall, sizing me up again, but not like Brent who ogled at my chest. He’s looking at my face. “You look really good without your glasses,” he says, tilting his head. “Like you’ve grown up or something.”

I ignore the way this makes me feel, which is like I’m some high schooler. We talk about our classes for awhile, just the two of us against the wall, and I start to relax. I learn that he’s got a disabled younger brother and he’s studying to be a lawyer so he can advocate for kids like him. At some point I realize my brain feels different, my voice even feels different, calmer. It’s probably the edible coupled with Ellis’s drink, which I’m embarrassed to see I’ve downed almost half of.

Someone from the living room announces a game of Twister and before I can protest, Ellis has dragged me to the middle of the floor. Tiffany and some guy I don’t know are there too. She flashes me a “thumbs-up” look when she sees me with Ellis.

Brent spins the needle. “Left foot, purple,” he calls out. All of us standing on the edge comply.

“Right foot, blue,” he calls next. As I lift my foot, I get a mild dizzy feeling and feel my balance falter. Behind me, a pair of hands slides to my waist to steady me. It’s Ellis. “Easy there,” he says. I start to giggle.

“Right hand, red,” Brent calls. Everyone scrambles to find a red dot. Someone is laughing, and there’s plenty of chatter. I realize that because of the dots I’m on, my butt is sticking straight up, giving anyone standing on the sidelines a view of the blue over-panties I’m wearing under the skirt. Ellis has landed nearby.

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