Page 8 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

“I’ve heard of this before,” one of the girls says, stepping forward. She’s wearing a festive sparkly thing and has her hair in long twists. “But I thought people, uh, dressed up? And did this outside?”

I don’t think she was trying to make fun of me, but that sets Eric off even more. “Yeah—where—” he gasps out in between laughs. “Are your capes? And—WANDS!”

“That’s LARPing,” I mumble. “This is way different.”

Not that LARPing wouldn’t be fun, but, like... I could never be out in the world like that. Look at the shit I’m taking for just this.

“LARPING!” Frankie shouts, slapping the table. “Fucking LARPing, fam!”

I stand up.

“Leela, actually, I think I’m gonna go with you after all.”

It’s definitely not how I want to spend my New Year’s. And I am still firmly against the idea of this holiday bringing about any sort of change. That’s not what’s happening here. It’s just that anything would be better than being stuck in this house with Eric andhis asshole friends while they laugh at everything I love.

“Good,” Leela says, wrapping her arms protectively around my shoulders. Yobani gathers up the rest of my D&D stuff while Leela fixes Eric with a death stare so brutal that his giggles actually slow.

“I’ll take those back,” Greg says, snatching his Tupperware from Eric’s grip. He looks Eric up and down, throws on his backpack, and struts out of the room.

Leela, Yobani, and I follow him, and Eric, not one to give anyone else the last word, calls after us, “Hey, yo, you better not be walking out this house with those ashy ankles! People know you’re related to me!”

We can still hear his friends laughing after we slam the front door.

Delilah

“Okay, top three...” Asher starts, throwing his bass in its case over his shoulder, “um... Girl Scout cookies. Go!”

“Definitely Thin Mints,” Beau says. He grabs his cymbals, rounding up this final load, and closes the trunk behind him. We start the walk from the parking lot to The Mode. Only the bands with the most cred get to park their cars in the small loading zone at the back of the venue. We had to make three trips.

Asher nods approvingly. “Samoas. Obviously.”

“And Trefoils,” Charlie says. Both Asher and Beau wrinkle their noses at him.

“No one likes Trefoils, bro,” Asher says with certainty.

“Uh, obviously someone does or they wouldn’t keep making them,” Charlie says. “Okay, now, top three... dystopian stories. Go!”

“Youwouldgo from freakin’ cookies to something all left field like that,” Beau says, rolling his eyes. “Gonna go with...Mad Max!” He claps his hands and points to me.

I rack my brain trying to think of a good answer. MaybeParable of the Sower? I’ve seen that on my mom’s bookshelf. But Asher cuts in before I get a chance: “The Tribe! Oh, definitelyThe Tribe!”

“What the fuck isThe Tribe?” Charlie asks.

“One of the great masterpieces of our time. It’s on YouTube. Enlighten yourself. You’re welcome.”

“Nah, nah. That does not get to be in the top three,” Beau scoffs. “Try again.”

“You let Charlie sneak in Trefoils!”

“Trefoils are delicious,” Charlie mutters. “The Tribeisn’t even on the same level as Trefoils.”

Asher hops around in front of Charlie and points one of Beau’s drumsticks in his face accusingly. “Blasphemy!”

I know the guys are just trying to kill time with endless rounds of their favorite game, but I kind of wish they would be quiet. Instead of distracting me from my wobbly stomach, it’s making my head feel fuzzy and crowded. I would give anything for silence right now. But I guess silence isn’t happening anytime soon.

We get to the front of The Mode again, sandwiched between a hair salon with its steel shutters pulled down for the night and a twenty-four-hour donut shop, and Beau opens the heavy wooden door. The sound is overwhelming. The heavy bass of a punk song I’ve heard the guys play before makes my whole body shake. People are talking, yelling, filling up every inch of the place—starting at the front, where the owner, Jimmy, is swiping cards and passing out wristbands, and pressed up against all of the painted black walls of the lobby. And the first band hasn’t even gone on yet. It’s only going to get louder.

I feel the eyes on us immediately.

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