by Lexa Hillyer
Not that she really cared, because she was buzzing. She’d had a bit of a Chizhevsky, just now.
Jay Kolbry was a drug dealer; at least that’s what everyone said. And he was having a party on Saturday.
This past October, Kit had gone to one of Jay’s parties.
Kit had been found with drugs in her possession.
And now Tessa knew how she was going to be spending her Saturday.
She was going to that party.
THE FALL
BY KATHERINE MALLOY
When autumn leaves turn red, do they recall
their former green? And is it bravery
if they have always known they’re going to fall?
How they come down, all thin and papery—
shaped like hearts.
The gutter’s as crimson now
as stop signs, danger, bloodied hands. I’d lie
if I said I wasn’t terrified by how
it must have felt the day my father died:
he lost his own to save another’s life.
Sometimes Mom says she can still feel his pain,
lingering, a phantom limb. What kind of bargained strife
is love? When it’s gone, what memories remain?
As winter weaves its way into the air,
leaves spread the red of warning everywhere.
Chapter Fourteen
Before
10/29
Dear Diary,
Where. Do I. Even. Start.
So, tonight is the night of Allison Riley’s big Halloween party. And it was a somewhat great, somewhat horrible, mostly super-confusing night. I’m so exhausted I kind of want to bury myself in the covers forever and ever, but I wanted to write this down first so that later maybe I can make sense of it.
I’ll start at the beginning. I was wearing a banging costume—this slinky gold-sequined dress I ordered online. It stretches tight across my butt and legs, and has a plunging back, which makes it impossible to wear a bra. Black stilettos that killed my feet but whatever. Slicked-back hair. False eyelashes. And the final touch: a pair of thick, black, no-prescription horn-rimmed glasses.
When I came downstairs, Boyd was already here, sitting on the couch with Tessa and Kit on either side. Tessa was lying sideways, head on the armrest and feet on Boyd’s lap, with a blanket over her. Kit was reading near the lamp—she had on a fitted black skirt suit and white button-down shirt, her hair in soft pin curls.
Mom was there too, of course, her feet folded under her butt on the recliner with a bowl of popcorn. It’s her tradition to watch scary movies while she waits for trick-or-treaters. It used to be my tradition with her, while Tessa and Kit made the neighborhood rounds. But that was a long time ago.
There was a huge bowl of Reese’s and Kit Kats near the door which I obviously grabbed a few of.
The first thing Boyd says when he sees me is “Whoa.” Which I took as a compliment ☺.
Then Tessa has to add: “Your sparkles are blinding me.”
“Are you a waiter?” I asked Kit, but she got all smirky and said only: “Edna St. Vincent Millay.” At the time I had literally no idea what she’d just said other than a series of names, but I looked it up on my phone just now and I guess she was a poet. Anyway, Kit looked mostly like she was about to go into an interview.
“So are we going or what?” I asked, mostly because I could barely stand in those heels but also I could not really sit in that dress.
Mom says, “Honey, don’t you think you’ll get cold?” And Tessa says, “Or mistaken for a street worker?” But for once Mom took my side and told Tessa to shut it.
Anyway, Boyd was ready to go and extricated himself from Tessa’s legs. “Miss Cranky isn’t coming,” he said, mussing up Tessa’s hair.
“My costume is Girl with a Fever,” Tessa said. Ever the clever one.
“Okay, so Kit, get your butt up,” I said, but Kit just blushes and then blurts out, “Oh, actually I’m going to Jay Kolbry’s thing tonight instead.”
Jay. Kolbry.
Like, what? I’m standing there basically choking on a peanut butter cup.
I know who Jay is because Mel’s older brothers are friends with him. He seems nice enough honestly, but Kit is not one to hang in that kind of crowd, so my brain was having a hard time processing.
I guess I blurted out something along those lines, and Kit gets all defensive and is like “I’m meeting friends there” and “It’s fine” and “I won’t be out that late anyway” and blah blah.
But I have to admit, I was more excited than disappointed or shocked. I literally can’t remember the last time I was alone with Boyd. I mean, not that we were going to be alone for long, since Mel and Dar were already probably at Allison’s, waiting for us to show up, but still.
Once we’re in the truck, Boyd turns to me and is all “I get what you are. A Bond girl.”
Basically, my brain turned into a raging fire alarm of happiness until he followed up by being like “Aren’t those movies sexist, though?”
I sighed. “You sound like Tessa.”
“Well, she’s probably the one who told me that.”
“So what are you?” I finally asked. He was just wearing regular clothes—jeans and a T-shirt.
“Same thing,” he says.
“A Bond girl?”
“No, a spy.”
“Cop-out.”
“Well, since you didn’t guess it, I think that makes me pretty successful.”
Much as I was enjoying our little chat, I knew we had limited time in the car together, so I asked him if Kit is mad at him about something. Maybe something that happened at homecoming . . .
He just goes, “I wouldn’t rule it out.” Then he said something about how I’m adorable when I’m annoyed, and I said, “Thanks, I know,” and then we were there.
So, there’s one semirich area outside of Devil’s Lake—heavily wooded, hard to get to, where you can’t see any of the houses from the next one over. Allison Riley lives out there, in one of these McMansions that I swear is built entirely of stone like a fucking fake castle.
I love it and want to move in there. (They probably wouldn’t even notice an extra person living under that roof.)
Also, Allison’s parties are way better than Jay Kolbry’s. Hers are always sort of classy and have themes and stuff, like cheese trays with witty labels. There was a basket of masquerade masks by the door, and I forced Boyd to wear one to act like a goddamn participator. (Participant? Whatever.) He just kind of wore it high on his head like a headband, making his hair splay out all funny. Then he goes to get us drinks while I go to find Mel and Dar.
The girls are shivering out in the backyard, which is where Mel texted me they were. I finally found them on the stone patio. (It’s stone everything there. There’s even a stone fire pit—like, do they hunt and cook their food? Have we entered medieval times?)
Mel was a sexy nurse (short white uniform, a red cross made out of tape, a little white cap). Dar wore this pale blue slip that hung loose around her collarbones, and a bright blue wig. SUPER EGO was written in Sharpie on the front of the slip. “Do you like? It’s a Freudian slip!” she says. There are goose bumps all over her arms, so I start rubbing her arms to warm her up, and Mel starts laughing and she’s obviously already been pounding the punch. It was something with champagne in it. (Fancy.) Mel’s lips were all red from it and Dar’s like, “It’s amaaaazing,” which makes me think she got a head start with it, too.
“So why the wig?” I asked Dar, because I vaguely have heard of Freud and I’m not sure he ever said anything about blue hair, but she just sways and goes, “’Cause it’s Halloween so I felt like having blue hairrrr.”
Okay, so yeah, definitely both of them were already tipsy.
I told them my sisters didn’t come so it was just me and Boyd, and Mel is suddenly all about us finding Boyd so I can tell him he’s my one true love or something, and plus it’s warmer inside, so back in we go.
Boyd was in the kitchen, and when I got in there, he grabbed my hand and twirled me around and then the four of us danced in the dining room for a while—all the furniture was pushed to the side and the room was decorated like a bat cave with very lifelike bats hanging from the sealing (ceiling?) and black lights along the floor. The Rileys are hella committed to Halloween.
Greg Heiser, who I know mostly from the fact that he hangs out with Tessa and Boyd, started dancing with us. He was wearing a spice rack with a bra on it. (“Don’t I have a nice rack?” Ugh. Seriously, Greg?) Dusty showed up too, and I think he was dressed as Einstein.
What. Does. Mel. See in him.
After a while we ended up in some other room—there are too many rooms in that house, I seriously cannot keep track of what any of them are for. Jenny, Toma, Will Ferguson, Jeremy Bantolf, and a few other people were in there. I looked around for Patrick, on instinct. So I could warn Mel if he was gonna be here. But I didn’t see him. (Which, why would he be here, since he seems to have made practically no friends?) Anyway, they were playing spin the bottle and somehow Toma and Dar ended up kissing and Dar laughed like crazy after. Then Dusty and Mel started going at it (I don’t even think her bottle pointed at him, but fine). Everyone got bored and the game broke up.
Then Boyd is whispering something to me, but it was so loud I’m screaming “What?” And he’s like, “DUTY CALLS” and holds out his hand, so I take it and he pulls me to standing and we trip out of the room. By this point the champagne red stuff had gone to my head, I think, because next thing I know, we’re running around Allison Riley’s mansion giggling and getting lost. “We need to do some recon,” he’s saying. We end up in this room that I think must be a library. Allison’s mom is a famous professor of something. Anyway it’s a giant, gorgeous room with a skylight.
“Rumor has it Mr. Riley has a $700 bottle of scotch hidden in the house,” Boyd tells me. “We gotta try it.”
I obviously don’t even like scotch, but Boyd makes the valid point that how often do you get a chance to taste anything that’s $700, to which I wittily reply, “Let’s just lick this couch, then. It probably costs way more than that.”
Boyd dared me to do it, Diary. So yes, I licked Allison Riley’s mother’s couch. It tasted like polyurethane.
Then we went upstairs and “slyly” tiptoed around, trying not to laugh or fall over. Boyd made his hands into a gun shape and approached a closed door like a cop in a movie about to make a bust. Then he kicked the door open—but nothing was in there except a mini grand piano, facing some windows that overlook the driveway.
“Who the hell has a piano room?” Boyd asks. To which we both answer at the same time: “Allison Riley.”
We have some more banter, along the lines of:
“If I were her dad I would probably keep it somewhere close to me, like my nightstand.”
“Unless he’s sneaky and keeps it hidden in plain sight, somewhere you’d least expect it. Like the shower or something.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You love it.”
“Let’s try another room.”
We “busted” a couple of closets and then a giant corner bedroom that had to be Allison’s, but it looked more like a grown-up room than a teen’s room. The only clue was the lineup of vampire novels, the framed, signed poster from a TV show about a family of seventeen teenagers, and a giant stuffed bear. Other than that it was all this fancy matching modern furniture, nothing like the mismatched crap we have at home. Tessa doesn’t even have a bed frame, just a mattress on the floor, and her nightstand is a sideways crate. And Kit’s old assemble-it-yourself bedroom set looks like it should belong to a little kid; its cheap white wood is covered in stickers and pictures.
“Damn,” Boyd said as we stood there gaping. “Can you imagine what it would be like to live like this?”
I went over to the giant, beautiful white polar bear that sat on the slate-gray bedspread, flopped down, and wrapped my arms around it. “Mel would love this,” I told him.
Boyd plopped down next to me. “Lemme see that thing.”
“No, he’s mine!” I said, and then we were sort of wrestling, which was kind of silly but also kind of extremely sexy until all of a sudden the door burst open.
It was Fred.
Yes, Diary. Fred Perovoccio.
He was wearing a pirate costume, but it did little to hide his natural state of perverted asshole. There was a drunk girl under his arm who I dimly recognized, but I don’t know her name. She’s definitely not in his grade, though. I think she’s a freshman. She was wearing these wilted-looking fairy wings.
Boyd shot up and was like, “Oh, don’t worry, we weren’t busy blah blah blah blah blah run-on sentence blah.”
But then Fred just goes, “Hey, man, I don’t blame you,” and then he eyes me like I’m the Tuesday meatball special, which makes me want to barf, though it could also be all the champagne punch. I think he said something like, “She’s hot” and the Drunk Fairy hit him in the chest all like, “Heyyyy!” and then he’s like, “You’re hot too,” and clearly he didn’t even know her name and EW EW EW.
“Hey, man, don’t make comments about my friend,” Boyd said, getting a little bit in Fred’s face. Then he turns and is like, “Come on,” and we push our way out of there, but then Boyd turned around and is like, “You know what? I’m not letting you take her in there either,” and guides Drunk Fairy along the hall with us, even as Fred just stands there being like, “Dude, what the fuck!?” on repeat.
Drunk Fairy then keeps looking at Boyd like he is her hero as he gets her some water, and I looked over my shoulder to see Fred smirking at us, holding his pirate’s hat in his hand.
We got her back down the stairs and spent forever trying to find her friends so she could get a ride home and felt like fucking heroes. If I’ve learned one thing tonight, it’s that fairies and pirates and punch do not mix.
But, Diary, this is not even the most dramatic part of the night. Hang on to your pages, we’re about to get there, I just need to stretch my hand. This is the most I’ve ever written in here!
So. Okay.
Once we got the girl’s dad to come pick her up, I finally realized that Boyd was not tipsy like me but was in fact completely sober. Which was sort of a relief, but then I was a little bit embarrassed at how I was behaving. I swear I saw him with a cup of beer at one point but never actually saw him sip from it.
I guess because of his dad, you know. He doesn’t really like to drink.
Which means the whole “Let’s find the fancy scotch” thing was mostly just a ruse to do something silly. Or maybe. Maybe. To be alone with me? At least, you can see how THAT IS NATURALLY WHAT I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT.
But moving on.
I ended up in the bathroom line, and Boyd was right there next to me, and I finally saw Mel and Dusty again. Making out. Again. Heavily. Against a wall.
Can I simply never escape the fate of watching these two go at it?
Mel goes, “Oh, hey,” and I am more in the vein of “Yo, can we talk for a sec?
“It seems like you like Dusty again,” I told her as soon as we were out of the hearing range of the rest of the line. (Boyd held my spot.)
Mel was busy shrugging, and her eyes darted around in a way that kind of disturbed me, so I pushed on it a little harder. “What about Patrick?” And Mel goes, “Oh, him. Not into him anymore.” Just like that.
I’m not sure why this made me so annoyed. Then I got even more pissed off when she adds, “He’s just a creep and I think I just liked the idea of him—new boy, hard to get.”
“He’s NOT a creep.” Don’t ask me why I was suddenly all defensive about Patrick, it’s just she doesn’t even know him. I mean, not that I do either. Not really. But I guess I was just sick of the fact that Mel pushes me around, you know? First, it’s all about how I have to help her get with Patrick, and now I’m just supposed to drop it after I’ve already embarrassed myself with him. And it’s more th
an that—she never used to be this sex-crazed maniac. I feel like sometimes I look at her and I don’t see Mel anymore, I see this person wearing a mask.
Not a literal mask—like I said, she was wearing a nurse costume. But you know what I mean.
And her eyes wouldn’t focus. I don’t know what’s up with that.
The irony is, Mel then ends up being the one to calm me down, saying she just wants all of us to be happy and live it up because life is so fucked up and we should just be having fun. Once again, it felt like some fake person making a speech and not really Mel. But by that point she was grabbing my hands and trying to dance with me, right there in the hall, and act like everything was fine, and maybe it was all fine, maybe I was just being crazy, I don’t know.
After a minute we both realized we had no idea where Dar was. Mel starts saying maybe Dar has a secret boyfriend and I didn’t want to get annoyed with Mel all over again, but luckily we were interrupted by a bit of a commotion. This guy was banging loudly on the bathroom door and the reason the line was so long was that no one had come out of there for a while. A few people were laughing and shouting and the music was loud and Mel kept saying she was going to pee her pants. There had to be another bathroom or twelve somewhere in this vast mansion, and I was about to suggest we go find one, but…
That’s when I saw it.
The blue wig.
There on the floor outside the bathroom door.
In about four seconds I was up against the door, shouting through it, asking Dar if she was in there and if she was okay, but I couldn’t hear anything because the hall was so damn loud. So I turned to the hero of the hour—Boyd. I grabbed his hand and tried to pull him out of the hall. “Dar’s locked in there,” I told him.
But before we could get anywhere, Fred is swaggering around in front of us. He says, “You sophomore sluts are ruining this party.”
