Life of the Party
By Christine Anderson
Copyright 2012 Christine Anderson
Smashwords Edition
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For the one who will always love me,
even though I will never deserve it
Life of the Party
CHAPTER 1
My father was peering at me over his newspaper, watching in disgust as I sprinkled yet another spoonful of sugar on my grapefruit.
“I think that defeats the purpose, Mac.” He grinned. The look I gave him was as sour as the fruit.
“It’s gross.” I replied.
“Mac.” My mom frowned as she bustled about the kitchen. “You’ll give yourself a cavity. What’s the matter? You always liked grapefruit.”
I had no answer for this, stabbing at the poor fruit with my spoon instead. Mom shook her head and yawned. She had just walked in the door from another nightshift at the hospital and was probably in no mood to deal with me. She poured herself a coffee instead.
I pushed the fruit aside as my father shook his head and returned to his paper. My black nail polish was chipping. I sat back and picked at it.
“You know Mac; it’s supposed to be a really hot day.” Mom eyed my hoodie, “maybe you want to wear something lighter. What about the skirt I got you?”
“I don’t do skirts, mom. You knew that when you bought it for me.” Of course she did, but the fact that I didn’t dress up all pretty for school bothered her. She felt inclined to leave these none too subtle hints upon my bed from time to time, skirts and trendy shoes and button up blouses. They all became smunched into a pile in the back of my closet, which really isn’t saying much because even my preferred clothes ultimately ended up that way. It’s not that I don’t care about my appearance, I’m not a grunge or anything, but I’m not into the valedictorian-wear my mom feels is necessary. My typical outfit involved blue jeans, some sweet t-shirt, a hoodie, and any kind of dark skater shoes that made my size nine feet look at least two sizes smaller. Today I was wearing my favourite shirt, a dark blue Three Stones sweater with orange cuffs on the sleeve and a flaming fireball emblazoned on the front. I knew she hated it.
“I’m wearing a shirt.” I informed her. She sighed and nodded curtly, yawning into her cupped palm.
“So, Mac.” My father set his paper down. “How goes the job search?”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “This again?”
“Yes, this again. You’re seventeen years old with no plans for higher education. You can live here, that’s fine, but not for free. You’re plenty old enough to get a job. When Marcy was your age—”
“I’m well aware of Marcy’s fantasticness, thank you.” I interrupted him. I turned my focus from him to the ends of my long, curly dark hair, pretending to look for split ends. I hoped he’d get my hint. He didn’t.
“Well, fine. I’ve leaving town until Saturday. When I get back, I’d like to have some answers. Maybe you could get a job at the hospital. Are they still hiring, Deb?”
“Oh, there’s always work.” Mom perked up. “You may have to Candy-Stripe at first, but that always looks good on a resume. Do you want me to speak to Doug for you, Mackenzie?”
I looked at their hopeful faces incredulously. There was no way in hell I’d volunteer to clean up after a bunch of sick people. “Uh … we’ll see.” I answered. I was saved then by the loud, off key baap of a car horn out front.
“Oh, Riley’s here.” I said with relief. “I gotta go.”
Mom made her face then, almost on cue, the face that makes its appearance whenever Riley’s name is mentioned. It’s not that she hates him exactly, but she feels I could do with better friends, a bunch of girl friends preferably. Also, she considers Riley the boy from the “wrong side of the tracks.” I like to remind her from time to time that Riley and I only met because we lived next door to each other for years while my mom was still in school, before my parents became “established.” Apparently she forgets that, and the fact that she and Riley’s mother used to be very, very good friends. Until we moved into a new house in a new neighbourhood, that is.
I rolled my eyes at her and waved absently to my father.
“Alright, bye.” Nothing annoyed me more than “the face.” I grabbed the books that I brought home last Friday, and hadn’t touched since, on my way out the door.
Riley’s car was a sight. It was giant, purple and rusty, with red velour upholstery and a beaten up dashboard, but it was my chariot to freedom. My first sincere smile of the day was given for his benefit as I hastened happily towards his car.
“Hey man.” I sank into the front seat beside him.
“Hey.” He said warmly. He sat back in the seat and gazed at me for a minute.
“What?” I asked abruptly.
“Nothing.” He decided, pulling the car into the road. I shrugged and lit my cigarette, taking that first precious drag and blowing the smoke satisfyingly out the window. I felt the tension melt away.
“So,” he sounded nervous. “That was some party, hey?”
“Oh, yeah.” I groaned. “I felt so sick yesterday.”
“Is that why you didn’t call?”
“I guess so. Why, did I say I would?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“No problem.”
We rode in silence for a moment, and I gazed at Riley through the corner of my eye. He was acting very strange. I had known the guy since we were in kindergarten, and such a close relationship enabled me to know instantly when something was amiss. He was without a doubt my best friend in the whole world, better than any girlfriend I’d ever had, someone who really understood me and didn’t judge me and someone I could have tons of fun with without having to worry about the petty, trivial shit that accompanies most high school relationships. We were totally accepting of each other, no matter what.
Riley looked different today. His hair was dark, short, messy curls, but today I detected some kind of styling product in it. He was wearing his good Darkstar shirt too, the one he usually saved for going out on the weekends. I leaned closer and took a whiff, inhaling the deep scent of men’s cologne.
“… Mmm. You smell good today, Ry. Alright, who’s the girl?” I smiled conspiratorially. He was too easy to figure out.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, tell me. Who’s the girl you’re so dolled up for?”
“Um … I don’t know … Mac, how much did you have to drink the other night?”
“Ohhhh ….” I groaned again. “So much. Too much. I can remember up until the Quaalude and then it’s all just a black patch in my memory.” I laughed. “Why, did you hook up with someone? Oh, I’m so pissed I can’t remember. Don’t make me guess, just tell me who it was.”
“It was … it was nobody.” He mumbled. “No one you know.”
“Oh really? Was she hot?”
“Yeah, she was.”
“Really? Oh ….” I laughed and groaned. “Who brings ‘ludes to a party anyway? This isn’t nineteen seventy-four and we’re not in California.”
“You need to be careful with that shit.” Riley warned as he turned a corner. “Mixing that stuff with alcohol can mess you up.”
&
nbsp; “Right, like you can talk.” I accused. “Mr. E. I’m surprised your heart still works.”
“Not only does it work, my heart could out-beat your heart any day.”
I laughed with him and sunk back into the seat, glad that he had relaxed.
“So, are you going to introduce me to her then?”
“No, I’m not.”
“What?” I pretended to be upset. “Why not?”
“You know why, Mac.” Riley shook his head and shot me a sideways glare. It was true, I did know why. Something seemed to come over me every time Riley had a girlfriend … not exactly jealousy but … possession almost. I’ve tried to be a good supportive friend and accept his new relationships, but I can’t help myself. As soon as he and his girl of choice become “official,” I panic at the thought of losing my best friend to the claws of a she-devil that will occupy all his time and energy. My fear is that one day he will become so enamoured with one of these girls that I’ll be out of the picture indefinitely. And it’s not like I want him for myself; Riley is like my brother. But I don’t want him with anyone else either.
Super selfish, yep, that’s me. I looked over at Riley and smiled. He was good looking; I couldn’t blame the girls for wanting him. And he was special, to me anyway. He was loyal and caring, one of the good ones. I guess I knew it was only a matter of time before he did meet someone that replaced me as the #1 female in his life—next to his mom of course—but I wanted to avoid that for as long as possible.
I shrugged and changed the subject. “Man, Mitch won’t get over this whole job kick he’s on.” I complained. “I’m supposed to make up my mind by Sunday when he gets back. They actually mentioned me taking a job at the hospital. Could you imagine?” I scoffed.
“Why don’t you sell insurance like your dad?” Riley joked.
“Yeah. That’ll be the day.” I rolled my eyes. “Do you think he has a bunch of affairs when he travels? He’s gone nearly every week.”
“You’re reaching, Zee. Your parents have the perfect marriage and you know it.”
I shrugged again.
“You could get a job at the restaurant.” Riley offered. “They’re always hiring there.”
I laughed outright. “Yeah, okay. The only place worse than the hospital would be a restaurant. I don’t know how you do it. Customer service? No thanks.”
“What do you want to do then?”
“I don’t know.” I flicked my cigarette out the window. “Be a bum? Laze around?”
Riley laughed. “But how would you support all your habits?”
“Well, my dear, that’s what I have you for.” I batted my eyes at him charmingly.
Riley smirked and pulled into the student parking lot. I groaned automatically, eyeing the ominous red brick school building with much disdain.
“Two more months, right?”
“Two more months, yep.” He nodded. “Then we’re done forever.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I know.” He turned off the ignition. “Two months until sweet, sweet freedom.”
Sweet, sweet freedom. I thought of this mid-math class, smiling in anticipation of the thought. The teacher was droning on and on about quadrants or something or other, and I half-listened with my head curled into my arms, doodling randomly on the loose-leaf pages in my binder. Mr. Lemmon noticed my disregard for his teaching; I know he did, but he’d given up trying. I could always sense the disappointment that emanated from my teachers whenever their gaze came to rest upon me. I think for a moment they picture the freshman I had once been, chubby and fresh faced, dressed in the pretty clothes her mother bought, eager and willing, hand raised needle-straight in the air whenever a question was posed. Just another Marcy in the making. Now, their heads shake sadly at what might have been and their eyes roam past me, on towards someone who might actually live up to their potential. Not that this bothers me. It took years to convince them I wasn’t anything special and unworthy of the effort. Now we’d finally reached an understanding—they leave me alone for the most part and I try not to fail their exams. No more honour roll hopes here, only the bare minimum of effort.
I’m not sure what happened to me. There’s no defining moment in my life that separates the good girl I used to be from what I’ve become. It was like a gradual transformation, and one day I realized that I just didn’t care anymore. I started living to please myself instead of everybody else, and realized there’s more to life than school and studying and going to college to get a good job and make the most money possible. There’s fun, friends … life outside of how we’re told to live. Basically, I just started rebelling.
And I’ve loved every minute of it.
“Quit hogging that, jerk.” I slapped Riley playfully on the arm and stole the joint from his outstretched fingers. “Puff, puff, pass … ring a bell?” Riley laughed and coughed as the smoke poured from his mouth.
“I’ll ring your bell.” He promised. I giggled at his empty threat, feeling a heaviness settle into my eyes, a giddiness creep into my belly. I leaned back against the windshield of his car, inhaling deeply and staring into the cerulean blue summer sky. School was out for the weekend, and to celebrate as we always did Riley and I drove to the outskirts of town, parking in an old abandoned farmyard littered with crumbling barn-wood buildings, tucked well out of the way down a lone dirt road.
We lay on the hood of his car, basking in the warm sun, listening to Dr. Dre through the car speakers and getting as high as we could.
“So,” I exhaled the thick smoke, wincing to keep from coughing. “What’s up for tonight? What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” Riley took the joint from my fingers as I got to work rolling another. “Ben’s parents are gone for the weekend. We could head over there.”
I thought about that a moment and shrugged. “We do that every weekend. Its fun, don’t get me wrong, but I’m in the mood for something else.”
“What, you don’t want to get high and watch Half Baked again?”
“Please, I could recite that movie by heart.” I giggled. “What else could we do?”
“Not much to do, here.”
“Yeah.” I agreed. The town we lived in was the largest in the district, but still painfully rural. There were no theatres, no malls, and no pool halls. Until we turned eighteen, the most exciting activity to be had was the small bowling alley that offered Glow Bowling every Saturday night. It was fun for a while, but now mostly inhabited by fifteen and sixteen year olds trying weed for the first time.
“I wish we were eighteen.” I complained. There were an abundance of clubs, pubs and bars in our little city, but none of them could be enjoyed by either of us for months, a time we were eagerly anticipating.
“I know. Only three more months for me, but you’ve got all summer.” Riley puffed thoughtfully. “But, you know, a guy I work with is playing at the Aurora. He’s got an in with the bouncers, I bet if I called him we could get in.”
“Really? What do you mean playing? Like the jazz flute or what?”
Riley laughed. “No. Like his band is playing. Rock music. It’d be something different.”
“Really? I’ve never been to a club before.” I giggled excitedly. “Can we go? Do you want to?”
Riley smiled and whipped open his phone. He slid off the hood and dialled, pacing through the tall grass along the length of the car, talking and laughing and saying, “Dude” every other word. I rolled my eyes and laughed.
“Are we good?” I asked when finally he hung up.
“Golden. I just talked to my buddy.” He slid back onto the hood. “Do you want something, for tonight?”
This was where Riley’s wrong side of the trackiness came in handy. He had connections, and he could get any drug at anytime, whatever he wanted. I bit my lip and thought.
“I don’t know. What are you getting?”
“Uh … I was thinking of getting some mush maybe. Get my zoom on. Want?”
“No.” I sho
ok my head. “No thanks. Maybe … maybe I’ll try some E.”
“E? Are you sure? You’ve never had it before.”
“Yeah. I don’t know, it looks like fun. And you take it like … with every meal. It can’t be that bad.”
“It definitely doesn’t feel bad.” He admitted. “Alrighty then. Your wish is my command.” He flipped his phone open again and hopped back off the car. I didn’t mind his attention deficit too much as this left the remainder of the joint to me. I took my time smoking it, feeling my eyes redden and my tongue turn pasty. I watched Riley while he hung up his phone and dialled again, calling the rest of our friends to extend the invite. They were all in, it seemed, and I eavesdropped on the plans to meet them at the Aurora at nine o’clock.
“Get a table, have some drinks.” Riley explained to me, hanging up his phone one last time.
“Sounds good to me … dude.” I laughed, thoroughly, impossibly stoned by then. He laughed at me, which only caused me to laugh harder, and so on, until we were both giggling soundlessly and ridiculously. It was one of those moments where everything is right in the world. The grasshoppers sung lazily around us, hidden in the unkempt prairie grass that shimmered blue and green in the gentle breeze. We were young, high, happy, and laying beneath a perfect blue sky with the sun hot above. The air nearly hummed with anticipation, the realization that endless possibilities lay ahead of us, each of them offering nothing but freedom, excitement and abundant happiness. I grinned, lit a cigarette, and shut my eyes.
I would take all they had to offer.
CHAPTER 2
“Come on Mackenzie.” Riley grasped my hand tightly and led me through the jostling crowd crammed into the Aurora. I followed him, a little overwhelmed by the bombarding stimulation. Random neon beer signs hung on the fabric walls, which were nearly shaking in time with the explosive bass pumping from the speakers. A thick haze of smoke hung suspended in the air, circulated only by the movement of the people that had to push to get around one another. Cigarette butts littered the floor, which was in parts sticky, in other parts wet and slimy. High pedestal tables lined the central dance floor and the walls were bordered with ripped vinyl booths. Everywhere there were people, some disgustingly drunk, others just to the rowdy point, still others looking around timidly as they sipped their water … obvious designated drivers. Riley squeezed us through this crush until we finally made it to the booth table where our friends had already congregated.
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