Rocks and Stars

by Sam Ledel

  Joey and I exchange grins.

  T. stands up. “Well, whatever. You’re here now. Let’s get going.”

  I look from T. to Jax, whose dark, ripped jeans hang low on her hips as she hitches a black backpack over her shoulder. Wait a second.

  “Is that mine?” I crook my neck to get a better look.

  Jax smiles. “Sure is.”

  “Your things are all packed for the weekend,” T. explains, her arms crossed matter-of-factly. The two of them standing across from us suddenly feels very much like some sort of shootout in an old Western film. But instead of guns resting in their holsters, Jax and T. are armed with eyeliner and knowing grins.

  “Are we going somewhere?” asks Joey.

  T. laughs, then walks over to us with the purple backpack and Joey’s workout bag. She nudges Joey from behind so that they both move toward the doors. “Duh,” she says and I notice the wink she throws Jax. “It’s initiation night, fishes. Upperclassmen drew names to collect you guys one by one since practice ended. We’re in charge of y’all for the night. And you, dear Joey, are coming with me.”

  Joey shoots me a look that says something like, “Remind me why we joined this team again?” as she is herded away from me and out the door. Then fingers are moving down my arm, sending goose bumps racing over my skin. Jax is beside me. Those blue eyes roam over me like a lioness after a capture of her prey.

  Jax raises an eyebrow. “Looks like you’re all mine.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

  Over my shoulder, I watch Joey slip into the bathroom behind me. “Nice leggings,” I say, nodding at her tiger-striped legs reflected in the mirror before me.

  She grins and carefully clicks the door shut. “You don’t look so bad yourself. I’m digging the eye makeup.”

  I dry my hands on the sink towel and meet my own gaze in the mirror, squinting at the heavy winged eyeliner drawn in thick strokes around my brown eyes. My lips are an unfamiliar crimson red and I fight what has to be the ninth urge to blot more of it off.

  “Thanks. Jax did it. She said she was going for something like ‘Sexy Punk Vampire.’” I shrug and pull at the Will Dance for Tips midriff top, which lands a good four inches above the waistline of my jeans. Joey, meanwhile, pulls on my sleeve.

  “This is Jax’s, too?” I nod, now moving on to my hair, which I try to flatten after T. and Jax had teased it for an hour. “Surprise, surprise.” Joey sighs, then she lowers the toilet seat and sits down.

  Deciding to give up on the ungodly amount of makeup I have on, I turn around to lean against the sink. “Are you trying to hide out from everybody, too?”

  “Me? Hide?” Joey puts her hands up, feigning innocence. “T. was just trying to get me to ‘warm up’ for the dance floor tonight. There was twerking involved.” She shudders. “I told her I ate bad sushi at lunch. I think Emily took pity on me and let me run to the bathroom. Plus,” she adds and pulls a small bottle of cherry-flavored vodka out from behind her, “I thought we might want to ‘warm up’ in another sense of the word. Just a little bit, before things get started.”

  I grin and she takes that as a go-ahead to open the bottle.

  While she pours a small shot for me in one of Emily’s glasses that she’d also brought with her, my eyes rove over her legs, and I wonder if a little liquid courage isn’t such a bad idea right now. Just twenty minutes ago, I was dealing with a minor panic attack as Jax did my makeup. Her eyes had been glued to my lips between each application of mascara. Despite our proximity, I couldn’t see past her gaze to figure out what she was really thinking. Perhaps with a little something in my system, I won’t panic every time she comes near. Maybe I can loosen up. Maybe Joey and I can even have some fun.

  “My lady.” Joey pulls me from my thoughts. She holds the glass in front of me and I take it. In turn, she holds the bottle up between us in a toast.

  “Here’s to a night we probably won’t remember,” I say, taking her cue and clinking my glass against the bottle.

  “And here’s to spending it with someone I hope to never forget.”

  The shot almost comes back up as I sputter. Fortunately, I clasp my hand over my mouth fast enough, my eyes watering as the liquid rises, and I force it to fall again down my throat.

  The bathroom door slams open. Jax stands in the doorway, a wild look on her face. She grabs my hand, making me almost drop the glass, and I’m being pulled out the bathroom and away from Joey.

  “Come on, girls,” she says over her shoulder. “It’s show time.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I don’t feel very well.” Callie wipes her mouth off on the leopard print poncho she’s wearing, then fans herself. “Is it hot in here to you guys?”

  I choke back my shot of rum and take a breath. Sweat coats my forehead.

  “It is a little warm,” Joey says. The three of us stand in a circle with Mary and Sarah; the five freshmen huddled together at the counter in Emily’s kitchen. Each of us is in the most outrageous outfits the upperclassmen could find. Callie, for instance, looks sort of grandmother-meets-sexy-leopard. Meanwhile, Mary sports a giant glittering star in the middle of her forehead and a slick jogging suit. Sarah is the replica of an ’80s cover girl.

  For the last hour, we’ve been in the kitchen taking shots. “Five newbies, five rounds,” T. had joyfully exclaimed before pouring rum into five shot glasses. Number four currently rolls around in my stomach as we set our glasses back down. T., Jax, and Haley pour us the final round. Emily comes up behind me, patting my shoulder.

  “You guys are doing great,” she says.

  Callie burps. “Do we get kicked off the team if we puke?”

  T. nods. “Absolutely.”

  “No,” Emily says, shooting T. a look. “Nobody gets kicked off the team for puking.”

  “Drink up, ladies.” Jax and Haley hand out the shots.

  “Oh, God,” mutters Mary.

  “We can do it,” Joey says, but even she seems wary of the liquor as we hold up the glasses in a quick cheer. “Last one.”

  We throw the shots back. Mary and I cough. The rest of the team, scattered around Emily’s apartment, cheers as we gasp and hold on to the counter, chairs, anything to keep ourselves upright. Callie grips her stomach, while Joey tries to look calm, but her smile is anxious.

  “Everybody ready?” Emily asks, and the team starts to file out of her apartment. I exchange glances with Joey. T. rinses the glasses while Haley grabs her keys. Jax saunters up to our group and throws her arms around me and Mary.

  “I think they’re ready.” She turns to me. “Right, Kyle?” She’s so close I can smell her perfume again. The scent mixes with the smell of lingering rum. All I manage to do is nod. “Let’s go then!”

  * * *

  Somehow, the fourteen of us pile into two cars and make it to the strip, the street everybody frequents on weekends located about a mile from campus. Bars and clubs line both sides of the small block. I’d driven down this street during the day and had to ask Emily if any of the places were actually open for business. She had laughed and taken me down it again after practice one night. The change was like a stadium come to life right before a game: the street was lit with neon signs, bands and DJs blared their music through open doorways, and the student body roamed like thirsty cattle. And now our soccer team, five of us in our outlandish regalia, take to the streets, and wander over to one of the bars.

  Emily motions for all of us to follow her. Mary grabs hold of Callie, who has looked pale since leaving the apartment. I walk behind Joey and feel a slight push against my back. Jax smiles when I glance over my shoulder.

  “How you feeling?”

  “All right,” I reply. “Though it doesn’t seem fair we’re the only ones drinking.”

  Jax laughs, nudging me past the doorman after flashing him a series of IDs. “Just you wait, cutie.”

  T. calls us over to a large table she’s made by pushing
three together. Haley and the other upperclassmen watch us with amused grins as we take our seats. I settle between Joey and Callie. Mary is on her other side, next to Emily. Sarah sits between her and Jax, who hands Emily a baseball cap.

  “Please tell me we get to leave here and go play slow pitch,” Sarah says, groaning and adjusting her pink skirt and leg warmers.

  “Not quite,” grins T.

  Emily clears her throat. “Ladies. Inside this cap are five tasks. One for each of you. You will have until two a.m. to complete your task.” She shakes the ball cap, and several slips of paper bounce around inside. “Once you have chosen your task, it is yours and yours alone. You may not switch with a teammate.”

  “Oh, God,” Callie moans.

  I look warily from Emily to Callie. Joey nudges my knee beneath the table. “We got this, short stack.” She leans toward me for a second, then sways back. I laugh and blink a few times to keep her in focus, the rum starting to buzz inside my head.

  “Feeling all right there?” I reach out to steady her.

  “Never better.”

  Jax grabs the cap from Emily. “Joey, you first.” She shoves it across the table. Her expression gives nothing away as Joey grabs a paper. When she opens it, she reads aloud: “Get five strangers’ phone numbers.” She flourishes the paper. “Easy breezy.” Jax leans back in her chair and hands the cap back to Emily.

  “We’ll see,” Emily muses, holding the hat out to Mary, then Sarah.

  “Kiss the bartender,” Mary reads, then blushes profusely.

  Sarah grimaces. “Take two body shots. One off a teammate, the other off a stranger.” I sit wide-eyed as they read off their tasks. T. and Haley giggle as Emily passes the cap to Callie. She unfolds a strip of paper and reads, “Dance on top of the bar two times.”

  More cheers from our table as Callie folds the paper and looks around the crowded bar. “Won’t I get kicked out for that?”

  “Nah,” T. says, leaning back in her chair. “Trust me. I was up there three times my freshman year.”

  “Kyle,” Emily says. I look across the table at her. “Good luck.” She smiles gently, and I feel a small rush as I reach into the hat and grab the last paper.

  I take a deep breath. Oh, God. “Don’t leave the dance floor for thirty minutes.”

  T. and Haley high-five each other. I stare at my paper, then look up at Emily. “Really?” I ask. “Emily, I hate the dance floor. I hate dancing.”

  Emily just shrugs and goes to give the cap back to Katie at the other end of the table.

  “At least you don’t have to dance on the bar,” says Callie.

  There’s a thud as five more shot glasses land loudly on the table, courtesy of Jax and T.

  “Drink up, fishes. And get to it.”

  * * *

  “How are you doing?” Emily shouts over the music thumping around us. We’re standing in one of the rooms off the main bar—a dimly lit black box with tall tables lining the walls and a dance floor in the middle. Multicolor lights strobe overhead, making the people on the dance floor look like they’re moving faster and slower at the same time. My stomach is holding up surprisingly well, but my head spins when I walk. So I’ve parked at a table on the edge of the dance floor, dreading the time I step onto it and can’t step off again for thirty minutes.

  “I’m good,” I holler back at Emily. “Not as good as Mary, though.” I nod to the back corner, where Mary has been lip-locked for the last twenty minutes with some guy I recognize from my geology class.

  Emily smiles. “See? Not all of our intentions from this night are bad!” The music changes. A fast, techno beat surges over the dance floor. A few people wander off, but the majority begin jumping erratically and throwing their arms up, somehow completely in sync with the music. “You almost ready?” Emily asks with a nod to the dance floor. “It’s one fifteen. Almost out of time.”

  “Thank you, Time Master. I had almost forgotten.”

  Emily laughs then stands and gives my hip a nudge. “Go on. You look hot. You never know what might happen out there.” Then she disappears into a crowd at the edge of the room. I watch the people on the dance floor. Even with all the liquor surging through me, I don’t know if I can loosen up enough to dance like them. Not after spending the night trying to decipher Jax’s smirks and flirtatious comments. It hasn’t helped that every time I’ve tried to speak to her tonight she just laughs and disappears into a crowd. And then there’s the fact that I’ve felt, I don’t know, strange each time I’ve caught Joey off in some corner of the bar, saying whatever she’s saying to get a phone number from someone. I know it’s just the task, but I couldn’t help feeling on edge each time I saw her talking to somebody.

  “Hey.”

  I jump and turn to find Joey. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She sits on the stool nearby. “It’s the leggings, isn’t it? I told T. they were too much.”

  “It’s okay.” I laugh. “I was just thinking about you, actually.”

  Joey’s eyes, which had been roving the dance floor, turn to me. “Is that so?”

  I bite my tongue. Damn rum. “Um, well, yeah. About you and Mary and all of this. Some night, huh?”

  She nods, then gestures to the dance floor. “You heading out there soon?”

  “Yes.” I wave a hand dramatically toward the crowd. “Eventually.”

  Joey stands back up when she sees T. coming our way. “Crap, I better get moving. T. won’t let me be until I’ve collected my last number.” I nod and she walks past me. Her voice is low when she pauses next to my ear. “Save one dance for me.”

  She squeezes my shoulder before heading into the crowd. Feeling slightly dazed imagining what dancing with Joey feels like—our bodies flush against one another—T. walks up to me, a beer in her hand. She shakes me from my thoughts when she says, “I swear, for someone so tall, she sure knows how to lay low.” Then she looks at me. “Better get moving, Kyle. No time to waste.”

  “I know, I just—”

  “Am being a pussy?”

  “That’s not quite how I would put it.”

  T. rolls her eyes and drags me with her. My Converse shoes skid along the tile until they slip on the ledge that leads up to the wooden dance floor. Speakers rage over our heads, and the lights make me dizzy. “Have fun!” T. shouts before vanishing behind a group of girls who I’ve seen dancing since midnight.

  I sway, shuffling my feet as the music changes again. This time it’s rap, and several people start dropping low, doing things with their hips I didn’t even know were possible. A group of guys scream the lyrics and several people pair up and begin to, for lack of a better description, grind on one another. I close my eyes and will time to move faster. Eventually, the music changes. A sensual pop ballad with a club beat mash-up throbs overhead.

  Suddenly, a pair of hands snakes around my waist. My eyes shoot open. For a moment, I think it might be Joey. But the hands are smaller and feel greedy as they tug me closer, making our hips bump. Whoever she is, she stands flush behind me and holds me firmly, putting me in rhythm with her body. Heat rushes to my center as one hand roves up my waist and holds my exposed midriff. I move my feet to keep up and find it hard to breathe. After a few seconds, I brave a look over my shoulder.

  “Having fun?” Jax grins. Her face is so close to my own, her eyes look like diamonds in their circle of black eyeliner. Her breath is bitter from beer, but her perfume is sweet. The lights whirl, and she spins me to face her. The dance floor is packed with bodies bumping into us on either side. Jax pulls me to her and my chest bumps hers as she sways her hips against mine. The music wraps around us and her fingers dance up my back, to the base of my neck, and into my hair. I feel like I’m in a dream. Her hips slow and her cheek presses against mine. I close my eyes, and she pulls me closer. My chin rests atop her shoulder as the music moves us. Her hand slides under the back of my shirt.

  “Wait.” I open my eyes and pull back.

  “What’s wrong?”


  I stare at her, not sure what I want to say. Then I glance over her shoulder. Joey is standing just off the dance floor. Our eyes lock, and it’s like a bucket of ice water soaks me head to toe. I step back.

  “What is it?” Jax asks. I look from her to Joey, who turns to walk back toward the bar. Trepidation freezes the words in my throat when I go to call after her.

  I move to chase after Joey, but Jax grabs me. “Not so fast.” She shakes her head, smiling. “Time’s not up yet.”

  “But…”

  She laughs, her blond hair glowing under the pulsating lights. I feel sick. All I want is to go after Joey; it should be her I’m dancing with. I want to find Emily. Tell her I’m done. Tell her to take me back to my dorm. But Jax has a firm grip on one of my arms, which she wraps around her waist. “Dance with me,” she purrs into my ear. My heart races and I’m sweating. I try to move again, but she keeps a tight hold on me. “Relax, Kyle.” She runs a hand over my temple, then traces her fingers between my breasts. “We’re having fun, aren’t we?”

  I swallow and look around the dance floor. I’m really not sure if I am anymore.

  Chapter Seventeen

  By some bizarre miracle, the events of initiation night become a quick and distant memory over the next few weeks. Nobody on the team speaks a word of what happened. Well, nobody except for Emily, who was thrilled at her unexpected matchmaking abilities.

  “Can you believe Mary and that guy from your class are dating now? Who would have guessed?” she says one night after a game during the first week of October. “I guess you never know what will happen between two people.”

  Even though I’m pretty sure their meeting had less to do with Emily and more to do with alcohol, I let her go through our soccer season feeling accomplished. And boy, was the season moving along at record speed. After that night, I could barely catch a moment for myself, things were so busy. At first, I had been worried, believing an awkward run-in with Joey was inevitable. But the next morning, when we’d all woken up at Emily’s apartment, she only exchanged bewildered looks with me about being strewn out on the floor with makeup smeared over both our faces and pounding headaches.