The Black Notebook

by Isabelle Snow

  Although Tracy was part of the glee club and way better than me in singing, I couldn’t say that I was all that bad. If I were, Tracy would’ve probably already thrown me out of her car.

  Tracy and I weren’t that close of friends, but we did have a similar liking of most of Mayday Parade’s songs. We shared laughs in between singing to their songs, the graceful blending of instruments filling the small vehicle all throughout the entire ride—up to the point when we were right in front of Alana’s house and couldn’t even hear ourselves think due to the loudness of the club song playing through her large speakers, which were propped on the ledges outside.

  We both stepped out of her car and I immediately craned my neck to look around. I spotted Colin’s pale blue pickup a few cars away and adrenaline flooded through me, just as it always did at the thought of seeing him.

  My wristwatch stated that it was only eight-thirty, and yet there were already several wasted people sprawled out on Alana’s lawn, singing drunkenly along to the song playing, although I couldn’t comprehend the lyrics they were shouting at the top of their voices.

  Alana was standing at the front door, and she welcomed us warmly with a bottle of beer in one hand. I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose at the sight of it. To say that I wasn’t much of a drinker was an understatement. I hated the thought of getting drunk. Sure, curiosity prodded me here and there at times, but I refused to try it.

  Tracy promised to meet up later by her car, and then we went our separate ways.

  Inside, some were getting their mad on in the open space they’d cleared out for dancing, while others simply lingered at the sides talking. I waved at the people I knew there, and before I knew it, someone approached me and took me away to an isolated corner.

  It was Samantha, a senior from my AP Philosophy, and I was so used to her frowns and longing sighs that I almost didn’t recognize her when she came to me, giddy and laughing. I was proud to say that I remembered her being the one who’d had a cheating boyfriend and who didn’t seem to want to move on.

  “Seven, I have fantabulous news,” she gushed, cheeks all pink and soft.

  “What, are you finally over your jerk of an ex-boyfriend?” I asked, smiling, and she nodded.

  “But not only that!” she quickly added. She leaned in and whispered, “I think I’m in love.”

  Oh, dear. I did my best to look happy for her and asked, “With whom?”

  “Well…you might think of this as ridiculous,” she started reluctantly, tucking a lost strand of blonde hair behind her ear, “but…do you remember Spaghetti Clown?”

  To refresh some of your memories, Spaghetti Clown was the guy in the black sweatshirt that ended up tripping and falling face-first into his plate of spaghetti after a failed attempt at retrieving what was truly his from the bag of Colin Stillman. In other words: me.

  I tried not to show my discomfort as I nodded for her to continue. “You see…the day Spaghetti Clown got his namesake, I bumped into him in the empty hallway. Everyone was already in the cafeteria and I was, you know, idiotically crying again…” She rolled her eyes, probably at her past self, the one who couldn’t forget the guy who forgot her. “And I was expecting him to shove me, shout at me for getting in his way, or something else that Phil”—her ex—“would’ve done, but he didn’t. Instead he only asked me if I was okay. Maybe you might think of this as a pathetic reason to like someone, but I don’t know…I just, I just needed it that day, you know?”

  I was already on the verge of blurting out the fact that the “guy” she was in love with didn’t really exist and that she was already talking to the real Spaghetti Clown, but she said, “I didn’t see him again after that, though, and I kept looking, as clichéd as that sounds, until finally I saw him doing library work one late afternoon.”

  My eyes widened. I was pretty sure I’d never done any library work in school. “Um, are you sure that was Spaghetti Clown?”

  Samantha looked at me oddly. “Of course. He had the same slightly upturned nose, fair skin, not that tall for a guy, and he was wearing the same black sweatshirt, jeans, and pair of sneakers. I don’t know about his eye color though, because the hood was covering most of his face.”

  Well. That couldn’t get any weirder.

  “So anyway, I had to return a couple of books and he was the one who took them back. We talked for a while, and I think that it was a pretty great start. I didn’t say a thing about us bumping into each other, but he did deny being Spaghetti Clown,” she said. She shrugged, a wistful smile tugging on her lips. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s not really Spaghetti Clown, but I suppose it doesn’t matter if he isn’t. Maybe the one I bumped into wasn’t even Spaghetti Clown, but in some way, Spaghetti Clown helped me meet someone who might be worth it this time.”

  I raised my eyebrows in amazement. “Wow,” I said. “Just…wow. So, are you guys, like, hitting it off?”

  “We’re just friends now,” she told me, “but I’m looking out for that silver lining, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said. “That’s great, Sam.” Not knowing what else to say, I pointed towards what I hoped was the direction of Alana’s kitchen and said, “Hey, I’ll go grab a drink. Just update me if there’s any development, okay?” I winked and she laughed.

  “Certainly,” she said.

  I found my way to the kitchen where a group of people had gathered closely near the sink. Someone was sitting on the counter, his head above the others, telling a story that caught everyone’s attention in its grasp, someone with red hair.

  Colin unleashed the punchline and everyone burst into fits of laughter. I took the opportunity to stare at him. He was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt, mustard pants (I had no idea how he could pull it off but he did), and black Nike sneakers. I noticed Maria making gooey eyes at him (okay, maybe she wasn’t, but that’s how it looked like from my perspective). He was in the middle of a high-five with one of the people surrounding him when he suddenly glanced up and looked straight at me.

  I immediately turned away, refusing to acknowledge his presence before he acknowledged mine. I focused instead on the cooler on the floor. I was disappointed to see mostly beer inside, but I was thankful when I found a can of Coke. As I cracked it open, letting the air hiss out, I heard a voice behind me say, “Well, well, look who actually came to the party.”

  I jumped and whirled around, surprised to find Colin smirking down at me. “You know, I was beginning to think you would find another book to read and wouldn’t come.”

  What had happened to his group of friends? I looked around me and saw that they’d scattered to different parts of the room, except for Maria, who was still standing by the sink and was watching us with narrowed eyes.

  I looked back at Colin, trying not to smile smugly. “Actually, I was in the middle of reading,” I told him, taking a sip from my Coke, “but my mom insisted on me coming to the party.”

  “You’re lucky,” he said, snorting. “I had to sneak out of the balcony again. I have to be back by midnight though. My parents usually check on me and my sisters around that time.”

  “I never thought you of all people would have curfew,” I commented.

  “Don’t you know? I’m Cinderella.” He raised the bottle of beer I didn’t realize he was holding to his lips and drank.

  I frowned. “I…I didn’t know you drink,” I said, unable to hold back my disappointment.

  “I don’t,” he said, contrary to what he was doing right then. “I just take few sips at parties when I feel like it. I never finish more than one bottle. I don’t want to get drunk.”

  At this, I grinned. “I hate that, too. I mean, I really don’t get the point of it.”

  “Some say it’s a form of escape,” he said, shrugging, “but I say that you can do that through other ways.”

  “Like reading,” I eagerly suggested and he smiled knowingly at me. “I think your reading is what normal people would call
obsessive.”

  “It’s not!” When he only laughed at me, I decided to change the subject—but only slightly. “So, what’s your reason for not wanting to get drunk? I mean, you wouldn’t normally hear that from an eighteen-year-old boy who loves to go to parties.”

  “My dad used to be a drunk and it made my mom really sad,” he told me, surprisingly honest, “and also, an ex-girlfriend of mine loved getting drunk at parties, and let’s just say that she wasn’t the most tolerable person in the room and there was a considerable shortage of patience on my part.”

  “So, what happened?” I asked, too curious for my own good.

  He took another sip. “She became my ex.”

  “What, just like that?” I asked incredulously.

  “It wasn’t exactly a love match.”

  “Still,” I said quietly, gulping down my Coke. It saddened me a bit that Colin wasn’t serious, even in his relationships, but what did I expect? It seemed like even dating was too serious a thing for him.

  Before I heard her voice, I saw the pink fingernails resting on Colin’s upper arm. My gaze flitted towards Maria, who had, without our knowing, migrated from her place at the sink to right beside us. “Hey, Colin,” she said and then turned to me, “Seven. We’re going to play Seven Minutes of Heaven upstairs. Do you guys want to join?”

  “Seven Minutes of Heaven?” I repeated, making a face. I couldn’t understand why people even played. Maybe it was the thrill of it, but even if I did play and I ended up with, say, Colin, I wouldn’t want my first kiss or first anything to be taken away by a mere game. Not exactly what I pegged as romantic. “I don’t think—”

  “Nonsense,” Colin immediately said, “You’re definitely coming. Maria, lead the way.”

  Maria obviously didn’t like to be the one leading the way; she wanted to be the one standing by Colin’s side. Not like she could complain though, and that gave me a small ounce of victory. With a frown, she spun around, and walked out of the kitchen and to the stairs.

  Maria went ahead, climbing the stairs two steps at a time. I dug in my heels, feeling the deliciously carbonated liquid sloshing inside my Coke can.

  Colin looked back at me and I said, “Colin, I said I didn’t want to go!”

  “Technically, you said ‘I don’t think’, which I personally think really isn’t healthy for your self-esteem,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I fixed him with the best glare I could muster. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Besides,” he cut in before I could finish, his lips curling into a grin, “it’s a party. Have some fun while you’re here.”

  “I wouldn’t really consider going into a room to do anything with someone I don’t even like or I’m not even friends with as ‘fun’.”

  He rolled his eyes and took my wrist. “Don’t be such a buzzkill. Come on.” Before I could do or say anything about it, he dragged me up the stairs and towards a room with the door left ajar. It was Alana’s room—this I could guess from the white and lavender duvet on the princess bed and the computer screen with tons of Post-it’s and photos of herself and her friends.

  Inside, there were already some eight or nine people, either sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor or standing by the windows, talking. Most of them I knew, which I was thankful for, but I wasn’t all too glad either. Once we stepped into the room, Colin turned back to close the door.

  “Alright, guys,” Alana declared, waving a half-empty bottle of beer in her hand, “gather around.”

  Everyone did as she asked and we all scooted closer until we formed a circle, our knees touching. In the middle was an empty bottle of beer. Unfortunately, I ended up sitting beside Maria, while Colin decided to join some of his friends across the circle from me.

  “You know the rules,” Alana said. “The chosen people will get to do whatever they want inside that closet for seven minutes.” She pointed at the walk-in closet to her left. “We’ll spin a bottle just to, you know, put a little spice in it. The person to the left of whoever it was last pointing at will be the next victim.” With a wicked smile, she added, “No exceptions.”

  I swallowed nervously.

  The game began with Alana, who spun the bottle while drinking her beer. It turned once, twice, thrice, four times…until it finally landed on Nolan, a boy I’d been with in all of my science-related classes and who proved to be good in the subjects.

  Seven minutes later, when they’d finally exited the closet with messed up hair, flushed cheeks and slightly disheveled clothes, he proved to be good at so many other things as well—or so Alana told Maria with a fitful of giggles when she sat back down.

  Colin, who was sitting at Nolan’s left side, took the bottle a little too excitedly and spun it. As it turned and turned and turned, the neck of the bottle deliriously close to stopping at anyone, I felt a little sick from anxiety. My stomach twisted into knots, hoping that it would land on me and also that it wouldn’t.

  I wanted to kiss him—there was no denying that—but I didn’t want to kiss him in a closet with ten people waiting for us to come out, knowing full well what we could possibly be doing inside.

  The bottle slowed on its way to me and my heart nearly exploded when it passed by, almost stopping—but ended up sliding farther and pointing at a girl beside me. I was a little glad it wasn’t Maria, but I still didn’t like the fact that it was Kiera, a curvy brunette wearing a provocative mini skirt and tank top.

  While I was transforming into the green-eyed monster and was very tempted to bite Kiera’s head off, Colin laughed and said, “Well, hello there, Kiera.”

  Kiera giggled at him and stood up, almost too eagerly, I noticed, and they both headed inside the closet, after Colin had opened the door for her and welcomed her in like a gentleman. Some of the people in the circle laughed, most of them his friends, while others stayed quiet, just watching curiously.

  And then there was me, who felt like her heart had been torn out of her chest and stomped on right before her eyes. I told myself that I wasn’t supposed to be shocked or hurt by it. I knew way before that Colin didn’t like me that way. Sure, maybe he was fond of me, but that didn’t really count as anything.

  I should’ve been prepared for something like this sooner or later. For someone as fantastically handsome as him, he was bound to have a girlfriend someday. This was just practice for me for the dreadful future.

  It was the longest seven minutes of my life.

  When Colin finally got out of the closet and sat back down, his friends punched his shoulder playfully and he grinned.

  Why was I even staying here and enduring this? I should just leave. I was about to get up when Maria leaned forward and took the bottle. She smiled sweetly as she handed it to me. “It’s your turn, Seven.”

  I looked down at it and then up at her. I was very much tempted to grab it and throw it at her big blonde head. And maybe throw it at Kiera too.

  But due to social etiquette, I obviously couldn’t do that, so I was only left with the option of sitting back down and spinning the bottle, ignoring Colin’s stare and the trembling of my pale fingers. I watched it spin with a blank expression, seeing the bottle, but at the same time seeing something else: Colin leaning into Kiera in a dark room, his strong but gentle hand weaving through her hair, his lips parting for the kiss.

  I could hear laughter and whistles, snapping me out of my reverie. I only saw then that the bottle had stopped spinning. I slowly raised my head, dread settling in the pit of my stomach as I wondered in that split second who I was going to share my first kiss with, only to find out in the next that it was Ray, who was grinning at me in a way that I couldn’t return at the moment—or maybe ever. He was good looking, which made it a little better, but it didn’t help that he was known to be quite a groper.

  My face paled as I stood up, my knees wobbling, and slowly made my way around the circle and to the cabinet door. Ray was just a foot away from me…when a hand suddenly enter
ed my peripheral vision and held Ray’s shoulder at an arm’s distance away from me.

  A familiar voice pierced through the pounding of my blood in my ears, saying, “Sorry, cupcake, we’re calling in for a substitution.”

  I tore my gaze from a stupefied Ray to Colin, who was standing right behind me, his chin almost touching my shoulder. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

  “Sit back down, Stillman!” someone from the circle said, laughing (I didn’t know or care to know who it was; I was too involved in staring at Colin in awe). “Rules are rules. She has to kiss him.”

  Colin turned to the person with a mischievous grin. “Hey, the rules didn’t say a replacement isn’t allowed. Technically, you just have to kiss someone in there.” He nodded towards the cabinet. “The bottle is just here to spice things up a little, as Alana said.”

  Nobody protested.

  Taking the silence as a yes, he took my hand and opened the doors to the cabinet. “Alright-y then,” he sang as he slipped in, tugging me along. Once I was in, he pushed the doors shut and darkness engulfed us both.

  At first, neither of us spoke. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden lack of light, I started to see the silhouettes of clothes hanging on racks and boxes of shoes piled on a top shelf. And then I made out the human form right in front of me that was Colin.

  “T-thanks,” I was able to blurt out. “I have no idea how I could’ve backed out of that one if you hadn’t come into the picture.” I squinted. I could see his face, but it wasn’t that clear. I wondered if he could see me.

  Colin chuckled and said, “No problem.”

  “I can’t believe they actually bought what you said about replacements.”

  “Half of the people in the room were too drunk to argue. The other half probably didn’t really care.”