Ask Again Later

by Liz Czukas

  So, I gently tucked it back into my purse, feeling terribly sorry for myself and trying not to cry. And when a bottle of cake-flavored vodka made the rounds through the back of the car, I gave in and took a drink. It smelled kind of delicious anyway, and I figured I deserved a little something after everything I’d been through that night. Just enough to get me to the party, and then I’d sneak away from all these people with my stupid, useless phone and escape from this miserable night.

  The vodka was easier to drink than I’d expected. It actually wasn’t even half bad. It might have even been delicious for real if it were cold. It was better than anything else they’d offered up for the night, that was for sure, so when it came around for a second time, I let a larger swig trickle down my throat.

  Randi grinned at me. “So yummy, right?”

  I smothered a cough before answering. “Not bad.”

  “It’s really good in chocolate milk,” she said.

  In a weird way, I could almost picture that, but the thought of milk mixing in my stomach with all that harsh alcohol also made me a little pukey. It didn’t take long to get past it, though, when the drink started to kick in. Everyone in the limo suddenly seemed a little farther away, and my nerves seemed to drift off to slumber land inside my body. Was this why they drank? To detach from the real world a little bit? Were their in-crowd lives so painful they had to live them with a blur to take the edge off?

  Heavy thoughts. Heavier than I wanted at the moment.

  Also, apparently heavier than my head could support. Letting it drop back onto the seat like Troy was doing, I let my mind wander over the events of the evening. Suddenly, my dress ripping didn’t seem quite so traumatic. More . . . hilarious. And getting a bath in the water from the centerpiece seemed like a funny story I’d probably tell for the rest of my life. Yeah, none of that was so bad at all.

  Dancing with my friends had been fun. Especially when Schroeder took me out on the floor for some tricks and spins. That had been really, really fun. And he looked so handsome in his tux.

  Handsome. That was a weird word. I formed the letters with my mouth, not sure if anyone would hear me over the music pumping from the speakers. Olivia was trying to dance to the beat, but her prom queen crown kept drooping. I smiled, watching her swoop it back into place over and over again. I wanted to tell her to just take it off, but then again, I’d never had a crown, so maybe she didn’t want to take it off. Maybe it felt awesome.

  “Can I try on your crown?” I asked, but she didn’t hear me.

  It seemed like too much effort to try again, especially when I could just sit back and let the light show running along the ceiling of the limo play across my retinas. There should be more light shows in life, I decided. Like, at the dentist. I would stare at the ceiling all day if only my dentist had a laser light show.

  The limo also had a miniature disco ball, I noticed. And suddenly, I needed to see it in action.

  “Let’s turn on the disco ball,” I said, pointing to it.

  “What?” Doug asked.

  “Disco ball. We should turn it on.”

  He looked at me with sudden appreciation. “We should turn it on.” He twisted around and knocked on the smoked-glass divider between us and the driver, demanding the disco ball start spinning. I couldn’t tell if the driver ever lowered the glass, but suddenly the little mirrored ball came to life, spraying the interior with reflected light.

  “Woo!” Olivia and Randi squealed, and started dancing more. Randi’s smaller princess crown slipped off her head almost immediately, and right into Doug’s lap. I grabbed it and planted it on my own head. It pushed one of my pin curls into my eye, but I didn’t care.

  “How do I look?” I asked everyone and no one.

  “Yo, Phil! I think your sister’s drunk!” Doug shouted.

  Phil looked at me in surprise. “Seriously?”

  “I’m not drunk.” Wiping my suddenly itchy nose with gusto, I looked around the limo. “Where’d that cake stuff go?”

  “I think you are drunk,” Phil said, grinning.

  “I don’t think that’s your think to think,” I told him, eyebrows lifting. I attempted to tilt my head back and look haughty.

  He laughed, teasing. “Somebody needs to cut you off.”

  “You’re not the boss of me.”

  “Leave her alone.” Randi butted into the conversation. “She’s having fun.”

  “Yeah. I’m having fun,” I echoed.

  “It’s about damn time. But I’m still not taking responsibility if you puke,” Phil warned me.

  “She’s not going to puke.”

  “I’m not going to puke,” I repeated. Man, Randi had never made so much sense before.

  “Whatever.” Phil rolled his eyes, so I stuck my tongue out. It was really only the start of what he deserved after saddling me with his drunk, tongue-happy buddy for the night.

  Leaning back into the seat, I let my eyelids hover just above shut and went back to contemplating life, the universe, and everything. But mostly the prom. I thought back to Cassidy’s question about how I’d pictured my prom night. When she’d set up the imaginary last dance, and how I’d tried to look up at my date’s face. At least now I knew it wasn’t Troy. I shuddered, which struck me funny for some reason, and I smiled to myself. Now that I thought about it, I realized I hadn’t danced with anyone at the end of the prom. Well, okay, I’d been dancing in a big group, but there was no final-scene-in-the-romantic-movie moment. My nine-year-old self would be so disappointed.

  I giggled. Out loud, I think. The only person I’d even come close to that kind of moment with was Schroeder.

  Huh.

  I guess it sort of made sense. He was such a good dancer, after all. We’d been partnered in last year’s musical, and I remember thinking that he’d actually make fairly decent crush material. But I can hardly be held responsible for such irrational thoughts. How is a girl supposed to resist someone who can twirl her around like Fred Astaire? She can’t, that’s how.

  It wasn’t just the dancing, though. I knew that. That would be a new low in crush factor for me. Although my endless lust for Captain Jack Sparrow wasn’t based on a whole lot more. Not to mention Captain Jack was a raging alcoholic.

  Ah, pirates . . . can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.

  I shook my head, trying to rattle my thoughts into some kind of alignment, but it wasn’t working. They were spinning as fast as the reflections from the disco ball.

  I hiccuped, and discovered that cake vodka doesn’t taste quite as good on the way up. I’d have to warn my friends about that once I found them at that party.

  If I found them.

  They had to come.

  They were coming. I knew they were. Although Schroeder hadn’t looked too happy about the whole thing.

  Schroeder, Schroeder, Schroeder. Chase. I struggled to think of him by his real name. It wasn’t a bad name. Kind of nice actually. Maybe even a little sexy? I’d called him Schroeder for so long, though, it was hard not to. Schroeder was not a nice name. It definitely wasn’t sexy.

  Of course, based on the look he’d given me as I was leaving, I didn’t have to worry about what his name was. He’d looked mad. Which was so weird.

  Suddenly, Troy sat bolt upright, eyes going wider than I’d seen them all night.

  “Aw, shit!” Austin seemed to know what the move meant, and turned to pound on the glass divider behind the driver. “Pull over!” he shouted. “Pull over!”

  “Ew! Ew! Ew!” Randi shrieked, scrambling away from Troy and practically onto Doug’s lap.

  “What?” I demanded, confused.

  “He’s gonna hurl!” Randi squealed.

  Adrenaline brought me completely out of my stupor in an instant. I looked around for anything that could serve as a barf bucket while Austin continued to pound on the divider. Finally the limo slowed and pulled toward the curb. Just in time, too. Phil threw open the door at the last second, and Troy got one foo
t out onto the street before he puked.

  It was an epic spew. One for the history books. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to cover my ears, but it was almost impossible to move with Randi half on top of me. The other girls shoved their way toward my end of the limo, too, making it hard to breathe.

  “You okay, man?” I heard Phil ask, though I couldn’t see anything but sparkles, hair, and skirts.

  There were a few more heaving sounds that made my stomach lurch, and then Troy’s voice said, “Yeah. I’m good.”

  “That was fuckin’ nasty, bro,” Phil said.

  On top of me, the girls relaxed a little bit, and I caught some fresh air as their weight moved away.

  “Does anyone have any water?” Randi asked. “If I’m going to sit next to him again, he’s going to need to rinse his mouth. I can’t sit next to vomit breath.”

  “Eww!” Olivia said.

  “There’s a water up here if you’ll fucking move!” Doug snapped, pushing at Randi. She did a tongue click and gave him a nasty expression as she slid away, leaving Doug free to reach over and grab a small water bottle from the limo’s own supply.

  Austin pounded on the divider again and shouted, “Can you pull forward a little?”

  The limo lurched five feet ahead, leaving Troy’s puke puddle behind us, and Doug thrust the water bottle at Troy, who was now sitting on the floor of the limo with his feet hanging out.

  “Rinse your mouth out and make sure you didn’t get any on your shoes,” Randi said sharply. I could picture her being the kind of mom who snaps at her kids in a restaurant if they spill a drop.

  Troy got out to stand in the gutter, his legs wobbling. “I think I got some on my pants,” he said.

  Dear God, whatever I did to offend you, I’m deeply sorry. Please accept my apology and deliver me from this prom-themed purgatory.

  Olivia sneered at the door. “He is not coming back in here if there is puke on his pants.”

  “Calm down, Liv,” Phil said. “It’s not like you’ve never barfed on your pants before.”

  “I have not!” Olivia barked. “And he is not coming in here like that.”

  “What’s he supposed to do, babe?” Austin asked.

  “He can walk for all I care.”

  My heart hurt, listening to them snipe at each other. I wanted to help Troy, but at the same time, I really didn’t want to risk another fish-tongue episode.

  “Hey, Troy!” Doug called. “Liv wants you to take your pants off!”

  “Wha—?” Troy bent slightly to look through the door at us. His eyes were almost crossing, he was so out of it.

  “Take. Your. Pants. Off,” Doug repeated.

  Troy shrugged, and the next thing I knew, he was undoing the fasteners on his tux pants.

  “Oh my God!” I gasped. I wanted to cover my eyes, I really did.

  Doug and Phil were cackling like morons, and Olivia was shrilling at Troy not to move another muscle. The noise must have been too much for Troy to comprehend, though, because his pants hit the ground. Turns out, his boxer shorts were white with tigers on them. You know, to match my corsage.

  “Go Tigers!” Phil cheered.

  Checking first to see if anyone was looking, I slipped my corsage off my wrist and set it on the window ledge. That was enough of that.

  “Oh my freaking God, would you pull your pants up?” Randi yelled.

  He did. And then he did the last thing I would have ever predicted. He bellowed, “AMY!” at the top of his lungs and took off running.

  We all watched in stunned confusion as Troy, pants still held up by both hands and undone at the fly, ran across four lanes of traffic toward the bank on the other side of the street. Brakes squealed, horns honked, and one car swerved so hard it ended up on the curb.

  “What the fuck . . . ?” Doug said what we were all thinking.

  Phil, being closest to the door, got out for a better look, while Doug popped up through the sunroof. Tara cupped her hands against the privacy glass, peering out into the dark night.

  “Oh shit, that is Amy,” she muttered.

  I got free of my seat and crawled over to kneel beside Tara and look for myself.

  Sure enough, Amy and her mystery date were in the parking lot of the bank. It looked like one of them had just come from the ATM at the front of the building. Troy was standing between them, fumbling to close the clasp on his pants.

  Phil swung back into the limo with a grin and looked straight at Doug. “Tell the driver to head over there.”

  Doug did, and the driver complied, waiting for a break in traffic to make his way across the boulevard to the parking lot where Amy was now in between Troy and her mystery date, with her arms outstretched like she was trying to keep them apart.

  Phil rubbed his hands together, laughing gleefully. “Ooh-hoo-hoo! Looks like a fight to me!”

  “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Doug chanted with a fist punching the air.

  “You guys better get in there and break it up,” Tara warned them. “Troy looks like he wants to kill that guy.”

  The shouting match was already in progress by the time Phil opened the door.

  “—are you, anyway?”

  “Why don’t you just back the fuck off, buddy?”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Go!” Tara waved the guys toward the door. Austin and Doug didn’t need any coaxing to obey. I hadn’t seen them this excited all night.

  “You need your little friends to back you up, tough guy?”

  “Rob, stop!” That was Amy, which led me to believe the mystery date’s name was Rob.

  “I don’t need anybody!” And that was when Troy bum-rushed Rob, fist flying through the air.

  I winced, but there was no sound of impact. I opened my eyes cautiously to find Troy on his knees behind the empty space where Rob had been standing. Doug had Rob in a bear hug from behind, while Phil was trying to get Troy to his feet.

  I could barely keep track of who was shouting and who the aggressor was at any given time, but suddenly, they were all in a scuffle, with Amy screaming at them to stop. Tara got out, her dress shimmering like a diamond in the overhead light of the parking lot. She grabbed Phil by the elbow and hauled him back with such unexpected force that he fell on his butt.

  “Stop it! All of you!” Tara commanded. She wasn’t shouting, but somehow her voice carried through all the noise, and everyone went still. “What is wrong with you people?” she said, glaring at each of them in turn.

  “Tell them, Amy! Tell ’em you don’t want to see him anymore!” Rob shouted. From my position against the window, I could see that his nose was bleeding.

  “Amy, no!” Troy moaned.

  “Oh, now you’re upset?” Amy snapped. “You expect me to believe you want me back? I saw you kissing that girl at prom—”

  “No, Amy. I’m sorry! No!” Troy was on the verge of tears.

  So I made a stupid decision. I scrambled out of the limo and rushed to the edge of the gathered crowd. “We’re not together!” I said to Amy, pointing between Troy and me. “It was just a mistake—”

  But she didn’t let me finish talking. She ran at me, outstretched hands slamming into my shoulders so hard I was on my ass before I had even processed her first move. My teeth rattled together, and I fell back on my elbows.

  It took me a second to realize Amy was screaming at me. “. . . take my boyfriend from me? I’ll mess you up!”

  Somebody caught her around the waist, hauling her back before she could get her hands on me again, and then Randi was behind me, helping me sit up.

  “Are you okay?” she gasped.

  “I don’t—” I couldn’t even think of words to speak. I had never been so shocked in my life.

  “Everybody just needs to calm down!” Tara said in her crowd-control voice again.

  I blinked, turning to look at Randi like she might be able to explain how exactly I had landed on my ass in the middle of a parking lot.

  She tugged on my elbow. “Come
on, get up.”

  “What happened?” I asked, dazed.

  “Amy’s a psycho bitch, that’s what happened,” Randi said, loud enough to get Amy fighting against Doug’s tight hold on her again.

  “You’re the bitch, Randi,” she snarled.

  I looked up at the sky briefly, unable to find any stars through the glare of the lights.

  Really, God? Really? Not even a little deliverance?

  “Heart, are you all right?” Troy slurred.

  “Heart? Are you fucking kidding me?” Amy laughed.

  That narrowed my focus at last, and I looked straight at her. “I didn’t even want to be here,” I said.

  “What?” she hissed.

  “Never mind. You guys deserve each other.” I turned and made my way to the limo, trying not to give her the satisfaction of watching me limp, even though my tailbone rang with pain at each step.

  Crawling carefully back into the car, I winced as I sat on the seat. Olivia was the only person still in the car. She was scanning her cell phone, with her legs crossed and one foot bouncing idly.

  I sucked air through my teeth as I scooted down the long bench toward the spot where I’d been sitting before. Olivia looked over the top of her phone at me.

  “Are they done yet?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” I winced.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I got knocked down.”

  She shook her head in disgust. “That’s why I don’t get involved. It’s not worth it.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you could have told me that before I went out there.”

  Olivia looked at me again, one perfect eyebrow lifting slightly. “You in pain?” she asked.

  “Yeah, kind of.”

  She lowered her phone enough to reach over and grab the bottle of cake-flavored vodka again. “Have some more. It’ll help.”

  So I did.

  21 Wherein condiments become condom-ents, and I kiss Ryan

  TAILS

  The drive-through line for Taco Bell was at least ten cars deep. Pat, once again behind the wheel of the day-care-slash-serial-killer van, made a sharp right and veered into a parking space at the last minute, tossing me into Ryan. “My need for tacos is too great to wait in this line!” Pat held one finger aloft. “We’re going in!”