Ballads of Suburbia

by Stephanie Kuehnert

  I chased Naomi until I was out of breath. We went down the slides until my legs were sore from climbing the undersize ladder that led to them. We seesawed until my butt hurt and took turns jumping off the swing until my knees ached. Then I rested on a bench and watched Christian lazily push Naomi on a swing, both of them all smiles.

  I saw exactly how different Christian was from Adrian. I couldn’t imagine Adrian as a kid; I just saw him miniaturized in a child-size leather jacket, dwarfed by long brown hair, sitting on the other side of Scoville puffing away on a cigarette, a rotten apple at eight. But Christian transformed in my mind, despite the scruffy Manic Panic “Vampire Red” hair. I could picture him as a kindergartner, the same age as Naomi, with naturally blond hair like hers, but worn in a bowl cut that hung in his hazel eyes. I wanted to return to childhood with him, that carefree time when the world felt safe and simple. Forget making out, smoking, and doing drugs, we could play tag and tease each other about cooties and-Naomi’s squeaky, high-pitched voice broke into my fantasy. “Why doesn’t Daddy ever take me to the park? Mommy says that Daddy loves his girlfriends more than us.”

  She was resting her face against the chain of her swing, trusting Christian to push her slowly and evenly. Christian coughed a smoker’s cough and cleared his throat, eyes pointed at the statue where he and my brother usually ground concerns like this into the concrete with their skateboards.

  “I’ll tell Daddy to bring you here tomorrow,” he said sweetly, without answering her question. He stopped the swing, ending our refreshingly innocent afternoon. “Naomi, you look cold and it’s getting dark. Let’s go.”

  Naomi slumped off the swing with a trembling lip. “I don’t wanna!”

  Christian suggested, “We can play Candy Land…”

  Her mood swung like a pendulum. She was clapping and smiling again, asking, “Kara, do you want to? Kara, will you stay?”

  “Sure.” I let her tug me in the direction of her house.

  If the park had tired her out at all, she didn’t show it. She soldiered on, making it through several games of Candy Land (during which she cheated unabashedly), two slices of pizza, and halfway through a movie-she chose Cinderella after learning it had been my childhood favorite.

  When Christian carried her upstairs at nine, he told me I could stop the tape, but I remained engrossed, watching Cinderella’s fairy godmother magically prepare her for the ball. I reveled in my little-kid moment until Christian returned.

  “I love Naomi to death,” he said, “but I really need a cigarette. Wanna step outside?”

  As much as I didn’t want to be that girl again, I did crave a smoke. And I couldn’t go back to being five or even twelve when I still believed in happily ever after. If I watched the end of Cinderella, my newfound cynicism would spoil my happy childhood memories. Maybe it had happened too fast or for all the wrong reasons, but I’d grown up. So I followed Christian to his backyard.

  I hadn’t brought a jacket and shivered slightly when we stepped into the cool October air. Christian’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. “Cold?” he asked.

  “No, just…adjusting.” His scent enveloped me: smoke, sweat, and something sweet I couldn’t quite place that made it different than Adrian’s. As much as I hated it, I kept comparing everything about him to Adrian. Being close to Christian made my stomach somersault like it had with Adrian, but the ways Christian touched and looked at me were different, softer.

  We sat on the swing set in the center of the backyard. Christian leaned over and lit my cigarette for me. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, glanced at how close his butt was to the ground, and shook his head.

  “You’ve outgrown it,” I commented.

  “Nah, I’ve always been too big. This is Naomi’s. My dad buys her stuff to make up for not spending time with her.” Christian’s smile disappeared when he mentioned his dad. He clenched his jaw and pressed his lips into a straight line, staring off into the distance like he had at the park.

  In an effort to cheer him up, I taunted, “Did Naomi tire you out too much for one last competition? I let her win before, but I can definitely jump farther from a swing than anyone.”

  Christian brightened immediately. “You’re on.”

  We dropped our barely smoked cigarettes and pushed off, kicking up dirt. I stared at the moon intently, pumping hard. I swung to the point where I could go no higher, the chains squeaking, my swing threatening to flip over the bar. Glancing at Christian, I grinned and let go. Skidding across the grass, I nearly crashed into the picnic table.

  But I stood up straight and turned to face Christian. “I win.”

  “Oh yeah?” Christian leapt off his swing. He knocked into me when he landed, wrapping his arms around me so I wouldn’t fall. “I demand a rematch.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “On the grounds that I always win,” Christian declared with a cocky smile.

  I smiled back at him, but pulled out of his embrace. “You’re pretty arrogant, you know that?”

  Christian held on to my hand, still smirking. “But it amuses you, right?”

  I shrugged, wandering toward his house.

  He released my hand, but only let me get steps away before calling, “Hey, Kara, will you go out with me?”

  My shoulders slumped. Mild flirtation I could handle, I was even finding it fun, but I still couldn’t do this dating thing. “No,” I said quietly, all the playfulness drained from my voice. “I just can’t.”

  I headed toward the front gate, prepared to leave, but he grabbed my hand once more. “On what grounds?” he mimicked.

  I shook my head.

  “Listen, I told you the other night, Adrian is stupid for—”

  “Adrian isn’t and wasn’t anything to me.” I yanked my hand away and glared into Christian’s eyes. “You don’t really know me. We’ve had, what, like five conversations and you think you like me so much that you want to go out with me?”

  Christian’s confident grin faded completely. “We’ve had more than five conversations, Kara. I know you better than you think. I know who your favorite bands are…” I rolled my eyes. “No, listen,” Christian continued, “I know you’re too smart to be hanging out with all of us losers at Scoville Park. You’re a genius according to Maya and you’re writing a brilliant screenplay—”

  “So you picked up a few things from my best friend. It doesn’t count!” I snapped. The mention of the screenplay, which I’d given up when I left Adrian, since the notebooks and original idea were his, only served as a stinging reminder of why I shouldn’t get involved with another guy. When we’d inevitably break up, I’d stand to lose more than just him.

  “Kara, wait,” Christian begged. “Please. I just want a chance to know you and make you happy—” The back gate slammed. We’d been so involved in our conversation that we hadn’t heard the garage door.

  “Hello?” a deep male voice called.

  Christian’s father strode over to us. He was well dressed, handsome in that rich-architect way-tan, buff, and clean-cut like a Ken doll. He extended his hand, introducing himself to me and chiding Christian for not doing so. His friendliness was slightly creepy, though. I could smell the whiskey on him and sensed that if I were five years older, he’d probably be checking out my boobs.

  “You should go out now, have a good time,” he suggested to Christian, patting him on the back. “I already had my fun.” He smiled at me, all pearly white teeth. “A couple rounds of golf and beer does an old guy like me in. You’ll need to be with Naomi tomorrow afternoon, though, Christian. I have to have lunch with Denise. She hates it when she doesn’t get to see me all weekend.”

  Christian growled, “Forget Denise, your daughter hates it when she doesn’t get to see you all weekend. You know, one of her two weekends a month.”

  “Naomi and I will watch cartoons in the morning, let you sleep in.”

  “She wants to go to the park with you. She misses you.”

/>   Christian’s dad waved him off, fumbling for the back door. “Just go out and have a good time, Chris. Don’t worry about it. Jesus.”

  Christian stormed off so fast that I had to jog to keep up with his long, sharp strides. Our moment from before his father showed up was forgotten.

  “That’s my asshole dad,” he told me after we’d gone a block in silence. He lit a cigarette and exhaled hard.

  “My dad’s an asshole, too,” I sympathized.

  That’s all that we said to each other until we got to Scoville, which, at night and without Naomi, had lost all its luster and magic. It was just the place we went because there was nowhere else. We passed the playground without even looking at it. Beneath the yellow lamplight, I saw Mary and Jessica sitting on the steps of the soldier statue. Christian stalked past them without a word. He did stop at the top of the hill when he noticed Liam and Maya sitting together in the grass. It didn’t seem like a romantic thing, but their knees were touching and they whipped around simultaneously.

  Seeing it was us, Maya visibly eased. “Oh, hey,” she said. “It’s one of the last nice nights, huh? We didn’t feel like being at home.”

  “We didn’t either,” Christian echoed, nodding hello at my brother as I shot Maya a quizzical look that she ignored.

  “I was telling Liam that in Florida, at the beach, I could see the stars.” Maya squinted like there might be something to see in the purplish black sky, but the streetlights kept it too bright.

  “I was telling Maya that we should run away there.” Liam snuck a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, appearing pleased that she did the same.

  “Hey, it’s warm there,” Christian agreed.

  Maya added, “I’d rather live on the beach than at a hotel.” She’d been in Oak Park for nine months and work still wasn’t finished on the house her dad had bought. I guess he wanted it perfect as possible to make up for her mom’s absence.

  Christian and I were lowering ourselves to the grass when Mary and Jessica strode down the path nearby. Mary loudly remarked, “Christian just wants Kara because she slept with Adrian. He likes her for the same reason he went out with Maya and Cass. She’s a slut.”

  Jessica’s shrill giggle filled the air.

  Before Maya or I could respond, Christian darted through a flower bed. He grabbed Mary by the front of her shirt, his other fist raised. “Don’t think I won’t hit you because you’re a girl,” he growled maliciously.

  “Christian…” Jessica pleaded. Her haughty smirk vanished, green eyes widening.

  Christian ignored her. “Apologize to them right now!” he demanded of Mary.

  Mary’s lip was quivering, which made her underbite look more pronounced than usual. She whispered, “I’m sorry,” staring down at Christian’s hand, so close to her throat.

  He dropped his fist but didn’t release her. “No. Look them in the eye and say, ‘I’m sorry, Kara, you aren’t a slut.’ ‘I’m sorry, Maya, you aren’t a slut.’”

  Mary did as told and Christian let her go, muttering, “Don’t lie about people I care about.”

  Watching Jessica and Mary jet down the path, Maya whistled, “Nice. She was cruisin’ for a bruisin.” She laughed at her own cliché like always and her laughter made the situation funny, not scary.

  There’d been a split second-somewhere between Mary’s first apology and when Christian lowered his fist-that I thought this has gone too far, worrying that Christian might really lose his temper. But all he did was ask for an apology, and in the end, it didn’t seem much different than the first day I met Maya when she defended me against Maggie Young’s bitchy remark.

  Liam and Maya high-fived Christian and so did I. I wasn’t used to people standing up for me and I liked knowing that both Christian and Maya had my back.

  3

  CHRISTIAN ASKED ME OUT A TOTAL of six times in two weeks. “Why do you keep turning him down?” Maya asked as we sat on my bedroom floor sharing my full-length mirror to prepare for Shelly’s Halloween party. I was going as Cinderella with a punk-rock twist and Cass and Maya were to be my decidedly non-Disney wicked stepsisters.

  “I have a better question. What’s going on with you and my brother? I’m not choosing sides when you two break up,” I admonished sternly, reaching for the can of Aqua Net. Cinderella with a punk-rock twist meant that we’d spiked my black and blue hair.

  Maya rolled her eyes. They were smeared with red lipliner, because in the un-Disneyfied Cinderella story the stepsisters’ eyes are pecked out by pigeons. “We’re not going to break up because we aren’t really dating. We both think love is for suckers. We get along really well, so we’re friends. And I know you’d rather not know this”—Maya playfully leaned out of slapping distance—but Liam’s a good kisser, so we make out on occasion. We’re mutually exploring the sexual tension in the platonic male-female relationship. It’s a social experiment. No one’s going to get hurt.”

  I cringed and not just because of the word “sexual” being applied to my little brother who’d only recently turned fifteen. “Wasn’t I already a victim of that social experiment? Why not trust my results?”

  “Oh, Kara.” Maya met my gaze in the mirror, her fake-bloodied eyes brimming with sympathy. “That’s why you keep turning Christian down, isn’t it? Trust me, he’s the complete opposite of Adrian.”

  “It has nothing to do with Adrian,” I huffed, turning my attention back to my hair.

  Maya sighed, but let it go. She grabbed the phone from my bed to page Cass again. We’d been waiting over an hour for her. The full impact of our costumes would be lost if we arrived at Shelly’s minus one wicked stepsister.

  Finally, Cass returned a page. Maya answered, but I knew Cass wasn’t coming once I heard Maya remind her to pour fake blood in her shoes because she was supposed to be the stepsister that cut her heels off to bag Prince Charming.

  Maya hung up as I put on the combat boots she’d lent me. They were already covered in doodles she’d painted in Wite-Out, so she’d added GLASS on one steel-toe and SLIPPERS on the other. Maya smiled at her own handiwork, but then she pouted and said, “Cass isn’t coming. And she’s tripping again.”

  “So,” I said with a shrug. Initially, I’d been alarmed by how much acid Cass dropped, but since no one else seemed concerned, I deluded myself into thinking it was no worse than smoking pot. Besides, hallucinogens and pills were gaining favor among our friends. Shelly’s parties had come to center more around drugs than kegs.

  “But now she can’t partake in the Halloween treat I got for the three of us.” Maya extended her hand, revealing three tiny blue pills. You could have mistaken them for something innocent like Advil if you didn’t notice the Buddha stamped on them.

  “Is that ecstasy?” I asked in an awestruck whisper. I’d never done it before, but Maya had a couple of times in Florida and swore it was the happiest drug on the planet.

  “Yeah, and who’s gonna take the third pill now? We don’t have enough for both Christian and Liam, and I bet Harlan sold the rest of his supply.”

  “Liam won’t take it. He thinks anything besides pot is a hard drug. He got pissed at me this summer for trying the Tylenol with codeine that Harlan got from his dentist.”

  “Okay, well, Christian’ll take it. I just didn’t want to leave anyone out. Ready to go?” She paused in front of the mirror to admire her baby-shit-green dress that some evil bride had once tortured her bridesmaid into wearing. I smoothed the strapless periwinkle number I’d found at the same thrift store and we were off.

  Harlan had definitely sold a lot of ecstasy. There was way more dancing going on at Shelly’s than usual. Normally, people filled the couches along the wall or stood around talking in the space that Shelly cleared in the center of the room. That night the basement had morphed into a minirave. Colored lights spilled across the shiny black floor and the flashing strobe made it look like everyone moved in slow motion. Costumed kids danced like charmed snakes to the throbbing techno that Ha
rlan spun. He had quite the setup on the card table in front of the big-screen TV. The simple stereo system had evolved into a DJ booth complete with turntables. He’d financed it by selling acid, X, and other pharmaceuticals-real stuff to his friends and fake versions to the jocks who’d become Deadheads over the summer.

  Liam and Christian, who’d been too cool to dress up in costumes and hated electronic music, led Maya and me to our usual spot, the corner booth on the side of the basement opposite the dance floor. This was fine with me for about twenty minutes. Then the X kicked in and I had an overwhelming need to dance.

  My most likely partner, Maya, had disappeared with Liam to search for Cass, so I jumped up and extended my hand to Christian. “Dance with me!”

  He grinned, but stubbornly slouched against the booth. “I don’t dance to techno.”

  “Me neither, but tonight we should.”

  I led the way to the dance floor, Christian trailing me. I was shocked at how liquidy my limbs felt, how naturally I moved to the kind of music I usually hated.

  Christian only swayed slightly, holding my hand and spinning me so that the tulle skirt of my costume ballooned outward. Entranced, he murmured, “I think I’m starting to like this music because it makes you even more beautiful.”

  “I like it, too.” I let go of his hand and danced in front of him. People whirled around nearby, occasionally colliding with us and setting off a tingly ecstasy wave that made me giggle.

  Christian laughed, too. His fingertips fluttered against my hipbones, guiding me closer to say, “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that? Not just outside, but inside. I can see your kindness pouring out of you.” He cupped my face in his palms. “I’m falling so hard for you.”

  “Yeah?” I couldn’t say anything more. His hands sent a charge through my skin like a defibrillator, leaving me pleasantly warm and woozy.