“Yeah.”
And then we were kissing. We kissed all the way upstairs to Shelly’s room, where we collapsed onto her bed. The comforter felt fluffy as a cloud. The room glowed pale purple. It was like heaven. Kissing Christian was heaven.
I remembered my dress being slightly too big in the chest, so I pulled away, giggling, “Can you see my boobs?”
Christian raised his eyebrows and asked, “I don’t know, can I?” His hand poised at the zipper on the side.
I would have slept with him. Then and there. At the very least, I could have said I did it for the first time on ecstasy. But then Maya burst into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, but you guys have got to help me. Cass is freaking out.”
“Jesus Christ!” Christian exclaimed, completely caught off guard by Maya’s entrance. He sucked in air, centering himself. “No problem, we can help.”
He picked up his T-shirt, which I didn’t remember removing, but seeing the scratches and glittery lip gloss all over his chest, I assumed it was my doing. Fortunately, I’d managed to keep my ratty blue cardigan on over my costume. As usual, it hid the cuts and scars on my left arm—something I wouldn’t have wanted to explain while rolling.
I held out my hand for Maya to help me up. “What should we do? Where is she?”
“The bathroom.” Maya tugged me toward the end of the hall, where Liam paced outside the bathroom door.
Shelly’s upstairs bathroom was definitely the worst possible place for an acid trip. Everything was pink from the mauve rug to the dusty rose tile; even the bathtub and sink were pale pink porcelain. Cass stood in front of the mirror, studying it so closely her nose nearly touched the glass. Her multicolored dreads stuck up every which way, like a crazed Medusa.
Maya stopped at the door to whisper her plan. “Kara should come with me. Christian and Liam, you guys check the bedrooms for Quentin, she keeps saying—”
“He died in his sleep!” Cass screamed.
Given a mission, my brother leapt into action, and Christian dutifully followed. Maya stepped into the bathroom, but I hovered in the doorway.
Cass stared into the mirror wearing the vacant expression of a mental patient. It was extremely unsettling. Maya lightly put her hand on Cass’s shoulder, asking, “Cassie, how much acid did you take?”
Like a catatonic, Cass didn’t blink, didn’t speak. She tapped the mirror and recoiled as if shocked. Catching the reflection of me behind her, she turned. “You’re a princess. I was supposed to dress up, too. Did I?”
She wore jeans and a baggy T-shirt instead of the hideous orange dress she’d purchased for her costume. I shook my head and Maya repeated, “Cassie, how much acid?”
Cass rubbed the tulle fabric of my dress between her fingers. “What? Oh. It wasn’t kicking in after the first two hits so I took the rest of the ten-strip.”
“All ten hits? The stuff that’s been going around lately is triple-dipped!” Maya’s eyes flooded with anxiety.
I gave Maya’s hand a reassuring squeeze and stepped up. “Cass, do you want to go lie down in Shelly’s room? The bed is like a cloud.”
“I like clouds,” Cass mused, but then she peeked back at the mirror. She rose on her toes and spun like a ballerina to face it. After communing with her makeup-smeared reflection for a moment, she slammed her palms against the vanity and shrieked, “No! This is the only place that’s safe. People die in the bedroom. Quentin died, and Wes, he’s dead, too!”
“Wes isn’t dead, he’s in California. And Quentin isn’t either. Liam and Christian are going to find him,” I told her calmly. The ecstasy prevented me from panicking. I’d never felt such inner peace. I just needed to transfer it to Cass somehow. I put my hand on her back, focusing my good vibes. My skin started to tingle, so I thought it was working, but Cass shook her head.
“Demons got him. I saw it. They took Wes first. Now Quentin. And they’re turning me into a lunatic. Look at that lunatic in there!” She poked her mirror image’s cheek, then gasped, clutching her own. “Ohhhh,” she moaned, tears streaking her skin with more mascara. “I’m so fucked-up. I’m going crazy like my mother! And my brother is gone, gone, gone.” She clutched at her dreads and pulled them across her face like a curtain.
I withdrew my hand from her because her fright was seeping into me and it made my bones ache. I glanced to Maya for help. Maya’s fearless personality usually masked her tiny size, but overcome with worry, she shrunk into her ridiculous dress, fighting tears that threatened to douse her face with red eyeliner.
“Gone! Gone!” Cass screeched, convulsing like she was possessed. She flung herself into the small space between the toilet and the sink, still muttering about demons and death.
Maya started sobbing. Surrounded by all that hysteria, I might have lost it, too, but thankfully Liam returned.
He hung on to the frame of the door, afraid to enter, reporting, “Quentin’s in the master bedroom. He’s on something, but he’s fine. I woke him up, but I couldn’t get him out of bed.”
“Okay.” Maya took deep breaths, pressing Liam’s hand in hers. “Thank you, now we just need to bring her to him.” Liam and I both looked at Maya skeptically, but she blotted her face on the chartreuse skirt of her dress and knelt on the floor in front of her cousin. “Cass,” she said like she’d never lost her cool, like she didn’t look like an extra from Carrie. “Quentin’s in the bedroom next door. Let’s go see him.”
Cass had been quietly rocking herself, but hearing her cousin’s words, she exploded, “No!” Her arms and legs shot straight out in front of her to prevent Maya from getting closer. “It’s a trick! This is the only safe place. The bedrooms are evil! That’s where the demon took Quentin from me.”
“Think acid instead of ecstasy,” Maya mumbled to herself. She took hold of Cass’s stiff hands and whipped out some drug logic. “Cassie, the mirror is what’s evil. It makes you see bad things.”
Cass’s defensive posture softened. “You could be right about that.”
“Of course I’m right,” Maya encouraged. “The mirror is a trick. This whole room is an evil pink vortex. But the rest of the house is safe. Especially Shelly’s dad’s room, where Quentin is. Should we go see Quentin?”
Doubt draining from her eyes, Cass nodded emphatically. Maya and I helped her up and took her to the bedroom where Quentin sat in the center of a king-size bed, stretching his arms overhead like he’d just woken from a nap.
“Angel Quentin,” Cass murmured, releasing me and Maya and rushing toward him. “It was horrible without you.”
“Where’d you go?” he asked, drawing her close.
“I don’t know, but I was very lost.”
He lay back down, pulling her with him. “I thought we were talking. Then Liam woke me up…” he mumbled, sounding spacier than usual. Unlike Cass’s eyes, which were all pupil, Quentin’s blue irises had only a tiny speck of black in the center. His eyelids lowered over them like remote-controlled garage doors.
“I think he’s on heroin,” I whispered to Maya.
“Really?” She frowned. “That is a demon.” She approached the bed, asking softly, “Cassie, are you okay?” and adding pointedly, “Quentin, are you?”
Cass’s response was muffled, her face buried in the tangle of Quentin’s braids and her own hair. “He’s sleeping again.” She flung her arm into the air, summoning us, “Come sleep, too.”
We piled into the bed. I draped my arm across Maya to reach Cass, who held both of our hands. A pot or alcohol buzz might have been killed by the high emotions in the bathroom, but lying in the dark room, warmed by Maya’s body, my sense of euphoria returned.
Out of the blue, Cass said, “I love him.”
“What?” Maya asked groggily.
“Quentin. I love him.”
“You got an ecstasy contact buzz?” Maya teased.
I propped myself up on my elbow because I wanted to see what real love looked like. Quentin was asleep. He and Cass curled toward each other, fee
t touching, backs rounded. Cass’s head pressed against Quentin’s chest and his lips brushed the top of her head like he was kissing her. The outlines of their bodies almost formed a heart. It was beautiful. I ached to find something like that. Damned ecstasy.
“No, I’m still tripping, but I’m in one of those lulls where I’m lucid,” Cass explained. “Normally, I’d be looking for another hit right now. But I can’t do that anymore.” Her voice cracked, throat coating with tears. “Because I love him and I don’t want us to screw it up and we are. I’ve been on acid for months now and in the meantime he got hooked on something way worse. I have to help him.” She caressed his cheek gently, the way I wished someone would caress mine. Cass sighed, rolling onto her back and crying freely.
Maya sat up. “Cassie, are you okay?”
“I need Wes,” she choked. “I can’t take care of everyone like he did.”
“Let’s call Wes,” Maya urged, stroking Cass’s arm.
I watched Cass nod slowly and then I whispered to Maya, “I’ll go find Christian and Liam, let you guys call Wes alone.”
When I left the bedroom, Liam was nowhere to be seen, but Christian stood by the stairs, waiting for me. I tried to straighten the top of my dress without making too obvious an attempt to hide nonexistent cleavage from him. I felt like we’d been at a very bad prom and had no idea how to proceed.
Christian behaved just as awkwardly. He stammered, “What happened earlier…”
“The ecstasy,” I said quickly. “It’s the drug.”
“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, but he stepped forward. “Sometimes a drug like this brings out your true feelings, though.” He squeezed my hand.
I squeezed back. It felt good. Not the same kind of crazed hormonal good as the kissing, but comforting good. I hadn’t felt comforted in years and I needed it. I’d needed it when Stacey abandoned me, when my dad left, to get over Adrian…
Behind Christian, Adrian emerged from a bedroom, his curls disheveled, shirt on inside out. The purple-haired girl trailed after him. She giggled, grasping playfully for his belt, trying to reel him back. Until he caught sight of me, Adrian was smiling, too.
I wanted to punch him, not to mention kick that stupid purple-haired bitch’s ass, but I forced my focus to remain on Christian, on the positive energy that was pouring from his hand into mine and on his suddenly nervous face. He said, “Kara, if I asked you to go out with me again…”
I managed to meet Christian’s gaze and look at Adrian out of the corner of my eye. “I would say yes.” Adrian stood right behind Christian as I repeated, louder, “Yes.”
Christian pulled me into an embrace. He sighed with satisfaction and so did I as I watched Adrian shove the purple-haired girl’s hand away from his waist. He shook his head at me, stomping loudly down the stairs.
“What did you expect?” I called after him.
“What?” Christian asked, clueless about Adrian’s presence.
“Don’t worry about it,” I told him, snuggling closer to his chest, letting myself become absorbed in the glorious sensation of hugging. I lost myself in his arms for a long time, but then doubt pricked my brain. Had I said yes because this was what I wanted, because I yearned for the kind of love that I witnessed between Quentin and Cass? Or had I said yes to hurt Adrian? These worries seemed to literally scratch away inside my head and it made me squirmy.
Christian slid his hands down my shoulders. “Feeling okay?”
“It’s been a weird night and I’m ready to get out of here. Why don’t I find Liam? Then we’ll see if Maya’s ready to go.”
“Why don’t we both find Liam?”
“No,” I said quickly. “You stay here so we can keep track of Maya.”
“Okay.” He kissed me. The gentle tease of his tongue against mine sent shivers down my back. I could find the love I was searching for with him. Definitely.
But for some reason, I went to find Adrian anyway.
I told myself I was looking for Liam, but I knew Liam would be out back, smoking pot with his skater buddies to chill after Cass’s breakdown. Instead, I checked the front porch first-where Adrian always retreated when he wanted to be alone. And there he was, perched on the banister, huddled into his leather jacket, chain-smoking and flipping through his beloved notebook.
He was sulking and I felt smug. I’d had my revenge, now I could move on. Satisfied, I started to walk away, but Adrian’s gruff voice stopped me.
“What are you doing with Christian, Kara?”
I turned around. Adrian’s face was hidden by shadows, but his eyes glittered hard and judgmental. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, feeling overexposed by my silly Halloween costume. Then I remembered that he had no right to be critical. “What were you doing with what’s-her-name with the purple hair? Oh yeah, the same thing you were doing with her when we were still…whatever.”
Adrian slid off the banister. I hated it, but my pulse quickened with each step he took toward me. He wore a remorseful expression. “You’re right. I can’t say anything. But don’t hook up with him just to get back at me.”
“I’m not. I don’t use people like you do.”
“I wasn’t using you. You never said you wanted an exclusive thing. If you had…”
“What?” I raged. “I said I love you and you didn’t respond. You took me home and went to a party and hooked up with someone else. What the hell was that?”
Adrian seemed momentarily stunned by my anger. Then he shrugged. The insolent shrug reserved for parents, teachers, and now me, the foolish girl who couldn’t even technically call herself the ex-girlfriend. “I didn’t know how to respond. You caught me off guard.”
“So you made out with someone else to figure things out?”
Adrian took a slow drag from his cigarette. “No, I snorted smack to figure it out. Viv was there and things happened. I screwed up. I have a tendency to do that.”
His nonchalance burned. A breeze swept across the porch and it didn’t even chill me. The thing they don’t tell you about ecstasy is that it doesn’t just heighten the positive emotions. Anger, pure, venomous hatred, that gets magnified, too. Yelling at Adrian felt good. I realized that I never yelled, I cut and cried instead. When people hurt me, I hurt myself. Where was the logic in that? Especially when screaming clears your lungs, allows you to spit people’s bile back at them. In that moment, screaming at Adrian felt better than kissing Christian had earlier. It felt better than kissing Adrian ever had. So I let Adrian have it.
“Well, I lied when I said I love you. You tricked me! You’re incapable of love. All you do is hurt people! Like your supposed best friend, Quentin, who you got hooked on heroin. Did you know he nodded off and Cass thought he was dead and totally freaked out? Where were you? Screwing some slut? You don’t deserve them and you don’t deserve me either!”
A faint whoop trickled through the door behind me, and though it sounded too distant to be coming from someone who’d actually heard me, I took it as a sign of support. Even though Adrian towered over me by half a foot, I felt taller than him, especially as his gaze dropped to the scuffed toes of his boots.
Adrian exhaled cigarette smoke that floated past my ear. I tried not to think about how it had come from his mouth and how his lips had once felt grazing my earlobe. “You’re right. You deserve the best. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
That shattered whatever hold he still had over me. “Aw,” I mocked, “you don’t? Well, it’s a little too late for that, thanks to you.”
I stomped my combat boot down on top of his, which felt good, even though I’m sure it didn’t hurt him. Not physically. But when I walked off into the house, into Christian’s arms, I knew that I’d left Adrian as devastated as he’d once left me.
4.
WHEN I’D FOLLOWED MAYA INTO SCOVILLE Park in April, I wanted “a life” in the typical teenage sense, meaning people to socialize with. I thought there were certain things I was supposed to be doing at sixteen to make my y
outh worthwhile. So I did stupid shit like set fires, go to parties, get drunk and high, and make out with boys who were incapable of connecting on any emotional level.
I’d been doing that for almost seven months and then, the morning after Shelly’s Halloween party, I awoke to the realization that it wasn’t really working out for me. My make-out sessions hadn’t stopped me from feeling lonely late at night. Drugs and alcohol hadn’t curbed my desire to cut my skin. Having a ton of friends and acquaintances hadn’t kept my family from falling apart. My “life” wasn’t making me happy.
Shit, Maya had warned me that the comedown from ecstasy would be harsh, but I didn’t think I’d wake up the next day feeling like life was devoid of all meaning.
To add to my insurmountable list of problems, there was Christian. Why had I agreed to go out with him? I did not do well with those who possessed the Y chromosome. I had daddy issues, a spotty track record as a big sister, and then…Adrian.
I groaned, jerked the covers over my head, and planned to stay in bed for eternity. But the smell of pancakes eventually lured me out of my cocoon.
When I noticed that she’d already vacated the My Little Pony sleeping bag she’d crashed on, I figured Maya was responsible for the breakfast odor. After all, Mom was out at Sunday brunch, a new post-divorce tradition with the friends she’d paid too little attention to while married. Liam never rolled out of bed before noon on the weekend, not to mention he hardly knew how to make toast. But the cook turned out to be someone I hadn’t considered.
Halfway down the stairs, I ran into Christian, who carried a steaming plate of pancakes. He was dressed in a ridiculously frilly apron of my mother’s and, god knew where he found it, the goofy chef’s hat Dad wore when he barbecued. Considering my raw, chemically induced emotional state, the sight of the hat nearly triggered a crying jag, but perched atop Christian’s red tangle of hair, it was too cute.
“I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” he said, but then he gestured with a spatula for me to follow. “Come join the rest of the family.”
Ballads of Suburbia Page 17
