The Queen of Kentucky

by Alecia Whitaker

  “Ericka, you’ve gotta be kidding me!” Wolf persists, holding the bottle under my nose. I can smell the sweetness, and I feel electricity shooting through my veins as his shoulder leans into mine. “Aren’t you Catholic? Y’all’s preacher says it’s okay to drink, right?”

  “I don’t think it’s a preacher; it’s a priest,” Mackenzie corrects him.

  “Then your priest drinks,” Wolf says.

  “No, they call him Father,” Laura says. “I’m pretty sure it’s Father.”

  “Ugh, then your Father drinks, whatever!” Wolf says, exasperated.

  “Well, hers doesn’t, but ours sure does!” Paul hoots. He steps away from Kimi and staggers over to Luke, slapping him hard on the shoulder, cackling at his own bad joke.

  Luke roughly brushes his brother off and stands up. “You know better,” he mutters to Paul, giving him a hard shove into the shadows.

  “Okay, seriously,” Wolf says, turning back to me, his arm warm around my shoulders. “Toast us going to homecoming.”

  He is holding the bottle up to me again when the reality of his words seeps into Sarah’s booze-soaked brain and she loses it.

  “Ericka! OH! MY! GOD! I’m so happy for you!” she screams, running in place with high knees and blade arms. I can’t help but laugh watching her. It feels so nice to see someone outwardly expressing exactly how I feel inside.

  “So…?” Wolf says, waving the bottle under my nose. I grin up at him.

  “Drink! Drink!” Sarah starts chanting, doing a full lunge, complete with spirit fingers. Kimi joins in, as do their boy toys and Wolf. Pretty soon the barn is echoing, “Drink! Drink! Drink!”

  I laugh hard and cave, reaching for the bourbon.

  “Dude, she doesn’t have to drink if she doesn’t want to,” Luke blurts out, bending down and ripping the bottle from Wolf’s hands.

  Everybody freezes, like time stops for a second. I am shocked by the anger in Luke’s voice. I look up and see him standing over me, hovering with his fists clenched like my bodyguard or something. His eyes flash, but mine do, too. I feel my cheeks burn red, embarrassed and angry and totally shocked to see this overprotective side of him. When I see Kimi and Sarah exchange glances and Wolf raise his eyebrows and lean away, I have to make a decision… and I still want to fit in. It’s only one drink, so what’s the big deal?

  I stand up and sort of hip check him, trying to lighten the mood, even though the tension between us is thick. “Whoa, Buzz Kill McGee,” I joke. And even though I hate the stuff, I’m trying to not piss off the few people in the barn who are actually happy for me, so I grab the bottle from Luke, though not easily, and take a big chug.

  I hear the hooting and laughing, but as soon as the liquid fire hits my tongue I swallow hard and close my eyes. I try to keep my cool but it burns and I do a crazy dance in place, like an exorcism, shaking demons out of my body.

  Wolf totally cracks up as I hang my tongue out in a pitiful Bandit impression and pant, longing for the Coca-Cola we left behind. As soon as I catch my breath and wipe the tears from my eyes, Kimi and Sarah each drape an arm around me.

  “You’ve been initiated,” Kimi booms. “Ericka Winstead is officially one cool girl!”

  She squeezes my shoulder with one arm and pumps the other one in the air.

  “Yeah!” I holler, amped by all the love. I am officially one cool girl!

  I see Luke step back and shake his shaggy blond head, looking up at the rafters and mumbling something low to himself. He sighs, crosses his hands behind his head, and finally looks down at me with blank eyes and a half smile on his lips before joining Mackenzie and Laura on the blanket, all three of them looking defeated to some degree.

  Wolf leans back on his palms and gives me one of his up-and-down looks, the kind he usually reserves for upperclassmen or girls like Kimi. “You’re something else, Winstead. That’s for sure.”

  I melt and take it as a compliment.

  “The game is called Never Have I Ever,” Kimi explains. Now that make-out central has come up for air, we’re all circled around on the blanket. “One person says something they’ve never done, and if you have done it, you have to drink.”

  Sounds pretty easy, seeing as how my life is completely G-rated.

  “Never have I ever seen a boy naked,” Kimi starts devilishly.

  But then again, my lack of life experience might be more embarrassing than owning up to some of these things. Sarah immediately reaches for the bottle and Kimi smirks. Laura and Mackenzie’s eyes bug and Wolf nods his head appreciatively.

  “That’a girl,” Jimmy encourages as Sarah takes a sip. She blushes and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  When she puts the bottle down, Wolf reaches for it and holds it out to me. “Ericka?”

  My cheeks flush red hot (it goes without saying that I have never seen a boy naked), but for a millisecond, I consider lying. A white lie and another tiny sip might be a small price to pay to impress Wolf; but I can’t do it, and I shake my head, completely embarrassed. He grins and does the unexpected, taking a swig himself. Everyone dies, hooting and hollering.

  “What? Duh. Locker rooms,” he says by way of explanation.

  But then the challenges get harder. “Never have I ever cheerleaded” and the girls drink. “Never have I ever worn a bra” and the girls drink. “Never have I ever streaked” and, to my extreme humiliation, the girls drink as Kimi excitedly fills the guys in on our nudist shenanigans. My mouth feels dry, and weird, like it’s harder to move my lips. This makes me giggle.

  “Never have I ever puked at a slumber party,” Mackenzie says, her sugary sweet smile exaggerated and aimed right at me. I do a double take and stare into her icy blue eyes. I see them flash—she is clearly enjoying this moment. She holds the bottle out toward me.

  “Disgusting,” Jimmy says.

  Mortified, I take the bottle from her. “Mushroom allergy,” I defend myself weakly.

  I grab the bottle and just the smell makes me shudder. Ick. I take a deep breath and down yet another drink, but realize that it’s not burning as much as before. Maybe my esophagus is drunk.

  “Never have I ever milked a cow!” Laura says sweetly, giggling as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever said, yet looking directly at me.

  “Cow teats!” Mackenzie laughs, giving her a high five.

  I take another tiny drink and feel sort of numb.

  “I think your friends are trying to get you drunk,” Wolf says, leaning in close.

  “Huh, some friends,” Luke says and semi-laughs, trying to sound light, but once again filling the barn with tension. Laura looks shocked.

  I shiver and snuggle closer to Wolf, which actually is really brave. Wow. I’m very brave right now. His cologne, oh my god. I close my eyes and breathe in his magic spell, feel like I could fall asleep on his shoulder. Like I could fall asleep right here in the—

  “Never have I ever kissed a girl!” Kimi squeals.

  A collective “Whoa!” goes out into the night air and the boys (except Luke) all drink. I watch them each take big gulps and feel relieved when I see that the bottle is almost empty.

  “Thank goodness we get a break,” I slur, and then giggle. I consider trying that sentence again, but shrug it off as too exhausting.

  “Aw, I was hoping one of you girls would take a drink,” Wolf says fiendishly.

  “Good thing Candace Baker isn’t here, then,” Kimi quips, and everybody laughs.

  Next to me, Luke’s eyes go dark. He’s a laid-back guy, but now he looks like he’s been pushed too far and he gives me a strong nudge.

  “What?” I ask, my face scrunched up. I didn’t need an elbow to the side.

  He gives me a hard look and mumbles, “You know what.”

  As the others laugh around us, I open my eyes wide, innocent. What’s he mad at me for? I didn’t say it. I didn’t even laugh. His face changes then, closes up, and he looks away. I shake my head and he splits in two for a second; then I refocus
and see that his face is still tight.

  “Ericka’s best friends with her,” Wolf says on my other side. I can feel his breath on my cheek. “Has she ever made a move, Ericka? Did you ever have a slumber party with Candace that got a little Girls Gone Wild?”

  I feel the shock register on my face, and the circle laughs heartily.

  “Never!” I scream.

  “Come on, Ericka,” he persists, his fingers making their way to my sides. I’m dying. “Tell the truth.”

  “Wolf!” I giggle, amazed at how close his face is to mine. He starts to squeeze, and I am super ticklish. “Wolf! Stop it!”

  I wiggle and try to get away, but can’t.

  “Tell me,” he says softly, yet with lots of pressure at my waist keeping me at his side. “Tell the truth about your little lesbo friend.”

  Tears are streaming down my cheeks, I’m laughing so hard. No matter how much I squirm, I can’t escape his tickling. I’ll tell him whatever he wants to hear just to get out of this grip.

  “Okay, okay!” I scream. “She tried to kiss me!”

  “Oh!” The barn erupts. The boys lose it, high-fiving and fist pumping. The girls are laughing, too. I even catch Mackenzie throwing a smirk over at Laura, and then I think maybe I can sort of make the peace if I just get everybody laughing.

  “Yeah!” I continue, my mouth dry. I feel like I have to yell. “And she really has a thing for cheerleaders!” I point to Mackenzie and her eyes widen. Her cheeks flush pink and she squeals.

  “Lipstick lesbians—I like it!” Wolf says, leaning over to Mackenzie and putting his arm around her. She seems happy with the attention, so whatever. Let her have it for a while. I still get him for homecoming.

  Jimmy and Wolf get into a conversation about the hottest moms at our school and which two they would like to see making out. The barn beams blur a little and then, to my surprise, start to spin. I feel weak from laughing so hard and collapse onto Luke’s shoulder. Sarah yells something about never making out in her parents’ bed and the game moves on rambunctiously. I close my eyes and sigh, happy for the brief break and suddenly feeling a little… nauseous? No, tired. It’s late. I’m just tired. I think about the electric touch of Wolf’s fingers on my sides and smile.

  “You lied,” I hear a low voice rumble above me. I lean my head back and see Luke looking down at me. His eyes are angry, but I can’t help thinking that they’re really pretty, too. The blue is like gray. And I like the yellow flecks by his pupils.

  “Ricki Jo!” he hisses.

  “What?” I say, trying to focus. I can hear the group laughing around us.

  “Candace is not a lesbian,” he repeats, just as low.

  “Yeah, but no big deal if she is,” I say, my eyes closing again as I nuzzle my head against his soft fleece jacket.

  He shakes my arm. “But she’s not.”

  “I know that,” I say softly, confused.

  “You should have said that,” he says, shaking me off.

  I sway and try to focus on his face. “I… what? I—”

  “You shouldn’t have made that up. You should have stuck up for your friend,” he says again.

  “She’s—well, we’re not that close, anyway,” I mumble, hearing how lame it sounds.

  “Then you should have stuck up for her because it’s the right thing to do, Ricki Jo.”

  “Ericka,” I correct weakly, not knowing what else to say.

  I watch his expression settle into one of new understanding, almost like he’s just woken up.

  “Oh, that’s right,” he says. “That’s exactly right. You’re a different person now.”

  He checks his watch and stands up. From where I sit, he looks like a skyscraper. I want to talk to him some more, understand why he’s in such a bad mood, but he says his good-byes and stalks out of the barn.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  I peel my eyes open, and then snap them shut against the brightness of the sun coming through the family room window. It’s early… feels so early. It may be a Sunday morning, but not even good God-fearing Catholics like us get up this early. I roll over on my side, my back to the window, and wiggle down deeper into my sleeping bag, pulling it completely over my head. Everything goes dark, but the pounding picks up again.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “What?” I croak, throwing the covers off and looking over at the door. Nobody comes in and I wonder if it’s one of my parents or my nosy little brother. I squint around the room and see Mackenzie and Laura sleeping on opposite ends of our couch, their feet intermingling. Kimi is curled up in my dad’s recliner and Sarah lies spread-eagle beside me on the floor, her sleeping bag kicked down around one ankle and her pillow over her face.

  My eyes are adjusting but the pounding won’t stop.

  “Who is it?” I try to shout, but my raw voice comes out in a whisper.

  The door stays shut and I finally drag myself up to my knees.

  Whoa.

  The room spins and an earthquake cracks down my body, splitting across my forehead. “Holy crap!” I say, clutching my head and falling face-first onto of my sleeping bag. It’s in that moment, with my forehead pressed against the silky material of my plush sleeping bag, that I realize the pounding is coming from within my own head. I groan.

  Then, I remember last night.

  And I groan again.

  Still on my knees, I reach my arms out and gather the sleeping bag all around my head, balling it up so that it blocks out the light and the fabulous friends who surround me. I wish it could block out last night’s events, but I feel sick from the alcohol and even sicker from the memories.

  I’m pretty sure I fell asleep after Luke left. I don’t know the difference between falling asleep and passing out, but I did wake up to find myself all alone in the barn, drooling. It must’ve just been a few minutes or so, ’cause I could hear laughter outside, and I knew my friends wouldn’t really leave me. I made my way out into the night and saw the whole group running as fast as they could toward our cows. I shook my head—in disbelief, I guess, like maybe I was still passed out. Watching Sarah lower her shoulder and run headlong toward the broad side of an Angus was almost too much to comprehend. The cows were quicker—they weren’t hurt, or even touched—but I lost my mind, yelling at the group to stop. (I’m sure they had no idea that cow tipping is like cow homicide.) They all looked at one another like I was an alien from another planet, but they did stop.

  As I marched angrily toward my friends, the cows braying loudly in the fields, I slipped on a fresh cow patty and fell, hard, on my back. Lying there, looking up at the stars, I took a few major cuss words out for a test drive before I started to cry. The shadows became human and circled around me, looking down in a mixture of pity and disgust. I was sobbing, the ugly kind of crying that rattles my rib cage and sends mucus and saliva out in bubbles and streaks, while cow poop oozed around my shoulders. Wolf was so grossed out that he held his nose, gagged, and begged Jimmy to take him home, which made Sarah mad at me. Kimi, the most unlikely of the four, was the only friend I had left, and she helped me walk home… even if she wouldn’t get within an arm’s length.

  Remembering this now, I groan. My mouth is cottony and tastes disgusting. I realize I’m going to vomit.

  As quickly as I can (which isn’t fast at all considering my condition), I crawl out of the family room and down the hall, noticing the time on the kitchen clock: six AM. What time did we get home? In the bathroom, I kneel in front of the toilet and heave. It burned going down, but it burns ten times worse on the way back up. With one hand, I push my hair out of the way, and with the other, I flush. I can’t look at it.

  When I feel good and empty, I sit down on the cool tile floor and see my shoes and clothes from last night hanging over the shower rod to dry. This could lead to questions from Momma, but at this very moment, I’m just thankful the bathroom doesn’t smell like dung. My head d
roops, and I realize how dark the windowless bathroom is. The family room seems awfully far away. I open the bathroom cabinet, pull out a couple of beach towels, and snuggle in.

  “Will you just tell him that Ericka called and to meet me by the creek after church?” I say into the phone. I’ve called Luke three times already this morning, but Claire seems to be covering for him.

  “I’ll tell him, Ericka,” she says, sighing, and I hear her baby wailing in the background. My head is still splitting.

  I snap Kimi’s cell phone shut, bummed that I couldn’t get past the Fosters’ caller ID with a different number, and head out to the garage, where the Winstead taxi is waiting. I know Luke got a little mad last night, but right now I really don’t need another frenemy.

  I walk as steadily as possible to the side door of the minivan, careful to avoid eye contact with my parents, and assess the seating arrangement. Looks like I’ll be climbing into the very back with Mackenzie and Laura, my biggest fans.

  The van is quiet on the way to town, save for the soft rock Momma hums along to up front. As for us girls, we keep our heads down and our eyes closed. I feel every turn, fight against the queasiness, and, once again, wish I didn’t live so far out in the country. Everybody brought church clothes to go to Mass with us this morning, but no one is actually in the mood to go—including me, but I don’t have a choice. Never have I ever gone to church with a hangover, I think to myself miserably. I think it’s pretty safe to say I’ll never drink again.

  As we drop each of my friends off on our way to town, I can’t help but envy their imminent naps. Sarah is first, and says “thanks” and “good-bye” and really doesn’t seem mad so much as sick. Next is Laura, who squeezes past me like I have the plague and thanks my parents for having her over.

  Kimi’s house is third and she leans back and pats my hand before flip-flopping her way out of the van. “Tylenol, anything greasy from McDonald’s, and lots of water,” she whispers. “Kimi Wilson’s Never-Fail Hangover Cure.” I smile weakly.

  This leaves Mackenzie and me alone in the backseat, trying to avoid eye contact with each other and with my parents, who keep glancing back at us in their mirrors. A million thoughts race through my mind, a million ways to apologize followed by another million reasons I shouldn’t have to. We both like Wolf, yet I know she would have said yes if he’d asked her, never mind my feelings. And yeah, so she called dibs, big deal. It’s not like I asked him. And dibs are something you call on the front seat or remote control, but a boy?