Aspen

by Rebekah Crane

  “Who are you having sex with?” Kim snarls her lip at him.

  “Who am I not having sex with once I get to college is a better question.”

  “Is ‘olives’ still our escape word, because I’d like to get out of this conversation,” I say, interrupting the fight that I know is about to take place.

  “We have a surprise for you. A birthday present.” Kim’s face lights up.

  “My birthday isn’t until the summer,” I say, looking over my shoulder as I turn on the blender.

  “Well, it’s not a surprise if it happens on your birthday. Duh,” Cass yells over the noise. He nudges Kim. “Tell her.”

  “Deadly Grateful is playing the Boulder Theater this weekend.” Kim pulls three tickets out of her purse and fans herself with them. “Do you want to go?”

  I snatch them from her, excited, and check to see if she’s for real. Printed across the top of the tickets is DEADLY GRATEFUL, all in capital letters. My mouth practically drops to the floor. It’s the name of the greatest Grateful Dead cover band to ever walk the earth. If I can’t see Jerry Garcia live, may he rest in peace, Deadly Grateful is the next best thing.

  “Is that even a question?”

  “Lately, I haven’t been so sure with you.” Kim hides her frown behind her shake. I come bounding around the counter and grab my best friend in a bear hug. She exhales into my ear, holding onto me tightly. When she pulls back, she says, “I get this for free now. Right?”

  I roll my eyes but nod. Kim and Cass hang out, sitting at a table in the corner while I work, Kim studying and Cass playing a game on his phone. In between customers, I stare at a blank page in my sketchbook, my mind distant, and tap my charcoal pencil on the edge of the counter. My fingers are black with soot. Nothing gets drawn on the page.

  Later, the door dings with another customer. Suzy’s voice echoes through the room. “This place is so cool.”

  I stand up, shocked. She’s dressed in Boulder High sweatpants and her new tie-dye. “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I thought I’d get a shake, silly.” She leans on the counter, a broad smile on her face. “Plus we need to discuss what happened yesterday. So . . . ”

  I look at Kim, who stands up at the question, and I cringe inwardly. “What happened yesterday?” Kim asks, coming up to us. “And why do you smell like the Crystal Dragon?”

  “Aspen and I went shopping.” Suzy says, and smiles. “When we were at the Unseen Bean afterward, Ben showed up. He gave Aspen a ride home.”

  “Aspen is having sex with Ben?” Cass yells, still looking at the game on his phone.

  “What?” Ninny comes careening out of the back room.

  “I am not having sex with Ben,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “You went shopping with Suzy at the Crystal Dragon? That’s our store.” Kim’s eyes look beyond hurt. “I thought you were done with these people.”

  “These people?” Suzy takes a step back.

  “Aspen, are you having sex with Ben?” Ninny grabs my arm. “If so, we need to talk about protection.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kim whispers.

  I try to formulate answers to all the questions flying around me, but my mind just spins helplessly. What I want to say would only produce more questions—that the accident might be the best-worst thing that ever happened to me, and I deserve all the terrible-wonderful feelings that come with it.

  “Nice bracelet, by the way.” Suzy puts her wrist next to mine, flashing our matching friendship bracelets.

  Kim grabs her backpack in a huff. “I’m going home.” She grabs Cass’s arm and yanks him out of Shakedown Street. He barely looks up from his game to wave as the door shuts.

  I slump down on my elbows on the counter, disappointed in myself.

  “Maybe we should get you on the pill, just in case?” Ninny pats my back and then disappears into the back room.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Suzy asks.

  I shake my head and think, I’m wrong. All wrong. And the only person who makes it better also makes it so much worse.

  CHAPTER 16

  On Friday after physics, Ben sidles up next to me in the hallway.

  “So what are you doing this weekend?” he asks, walking in time with me.

  I glance around the hallway, surprised he wants to be seen with me with so many people are around. Judging by his casual stance, Ben doesn’t seem to care.

  “Going to a concert.”

  “Beta Particle?”

  “I wish. It’s impossible to get tickets to see them.”

  Ben’s arm swings next to mine.

  “You?” I ask.

  “Tom made us promise to go to the basketball game.” He rolls his eyes. “So who are . . . ” But Ben gets cut off when Olivia comes up behind us.

  “The king and queen, together again?” She wraps her arm around Ben’s waist. “You make a nice couple. I’m sure Katelyn would be happy for you two.” Her voice is coated in disdain.

  “We’re not a couple.” Ben takes Olivia’s hand off his waist. “And you knew Katelyn about as well as everyone else in this school. It’s a joke.” All the ease in Ben’s voice moments ago is gone, and a weight seems to hang on his shoulders. “Sorry, Aspen.”

  He leaves us in the hall, the air tense and weighted.

  “Sorry for what?” Olivia says mockingly.

  I appraise her nice clothes and shiny hair. For once, I’m glad I look nothing like her. “I think he was apologizing for you being such a bitch.”

  I walk away from Olivia, a sour feeling sitting in my stomach, but a smile on my face. It felt good to finally admit the truth.

  Kim and Cass come over the night of the Deadly Grateful concert. Kim walks in my front door, hesitant, and I grab her. “I’m sorry I took Suzy to the Crystal Dragon and didn’t tell you about it,” I say, hugging her. She pushes back on me.

  “And that you saw Ben and didn’t tell me.”

  “And that, too.”

  Kim narrows her eyes at me. “It’s just weird for you to hide things from me.”

  “Technically, I didn’t hide anything. I just forgot to tell you.”

  “Is that anything else you ‘forgot’ to tell me?” Kim asks.

  I rub the scar on my forehead. It aches from a bad night’s sleep. “No,” I say, my voice not wholly convincing.

  “This is so fucking exciting,” Kim finally squeals, grabbing my shoulders, shaking me. And for the moment, it feels like everything from the past few days is washed away.

  Kim gives me a brown scarf she picked up at Common Threads as a birthday present. When Cass hands me a pack of condoms, he says, “The gift of staying STD-free. It’s the greatest gift one can give.” I punch him in the arm and run upstairs to put the pack in my nightstand.

  Ninny drops us off at the Boulder Theater, a sad look on her face. “So many memories,” she mumbles as we get out of the car, and then she yells, “Don’t eat any apples!”

  The entire concert hall smells exactly like my house, with the faint scent of pot and patchouli oil filling the room. Kim holds on to my hand, yanking it every few seconds and repeating, “I’m so fucking excited!” in a squeal. We dodge in between people buying T-shirts and concessions and walk down toward the stage, staking our claim on a small portion of floor where we can dance.

  The stage crew adjusts microphones and guitar stands as people wait for the band to come out. There’s a static buzz, energy in the air.

  “Check, check,” a crew guy says into the microphone and taps on it. “Check, check.”

  A woman picks up a guitar and plugs it into an amp. She plays a few chords of the song “Touch of Grey.”

  Hearing it makes my throat dry and I cough. She plays some more. I plug one ear, trying to be nonchalant.

  “Are you okay?” Kim nudges me.

  “Is it loud in here?”

  “It’s a fucking concert. Of course, it’s loud.”

  My fingertips start to tingle. “I
think I need some water.”

  Out in the hall, I shake my hands out at my side. A headache starts to poke the back of my skull.

  That song.

  I try to rub my headache away.

  “Hey, tree-girl.” I look up to find Hunter standing in front of me, a goofy grin on his face. He’s in his big ski cap, wearing a Phish shirt.

  “Hey, gun-wielding-camouflage-boy.”

  “What?”

  “Your name’s Hunter.”

  He laughs so loud the hallway practically vibrates. It makes my head hurt more. “You’re funny.”

  “Thanks.” I start to walk away, but Hunter grabs my arm.

  “You want some?” He holds out his hand. A brownie rests in his palm. Ninny has been making these brownies since before I was born. The kind that most likely taste like shit because they’re stuffed with twigs and seeds.

  He leans in and whispers, “It’s got hash inside.”

  The dessert-turned-drug looks so innocent, so delicious resting in Hunter’s palm. “Fuck it.” Grabbing the brownie, I eat the whole thing.

  “Cool.” Hunter wraps his an arm around my neck and walks me back into the ballroom. When the lead singer of Deadly Grateful comes on stage, the hall erupts into loud screaming and clapping. My brain melts with the noise. And before the band can play the first note of their first song, I’m as high as the rafters.

  CHAPTER 17

  Ninny is right. Being high is awesome. It’s like my shoulders are feathers floating above me, and my brain is filled with air. The most wonderful air I’ve ever breathed, because every breath releases the tension I’ve held in my chest for months.

  I walk around, listening to Deadly Grateful and singing the songs at the top of my lungs. I spin in circles, waving my arms like a bird that wants to fly away from the nest it’s been trapped in. Being high is much better than caring.

  Cass eventually finds me. I drape myself over him and wrap my arm around his neck, which is hard to do, considering his height. “Kim thinks I’m hiding things.”

  “Are you high? I want some.”

  “Do you?” I poke him in the nose.

  “Yes, where’s the pot?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Do you think I’m hiding things?”

  “Yes,” Cass yells. “You’re hiding pot. Where is it?”

  I squeeze Cass close. “I’m gonna miss you so much next year.” I talk into his shoulder, which smells really good. I hold his shirt to my face. “You smell like sunshine.”

  “Saying no to drugs is a joke.” Cass stomps his foot. “Now I definitely want to eat an apple. I’m gonna go find one.” He walks away, and I go back to my dancing. I close my eyes and sway. Time disappears. Songs melt together. And all I do is swing back and forth and keep my head up. It’s like the music and I are one, living in each other.

  But when the next song starts, the pain in my head comes back.

  “Don’t play this song,” I mutter as “Touch of Grey” comes through the speakers, but the sudden ringing in my ears covers up my voice. I try to be louder. “Don’t play this song.”

  It comes out like air. No one hears me.

  And then I get mad. High people aren’t supposed to be mad either. I try to shake the pain away, but it stays, pinching at my brain. Lazily, I bring my hand up to my head and rub my scar.

  When I look down at my fingertips, they’re covered in blood.

  Stumbling to the side, I clutch my chest. Maybe getting high wasn’t the best idea. I try to wipe the blood off on my jeans, but it’s stuck to me.

  Forcing my legs forward, I push through the crowd, searching desperately for anything that will clean me up. I push past a girl, my fingers touching her long brown hair.

  It stops me in my tracks, an ice-cold sensation that starts in my toes and creeps all the way up my spine.

  Katelyn.

  All the air that I was feeling is sucked away in one breath, and my chest caves in. My hand reaches out to touch her. She’s so real, dressed in her purple and gold soccer uniform. When the room begins to spin and all the colors from the strobe lights blend together to make a rainbow, I think she’ll disappear. But she just stands there.

  “I’m bleeding,” I say to her.

  She mouths the word, “Liar.”

  I choke on it. My body rocks back and forth, not to the beat, but like I’m on a ship and I might get seasick.

  “I didn’t mean to hit you,” I say. “It was an accident.” My head hurts, like gears are turning in my brain. I can feel their every movement. I try to knock my head clear on my hand, but the pressure doesn’t go away.

  Katelyn was so bloody. It dripped down her face and on the pavement. I didn’t know a person could bleed that much. And the smell. Metallic.

  I taste it in my mouth.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  “I didn’t mean to do it.” Panic chokes me.

  “Didn’t mean to do what?”

  I close my eyes, hoping for darkness.

  “You’re high, sweetie.” I look at the person talking to me. I’m holding her long brown hair in my hands, but it’s not Katelyn anymore. It’s a stranger. “It’ll wear off. It’ll go away.”

  I look at my clean palms.

  “No it won’t. It’ll never go away.”

  I push past the people in the ballroom and burst out of the building, scrambling for air. Reaching into my purse, I pull out my phone and squeeze it in my palm until my nails pinch my skin.

  Then I cock my arm back and throw my phone against the building, shattering it to pieces.

  I take off down the street. At first a slow jog, and then a dead sprint until I can’t hear the noise anymore. All I hear is wind in my ears.

  CHAPTER 18

  I run until I’m standing in front of a one-story box house. I’ve never been inside. A blue tarp covers the roof and a red hummingbird feeder hangs from the tree in the front yard.

  I knock on the front door.

  Less than a minute later, a little girl with short black hair stands in front of me.

  “Why are you sweating?” she asks without saying hello.

  “I went for a run.”

  “I recognize you from the homecoming game.” She furrows her brow. “You’re that girl named after a tree who won with Ben.”

  “Yes. Are you that girl named after a boy?”

  “Yeah,” Sam says. “You’re weird.”

  I nod.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks.

  I look around, rocking back on my heels. “I don’t really know.”

  “Do you want me to get my brother?”

  I nod, and then shake my head. “I don’t really know that either. Do you ever feel like there are no answers in life?”

  “I’m only ten.”

  I snap my finger and point at her. “You’re lucky.”

  Sam leans on the doorframe, scanning me from head to toe. “I like you better than the other one. She cried too much.”

  “Katelyn?”

  Sam nods and walks away, yelling, “Ben, Cottonwood’s at the door for you.”

  He appears a few seconds later, out of breath. Ben’s eyes widen as he sees me, but he doesn’t say anything. We just stand there, staring at each other under the porch light.

  “I’m high,” I finally say.

  “And sweaty. Good concert?”

  “Why aren’t you at the basketball game?”

  “Because it’s over. Why aren’t you at the concert?”

  “Because I’m high.” I pause for a second. “I can’t feel my arms.”

  “That’s probably because it’s thirty degrees and you’re in a short-sleeved shirt.”

  “Or because I’m high.”

  “How’d that happen?”

  “A hunter in a ski hat gave me drugs.”

  “Do you want to come in?” Ben leans on the door.

  “I don’t know,” I say, trying to peek past his tall frame into the dimly lit house. “I’m high.”


  “Are you high?” He laughs, and his eyes are sparkly in the porch light.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you have Snuffleupagus eyelashes?” I squint at him. My eyes are so dry I think my eyelids might stick to the ball.

  “The elephant from Sesame Street?”

  “I think technically he’s a wooly mammoth, elephant and dog combined. I could eat a pizza right now.”

  “Probably hungry from the run.”

  “Or because I’m high.”

  “Or that.” Ben smiles. “You’re watching my eyelashes right now, aren’t you.”

  “Totally.” I lean into his face.

  “Come on.” Ben’s arm wraps around my shoulder and he pulls me into the house. I trip over the doorframe.

  “What about your dad?” I whisper, paranoid, and stop still. “And Sam saw me.”

  “He’s at work. And Sam’s seen worse.”

  “Is your dad picking up cars that don’t work?” Ben nods, and I lean against the door, tired. “We should all just ride bikes. It’s better for everyone. Cars are messy.”

  “But faster than bikes.”

  “Exactly.” I point my finger at Ben. “Why are we in such a hurry?”

  He carts me through the living room. A battered recliner sits, directed at the TV. Over the fireplace are pictures: Ben’s senior photo, Sam in a baseball uniform, a scruffy dad in coveralls standing beside a car with a proud look on his face. I stop at one and pick it up. It’s old and looks fake, like the photo that comes with the frame. A young couple with a small child stand in front of a small stucco house. All three faces are bright with smiles.

  “Those are my grandparents and my mom at the first house they bought in the States,” Ben says over my shoulder.

  “Where are they from?”

  “Mexico.”

  “I’ve never been to Mexico.”

  “Me neither.” Ben smiles.

  “Where do your grandparents live now?”

  “They moved to Texas a few years ago.”

  “I’ve never been to Texas, either,” I say. I set the picture back. “Sam looks like you.”