Of All The Stars

by Ally B

  “Well, Max, Vi, Kendall, and I were driving to Chipotle one day last spring, listening to the soundtrack to the 2008 cinematic masterpiece that is Mamma Mia, and when ‘Take A Chance on Me’ came on, Max just thought of it. It has to be natural. It’s not something you can force.” I recall the warm spring day. Kendall was driving, being the only one of us with a license. We had all of the windows rolled down as she drove my car down dusty back roads.

  “Should I just hit shuffle and name it after whatever song comes on?” He asks as he pulls forward a bit more.

  “If you really want to risk it in that way.” I shrug. “What if it’s like ‘Let It Go’ from Frozen, and then you have to drive around in a Jeep named Elsa?”

  “Then, I can just hit shuffle again?” He chuckles. “And there’s no Frozen on my phone.”

  “Well, that’s your first problem,” I huff. “Once you name it, you can’t change the name. It’s legally binding.”

  “Legally binding?”

  “Verbal contract,” I joke.

  A wave of panic washes over me when he picks up his phone, hitting shuffle on his Apple Music app.

  The car is stopped. The line isn’t moving. You’re fine. I remind myself.

  Breathe, in and out. In and out.

  When he hits shuffle, a vaguely familiar rap song blares through the speakers.

  “Guess I’m naming it, Kanye?” He asks.

  “Well, you can get creative with that. Kanye is your jumping-off point. You could name it West, or North, or Saint, or one of his other kids' names that I can’t remember.”

  “West is good,” he says as he pulls toward the road. “Which way do I go?”

  “Oh, sorry! Left,” I instruct.

  “Are parties always at Jackson’s house?” He asks, pulling out onto the main road.

  “Most of the time. It depends on whose parents aren’t home. And Jackson’s usually aren’t,” I explain. “Left up here.”

  He’s not a bad driver by any means, but I still catch myself staring at the road in front of me and breathing a sigh of relief when the house comes into view.

  “It’s up here on the left.” I point to the huge white house where Thomas’ car is already parked.

  Graham parks against the curb and leaves the engine on.

  I reach for the door handle before quickly realizing that I’m still wearing his gloves. I quickly pull them off of my hands and set them on his center console. “Thanks again for that, by the way.”

  “No problem,” he says.

  “Are you ready?” I ask him.

  “I kind of feel like I’m crashing this guy’s party, I don’t even know him,” he chuckles.

  Aw, he’s human and not just a cute guy with too much confidence for a teenager.

  “Violet and Kendall invited you, you’re fine. Kendall has been dating Jackson’s best friend since they were like twelve, so her invite is essentially an extension of his.”

  “Twelve?”

  “Someone get the girl a mini-van and a base-level membership to a multi-level marketing scheme. She’s got him cuffed for life,” I joke and then explain seriously. “They’re good together, and that’s hard to find when you’re our age. Especially when there are only six-hundred kids in our entire high school.”

  “That’s honestly crazy.” He shakes his head. “Who else do I need to know for tonight?”

  “Who have you met?” I ask him.

  “You, Max, Violet, Kendall, Jacob St. Paul, Ava, and Gabby,” he rattles off. “The lacrosse guys in my lunch period.”

  “Everyone you know is going to be here, so that’s good,” I smile reassuringly. “Everyone loves new kids. And I doubt anyone will have a problem with you.” I watch the purple lights turn on through the window. “Ready?”

  “Yeah,” he smiles as he turns off his Jeep, flinging open his car door and climbing out.

  I follow suit, leading him to the front door and pressing the doorbell once before Jackson opens it.

  Perseus

  The Greek Hero

  “Nice of you to join us for once,” he says with a smile as he steps aside so I can walk in. “The girls are in the backyard messing with the fires. Graham, right?”

  “Yeah,” Graham answers him from behind me.

  “We’re putting you to work, follow me,” he says, entering the house.

  I look back at Graham, and he nods as he closes the door behind him, heading into the kitchen behind Jackson.

  I walk through the wide-open sliding door into the backyard, closing it behind me and going over to Violet and Kendall, who are leaning over the fire pit.

  “How was it?” Violet whips around.

  “How was what?” I ask her.

  “Your ride with Graham?” She grins.

  “You act like the field isn’t two seconds away.”

  “You got here later than we did.” She raises an eyebrow.

  “Because I said hi to Max after the game,” I defend. “But, he’s nice.”

  “He’s perfect for you,” Kendall speaks up.

  “You’ve had one conversation with him.” Violet defends Graham as if I’m already friend-zoning him.

  “Sometimes, you can just tell,” Kendall gushes.

  “Just like I can tell that you don’t know how to use a lighter. Give me that.” I steal the lighter from her hand, quickly lighting the fire pit and moving on to the torches surrounding the pool area.

  The boys begin to set up beer pong tables on the other side of the pool, and I can already see that Graham fits in well.

  “See? Perfect,” Kendall whisper-shouts from a different torch.

  Slowly but surely, the soccer boys begin to come through the door. Max is one of the last, but he makes his way to our side of the pool and sits on the couch with Kendall, Violet, and I, ignoring his already-buzzed teammates on the other side.

  “What’s up?” I ask him.

  “I’m not drinking tonight, and I don’t want to deal with that right now. Figured I’d find my sober buddy,” he grins.

  “Sober buddy? We’re getting her shit-faced tonight,” Violet jokes, holding up her White Claw. “This is her fifth one. I’m just holding onto it for safe-keeping.”

  “Safe-keeping?” He holds back a laugh.

  “Safe-keeping,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. “Super safe.”

  Kendall bursts into laughter, and her ridiculous laugh causes Max and I to follow suit.

  “What’s so funny over here?” Tommy joins us, sitting next to Kendall.

  “I’m stealing your girl,” Max jokes.

  “Try, try again.” He shakes his head, laughing. “Thanks for saving our asses tonight, by the way.”

  “It’s what I do,” he shrugs.

  “Oh, shut up, you prick.” Tommy rolls his eyes.

  “It kinda is his thing.” I hear Kendall tell Tommy, much to his obvious disdain.

  “Maybe if you played like that for the whole game, you wouldn’t have to save us in the last twenty seconds.” Tommy shoots back.

  “But then, when you need saving, there won’t be anyone left.” I defend him.

  “She gets me.” Max nods in agreement.

  “People are here!” Jackson shouts from across the pool.

  Instantly, someone turns the music up, and the colored lights Violet had given Jackson for his birthday to replace the softer, more natural ones on the patio illuminate the area.

  “This isn’t what it’s usually like,” Max tells me, as what feels like a million people pile in. “Don’t let tonight be the reason you don’t want to come again. I’m really glad you’re here.”

  I try to take his words to heart as he’s whisked away by Tommy and Kendall, and I’m left with Violet.

  “Come with me to get another drink?” Violet asks, walking back toward the house.

  I follow her into the kitchen where coolers of drinks sit surrounding the perimeter. She pulls the lid off of a red cooler and pulls out a mango White Claw.

&n
bsp; “First try!” She holds it in the air victoriously.

  I shake my head at her in confusion.

  “It’s like cooler roulette in here. Once I spent half an hour digging through all of them.”

  I raise a doubtful eyebrow at her.

  “I was shitfaced, but still!”

  “You’re too much,” I laugh. “Any intuition on water?” I ask her, gesturing to the array of coolers.

  “I think you might be stuck with one of these and the fridge.” She hands me a red solo cup.

  I weave through the crowd, before filling the cup from the dispenser on the refrigerator and returning to Violet, who’s now talking to Graham.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Violet huffs.

  “Am I really that boring?” Graham asks her.

  “No. But she’s your problem now,” Violet jokes, wandering off to who-knows-where.

  “Is she ditching you for any specific reason?” He asks. “Sloppy drunk?”

  “Boring sober person, apparently,” I say through a giggle.

  “I doubt that’s true.”

  “The boring or the sober part?”

  He chuckles, “both?”

  “Well, I’m kind of boring compared to drunk Violet, not going to lie. She’ll definitely end up in the pool tonight and won’t remember a thing tomorrow.”

  “In the pool? It’s freezing.”

  “Listen, North Carolina. It may be cold, but nothing can stop a bunch of drunk Emerson kids from jumping into a pool. Especially not a drunk Violet Nakamura.” I feel like I’m shouting over the music and other conversations as the area fills with more and more people.

  “Is the pool at least heated?”

  “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure she would do it if it weren’t, too.” I think back to the freezing nights' last summer when it was just Kendall, Violet, Max, Jackson, Riley, Thomas, St. Paul, and I. A drunk Violet is always a Violet that ends up in Jackson’s pool, it’s essentially a guarantee.

  “So, is she always the wild one?”

  “It’s usually her, but I’d never underestimate Gabby,” I tell him. I recall the countless Friday nights I’d tapped through my friends’ private stories, waiting up to make sure Max got home safely and found Gabby making out with someone I’d never even seen, or jumping into the pool alongside Violet.

  “Not your thing?”

  “It’s not anyone’s thing unless they’re too drunk for their own good,” I tell him as we leave the kitchen, heading outside toward a crowd watching Kendall and Thomas crush Jackson and Riley in beer pong.

  “You don’t drink?” he asks me.

  “No. I don’t even really party,” I confess as Kendall sinks another shot.

  “Why not?”

  “Seeing people make bad decisions stresses me out,” I half-joke.

  “Then why this party?”

  “Well, Jackson is a friend. And Violet and Kendall kind of guilt-tripped me into coming. And you’re here, so...” I take a sip of my water.

  “Glad I could help,” he laughs, taking a sip of whatever’s in his cup.

  “Phoebe!” Max shouts over the crowd.

  “Max!” I respond in a matching tone as he approaches us.

  “How you doing?” He asks.

  “Pretty good,” I tell him.

  “Graham.” He nods in acknowledgment.

  “Max.” Graham raises his cup in Max’s direction.

  “So, what’re you two up to?” He asks.

  “Nothing much,” I answer. “Watching Kendall kick ass.”

  “She has a talent.” He nods in agreement. “You need anything?”

  “I’m good, thanks,” I tell him.

  “You sure?”

  “I can handle it,” Graham interjects.

  “Just let me know, okay?” He ignores him.

  “I’ve got her, bro,” Graham says, this time his tone a little more aggressive.

  I feel my heart rate accelerate as a new type of anxiety creeps into my mind.

  “All right, dude.” Max holds his hands up before backing away, leaving me with Graham.

  Dude?

  I spend the next hour talking with Graham, who seems to relax as soon as Max walks away.

  “So, your favorite color is red, you’re a Scorpio, and you’re an athletic overachiever?” I take a sip of my water.

  “You’ve got me figured out,” he shrugs with a laugh. “Is this ‘Green Light’?” he asks me, referring to the music blaring over the speakers.

  “The only song Vi would let me put on the playlist,” I tell him.

  “My sister was obsessed with this song for like a year.” He shakes his head.

  “Your sister has good taste. Don’t tell me you hate Lorde, that’s a deal-breaker for me.”

  “Oh, I don’t hate Lorde, I just don’t love her.”

  “So, your sister has better taste than you?”

  “I think I’ve got pretty good taste.”

  “Why’s that?” I ask him, ready to critique his music choices.

  “Well, I like you, so that’s a start.” He smiles, and I feel my face flush a bit. “I’m gonna go and grab a drink, be right back, okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be here,” I tell him, mentally noting to tell Violet what he said. I look around for her as ‘Green Light’ comes to an end. The bass from the speakers seems to vibrate the entire area as the song transitions to an all-too-familiar one.

  Fuck.

  I feel my heart rate accelerate, and goosebumps rise all over my body as the melody that has haunted my memory for over four years begins again.

  I hear Max in the distance, shouting, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. All I can hear is the stupid song.

  My muscles are tense, and I feel like I’m drowning, breathless as the music continues.

  “Hey, let’s go inside. Okay?” Max’s voice is still muffled as he grabs my hand.

  “Who the fuck messed with my fucking music!” I hear an angry Violet scream. “Whoever decided they could touch my fucking phone is going to get punched so fucking hard their asshole kids are going to feel it!”

  “Pheebs, we’re going to go inside.” Max drags me like a child into the house and through the crowd of staring people. I can feel my hands shake in his as we continue up the stairs toward Jackson’s room. He walks me to the bed and has me sit before walking back to the doorway.

  I’m pretty sure he yells, “turn the fucking music down!” before closing the door behind him and sitting next to me on the bed, but everything is muffled under the sound of my blood rushing, and my heart beating viciously.

  “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay,” he repeats, still muffled.

  I can still hear the song playing through the other side of the wall as I take a deep breath in and out. In and out, desperately trying to recall my therapist’s advice.

  Four years to stop this feeling and a stupid ‘Weeknd’ song at a party brings it flooding back.

  Still muffled, he says, something like, “Pheebs, you’re all right. We’re in Jackson’s room.” He pauses as the music stops, earning muffled shouts and groans from the crowd downstairs before it finally changes to ‘Truth Hurts’ by Lizzo.

  I try to recall Doctor Hines’ words, but all I can remember is the smell of smoke and the shouting of pedestrians.

  I can see the flashing lights and hear my father screaming my name as I stare at the mint-chocolate chip ice cream and rainbow sprinkles covering the interior of the car.

  Breath in and out. In and out.

  “Is she okay?” I hear Violet’s muffled voice.

  “I have no clue,” he says softly as he wraps his hand around my fisted one.

  I clear my throat and whisper, “I’m fine. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, honey.” Violet sits on my other side. “I have no idea how that song got added, I’m sorry.”

  My muscles remain tense as I respond. “Not your fault.”

  “Go enjoy the party, Vi. I’ve got her,” Max says
softly.

  “I can stay,” she says, speaking more to Max than me.

  “Thanks, Vi, but I’m good.” I attempt to reassure her, but it comes out too shaky to reassure anyone.

  “Love you. Text me if you need anything,” she says as she stands and leaves, closing the door behind her.

  “Do you want water?” Max asks me.

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Who likes ‘Can’t Feel My Face’ enough to add it to a party playlist?” He jokes, earning a small smile from me as I stare into my clenched fists.

  “I dropped my phone,” I tell him. “And my water, apparently.” I stare at my soaked T-shirt and leggings.

  He pulls his hand away from mine, quickly sending a text as I try to relax my fingers.

  His phone chimes, and he nods as he reads the text before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Violet is looking for your phone. Do you want me to grab you some clothes?”

  “No,” I answer, trying to remember Doctor Hines’ advice on how to loosen up.

  My muscles had ached for days after my first few, and my mom had begged him to teach me how to calm down quicker after I’d refused to go to school because of the pain, lying in bed staring blankly at whatever was on TV

  “What can I do?” He asks me.

  “Just stay?” I sound meek, and nothing like myself.

  “Of course.”

  After a while, Max stands up, “you need to get some sleep.”

  “My car is at Kendall’s,” I tell him.

  “I’ll take you to get it tomorrow morning before your grandpa’s party,” he tells me as he holds out his hand for me to take.

  Still unable to unclench my fists, I shake my head no.

  “You’re okay Phoebe, we’ll slide out, no one will notice—”

  “This party is to celebrate you and—”

  “Not worried about it, same shit different Friday. Let’s go.”

  I keep my head down as I follow him down the stairs, and as promised, we slide out, unnoticed.

  It’s embarrassing when he not only has to open the door but also buckle my seatbelt as I attempt to relax my fingers.

  We don’t say a word as Max drives slowly toward our neighborhood.

  When he pulls into my driveway, I groan as I reach the door and realize they’re still in my baby-blue backpack. “My keys.”