by Dave Ferraro
pompous (adj.) – having an excessive sense of self-importance
This had not been a good idea. I’d known from the beginning nothing good would come from it. But my best friend, Maggie, had begged and begged. Her Irish green eyes had been intent on mine with a facial expression that wouldn’t take no for an answer. Even though my instincts had warned me against it, against coming to this stupid party and possibly risking the very lives of anyone around me, I hadn’t. Wasn’t this what best friends were for? Maybe not.
But here I sat in a small disorganized circle, loud music pounding against the walls in muted thumps, secluded amongst the “elite students” of my school. I had ignored the very reasons why I shouldn’t be in this room. This is where I’d made my second mistake of the night.
It was here where I posed the most danger to those around me. My eyes bounced around to the beat of the music, watching everyone laugh and have a good time. Everyone wanted to be here except me. There was a sudden burst of laughter so boisterous I had to assume there had been a joke I’d missed while caught up in my own self repugnance.
My eyes roved around the room, glossing over a huge wooden desk, an oversized brown leather sofa and a bookcase the length of the whole wall. This supposed library was just as big, if not bigger, than the size of any two rooms in my house. We all sat in the middle on an intricate plush rug, with me as the odd person in a chain of paired couples. Desperately, I needed a way out of this mess before it got out of hand.
I first caught a glance at Maggie with her flaming red hair. Her eyes twinkled with delight in my direction. I tried to give her the silent look that would let her know that I wanted to leave as soon as possible. But she averted my gaze, her eyes in favor of the guy on her left, letting me know she wasn’t quite ready to leave. And who would blame her? She was sitting next to Brent Mitchell. I had heard his name come from her lips ever since the first day of our freshman year at Everett High. He’d been the one that she’d always pined over even while she dated other guys. So now he had finally asked her out. And for that one reason alone I’d tagged along to this party.
Following her gaze, my eyes then roamed over to Brent. In doing so, I was reminded why she was so into him, with his dark tousled hair and brooding good looks. He wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense, but rather a raw attractiveness that fit with his hulking body frame. And not only was he good looking, but he was a star football player for our school’s team. He was a force to be reckoned with on and off the field. I was truly happy that Brent had finally noticed her.
I met his brown eyes and caught him smiling with faint amusement. Startled that he’d been looking at me watch him, I adverted my eyes in favor of the guy next to him.
That guy, the man of the hour, was Jay Brisentine. He was tall, blonde, beautiful and the host of this senior party. Normally I wouldn’t call a guy beautiful, but there just wasn’t a better way to describe him. He too played on our illustrious football team, but he was better known as the leader of the Lacrosse team.
His longtime girlfriend, Kathy Peterson, was curled next to him with her dark hair, stormy eyes, and equally good genes. I couldn’t help but wonder what their kids would look like, because if any couple would survive high school and get married, it would be them. Their history together started way back in middle school.
Continuing my venture around the group, my eyes led me to Amanda Edmond. She was Kathy’s best friend and head cheerleader. Her fit of giggles had cooled as she tossed her bombshell blonde hair over her shoulder, her eyes settling on mine. Her pouty mouth turned into a frown. I was puzzled by her look of disapproval because she hadn’t protested against my being here in the first place.
Quickly, I looked away from her to give Flynn McCallister, leading bad boy, and Amanda’s boyfriend, a glance. He was the only other junior besides Maggie and me in the room. I would have known without looking that his sandy brown hair was swept up in a modern faux Mohawk, which had that slightly messy touch to it that hot guys alone could only perfect. And that his eyes were cold and blue, set on a face that was more than amazing.
Maggie made a noise to get my attention. My head snapped back to her. I didn’t quite get the message that I saw on her face. She gestured with her head at an odd angle. I gave her a quizzical look, mouthing ‘What’ until I followed her eyes down to the center of our circle. What I saw chilled me to my very core. I really shouldn’t have come here tonight.
A hand on my arm jolted me. I turned to meet Flynn’s gaze. I hated how looking at him always seemed to melt my heart and render me speechless. It was the same effect he had on most girls, including me unfortunately. He was too gorgeous for words, and worst yet, he knew it. And being a junior and football team captain didn’t help his inflated ego either. It had only given him the respect of the seniors above him, as well as the rest of the school. His abilities to throw the ball and lead the team to State the past two years had sealed his position as the most popular boy in school. He walked down the halls of school like he owned them and to tell the truth, he did. I hated him because of it. Girls were aware of his reputation of breaking hearts, yet they continued to throw theirs at him time and time again. But I wasn’t going to fall for his shenanigans. Nope, not me.
“Flynn, she has a choice you know,” a voice said from somewhere beside me. I turned my head to see it was Luke, I-couldn’t-remember-his-last-name. He too, I realized, was crush-worthy, but paled in Flynn’s shadow. It was hard to imagine that looking at him now. He was all golden skin and blonde curls, looking much like the perfect California surfer. How had I forgotten he was sitting next to me? Staring at him only made me realize more just how cute he was.
Flynn and Luke were best friends, but I had hardly paid any attention to Luke these past two years. I’d been too busy ignoring Flynn with the best of my abilities to know much about him. Then it dawned on me. I had forgotten to count Luke. There weren’t seven of us. Luke made eight. Each pair was a couple except Luke and I. Was I being set up with him?
Faintly, I remembered hearing that he’d broken up with his girlfriend a few weeks ago. But at the moment, I couldn’t remember the full story. I was too busy trying to reconcile with how I’d allowed myself to get into this situation and how I could even be in the same room, filled with what most of our classmates dubbed as the wealthiest and most beautiful people of our school, “the elite.” No one else in the school compared to them.
When I felt Flynn’s hand drop from my arm, I turned my head to look down at fate as it pointed at me. “Come on, what are you going to do?”
I looked up this time to find it had been Amanda who’d spoken. Her voice was filled with disapproval, but not of the anger I would have expected if I’d been Flynn’s girlfriend. But that was not how I operated. In fact, I simply didn’t date. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. It wasn’t just a moral decision as most would assume. I did it because I didn’t want anyone to die.
Angry murmurs of protest at me holding up the game shocked me into action. I looked down again at the bottle that pointed at me before sneaking another glance at Maggie. Her eyes were wide in frustration and a hint of embarrassment. Clearly, she wanted me to make a decision and not make her look bad in front of this group of seniors she desperately wanted to impress.
“Take the shots, Mercy, or give Flynn a big wet one, make your choice,” a voice said that could have been Jay’s. I wasn’t sure. The room was beginning to blur with the commotion and my emotions over what was to come next.
We, of course, were playing spin the bottle. The game wasn’t without consequences. The surface ones were to spin the bottle and kiss the person the bottle points to. If you didn’t want to kiss that person, then you drank a shot of Jack. Added to it, if the person took the kiss, the shot poured was added to a pool of shots. What sat before me now was a bouquet of four shots of Jack Daniels. If I drank those shots, I wouldn’t just get a buzz. It would definit
ely get me drunk. I couldn’t afford that. Again, it was not only the moral value that stopped me. It also wasn’t only because my mom would kill me, though she would if she found out. Truthfully, it was because I couldn’t afford to lose control. Not with death a possible consequence. Added to that, I really didn’t want to kiss Flynn.
“Don’t make me beg for Mercy,” Flynn said, dragging out my name. The slight slur in his voice led me to believe he was on his way to being drunk if he wasn’t already. I’d heard this little joke far too many times to find it funny. In fact, it really just ticked me off. Why my mother decided Mercy was a good choice for a first name so I would suffer my teen years as the butt of everyone’s jokes disturbed me. Did she think at all before naming me? Anger at myself for the situation I was in, and anger at the boy whose insufferable conceitedness still sent butterflies in my stomach, pissed me off to no end. So I turned, baring daggers with my eyes, at him.
Looking at him, I couldn’t help to see how he personified my word of the day, pompous jerk. Well, pompous was the word. I always checked and remembered what my SAT word of the day was. I tried to use it at least once in a sentence the same day. With the test looming in March, I was trying to expand my vocabulary.
I wouldn’t let this pompous, self-centered jerk who thought he was the next thing to God embarrass me. With my cheeks flushing anyway, I faced him. A quick peck on the lips wouldn’t kill him, would it?
His hand came up towards me. He must have assumed my choice with my movement. He swiftly cupped the back of my head and pulled me to him. I didn’t even have time to catch my breath before his mouth was on mine. It should have been quick. Nothing could possibly happen if it had been a quick peck. But he held me there for what seemed like an eternity with his mouth parting mine to explore me. I felt warm, a bit light headed and confused. After a lingering moment of absent judgment, I pushed him back to separate us. He rocked back with a burst of laughter which brightened my cheeks more. I glared at him. Our lip lock should have him pale and unsteady. But he seemed fine and a little flushed himself. I didn’t understand. How could it be possible? He should be lying on the ground unconscious, or at least his face should be drained of any color. I shot up to my feet.
“Where’re you going Mercy? It seems Flynn may have found his match?” Brent said with another howl of laughter.
I brushed my hands down my tee, still unsure of what to do. With everyone looking up at me, still giggling and laughing, I hastily turned and said, “Maggie, I’ll be back.” I walked across the room and away from the onlookers still in the circle when I heard a slap.
“Shut up, Brent,” Kathy said. She must have leaned over and hit him. The laughter just intensified.
I was out of the room in mere seconds, closing the door tightly behind me. Music pulsated around me as I stood in the empty hallway where I could see everybody else milling about. The makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room was still filled with teenage lust. So I headed in the opposite direction. There were only two more doors in this direction in this massive hallway before it ended abruptly. I could only pray one of them was a bathroom.
Almost out of luck, I opened the second to last door and stepped into a small bathroom with nothing more than a toilet and sink. Moving to the sink, I gripped the sides as I leaned in to look into the gold-framed mirror. What I saw in the reflection was a complex mix of a younger version of my mother and my father. Although I looked a lot like my mom, I never felt effortlessly beautiful like she was. I’d gotten a lot of her facial features but my coloring and hazel eyes I’d recognized countless times in a picture my mom kept of my father. And that should have been my sober reminder of my fate. I couldn’t understand why I had allowed myself to be baited into kissing Flynn. If things had gone badly, which it should have, how could I have lived with myself?
I pulled back my long wavy brown hair as I bent forward. Turning on the faucet with my free hand, I splashed water on my face, remembering Paul and what happened that awful day.
Chapter Two: Beg For Mercy
