The First True Thing

by Claire Needell

  “That’s what I call girl power,” Nature Girl said.

  “You’re hard-core, Marci,” Andy said. “Makes me look bad.”

  “Stop,” I said, and slapped his arm. “I hardly drank at Senna’s.”

  This wasn’t really true. I’d had a couple strong drinks back at Senna’s and a beer before Andy and Jonas got there. But I was unnerved by Alex and the older crowd around us, and I knew Andy and I had to talk, the sooner the better. If things continued being awkward between us, they might stay that way for good.

  “You know, I wanted to say something about the other night—after we left Senna’s,” I started.

  “Yeah, me too,” he said. He looked down, playing with the thin leather bracelet on my wrist. “You were pretty wasted. I was too, but I thought maybe you were more fucked up,” he said. I nodded. My heart raced. I needed a drink of water, but there was nothing on the table, except Andy’s half-finished shot of tequila. I sipped at it. He bit his lip. I could see he had something serious to say. I took another sip of his tequila.

  “Would you stop?” he said suddenly, grabbing my wrist.

  “What?” I said.

  “I’m trying to talk to you,” he said, glancing at the drink in my hand.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll stop.” I pushed the glass away.

  “You’re a great girl, Marci. At school, in class and everything,” he started. “I really like you, but something happens . . .” He paused, and looked up at the ceiling. I was afraid of what he would say next. I felt like the pale tile floor of the kitchen suddenly wasn’t entirely stable. I had trouble breathing.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I’ll be right back,” I said. “I’ve got to find a bathroom.” Suddenly, it was like all the voices in the room had merged into one, and it sounded like insects buzzing. I thought if I could wash my face, I could get my head together and talk to Andy, and hear whatever was coming next. I knew which room Alex had led Hannah and Senna into, so I went in the opposite direction down the hall, and opened the first door I came to. It wasn’t a bathroom, though, but a small room, like a study, with a couch against one wall, and the rest of the space filled with screens and tripods, camera equipment, and a couple of laptops. There was one window on the far wall, but it was covered with a black sheet. I took a step inside and was staring into the jumble of things, when someone came up from behind me, and shut the door.

  It was Alex. “That ain’t for you, honey,” he said in his strange, soft voice. “Those are my toys. Should get a lock for this shit. All these kids walking around this place, someone’s going to jack something.” He stepped forward and pressed up against me, breathing in my ear. I could feel the roughness of his beard against my cheek.

  “You looking for something, hon?” he whispered. I still had my back to him, and if I turned my head, my face would be much too close to his, so I stayed frozen in place. He pressed himself even closer, and I could feel him hard against me. He began to kiss my neck and stroke my hair. Then he put one hand firmly against the wall, blocking my way. He slid his other hand up my shirt and began to touch my breasts. He reached into my bra. My head throbbed. I felt dizzy, like my knees were about to buckle beneath me. I knew if I didn’t do something soon, the situation would only get worse. But I couldn’t think what to do. It was his house. I was drunk. I was afraid to make a scene.

  Then he slid his hand down around my waist and started to pry deeper. I wanted to speak, say no, scream even, but somehow I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. Then suddenly, I heard Hannah call my name.

  “Marcelle! Come on, we’re out of here!”

  I jerked around, and in surprise, Alex pulled back. I pushed past him, and we burst together through the door. Andy, Hannah, and the others were waiting in the front hall. They turned at the commotion. Alex darted into the kitchen, but it was obvious we’d been alone in that room, and that we’d been interrupted.

  On our way down to the street, Andy walked ahead of me, and didn’t wait for me to catch up. Senna’s truck was parked in the opposite direction, and I’d already lost sight of him and Hannah. I was terrified that Andy was mad, and that he and Jonas might leave without me. I started to walk faster, when I stumbled over an uneven corner of sidewalk. I went down hard on one knee, but got straight back up. I started to cry, but not aloud. I wiped my nose with the corner of my T-shirt, and tried to blink back my tears.

  I wanted to explain everything to Andy—about the room, and what had happened with Alex, but we rode home in silence, and all I remember was that the windows were down, and I stopped crying, because there was something soothing about the warm, flower-scented air.

  Jonas pulled up in front of my house, and to my surprise, Andy got out of the car and walked me down the stone path to the side door. I leaned on his arm so I wouldn’t stumble in the dark, but I wasn’t so drunk that I couldn’t, finally, try to explain what had happened back at Alex’s. “I didn’t go in there with him,” I whispered. “He followed me.”

  We stood under the outside light on the steps by the kitchen, near my mother’s potted herbs and flowers. I was still shaken by what happened, but at least I’d tried to explain. Andy pushed my hair away from my face, and just stared at me for a minute, like he was thinking what he should say.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said. “I just wanted to get out of there, and get you away from those fuckheads. Jonas has some real lowlife friends.”

  “Yeah, it was kind of scary,” I said softly. I thought for a second what would have happened if Hannah hadn’t called me when she did.

  Andy squeezed my hand. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said. I knew what he meant. I was a drunk girl, who let fucked-up things happen to me. But I wanted to explain to Andy that sometimes for me being drunk wasn’t like you’d expect. Inside, there was a part of me that wasn’t fucked up at all. Inside, I was the normal me.

  I felt the tears hot on my cheeks. I nodded silently. I could still feel Alex’s breath on my neck. I could still hear his voice.

  Four

  IN THE SUMMER, I told myself it was a summer thing, and that I would stop in the fall. But when school started, I began to drink more than ever.

  I snuck beer upstairs in my book bag, and dropped the empties out in the mornings on recycling days, hiding them in my closet until a Tuesday or Thursday. It was surprisingly easy. And it made being home alone in my room like a party, only better. I’d eat dinner with Mom and Dad, and then go upstairs to do homework and drink. I hid the beer bottles on the floor behind my desk in case either of them came in. I burned a mint-smelling candle that my mom always worried I’d forget to blow out.

  On weekends, I told my parents I was staying in to study for my SATs. I told Hannah the same thing, and she gave me shit for being the world’s biggest nerd. It hardly mattered, though. She was busy most nights with Senna, going to White Plains, and hanging out with Alex. She never asked me to come, not that I would have anyway.

  I didn’t know what Hannah and Senna were really up to, or even half of it, until Hannah filled me in one Saturday afternoon. She asked me to meet her at the Starbucks near the school. She seemed wired, too energetic for eleven in the morning, and I could tell she had something on her mind. I was hungover but I couldn’t admit it, not even to Hannah, since I’d been by myself the night before, listening to music and drinking vodka in my room until I passed out on top of my covers with my shorts and flip-flops still on.

  I stared at my coffee and waited for Hannah to say something. She sipped her tea and scanned the room. I realized she was checking to see if anyone was in hearing distance. Then, she leaned across the table and spoke so quietly I could hardly hear her. “Senna and I are meeting Alex tonight. Picking up some more stuff,” she said. “I just hope these Waverly kids can keep quiet.”

  She had me nervous already. How could she be sure no one would snitch? Coke wasn’t common in our town. It would definitely get around that people had
some.

  Hannah went on. “Alex said Senna and I should be able to clear a grand between us. Chuck has his own stash too. I’m saving mine for my car fund, or maybe just my fun fund,” she said. In August, Hannah had gotten her nose pierced, and I still wasn’t used to the look of the tiny gold dragonfly stud she wore. With the gold flecks in her eyes, the golden ends of her hair, and the dragonfly, there was something unsettling about her appearance—like she wasn’t a real person, but like a painting or a photograph.

  “What are you looking at?” Hannah snapped. I was jarred; I hadn’t realized I’d been staring.

  I sipped my coffee and tried to think what to say. “Aren’t you scared?” I finally asked. “It’s not like it’s weed. You guys could get busted, like Ellen what’s-her-name.” Ellen was a senior girl who’d suddenly disappeared last January. The story was that she was selling her Ritalin to a bunch of kids who got caught snorting it in the town library during midterms and ratted her out.

  Hannah drank her tea, eyed me slyly, and said, “I was talking to Alex about it, and you know what he said? He said ‘You’re so pretty. No one ever wants to rat on the pretty girl.’” Hannah’s uncombed hair fell across her face.

  I hesitated. “I think that’s just the kind of thing a guy like Alex says,” I ventured. “But you know I have beef with him.”

  Hannah ignored my comment. “We can make a grand or two in one month, without even working. How much did you make at that day camp over the summer?”

  “Six hundred,” I mumbled. I could see where she was going.

  “Yeah, and your parents will probably buy you a car,” Hannah said. “Elise is making me choose—and I chose singing lessons.” She leaned back in her chair, as though she had made her point.

  “And where are you going to tell her you got this car money?” I asked.

  Hannah looked down at her hands. “Elise won’t ask where the money came from. Anyway, I haven’t even gotten my permit yet. She can’t find the time to take me, she says. Too many paintings to finish for her November show.”

  Hannah’s plan made a sick sort of sense. She has a great voice, and her mom isn’t like my parents. She doesn’t pry into Hannah’s business. She’s too busy with her painting and her gallery in the city.

  “I guess you know what you’re doing,” I said, and Hannah nodded.

  “It’s no big deal,” Hannah said. “Literally—not a big deal. Chuck is figuring out the numbers, and exactly what we’ll cut it with. Mr. Chemistry, you know. And Senna is making a list of kids he thinks are all right—kids who won’t spread it all over town.”

  “Sounds like easy money,” I said. “And it’ll probably be done with fast.” I was embarrassed that I seemed to be more worried than she was.

  “Probably sell it all in a weekend,” Hannah said. “It’s only going to be about fifteen or twenty grams. I don’t even need to put up any cash.” She stopped herself, took a sip of tea, and then went on. “Maybe we need thirty kids to sell to, reliable kids. Tell me if you can think of anyone who might want some, who isn’t a talker. Don’t text. Give me any names in person. Senna and I are going to cut it next week—cutting it to shit, so it’s practically nothing. You want to give the good stuff a try, on me?” Hannah winked. I knew she knew what I’d say.

  “No way,” I shook my head. “When I did that one line at your house, I wanted to jump out the window. Coke makes me even more nervous than I already am.” I grimaced. “It’s a nightmare. I’m after the dream.”

  Hannah laughed. “You were bugging,” she said. “I never saw such a waste of a good buzz. Anyway, it’d keep you from getting so drunk, and getting into trouble. Like with Alex.”

  I stared at her. “Hannah,” I said, “why would you even say that? He followed me in there. He was the trouble.”

  Hannah looked puzzled. “How was I supposed to know? Tell me what happened.”

  I sighed. Somehow, it didn’t seem worth the effort to explain to Hannah about that night. It was over. Alex was an asshole. Hannah had to know that. Maybe there was nothing to talk about, except why Hannah hung out with him so much when she knew I hated him. “Anyway, what’s the deal with him? What does he actually do?” I asked.

  Hannah hesitated, and got a vague look on her face. “I don’t know everything about his tech company. But he’s fronting me my half of the blow. Senna had about five hundred left from some money his grandparents gave him last year, but I had nothing, as usual, so Alex asked me to do some modeling for him.” She faltered and blushed. It wasn’t like Hannah to get embarrassed.

  “Actual modeling, like for stores . . . ?” I trailed off.

  “Well, not exactly,” she said, laughing and looking around at the tables close to us. “I’ll tell you later. It’s kind of bad,” she said. “But not, you know, insane.”

  “‘Not insane,’” I repeated. “That’s good. That sounds great.” I couldn’t help being sarcastic. It was one of the few times I even questioned what Hannah was doing.

  “I swear, Marcelle, I’ll tell you more. But you have to promise on your life you won’t tell anyone, ever, not even Andy.” She leaned across the table. “Promise,” she repeated.

  “I promise,” I said. Then I added, “Anyway, Andy and I are hardly seeing each other.” But Hannah didn’t respond. She was done confiding. It would be weeks before Hannah told me more.

  She picked up her bag and got up to leave. “I need to meet Senna,” she said. “We’re going over some songs I want to learn. I’m getting an audition with that teacher I told you about at the Performing Arts Center. It’s in a few weeks. Most of the kids she works with have been singing for years. I’ve got to sound hot.”

  I followed her out into the bright sun of the parking lot as she put her headphones on and walked away. She had asked me to meet her so I’d give her names of kids who would make good customers. It was the last thing I wanted to do—send people I knew to Hannah to get fucked up, and so she could get in even deeper with Alex.

  I unlocked my bike from the bike rack and wheeled it to the sidewalk. I thought about texting Andy to see if he wanted to get lunch at the diner, or take a walk by the water, but I knew I wouldn’t. It was too risky. If he said no, I’d still have to see him Monday in English. He’d told me the week before he liked my essay about being an only child. I’d written about how I learned as a little kid to make up stories, and think about myself as a character in a book, so I wouldn’t feel so lonely.

  It’s the kind of thing teachers love. But it wasn’t really true. It wasn’t about me, but more like the girl I wished I was. I made up stories, that was the true part—but they were always about lonely little girls—orphans and sad, ragged runaways—lost kids, or kids who had never had a home.

  Five

  MAYBE I’M LOSING my mind.

  I know I could find a Benadryl somewhere in the house, and that if I took one, I could fall blissfully asleep. But I know I have to resist. Benadryl, NyQuil, anything that knocks you out, is considered a banned substance at the Center. I know I can’t face Group tomorrow if I slip. The thought of sitting in Group and having to either lie or confess is the only thing that keeps me from rummaging through my closet. I can’t become the loser James and Cyndi already think I am.

  I pace, pick up my phone, and put it back on the bed. It’s been almost two hours since I heard from Hannah, since the “undeliverable” alert popped up when I texted her back. The rational part of me knows there’s no reason to panic. But I can’t help it. My crash has made me wary. I can’t help thinking that Hannah’s crash is coming too.

  The night of my Death Wish crash, it was hot and humid, and Hannah had wanted to swim. It was risky to go to the quarry near Senna’s when it was still light, and people might be out walking their dogs, but by about five it seemed okay.

  I remember Hannah on the highest rock, frozen on a slab of gray stone, the low sun lighting the back of her head, so her hair was slightly aglow—I remember thinking, No, don’t. Andy stood next
to me, and he grabbed my hand when she dove.

  Oh Jesus, oh Jesus. Andy turned away. Chuck, pale and thin, stood on the rocks, the next to jump, and Senna leaned against the truck smoking, like he’d seen this movie before.

  Hannah climbed out of the water in just her bra and panties. She flipped her hair back and wrung it out with both hands. Senna fished a towel out of the back of his pickup. No one paid any attention to Chuck. He must have hit bottom hard, although he made it out okay, climbing over the sharp rocks, cupping his nose. He looked like a boxer, bloody-faced, his lip already swollen. Hannah handed him the wet towel off her shoulders and climbed into her own cutoffs.

  “You okay?” Andy asked. Chuck nodded, and Hannah put her arm around his slender waist. You could feel Senna’s silent fury as the three of them climbed into the cab of Senna’s truck.

  “You kids had enough fun yet?” Jonas said, shaking his head.

  We all ended up back at Senna’s. Hannah called Alex, and he came over with some blow. The joke was that doing some bumps would help numb Chuck’s face. Hannah and Senna had already sold their first stash, or at least what was left of it that they hadn’t done themselves.

  “It’s good medicine, Chuckles,” Hannah said as she chopped lines on an old mirror. Chuck’s nose was swollen, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Bruised and helpless, he followed her every move.

  “What a dumbfuck,” Senna said, shaking his head. Alex and Jonas laughed with Senna over Chuck’s attempt to follow Hannah into the quarry.

  “You’re just too fat to swim, Robby,” Chuck said. “Fat piece of shit.” Senna shot Chuck a murderous look.

  “Come on, kids,” Alex said, “Let’s play nice.” Hannah handed Chuck the mirror first, and it was clear Senna was still annoyed that Hannah was nursing Chuck.

  “Man,” Senna said. “You’re lucky I’m a patient guy. You try to squeeze on my girl, you do my drugs, then you call me names?” Senna shook his head menacingly.