The Party Page 14

  “Fine,” Hannah snapped. She’d had enough of this guilt trip. And she wanted to get her coat from her locker and leave the school before classes let out and the hallways filled again. She looked terrible when she cried. “I’ll think about it.”

  THE HOUSE WAS eerily quiet when Hannah entered. She checked her watch and realized it was only 2:40; school didn’t end until three. Her brother wouldn’t be home yet, which was a relief, but her mom would be there. Her mom was always there after school: to ask how their days had been and how much homework they had; to make sure they ate a nutritious snack before she drove them to soccer or basketball or piano. Except no one answered when Hannah called “Mom?” into the cavernous house. Hannah peered into her mom’s office: empty. The small space was usually orderly, but papers were strewn across the floor from a manila folder that now rested against the far wall, and pens and paper clips were scattered across the floor. The mess looked like the result of some temper tantrum, but Hannah knew that couldn’t be the case. Her mom didn’t lose her temper, although a lot had changed since the party. She headed to the kitchen breathing a small sigh of relief. She was alone.

  Hannah grabbed a cup and filled it with chocolate chips. “They’re for baking. Besides, you need protein at the end of the day.” That’s what her mom would have said, but her mom wasn’t there. Hannah moved to her room, closed the door, and opened her laptop. Some mindless comedic YouTube viewing was in order, the sillier the better. She needed a distraction from the meeting with Mrs. Pittwell. She was searching through various cat videos, when Skype alerted her to a call. It was Noah. She clicked to accept and his handsome face filled her computer screen. “Hey. Watcha doing?”

  “Chilling. Snacking.” Hannah was getting a lot more comfortable with her boyfriend since she was grounded and hence, never allowed to spend time alone with him. “Are you home already?”

  “Got out of gym early. What did Mrs. Pittwell want?”

  “She wanted to talk about Ronni.”

  “What about Ronni?”

  “She wants me to be there for her. Give me a break.” Even as the words came out of her mouth, Hannah felt guilty for saying them. She sounded so heartless… . She sounded like Lauren.

  Noah said, “I don’t know why Ronni came back. She should have changed schools.”

  “I guess… .”

  “If she says anything about that night, we’re all fucked.”

  “She won’t,” Hannah assured him. “Ronni doesn’t remember anything.”

  Noah was drinking a Coke and he took a swig from the can. “Memories can come back,” he said. “It would be better for everyone if Ronni was gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “A different school. A different town. Who cares?”

  He was right. It would have been easier if Ronni had never returned. But she had, and they would have to accept it. “Yeah … but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “I think there is… .” He was smirking.

  Hannah’s stomach churned, but she kept her cool. “What are you up to?” Her tone was teasing and conspiratorial, concealing the anxiety she was feeling.

  “Adam’s got some ideas. He’s a sick fuck.”

  “He has no mercy.” She laughed and ate a handful of chocolate chips. She was getting so good at playing the role of the popular girl: cool, narcissistic, callous… . The only problem was, her insides were twisting into knots of wrong.

  There was a noise from downstairs. “I just heard my mom come in,” she said. “Gotta go.” Before Noah could answer, she clicked and he disappeared.

  Hannah wiped any trace of chocolate from her lips in case her mom came upstairs, but she didn’t. After a few minutes, Hannah headed to the kitchen, where she found her mom pouring a glass of wine.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Kim took a drink of wine.

  “I don’t want to go to piano today.”

  “Fine.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Why?”

  “You never let me miss piano. And you’re drinking wine and it’s not even three.”

  “We had our examination for discovery today,” Kim said. “It was tense.” She took a big drink of wine: a gulp. Then she looked at her watch. “Why are you home so early?”

  “Mrs. Pittwell, the counselor, said I could go early. I was upset after she talked to me.”

  Kim set down her wine. “What did she talk to you about?”

  Hannah felt the emotion rise in her chest. “About Ronni … She’s not doing very well. She’s depressed and sad and she feels like everyone has deserted her.”

  Her mom drank more wine. “I’m sorry to hear that.” But she didn’t sound sorry. She sounded distracted.

  Hannah moved closer, until she was across from her mom. She rested her hands on the smooth wooden countertop. “Mrs. Pittwell knows that there’s stuff going on between you and Lisa, but she said that I should rise above it. She said that I should be there for Ronni.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know… .” Hannah felt emotion clog her throat again. “I feel bad for her.”

  Kim sighed and looked at her daughter. Her mom usually looked pretty and put together and younger than her age. Today, she looked worn-out and Hannah saw the wrinkles on her forehead and around her mouth. Had the wrinkles appeared in the last weeks, or had Hannah just never noticed them before?

  “It’s a real mess right now, Hannah. I’m sorry Ronni is struggling, but I think you should keep your distance.”

  Hannah bit her bottom lip and nodded. She had always considered her mom a good person. She was a little superficial, a little snobby, but deep down her mom had a good heart. Kim had taught her children to be grateful for all they had, and to give back to those less fortunate. Every Thanksgiving, the family volunteered at a soup kitchen. At Christmas, they filled shoe boxes with gifts for kids in Africa. But this was different. Lisa was attacking them, threatening their luxurious home, their expensive cars, their affluent existence… . Apparently, Ronni didn’t deserve their charity.

  “Got it,” Hannah said, and headed back to her room. It was what she had wanted: the all clear to disown Ronni, not risking her tenuous social status with a pity friendship. But the irritating buzz of her conscience kept the events at the party replaying in her mind. She had said she couldn’t remember, but she did. Despite all the alcohol she’d imbibed, Hannah remembered it all. And she couldn’t stop feeling like shit.

  hannah

  THAT NIGHT

  “This is boring,” Lauren said, nibbling a rubbery carrot stick. The five girls were splayed on the couches and on the floor, picking at room-temperature pizza and listening to Drake. There had been some dancing, some gossiping, some giggling as they’d indulged in the sparkling wine and various libations they’d smuggled in, but now the alcohol was gone, leaving a lethargic malaise in its wake.

  “We could watch a movie,” Marta suggested lamely.

  Ronni groaned, like Marta had suggested making mud pies.

  Hannah’s worst fears were manifesting: her party was sucking. It was dull and juvenile and after it, Lauren would deem Hannah unworthy to bask in the glow of her popularity. Hannah felt distressed and panicky, but more than anything, she felt angry at her parents … well, at her mom. Kim’s hard-ass rules were the reason this party resembled all the birthdays that had come before it. The woman simply refused to accept that her daughter was growing up! Hannah knew cool parents who let kids drink and smoke dope in their homes: “They’re going to do it anyway, I’d rather they do it under my roof.” But not Kim Sanders. She could never be accused of being cool.

  “I brought some of my mom’s Xanax,” Caitlin said. Hannah gave her a grateful smile—the girl was trying—but Ronni and Lauren remained unimpressed. Ronni was busy licking salt off chips and then depositing the soggy remains on a napkin. She barely acknowledged the offer.

  “I know what this party needs,” Lauren said wit
h a wicked smile. “Some testosterone.”

  “Totally,” Ronni seconded.

  “Yeah,” Hannah agreed weakly, but other than inviting her corny dad to join them, she wasn’t sure how to add the hormone to their gathering.

  But Lauren clearly had a plan. She was already moving toward the small basement window and inspecting its size. It was small, but discreet entry was still possible. She turned to Hannah and smiled. “Text Noah.”

  Of course Hannah complied. How could she not? Her heart pounded as she waited for his response. If he turned her down, her party would be a failure; if he accepted, she risked being grounded for life. She had never disobeyed so many of her parents’ rules before: booze, drugs, boys… . All they needed was some cigarettes and porn and it would be a home run. And what would Noah expect from Hannah tonight? She was inviting him to sneak into her unsupervised basement, where they would drink and dance and take drugs… . What else would he want? His text arrived and her stomach churned.

  Be there in twenty

  As the other girls tidied the room, Hannah tiptoed to the main floor in her stocking feet and disabled the alarm. (Both Hannah and Aidan had memorized the code. The alarm was finicky and prone to be set off by wind or sudden cold snaps.) Padding silently through the house, she felt like a burglar. But a burglar wouldn’t have been this nervous. Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid her parents would hear it from the floor above.

  When she returned, Ronni had added to the guest list. “Adam’s coming, too,” she said gleefully.

  Lauren pulled Hannah aside. “Ronni’s so hot for Adam, but he’s not into her. He wants me.”

  “Really?” Hannah whispered, thrilled to be Lauren’s confidante. “Do you like him?”

  “Fuck no,” Lauren said. “He’s so immature. And his eyes are weird. They’re too close together or something.”

  Hannah nodded her agreement, though she had never noticed Adam’s weird eyes.

  “Ronni can have him,” Lauren said. “I can do better.”

  In that moment, Hannah felt there was a real chance she could replace Ronni in Lauren’s affections. She looked over at Ronni then and saw the insecurities shining through her perfect makeup and fashionable outfit. Ronni’s sophistication was clearly a facade, not like Lauren’s. Lauren was the real deal; Ronni was no cooler than Hannah.

  “Let’s put on our pajamas,” Ronni suggested.

  “Slumber party. Every guy’s wet dream,” Lauren said. The girls scurried to their overnight bags and extracted their sleepwear. Hannah had bought a new nightie for the occasion and she put it on. It had sporty stripes on the sleeves and the number 28 emblazoned across its chest. She had thought it would look cute and sexy, like she was wearing Noah’s football jersey. But now, she realized it would only be cute and sexy if it was Noah’s jersey and not some knockoff she’d picked up at Macy’s. When she saw Ronni in her pink short shorts and tank, and Lauren in a satin slip, she felt dowdy and infantile in her knee-length, boxy garb. Thankfully, Caitlin was wearing full-length dad pajamas and Marta was in a shin-length gown.

  There was a soft tap on the glass: the boys had arrived. The girls watched and whispered excitedly as the guys squeezed their large male bodies through the small basement window. When they were in, Noah handed Hannah a bottle of Jägermeister. “Happy birthday.” He gave her that sexy, intimate grin, and Hannah knew she’d made the right decision. She was only going to turn sixteen once; she had to make it count.

  “Let’s get wasted,” Ronni said, and Lauren echoed the sentiment by grabbing the bottle from Hannah and taking a big drink. As they passed the sweet, strong liquor between them, Hannah felt no guilt, no regrets. Even if her mom came down right now and lost her shit, she couldn’t take away the thrill of this moment. Even if Kim called the other kids’ parents and grounded Hannah for the rest of her life, she would have this memory.

  “Let’s get this party started,” Adam said, withdrawing two tabs of ecstasy from his pocket. He put one on his tongue and held out the other. “Who wants?” He was staring at Lauren when he said it, but Ronni stepped up, more than eager to let him place the pill on her outstretched tongue.

  Caitlin pulled a piece of tissue from her pocket and revealed three oval pills. “Xanax, anyone?” she said, sounding pleased with herself. “If we break them in half, there’s almost enough.”

  Marta did the math. “Someone has to miss out.”

  “I’m cool,” Hannah said, hoping she sounded generous and not like she was afraid to take Xanax, which she totally was.

  “But it’s your birthday,” Noah said. “You should have one.”

  “They just put me to sleep,” she said, then turned coy. “I don’t want to pass out on you.”

  “Don’t,” he said.

  They played music at low volume and danced. Ronni was all over Adam, grinding up against him in her sexy little outfit. He may have liked Lauren, but he was no match for Ronni’s aggression and soon, they were making out. Maybe the ecstasy had kicked in; maybe Ronni was just putting on a show, but she was dancing for Adam, pulling her top down, touching herself, touching him… . She had the champagne bottle and she was drinking from it, stroking it, rubbing it against her crotch. It was explicit, pornographic even. Lauren leaned into Hannah’s ear. “What a slut.” Hannah felt warm inside.

  The alcohol circulated. Adam had brought a small bottle of whiskey to supplement the birthday Jäger. Hannah never turned down a mouthful—she wanted to lose her inhibitions. So when Noah led her to the sofa, she was relaxed and ready.

  They made out for a while; she wasn’t sure how long. His hands were in her hair and on her breasts and between her thighs. She felt practically naked in her flimsy nightie, but she went with it, she didn’t chicken out. The other kids were only a few feet away, giggling and dancing, so she knew it wasn’t going to get too heavy. She wanted to show Noah that she was into it, that she wasn’t afraid.

  She heard someone retch, and then Adam said, “Fuck me!”

  There was more heaving. “Jesus, Ronni …” It was Lauren’s annoyed voice.

  “Go to the bathroom,” someone, either Marta or Caitlin, said.

  Hannah was tempted to pull away, but Noah was still kissing her, completely oblivious to the fact that Ronni was puking a few feet from them. This happened with ecstasy, Hannah knew. It was one of the reasons she didn’t want to try it. She pushed away the sound and the smell. She didn’t want to be distracted by the mess her friend was making. They could clean it up after; it was no big deal. Hannah didn’t want to be uptight about stuff like that; she didn’t want to be like her mom.

  And then it came: a crash and a scream. Hannah pulled away from Noah and stood up. She saw Ronni lying there on top of the broken coffee table, bits of glass all around her. The champagne bottle she’d been holding had broken neatly in half—the neck, with its pink foil scarf, still clutched in Ronni’s hand. Hannah must have been in shock because she laughed; it just seemed so surreal. And Ronni seemed okay. She dropped the broken bottle, half sat up and said, “Fuck …”

  Hannah hurried to her and grabbed her hand. “Get up,” she said, still giggling. She must have been hysterical. It was all so much: the drinks, the drugs, the boys, the puke … and now the broken table. She’d have to make up some really creative excuse to explain it to her mom and dad. Her hand in Ronni’s slipped and that’s when she noticed the blood. Ronni noticed it, too. Ronni looked, with bewildered detachment, at the gash in her forearm, the source of the blood that coated her arm and hand. The champagne bottle had made a deep, diagonal slice across the soft flesh of her inner arm. Ronni looked up and her eyes met Hannah’s. Oh Jesus, her eye …

  Under the mask of puke and blood, Ronni’s face went pale, and her body went limp. She collapsed back into the pile of glass, unconscious. “Oh fuck.” It was a male voice, Noah or Adam.

  “Oh my god! Someone get help!” Marta cried.

  “I can’t … ,” Lauren said, and rushed toward the bathr
oom.

  “Go get your parents!” Caitlin shrieked.

  Hannah hurried toward the door, but Noah’s voice stopped her. “Hannah, wait!” she turned back. “We need to get the fuck out of here.” Hannah saw that Adam was already hoisting himself through the window. Noah, holding the empty liquor bottles, was on his heels. Her boyfriend looked back at her, at Marta and Caitlin, too. “We were never here,” he said firmly.

  lisa

  FORTY-FIVE DAYS AFTER

  The vegan café was bright, kitschy but virtually empty. It was two in the afternoon, so the lunch rush was over … if there had been a lunch rush. Lisa knew the challenge of making delicious food without animal by-products. She had been a strict vegan for almost six months, back when she had time to care about things like that… . Now, she accepted that the world was a brutal place, and swapping almond milk for cow’s milk was not going to improve it.

  Yeva and Darcy were seated beside and opposite her, enjoying their kale and tahini salads. Lisa had a roasted yam dish that was quite delicious, but she wasn’t very hungry. Her companions were talking about cleansing: a favorite topic among their cohort.

  Darcy said, “For me, dairy was the devil. Once I gave it up, my skin just brightened and cleared so much.”

  “Your skin is beautiful,” Yeva said.

  “Mmmm …” Lisa murmured her agreement. Darcy was not particularly beautiful, but she radiated good health.

  “When I eat dairy, the whites of my eyes have a grayish hue,” Yeva said.

  “That could also be from sugar,” Darcy countered. “Do they have a yellowish tinge?”

  “Not really … Sugar gives me dark circles, though.”

  “I know!” Darcy cried. “I had one bite of cake at my brother’s wedding—one bite—and I broke out in pimples all over here… .” She indicated her chin.

  Lisa forked a yam and put it in her mouth. She could have chimed in: she had done the same cleanses, had eliminated every evil food at one time or another, but it all seemed so indulgent now. As she chewed and pretended to listen to Yeva’s account of a single glass of wine giving her a yeast infection, she felt eyes upon her.