Girl Out of Water(83)

“Welcome back,” Marie adds, the words chopped. She doesn’t hug me or smile at all.

The warm air turns cold on my skin. This isn’t how my close friends should greet me. This isn’t right. Are they mad or is this just awkward since so much time has passed? Maybe we don’t know how to act around each other anymore. Or maybe I had reason to worry.

I take another sip of the vodka lemonade, wincing at the burn, and force myself to soldier on. They’ve returned to talking to each other, so I have to speak over them. “So, um, this is Lincoln. I think Tess mentioned him.”

Lincoln steps forward and grins wide, his dimple popping out. “Hey guys!” he says brightly. “Love the tie-dye,” he says, gesturing toward Cassie’s bandanna and then his own shirt.

“Thanks,” she says. “You too!”

I swear she gives him a warmer smile than she gave me.

Lincoln, either sensing the tension or genuinely curious, then says, “I’m going to have Anise introduce me to everyone else. It was nice meeting you guys.”

Cassie nods and gives another smile without meeting my eyes. Marie turns away from me. My stomach clenches. I’m not overreacting. Something is definitely wrong. My friends hate me. Should I apologize? Maybe, probably. I hurt my friends, abandoned them, like my mom always does to me.

I take another sip of my vodka lemonade and then another and another as we weave through the crowd. The reunions with my friends continue to be tense, off-balance, not as icy as with Marie, but like talking to strangers and not close friends I’ve skinny-dipped with a dozen times. And I haven’t seen Eric. I keep Lincoln close to my side and scan the crowd for Tess since they’re the only two people I know for sure want me here.

“ANISE!” someone shouts with actual enthusiasm.

I whirl around to find Spinner running up to me, his hair loose around his shoulders, twenty glow sticks wrapped around his neck. He gives me a huge hug. “So good to see you! Shit, dude, it’s been way too long.” Then without pause he turns to Lincoln and hugs him too. “Nice to meet you man!” Spinner ushers us forward. “Come on, we must celebrate with shots.”

I’m not sure if that’s such a great idea. I already drained my cup of vodka lemonade, and that combined with the Dragon Berry from earlier is more alcohol than I’ve ever consumed at once. But I’m just so glad—so relieved—that at least one of my friends is actually happy to see me that I nod and follow him through the crowd.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” Lincoln shouts. “I think that guy has glow-in-the-dark face paint.”

I almost say wait, stay with me because I’m nervous to be left alone.

I wonder how fucked up it is that I’m nervous to be left alone at a party with my own friends.

? ? ?

Everything blurs. One second I’m at the folding table with Spinner taking shots of something that tastes a lot worse than Dragon Berry, and the next second I’m in the crowd for Motel/Hotel, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, eyelids dipping closed then open, moving to the rapid electronic beat of “Sparkflash,” head and stomach swirling, sweat dripping. Someone passes me a cigarette, no a joint, and I take two long puffs, coughing afterward and taking a sip of—oh, the beer in my hand. Not sure where I got that, but it’s helping with the cough, so I take another sip, and then decide I don’t want to hold the can while I’m dancing, so I chug the rest and drop it to the ground, dimly guilty about littering my own beach.

The song switches to one of Tess’s favorites, and I spin around to find her, but she’s nowhere in sight. Lincoln isn’t here either, and my heart races from more than the dancing. Spinner is to my right but dancing close with a girl I don’t recognize. Where is everyone? I push through the crowd, but the crowd pushes back. It won’t let me leave, a million hands coming toward me and holding me in place. I shut my eyes and count to three.

When I open them again, the hands aren’t coming for me. I make my way through the crowd more forcefully now.

When I get to the edge of the fray, I spot Marie and run up to her, stumbling in the sand, forgetting her anger from earlier tonight. “Have you—” My tongue feels thick, “Have you seen Tess or Lincoln?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she speaks so softly that I swear I don’t hear her right.

“What?”

“I said,” her voice louder now, “are you fucking kidding me?”

“I don’t—” I feel queasy, the Dragon Berry mixing with the vodka lemonade mixing with the beer and pot. “I don’t understand.”

But I do understand. She hates me. Everyone hates me. And I don’t blame them.

“Jesus, Anise, I don’t know where your friends are. Do you even really care? You’ll probably just ditch them too.”

“What are you—”

She steps forward, her eyes hard. “Look, I get it. It’s not your fault you had to go to Nebraska, but Cassie leaves for boot camp in a couple of days, and then she’ll be shipped off to who the fuck knows where and won’t be able to talk to us for who the fuck knows how long, and you ignore her all summer? She’s one of your best friends, and she’s freaking out, and you go MIA because picking up the damn phone is inconvenient? I can’t believe you even showed up to my house tonight. Look, I can handle you ignoring me. Whatever. You were busy. I have thick skin. But you hurt my girlfriend, and I can’t forgive that.”