All We Can Do Is Wait(50)
They walked in and were immediately greeted by a blitzed-looking Stein. He gave them a quizzical look, maybe not expecting these sophomores to just walk into his party. But Scott was on the team, so he was technically allowed, and Stein knew Pete through various seedy channels at school. “Yooooo,” Stein said, doing a messy fist-bump, handshake thing with both boys. “Drinks are back there,” he said, thumbing toward the kitchen, “and chicks are . . . everywhere.” He laughed, winking—really, blinking—conspiratorially at Scott and Pete before he was dragged away by Asher Birch, another of the soccer seniors, one who was perhaps even meaner, and thus even more revered at school, than Stein was.
Pete and Scott made their way to the kitchen, a sprawling array of marble with a huge center island that was littered with bottles and Solo cups. Pete suggested they do shots, and Scott, normally not much of a drinker, obliged, wanting to wash Aimee’s hurt and angry face from his memory. They did shots of what Scott was pretty sure was vodka, and then another round. Pete found them two beers and they went off to wander through the party, Pete keeping an eye out for Taissa (“Or Cara. Your girlfriend has hot friends, what can I say?”) while Scott dimly hoped to see Aimee pop up somewhere, ready to make amends and leave this loud and sweaty mess together.
But he didn’t see her anywhere, instead running into Nik Damilatis and Zach Arko, two sophomore guys who were still on the JV team. The rumor had been, since eighth grade, that they were secretly a couple, or at least fooling around, and they weren’t doing much to dispel that suspicion at the party. They were hanging on each other, drunk and laughing with their faces very close, when they saw Scott and Pete. They made a weak effort to pull apart, and said hi.
“Fun party?” Scott asked. “We just got here.”
“It’s all right,” Nik slurred. It was strange to see him in this context. Outside of school, Scott usually saw Nik with his family. They would sometimes come into the store to get lunch after mass at the Greek Evangelical church they went to, just outside Newton Centre. “Birch and Stein are being dicks, as per usual, but there’s tons of booze.”
“And we have weed,” Zach said in a bleary stage whisper, pulling a sad-looking little joint out of his shirt pocket. “You wanna spark it?”
Pete had spotted Taissa standing over by the enormous living room fireplace, talking with Cara, so he shook his head. “I have somewhere I need to be. But you ladies have fun.”
Scott shrugged. “You wanna go outside?”
They walked back to sliding doors that opened up to a large deck, a few kids out there huddling against the cold, smoking and talking. It was nice to be out of the din and heat, and with these two decent guys. Scott wondered if he’d maybe be able to talk to Nik and Zach about Aimee. Pete was no good with that stuff, but weren’t gay guys supposed to be more sensitive? Zach lit the joint with shivering hands, took a long pull, and handed it to Scott.
“So what’s up, man?” Nik asked, coughing out smoke. “How was your break?”
“I dunno. Boring. Worked a lot.”
“Oh yeah, man. My folks and I were gonna come in, but we had family in town so we just ate at home.”
Scott nodded. “Cool, cool.”
“Okemo was sick,” Zach added. He and his family had a ski cabin up in Vermont. Scott had never been skiing, but it seemed terrifying, hurtling yourself down a mountain on two pieces of plastic.
Scott figured he’d try Nik and Zach out, maybe get some advice. “So, me and Aimee got in a fight tonight.”
“Who’s Aimee?” Nik asked, squinting as he took another hit.
“Oh, uh, my girlfriend?”
Zach’s eyes widened. “You’re dating Amy Lee?” He shot a glance at Nik. “I thought she was gay.”
“No, no, not Amy Lee. I think she is, though. Aimee Peck? She’s a junior.”
“Oh, riiiiight,” Nik said. “She’s cute. How you guys doing?”
“Well, we just got in a fight . . .”
Zach shook his head. “Sucks, man. Fights are the worst. No fun at all.”
They were not going to be any help, Scott glumly realized. But they were pleasant enough company. Maybe he could just hang out and shoot the shit with them until Pete wanted to go home. It’s not like he was going to get lucky with Taissa or Cara. That was never going to happen—Aimee had told Scott as much, firmly, many times. Scott declined another hit of the joint, not wanting to get paranoid, as he had the other two times he’d ever smoked weed.
“How was JV this season?” he asked, but Nik and Zach weren’t paying attention. Zach was whispering something in Nik’s ear and Nik was laughing.
“Hey, uh, yo,” Zach mumbled to Scott. “We have to go . . . check out a thing . . . upstairs. We’ll find you later, though, cool?”
Scott nodded. “Sure, sure. Have, uh, have fun with your thing.”
Nik giggled again. “We will! We will!”
And then Scott was alone, trembling in the cold. He was considering just saying fuck it, Pete be damned, and getting an Uber home right then, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and there was Maddy Cohen, the source of it all. Or at least the girl whose birthday party had provided the opportunity for Scott and Aimee to first get together. She was a junior, like Aimee, and was on the girls’ soccer team, square-shouldered and sturdy and pretty, with a big mane of curly brown hair and an amused arch to her eyebrows.