Chasing Spring(6)
“I love you,” she said just as the thin door gave way to her dad’s fists. “GO.”
Elaine turned, yanked on her backpack, and ran for her hot pink bike lying on its side in the dirt. She tried to block out the sounds coming from her bedroom as she peddled away. They were the noises that kept her awake at night, the noises that haunted her dreams.
She peddled fast, leaving the rotten trailer park behind to cross over Main Street. Hannah’s house was in a better part of town, where the houses had big porches and roses in the front yard. Elaine unlocked the gate on the short fence and dropped her bike in the grass. She tiptoed around the edge of the house until she reached Hannah’s window in the back. Her friend was sleeping in her princess bed, under a ceiling painted to look like a blue sky, clouds and all.
“Psst. Hannah,” Elaine said, tapping her small finger against the glass. “Hannah!”
Her friend shot up in bed and squealed when she saw Elaine outside. She scooted out of her blankets and rushed for the window. Her small hands had to work on the lock for a few seconds before she could slide the window up just enough for Elaine to climb through.
She took Elaine’s backpack and then helped tug her inside, too excited to notice Elaine’s tearstained cheeks.
“I was hoping you’d come tonight!” Hannah said. “My mom gave me cookies after dinner and I snuck an extra one for you.”
She turned for her nightstand and pulled out a cookie wrapped tightly in a napkin. She cradled it in her palm as she carried it to Elaine.
It was still warm, and when Elaine bit into it and let the chocolate chips melt on her tongue, she realized that she didn’t need to pray for a guardian angel.
She had Hannah.
Chapter Seven
Lilah
Music pounded around us as I followed Ashley through the crowded party, keeping my gaze focused on her back. I wasn’t ready for a slew of hometown reunions; my first day back at school was sure to have enough to last me a lifetime.
Ashley bypassed the keg and beer pong tables and led us toward a gazebo in the backyard. There was a small group gathered there and as we stepped closer, I noticed Trent Bailey perched inside.
He glanced up and smiled, and I was momentarily caught in his web. It was easy to see his appeal. He was the kind of cute that no one had expected. He’d somehow broken his ancestors' chain of mediocrity, blending his parents' frumpy genes into an offspring worthy of attention.
He patted the seat beside him in the gazebo, Ashley pushed me forward, and I slid down to claim the bare patch of wood between him and his friend, resisting the urge to wave the cigarette smoke away from my face. The scent of tobacco brought back vivid memories of when I’d lost my virginity. At the start of my junior year in Austin, I’d been approached by a nameless boy. He’d asked me to be his girlfriend, and two months later he took my virginity in a flash of sweaty limbs, tobacco breath, and scratchy sheets. I’d kept my eyes closed the entire time, and at the end, I’d stared up at the ceiling through the haze of his cigarette smoke and thought of Chase.
Trent Bailey reminded me of that boy back in Austin, with his lit cigarette and his leather boots. He was the same sort of grunge and my stomach rolled as he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “When’d you get back in town?”
“Yesterday.”
Trent tossed his cigarette butt on the floor of the gazebo and crushed it beneath his boot. “I like the hair. The black suits you more than the blonde.”
I stared down at where the cigarette ash stained the wood, and then the smell of vodka momentarily overpowered the scent of tobacco. It was my turn to sip from the half-empty bottle getting passed around the group. I reached out and accepted it from Trent’s friend beside me. The cheap paper label was already soaked from lazy sips, and as I tipped it back to my mouth, I hovered the lip of the bottle so that the clear liquid slipped into my mouth like a waterfall.
I had gone back and forth on whether or not I should drink. I'd read that the children of alcoholics are four times as likely to develop problems with alcohol, but I figured there wasn't much point in trying to avoid my mother’s legacy. Her face bled into my thoughts as the cheap vodka slid down my throat. I hated the taste and I fought to keep from showing it. It was the same liquor my mom would slip into her morning orange juice. The same taste that made her salivate only ever made me want to gag.
I wiped an excess drop from my lip and passed the bottle on to Trent. He took it with a smirk, skimming his finger against mine, and I knew I’d probably end up going home with him.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked brazenly, emboldened by the vodka. I glanced up to meet Ashley’s gaze across the gazebo. She smiled and gave me a subtle thumbs-up. She was impressed I’d caught Trent’s attention, but I didn’t deserve her praise. I was just the newest and shiniest thing at the party, a glorified spoon for Trent to catch his own reflection in.
I turned to him and slid an inch closer. “No. Why do you care?”
He smiled and focused on my lips as he pulled a little plastic bag out of the pocket of his jeans. Ten little white pills. Molly. I’d never met her, but I’d tried her friends, always hoping that one of them would answer my question: which little white pill makes mothers forget their daughters?
I opened my mouth and Trent slid the pill onto my tongue. The capsule started to dissolve just as he leaned in and kissed me. I pressed my hands against his chest and pushed against him, but he broke the kiss off first. It was quick, painless, innocent, and then the vodka slipped back around to me.