Push(8)

Then I heard Michael’s voice. He was walking toward us, asking what I did this time, sighing as if my falling was the biggest hassle he’d ever faced. As soon as my brothers heard his voice, their faces changed. They stepped back away from me and tightened their expressions, replacing their worry with casual indifference. Toughening themselves up. Michael walked up to us and put a hand on each of their shoulders, telling my mother how clumsy I was, berating me for being dumb enough to forget to let go of the rope. I was scared, I told him, not dumb. When he asked my brothers if they thought that their little sister was being dumb, Ricky looked up at Michael and enthusiastically nodded his head. Then he elbowed Evan in the ribs until the pair of them were nodding and smiling at Michael like a pair of twin cronies begging for his approval. As they walked away from me and my mother, I saw Evan peek back, and for a split second, a small, sympathetic grin flashed at me. It was the first time I felt betrayed.
In the years since then, betrayal and duplicity have become second nature to my brothers, and I’ve been stung by them more times than I can count. I’ve learned to distance myself from them, to shut them out whenever possible. Tonight, however, shutting them out is not an option. Unless I want to get into a huge fight. Which I do not.
I get in the backseat and buckle up.
We stop by Evan’s apartment to pick him up, and he fist-bumps Ricky as soon as he gets into the car, then turns around and gives me a nod. I think for a few moments that maybe it will be a decent night after all. But then Ricky pulls out of the parking lot and turns left, away from the theater and toward the university. Ricky and Evan start talking, and their conversation makes it clear that we aren’t going to see a movie. We’re going to a party. A fraternity party.
Ricky looks at my reflection in the rearview mirror and starts talking to me. He says all sorts of shit about where we are going and how I am supposed to behave while we are there. I wonder what my Sunday-school teacher would think about my going to a college party. I’m silently laughing at the thought of it all when we pull up to the house.
I am going to my first fraternity party at thirteen years old. I am both nervous and excited. Ricky’s behavior lecture was pretty clear. I can drink, I can smoke, I can dance...but I cannot tease his friends. I believe his exact words were: “If you are going to flirt with my friends, then you damn well better be prepared to put out. Nobody likes a dick-tease, Emma.” Uh, I am thirteen years old, you *. Putting out is not on the evening’s agenda.
There are about a million people in the house. The floor is sticky, and I can barely hear myself think over the pulsating music. Evan introduces me to their friend Lainey who decides to take me under her wing. She grabs my hand and hauls me to the basement for a beer. My brothers disappear to God-knows-where. At least in the basement the music is quieter. People are playing Ping-Pong with cups of beer lined up on the table. They are shooting pool. They are bouncing quarters off the table and into full cups of beer. It is a brand-new wonderland, and I can’t stop watching them. They are all laughing and talking, and there is no awkwardness. There are no social bystanders. Only people having fun. I have been to a few high school parties with Jack, and I can tell you that they are nothing like this. High school parties are freak shows of self-consciousness. Everyone is too busy caring about what everyone else is thinking. This, though...this is different. Suddenly I cannot wait to get to college. Screw Jack Darris. I want a boy like these boys. One who doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone. One who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anything but being himself.
Lainey comes back with a couple of beers and starts chattering with a bunch of other girls. I am left to my own devices in the basement of my brothers’ fraternity house, and before I know it, I am playing quarters and drunk off my ass. Nobody asks me who I am or how old I am or why I am here. They just feed me their beer and their laughter and treat me like I am their very best friend.
At three in the morning everyone starts to filter out of the house. The music has stopped, and the kegs are kicked. Through my beer-bleary eyes, I watch couples leave together. I watch groups of girls walk arm-in-arm out the door. I watch boys stagger down the front walk and out on to the street. I feel euphoric, and I don’t quite think it’s entirely due to the beer. I want to skip over the next five years of my life and get right to the good part. I want Ricky and Evan to bring me back here again.
As I stumble around trying to find them, two boys come up behind me and hook their arms into mine, one on each side. I think for a second that they might be my brothers, but then I realize they are far too cute to be Ricky and Evan. They are laughing at me, and I think it is because I am not at all walking straight. I feel sloppy and small between them. The boys take me up the stairs to where the bedrooms are. I am leaning on them hard, and my head is wagging from side to side. I try to look up, but my neck feels like jelly. When we get to the top of the steps, I see Ricky. He is standing with his arm around Lainey’s shoulder, and there is a big smile on his face. I can hear him laughing at me. Laughing at his drunk-off-her-ass thirteen-year-old sister. I want to punch him in the f*cking face, but I can’t because my two escorts have turned left and are walking me down the hallway.
Then from behind me I hear: “I warned you, Emma.” And more laughing.


chapter Five

Emma—Present Day

I wake to a scraping sound. I look around my room, bleary-eyed and blinking. The light is coming in between the blind slats, and it’s far brighter than it should be for so early in the morning. I glance at my bedside table and see my mother’s sweet face nestled tightly against my own. The picture never fails to make me smile. I can’t contain the rush of memories the image brings, and I take a moment to collect my thoughts before I check my alarm clock. Shit. It isn’t early at all. It’s nearly nine-thirty.