We Told Six Lies(12)

“I’ll say when.” You strode toward the party, leaving ripples in your wake so that I had to fight to keep my feet steady on the ground.

I crushed the beer can in my fist and tossed it away, said, “Screw it,” beneath my breath, and walked after you. But it was clear you didn’t want to be followed, and so I found a place beside the fire and sat in a lawn chair. I didn’t care whose it was. I kind of hoped it was the guy’s who laughed at me.

I kind of hoped he said something else to me now.

I picked up an upright half-empty beer from the grass and raised it to my lips. I didn’t know what was gonna go down, but something told me I needed to be drunk for this.

I waited for twenty minutes or so—enough time for the music to change from alternative to rap. Enough time to watch you across the fire, swaying your body to the beat, Rhana’s hands on your hips. I wondered then if Rhana was jealous of you. She was prettier, you know? In the traditional sense. Her short blue-black hair cut to her chin, her skin several shades darker than your own. She was seventeen, maybe eighteen, but she could have walked into any convenience store, plopped a six-pack onto the counter, and her figure would say I look old enough, don’t I?

And whoever was standing on the other side of the counter would want her to be old enough. So that maybe he, or she, could smile and ask where she was going with that beer.

But still, I saw the way Rhana looked at you. The way everyone looked at you. Your knobby knees, your elfin ears, your freckles splayed across your cheeks. I didn’t want anyone else to see you besides me. But then, I’m not sure anyone did see the real you.

I heard a booming laugh from across the fire and spotted a guy I didn’t know doubled over, laughing. Another dude, the bigger one who’d been talking to Molly earlier, laughed too, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The first guy popped upright and slammed his beer bottle against the second guy’s. Almost immediately, the beer shot up and over the top, and the poor dude had to rush to drink it to keep it from spilling.

First Guy laughed.

Wasn’t he funny?

Wasn’t he so damn funny?

I glanced at you then, and you raised one slender finger from your drink and pointed at what I’d already noticed.

I stood up, dropped my own drink, and walked toward the two guys. The second guy was still pounding his beer when I said to the asshole, “Nice move. You learn that in fifth grade?”

My muscles clenched, waiting for both of them to tell me to go fuck myself. And what was I doing there anyway?

But that’s not what happened. The second guy stopped drinking and laughed, said to Asshole Guy, “Seriously, cum wipe. Who does that anymore?”

“He does,” I say. “In between wet dreams and spontaneous hard-ons.”

Second Guy laughed too loudly, and Asshole Guy said, “Whatever. Who the hell are you?”

I froze.

“Cobain,” Molly sang from a few feet away, “I’ve been looking for you. What, too good to come say hello?”

I shrugged, but my insides sang. “Just grabbing a drink.”

“I’ll get you one,” Rhana said.

“Nah, he’s coming with me,” Second Guy said and pulled out a joint. “I’ll bring him back.”

I looked at Asshole Guy and said, “You coming?” Because it didn’t feel great to rag on him, even if he had been dishing it out himself.

“Go fuck yourself,” he said.

“I’d rather fuck your mother,” I replied.

And thank the gods, Asshole Guy laughed and choked on his drink. “Uncool, man. Funny, but uncool.”

“Come on,” I said, because Second Guy was saying, Let’s go already.

Asshole Guy tossed his drink and said, “Whatever, man,” and followed after us.

“Cobain?” Second Guy said, raising a lighter to the joint.

I nodded and took the weed when he passed it to me.

“I’m Nixon,” he said, and then nodded toward Asshole Guy. “That’s Brian.”

I could tell Nixon didn’t like Brian.

I could tell Nixon liked me because I called Brian on his bullshit.

I could also tell Nixon was a dude who girls liked. They clung to his dark eyes and dark skin and biceps meant for the weight-lifting bench.

I sucked on the joint and glanced at you from across the flames. You looked like a demon standing behind that wall of fire.

I cocked my chin at you—what’s up?—and that smile of yours stretched until it touched your hairline. Then you caught yourself and replaced that smile with the carefully manicured one you served the world.

Did the pretending ever exhaust you, Molly?





NOW


After a sleepless night, I turn down my dad’s offer to drop me off at school, opting instead to walk the two miles alone and avoid being pressured to talk. I know I’ll have the school weight room to myself for an hour before students start arriving.

I load a barbell with weights and then lie on my back, wanting to get straight to the point. Wanting to feel my muscles strain. I unrack the bar and bring it down, breathe out as I push it back up. I keep my feet flat on the floor, keep my back pressed against the bench, keep Molly squarely in my mind as I do two reps. Four. Eight.

Already, I’m starting to sweat.

How much muscle have I lost since Molly vanished?