Where the Staircase Ends(34)

“Me?” Justin asked, looking around as though there might be someone else hiding behind the shadows of the unfinished home. “I just came to see what everyone was whispering about.” To me, he added, “Hey, Taylor, when’d you get here?”

It was amazing how friendly and honest the question sounded. Anyone else would have thought he was genuinely curious about when I arrived, but it was clear he understood what was happening by the way his mouth was set. The corners that were usually turned up in an is-he-or-isn’t-he-grinning smile were pressed down in a drawn, flat line. I’d never seen him look so serious.

Logan looked back and forth from me to Justin like he was trying to solve a riddle, his brow furrowing as he drained his beer and tossed the empty cup on the ground.

“A few minutes ago,” I answered. “I came with Sunny.” I aimed the last sentence at Logan, wanting to replace all four of the words with * for his benefit.

“Can I get some toilet paper?” Sunny asked, walking toward me and linking her arm through mine. “I need to go to The Ladies’ Room. You grabbed some before we left my house, right?”

I nodded solemnly and pulled the roll of paper from my purse, holding it up for Logan as further proof that I was at Sunny’s and not wherever it was he imagined me to be. Sunny gently took my arm and pulled me away from the back of the house frame.

“Come on, let’s get out of here before I wet my pants.”

Justin said something to Logan, but Sunny shuffled me away too quickly and the words were lost in the din of the crowd and the music. I could only make out the muffled sound of his voice, an undeniable edge to whatever it was he said to Logan.

“You okay?” Sunny whispered once we were out of earshot. I nodded and ran my fingers underneath my eyes to wipe away any mascara that might have run. My arm throbbed and my wrist was red and achy. It took everything I had not to break down and cry right then and there, but I didn’t want to be one of those girls. There were always a few at the end of a night at The Fields, boo-hooing into their empty beer cups over some drunken drama usually involving a guy. I didn’t want people to think I was one of them. I didn’t want anyone to know what had happened.

“Don’t worry. Most people are already too drunk to notice you guys were fighting. And anyone who did now thinks you guys were just mugging down,” Sunny said as she squatted behind the back of the house that was our designated restroom. Then, because she could tell I needed a good laugh, she added, “ARRRRrrrr you sure you’re okay?” in her pirate voice, hooking her finger and squinting her eye at me for emphasis.

A cluster of Sunflowers stuck out among the weeds behind the house. They looked out of place in the darkness, like bright smiling suns that didn’t know it was nighttime. I felt like they were faking it for my benefit and for a second I thought about picking one and taking it with me. Instead, I took inspiration from them and looked back at Sunny with a forced smile.

“I need another beer.” I rubbed my wrist to get the feeling back into it. “I dropped mine back there.”

Sunny nodded and looked at me like she wanted to say something else, but instead she reached her hand out for the toilet paper and said, “I could use a topper too. TP, please?”

The crowd had swollen to twice its usual size when we emerged from the back of The Ladies’ Room. It seemed like our entire high school was at The Fields that night, hundreds of bodies silhouetted against the various car headlights that took turns lighting the center field. Even douche-waffle Brandon Blakes was there, looking lost and uncomfortable as he stared into a full cup of beer and watched the makeshift dance floor awkwardly. I’d never seen him at The Fields before; I always assumed he spent his Saturday nights taking practice SAT tests.

Someone brought two more kegs, which was a good thing because the first one floated not long after Sunny and I got back from The Ladies’ Room. We joined the growing line of kids waiting to fill their plastic cups, Sunny surveying the crowd with distaste.

“If I knew it was amateur night, I would have stayed home,” said Sunny, her eyes resting on Brandon. She gave him a hard glare from underneath a row of spiky black lashes. “Just stay away from the stereo, okay Brandon? Nobody wants to listen to your homo show choir bullshit.”

Brandon’s cheeks flared red. When he caught my eye I quickly looked away from him, not feeling much like coming to the defense of someone who always had it out for me in class. Although, to be fair, I wasn’t really in the mood to come to anyone’s defense right then.

We filled up our cups and elbowed our way out of the mass of bodies around the kegs.

“Don’t we have rules against letting the riff-raff come out here?” Sunny asked, taking a swig of her beer and glancing around at the swelling crowd like she’d smelled something sour. “This place has gone to shit. Come on, let’s find our people.”


We skirted the perimeter of the party as we looked for the rest of our friends. Sunny waved and blew kisses at different people. I tried to look like I was having the time of my life while keeping my eyes open for Logan, torn between wanting to hide from him and wanting to find him so I could knee him in the balls.

I was so busy watching for Logan that I didn’t see Justin coming toward us, and I ran head-first into him, spilling beer number two for the evening. If the universe wanted me to quit drinking, it sure picked a crappy night to start relaying the message.