22. Punch-Drunk Loathe
22
Punch-Drunk Loathe
It’s as if the ground juts up under me. My legs feel wobbly. Roger and his onlookers’ outlines glow red. The fire sends up thick, murky smoke.
The realization hits me that Roger will almost undoubtedly be in classes with the drama and theatre students I convinced to be my dancers. He’ll be able to talk to them, get any dirt that wasn’t obvious from the video, and really make fun of me. Roger has the ability to spread a video like mine among our peers and make my next few years at Little Elm College a living nightmare.
Roger takes another swig from his tallboy. “And you’re still using love antics to get attention.”
“I didn’t want this sort,” I say.
“Your video tells a different story.”
Trying to reason with Roger as two adults, I reply, “I’d appreciate it if you stopped showing everyone my video.”
“What video?” Luke says from behind me.
Roger’s smile takes over his whole face as he looks from me to Luke and back. “He hasn’t seen it.”
“What video?” Luke repeats.
Evie steps in beside Luke. “He really doesn’t know?” she asks Roger.
Roger finishes the tallboy and crunches the can in his fist. “Back off, girl. This ain’t your rodeo. And you’ve never been any less pathetic than Bobby. You’ve been throwing yourself at Luke too since he arrived. Now is not your moment.”
Evie shrinks back from Roger and the firelight.
“Don’t speak to her like that,” I say, balling my hands into fists.
“I don’t need you to defend me,” Evie says before she takes off into the darkness.
I look to Luke before I go in the direction Evie left.
I hear Luke say behind me, “How many beers did you have?”
I catch up to Evie and grab her arm.
“Stop,” I pant. “Seriously. When did you learn to run so fast?”
Evie spins around. “I saw the way you looked at me back there. Save your pity for someone else.”
“I stuck up for you,” I say, but I know what she means. I felt bad for her because I look down on Evie too. I’ve always thought she was pathetic, like a lost puppy, following me around and imitating me. Except now I know what it feels like to be the pitiable one and I don’t want to think about Evie like that anymore.
“We’re not friends. We haven’t been for a long time.” Evie crosses her arms.
“Whose fault is that?” I ask. “You made yourself my competition, not me.”
Evie moves and circles me like a wild animal. “Because you never learned to share. Everything you wanted, you found a way to get and no one else could even have a piece of it. The book club. Campus Books. The Reading Festival. You can’t blame anyone for enjoying your fall from grace. Not when you’ve always gotten everything so easily.”
“I worked my ass off and earned what I got.”
Evie stops circling and backs away. “And then you lost it. I guess we should all feel sorry for you. It’s all about you, all the time. Isn’t it? Go help yourself. I’m not the one who needs it.” Evie stomps away.
I expect to feel something after that. Anger. Sadness. Devastation. Relief even that Evie and I finally said all the things bottled up between us. Instead, I’m sticky and clammy, my skin moist and cool. All I feel is tired. It’s like the emotional part of me decided it’s had enough and booked itself a vacation. And that is a relief.
When I find Wanda laughing with the group I left her with, I lean in and whisper, “I’m ready to go.”
“Give me a second to finish up,” Wanda says.
“You stay,” I say. My classic indoor-kid best friend having a good time at a party is a big, positive step for her. I don’t want to ruin her night. “I’ve hit saturation.”
“At least let me call you a cab.”
I shake my head.
“Text me when you get home,” Wanda says. “We’ll talk tomorrow?”
“For sure.” I put her baseball cap back onto her head before I leave.
I stare up at the black sky speckled with stars. The moon shines bright behind some clouds barely shifting in front of it.
Cass will be so disappointed. I probably did everything she wouldn’t do, and I’ll be returning home early, as she anticipated. So much for a wild college party on my eighteenth birthday. I only hope that if anything is happening between Cass and Uncle Andy, I won’t be interrupting it.
I get to the edge of the field and am about to begin my walk home when I hear footfalls behind me.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Luke says. “I need to apologize. Roger was …”
“An asshead,” I suggest.
“… not himself,” Luke says. “I’ve never seen him drunk before. It’s not a good look on him. Jerome and Mya took him home.”
“You don’t need to apologize for Roger.”
“I’m not.”
“You didn’t do anything. You don’t need to be sorry at all.”
“But you’re upset.”
“I’m tired.”
“I’ll take you home,” Luke says.
“It’s Little Elm. I can get home on my own.”
“Stop being stubborn and let me walk you.”
“Stop being stubborn and insisting on taking me home.”
“Where would you prefer I take you?” Luke asks.
I throw up my arms in defeat. “Fine. I give in. Take me home.”
Luke puts his arm across my shoulder and steers me back toward campus. I tense up under his touch. Is this a platonic arm over the shoulder or something more? The stone in my pocket presses against my thigh.
I stand still. “Wrong direction. I live that way.”
“I need my backpack from my locker. The AC is that way. We’ll go right after.”
I still don’t move. “I could be halfway to my place by now.”
“If you weren’t so stubborn, we’d be halfway to my locker.” I open my mouth to protest but Luke says, “Or we could stand here and argue all night about which one of us is more stubborn.”
I sigh pointedly but start walking. I keep getting whiffs of Luke’s smell, laundry detergent, dad aftershave, and grapefruit shampoo mixing with bonfire. The crickets and other bugs are the only sounds beside the distant voices of college kids goofing off around the firepits.
Luke slides his arm off me as we reach a door set into the side of the building near the pool. There isn’t a knob, only a piece of metal bent into a handhold below an industrial-looking lock. Luke takes a set of keys from his shorts pocket and flips through, then inserts one. The sound of the door unlatching is magnified through the quiet night.
Luke pushes the door open. “I’ll only be a second,” he says. “Whatever you do …”
I step in and pull the door shut behind me.
“… don’t shut that door,” Luke says a moment too late.