Two months later…
“Shots! Shots! Shots!”
Chanting erupts all around me. The liquid burns as it makes its way down my throat, but I keep tilting my head farther back. I slam the glass on the picnic table and tightly squeeze my eyes shut, trying to recover from the burning sensation. Then I open them and lift my arms into the air. “WHOO-HOO!”
It’s humid and hot out, which isn’t uncommon for the end of July in Missouri. My skin feels sticky, and my tank top feels glued to me.
“Thatta girl, Rach!” Eric cheers. He may be one of the school’s biggest jerks, but he always throws the best parties. Everyone cheers with him. I look around the bonfire at all the glassy eyes, flushed cheeks, and wide smiles. Not a single friend among them. We’re partying now, but when the party is over, so is this camaraderie.
“I can’t believe you freakin’ graduated!” Tiffany, who, at one time, I considered a friend, leans against me. We’d sat together at lunch all through school and had been on the cheer squad since middle school. Shopping trips and sleepovers. I didn’t realize how fake our friendship was, until I lost my one and only real friend. She tilts her head up at me and smiles through her drunken haze. “Gah, you’re so smart. Who knew?”
I bite my tongue for a moment. I’ve been getting this a lot. Who would think the pretty cheerleader actually has a brain? I even get blond jokes, and I’m not a blond. I have blond highlights, so I guess that’s all they need for a greenlight on blond jokes.
Using the side of the wooden deck, I balance myself as Tiffany’s weight becomes heavy against me. “I’m going to miss you. What are we going to do without you? We could’ve won nationals.”
“You’ll for sure get cheer captain with me gone at least.” That gets her off of me and seems to sober her up a little. I wink and smile at her wide-eyed and open-mouth expression. I reach over to the makeshift bar on the picnic table and grab another shot glass.
“Bitch!” she gasps at me, as I maintain eye contact with her, while I take another shot. Then she smiles. “But you’re right.”
I give a one-shoulder shrug and go back to scanning the yard. I know just about everyone here tonight. Everyone is dressed either in swimwear or tanks and shorts. I’m in cut-off jean shorts and a green spaghetti strap tank. My brown hair with blond highlights (not all blond) is piled on top of my head in a messy bun. It’s too hot to wear it down, which is one of the reasons why, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why we have a bonfire going in this heat, but it’s a party, so I try to go with the flow. All of my classmates are excited for their senior year. I won’t be joining them at Lumberton High School. I can’t. I can’t spend my senior year without Landon Randall. The memories those hallways hold is too much for me. I busted my ass, last spring and this summer, to graduate early and enroll as a college freshman in Lexington, which is an hour and a half away.
I bulldozed Alice into taking me in as her roommate, and allowing me to tag along. We’ve barely known each other a year, but we’re both on a journey now to learn who we are. I feel like I don’t know who I am without Landon by my side. Most likely, that’s why she agreed to be my roommate. I just didn’t know what else to do. All I knew was that I was not spending another day, more than necessary, without Landon in that school, much less a whole year. I couldn’t get out of that high school soon enough. Landon Randall’s memory is everywhere. I can still hear his infectious laughter in the hallways, his track jersey is hung up in the trophy case, nobody wants to sit in his spot in the cafeteria, and they have flowers in his parking spot. I’m angry with everyone at that school. I’m angry with the town. I’m angry with the world. I’m angry with myself. I’m just angry. I’m hoping that escaping to college will give me a chance to breathe and find some sort of peace with everything. Luckily, I’d already been taking advanced courses earlier in my high school career, so that I could have an easy senior year. Additionally, I tacked on an after-school program to my schedule and applied for early graduation. With no scholarship options for college, I’m now up to my eyeballs in student loan debt, and I’m taking college courses. Please God, let this work and do not let me fail.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. Reaching back, I pull it out and glance down at the screen.
Trent: U need 2 slow down
What the hell?
Of all people to text me right now, I do not need it to be Trent Randall. Not tonight.
I’m in too much of an emotional state. Trent is my deceased best friend, Landon’s older brother. He’s also my biggest weakness. I’ve been so in love with Trent since elementary school that I’m practically obsessed with him. However, Trent doesn’t return my feelings. He’s always worried that he’s too old for me and would come between my friendship with his brother. Well, his brother is gone, and I’m close to turning eighteen, so I’ll be legal.
Unfortunately, when his brother passed away, it shattered me. I don’t even know if I’m the same girl anymore. I just feel…broken.
I quickly glance around. It’s nighttime, but with the bonfire and the pool and back porch lights on, it’s definitely bright enough to see. Maybe he’s inside the house? Where the hell is he?
I should be excited and proud of myself. I really accomplished something graduating high school early with a high GPA and getting accepted, on late admission, into a big university. But I’m not. My parents are more excited that I’m moving out early. The one person who I’d be celebrating with is the main reason I’m leaving. If he was alive, I wouldn’t be doing this. And if he was alive, he would be the life of this party, and I would actually be happy and celebrating.
But he’s not. And I’m not.
Instead, his older brother is, apparently, lurking around and judging me. No surprise there. The golden boy is probably frowning upon my underage drinking. Just to piss him off further, I slide the bottle of vodka toward me and pour some in my shot glass. I scoff, before I tip the glass back, allowing the warm liquid to burn my throat again. The thought of our first time comes to mind. It was at a party about like this one. We were both tipsy, and I was definitely underage then.
I tell myself I don’t care where he is, or that he is even here. My heart rate didn’t just pick up because Trent Randall is in the same vicinity as me. Watching me. We made some mistakes. No, I made those mistakes. I know he’s never going to be with me, but I keep allowing myself to fall for him. I practically throw myself at him anytime he so much as looks my way. I’ve given him everything I can from my virginity to my pride. I’ve lost all dignity—it’s not been a secret that I’ve been obsessed with Trent for some time. I’ve never had a real relationship because the Randall boys have always shared my heart. When Luke Jamerson and Landon Randall got into a drunken fight, one half of my heart went over that bridge with them. The other half of my heart turned to stone when Trent told me that we wouldn’t work, despite how much he cares about me. Cares. He cares for me. I care for the people at this party. But Trent, I love. I wanted him to say he loves me.
I’m tired of loving him only to be hurt. Even if he doesn’t mean to intentionally, he’s the one person who has the power to make my heart beat or crush it in his hands. I’ve lost too much. I can’t risk losing any more of myself. Maybe this change of scenery will be a new opportunity for me to discover myself. Then maybe I can discover what it’s like to open your heart to someone without the fear of them ripping it out.