ALIAS ? Peter Parker?

07. A Little Party Never Killed Anything But My Self-Esteem

I take a sip of the drink, trying not to look completely uncomfortable for Jackie's sake. "What time do you have to home?"

"Before one," Her eye catches her small attention span across the room. She thrust her drink into my chest, focusing on the thing across the room. 

"Go," I say before she asks. 

Her bright lips curl into a smile. "I'm just going to go say hi to some people, hold my drink."

"Okay-shit." Just as I moved forward, another person slams into me, sending the beer sloshing over the edge and coating my fingers with its foul smell.

After mumbling a few more curse words, I find a nice wall to lean by, sipping on my Mountain Dew. I stare out into the sea of teenagers some talking, some dancing, all reeking of sweat and alcohol. There are a few kids from school, none I'm close with.

I finish my drink quicker than I wanted and set the can carefully next to me, but I hold Jackie's close to my stomach to make it look like it's mine. I felt more comfortable picking fights with muggers than I do here.

An itch forms as I stare at the stairway, a curiosity that can only be scratched by sneaking around. House parties are the only time this is acceptable and unnoticeable. I crane my neck and strain my eyes to see Jackie talking to some kids from school, they're playing beer pong.

Taking it as permission to wonder, I slide past the straggling groups of teens on the stairs and move up to the second floor.

The first room is dark green with pictures of friends and dogs, and most notably three people with a bitter earthy smoke haze and red eyes. Holding my breath from the last room I move on to next door. I open the door of a bathroom and find to teenagers in lovers embrace, tongues push down each other's throats.

I jump back, cheeks burning, and slam the door shut. Once I turn back down the hallway to the final room, the words "Fine then." followed by someone crashing into me, sending Jackie's drink all over the front of her dress. My throat squeezes.

"Sorry," He says, wiping off his face.

"It's fine." I hold my voice steady as I look at him. His lightly golden skin gleams, his eyes are red, but not from weed. He sniffles. "Are you?"

His shoulders slump. "Yeah, just boy troubles, you know?"

"Yeah." I really don't.

He nods his head, then wipes off a few more tears, while I fight mine off. This beer is really pungent. Suddenly, I'm thankful for the dim colored lights, the flickering looks apart of the effect. "I should head back, sorry about your drink."

"It's cool, I'm not much of a drinker." I can't breathe. It's bitter scent is drowning me, 

"Ok, well, take care." With a small wave, he walks down the stairs. Once his back is to me, I rush through the door he just stormed out of.

Heat and panic swell through my skin, scratching though it in a vain attempt to escape. I needed it off me. Without even glancing at whoever is on the bed, I run to the bathroom.

I turn on the water and scrub my hands till they turn red. The smell hits me strong still and wants to rip the dress off to escape it. Don't. Calm down. Think. I yank a towel off a stand and soak it in water and soap, then run it on the top of the dress. It's all alive, the light fixtures humming angrily

After a few minutes, the smell either subsides or I grow used to it. My fingers wrinkly from the water and red from running them over sequins. I turn off the water and press them on the edges of the sink. Breathe.