[IC] The Curse of Crestwood Hollow - A Hyperhuman Story [CLOSED]

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T H E P A C I F I C R O Y A L C O L L E G I A T E & U N I V E R S I T Y
T H E P A C I F I C R O Y A L C O L L E G I A T E & U N I V E R S I T Y

[Lord Wraith]

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^{October 25th, 1985}

The sound of the heavy door creaking open alerted Robert James Scott to the fact he was no longer alone. It had been several hours since he had been put in the dark room, hauled out of class in front of his peers and subjected to handcuffs before being escorted down what had felt like the endless halls of Mather Memorial High School. A musky cheap cologne filled the teen’s nostrils as the squeak of leather followed by the tap of a hard sole moved past him.

A sharp, mechanical click was followed by a disturbingly audible electrical buzz as Robert was suddenly forced to close his eyes by a blinding light pointed directly on his face. Blinking slowly as they adjusted to the brighter luminance, he was hit with a new smell. The enticing aroma of a freshly lit cigarette wafted towards his nose from across the table before it mixed with the odour of the stale ash tray in the middle of the beat-up table. As the detective across from him took another drag, Robert could feel the familiar itch of the nicotine monkey beginning to squawk. It had been… actually he had no idea how long it had been since his last cigarette, but he knew he was overdue for a long drag.

Closing and opening his eyes a few more times in a futile effort to further adjust to the bright light,, the teenager peered past the overhead lamp, jealously watching the other man take another drag from the dart before his baritone voice filled the room.

“Robert James Scott, quite the rap sheet you have for someone so young. Vandalism, petty theft, numerous counts of hooky,” The officer paused as Robert simply gave an apathetic shrug and a smirk in response.

“I’d lose the cocky attitude, son. Do you know why we’ve dragged you in here? The Crestwood Police Department has good reason to believe you were involved in the murder of Vanessa Bordeaux.” The officer snapped before slamming a folder down on the table. Robert could only imagine it must hold the ‘damning’ evidence within it.

“Do you want to tell me again where you were the night of October 18^th? And this time, how about we tell the truth.” The suited man asked, prompting an eye roll from the teenager.

“First off, Brody, it’s ‘RJ’.” Robert retorted watching the officers hands curl into a ball. RJ had been hit enough in his life that another strike wouldn’t be the end of the world, and in fact it might even get him out of here faster. “Secondly, I didn’t fuckin-”

“Language.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ kill Vanessa.” RJ continued, “You want to know where I was the night of October 18^th? That’s easy, same place anyone else was; the twins’ party. If I’m a suspect, so is the entire sophomore class.”

“Your father runs with the Sons of Salem doesn’t he?” The detective asked, lighting a new cigarette.

“He does.” RJ responded with a measured tone, “I don’t.”

“Apple never falls too far from the tree. Doesn’t it bother you that Vanessa never chose you?” The detective asked. “Prettiest girl in school, popular too. Like you said, it was a big party.” He took a longer, exaggerated drag below blowing the smoke towards Robert. “Hell, I’d chase after her too.”

“Dude, she only just turned seventeen.” The teen retorted while making a disgusted face towards the officer.

“No what I meant, smartass.” The officer replied angrily. “Forget it, tell me more about the night of the 18^th, what time did you arrive at the party?”

Taking a deep breath before letting out a small sigh of frustration, RJ began to reluctantly speak.

“It was around nine at night by the time I arrived at Vic’s house…”

O N E W E E K A G O - B O R D E A U X E S T A T E
O N E W E E K A G O - B O R D E A U X E S T A T E

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^{9:00 PM, October 18th, 1985}

The steady hum of the motorcycle echoed through the wealthy neighbourhood as RJ deftly steered the bike down the twisting roads of Crestwood Hollow’s Belle district. The roads here were smooth, free of potholes even and completely lacking the numerous cars left in the street due to every house having a garage that could house RJ’s entire’s neighbourhood’s worth of vehicles.

Downshifting, RJ drove over the sidewalk and entered the Bordeaux Estate’s driveway. Giving the handbrake a gentle squeeze before tightening his grip further and bringing the motorcycle to a complete stop, he took a look around recognizing numerous vehicles from the school parking lot. Among them naturally was the candy red Ford Escort cabriolet that belonged to none other than the birthday girl herself; Vanessa Bordeaux.

Securing his motorcycle, RJ took one last look at it before going inside. He had rebuilt the bike himself from the ground up, getting parts from his dad’s friends and pestering Erica for time and tools from her family garage, Rolling Right Auto Repair. Erica herself had actually been a huge help and getting the motorcycle to run. The girl was quite impressive with a wrench.

Entering into the house, RJ unzipped his leather jacket, pushing the sleeves up while taking a look around. New wave synth blared throughout the house, echoing somewhere from a boombox turned up way too loud in a central room. No doubt some fancy set up that ‘Nessa or Vic asked for and their mom immediately caved. There was nothing quite like extorting the guilt of a single parent.

Continuing to wander the house, RJ was met by numerous familiar faces, jocks, populars, preps, they were all here. But more surprisingly so were nerds, goths, skaters and representatives from just about every one of Mather Memorial High School’s social circles. Between ‘Nessa and Vic, the twins were friends with almost everyone in the school.

Scanning the crowd, RJ spotted one half of the night’s honoured hosts. Making his way through the throng of classmates, RJ approached Vanessa. She looked fantastic, she always did. It was not an understatement to describe her as one of the most desired girls in school and it was a shock to most of the student body that she had remained single since her breakup with Dexter Quinto.

Tapping the shorter brunette on the shoulder, RJ flashed a cocky smile as ‘Nessa turned around to face him. Reaching into his pocket, RJ produced a small package done up neatly with a small bow before holding it towards the birthday girl.

“Happy Birthday, ‘Nessa!” RJ said as Vanessa excitedly took the package and opened it to reveal the cassette tape for R.E.M.’s latest album.

“This is the one you’ve been telling me about! I can’t wait to give it a listen!” She exclaimed before quickly giving RJ a hug. Returning the gesture, RJ could have sworn for the briefest moment that Vanessa’s friend, Autumn, shot him the dirtiest of looks before quickly looking away from the pair.

“Any idea where I can find Vic?” RJ asked as Vanessa took a step back.

“Think he’s out on the balcony, with Jennifer?” Vanessa replied with a slight shrug, “At least last I saw of him, could be in the kitchen by now too. Y’know how he gets when he’s hungry!”

“Rad, I’ll catch you later then,” RJ stated, giving the girl a quick wink before going to find her twin brother.

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O B J E C T I V E ( S ) O B J E C T I V E ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Enjoy the party, interact with Vanessa and establish your character. _

[JunkMail]

Dexter

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A few hours into the night...

Vanessa stepped out, needing a moment from the constant hustle and bustle of the party to take in some fresh air. It was a welcome change from the clouds of smoke and marijuana, a quite moment to compose herself.

“Need a break?”

His voice shocked her, causing her to just about jump out of her own skin. But when she realize who it was, the most responding thought in her head was: They were different. Her hair grew out to the middle of her back while he cut off inches of his own. It had been two years since they'd broken up. There were invitations given but few words had actually been shared between them. Just pictures of new adventures spent without the other. The wounds left by what happened to them were mending. Time healed the worst of it, but time only does so much. The two were brought back together briefly for the funerals. But both had been largely little more than silent giants looking into one another’s lives. Unable to leave and always, always casting their shadows. It wasnt surprising to find him out here. He had always hated the smell of cigarette smoke and enjoyed the outdoor shenanigans of drunks.

It was just them, the silence of the night, and a small cloud of smoke that came out from the now closed door dispersing into nothing. They both downed a few drinks during the party. Alcohol made the conversation easier for the sake of their weathered hearts. She skipped the small talk, after all, they weren't strangers and asked him if he was still flying. She asked because she already knew the answer. Parts of her wanted nothing new of him.

"By tomorrow afternoon I'll be heading north," he said with a click of his tongue.

"Towards what exactly?"

He shrugged.

"Little airport with a grass strip. Heard there were good burgers up there," he told her, gripping his beer bottle.

"Are you still alone on these trips, Dex?"

"Sometimes," he responded. "I can easily say I'm never alone though; I'm always finding people to go on the ride with."

She scoffed. "Women included?"

He glared at the ground, deciding to take a drink before answering. "I'm just trying to make memories with other people now, V."

He remembered foolishly thinking that two years was enough time to move on, that next time he’s up with nothing in the sky but himself and the sea, he can look out at the horizon and her name won't come to mind. He can learn new names and faces and not think about her. But time is not kind to those that leave everything behind. Time is constant. Time preserves memories deep within an individual with thoughts and feelings they cannot shake.

"I know that," she told him. "I know you are—but promise, promise me that whoever you meet, tell them about us. Even if they're caught up with you. Warn them about what happens when people fall in love prematurely. Show them pictures of us at fifteen."

"Why fifteen?"

"Well," she breathed in, "I was ten when I first met you, and thirteen was when I knew for sure. We were fourteen when I told you I loved you," she said wistfully. "But fifteen was when we showed it."

He let out a curt, almost pained laugh. "I think fifteen was my favorite."

"It was mine too," she admitted, knocking her knees together. "But now we're older and I need you to let me know that even if you fall in love again please remember what happened to us."

It hurt him to talk about them. To remember and relive what they lost.
"How do you know I'm not in love right now, huh?" He questioned, his voice low and lips twisted. "I can have a girl waiting to call her and have her pick me up and you wouldn't know, so stop acting as I can never love someone again as I loved you."

He expected her to raise hell but she did not.

She didn't falter. She breathed in as her sea-glass eyes focused on the darkness of the sky above them.

"That's the thing," she paused, "you won't because people never love the same way twice."

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"Because I've been trying," she exclaimed, a hint of sadness on her smile. A bittersweet smile not of joy but acceptance.

Her frame looked smaller than he remembered. It stirred something in him. He almost reached over to pull her into his chest, to spill out every sin and prayer. He knew better to do such a rotten thing. If he held her once more, there would be no letting go. Instead, he took another brash sip of his beer and kept quiet.

"Look, I don't need you making the same mistakes," she voiced her wants. "What I need is to trust you to not break another person's heart. I need to know you'll be okay, with or without them. Whoever they turn out to be."

He listened to her request, heart open and exposed.

"Promise me you won't do the same thing to the next girl who loves you."

The glass shatters on the ground beneath them.

"Vanessa, I-"

"No!" She spat, turning to face him.

“Listen to me—remember me at my worst, remember me yelling at you to come back and crying to your mom when you wouldn't. Remember the broken coke bottles I threw and how your hand felt tightening my wrist. Remember the silence. Remember that I loved you and that you loved me but what we had wasn't enough."

They sat in silence beneath the hazy night sky. The inner thoughts he kept from her sat on the edge of his numb tongue. Messy, frazzled words he wanted to yell but held back because he knew he had no right. In another life, a life where he had the heart, Dexter broke the silence and cried out: "I remember it all. I remember that you were my first and how I just took for granted that I believed you'd be my last. I could never tell you then but it has made me better, loving you. Now, we are here and you're… guiding me to the next love of my life as if you know that I’m hopeless. The universe screamed at me and took away half my family and I dealt badly. How is any dumb kid supposed to know how to handle that? We were just kids. We just… did it wrong."

In this life, Dexter manages a concise, simple truth and tells Vanessa: "You know, I thought we would end up together in the end. Drinking lemonade as we watch our grandkids play in the garden, right under my mom's oak tree."

She laughed in a way that took him back to his youth. "So did your mom."

"You know there are still times that I look back at my rearview mirror and swear that you're standing at the end of the lot watching me drive off."

"And there are times I think maybe we'll meet again once we're older and our minds are less hectic, and everything will settle as the universe intended."

"You're such a romantic, V."

"Bite me," she quipped. "I'm pouring my heart out to you for the final time and that's your response."

He tensed up. He didn't like the way the final time poured out of her lips so easily.

"The thing is no matter what I say, sometimes you don't listen," she pointed out. "I know that there are people out there waiting for you to meet them and they won't be able to stop themselves from falling in love with you."

He placed his hands over hers as she continued.

"And maybe you'll find a pretty blonde, her eyes bluer than mine or green or brown or hazel. She'll be so sweet that it doesn't take much for you to fall. So even if I warn you to remember what the world does to people like us that fall in love, you're going to do it again anyway."

She tilted his face sideways to face her.

"That's who you are, Dex," she said with love, gripped his hand in her other palm. "You'll always go against the inevitable and I love you for it."

His eyes began to dwell with tears. Her smile was heavy with melancholy but just as sweet as he remembered. For a moment, they were fifteen again and life took them down a kinder path.

He let her wipe away his tears. "I'm sorry I left."

"I know."

"I'm sorry that I hurt you."

"Me too."

"I loved you, so much."

"I know, I remember."

The stayed in silence for a while longer. Eventually, Vanessa pulled away. “I need to go inside. I- uh, I have people. Waiting for me.”

Dexter nodded wordlessly, but allowed a small smile to let her know it really was okay. He watched her make her way to the door, but she stopped just as she reached for the door handle. “Oh, and Dex? You should call me. Sometime. Not tonight obviously cause-“

“Party.” He said, grinning now. Vanessa matched his, nervous and emotionally raw, but happy herself. She continued. “It’d be nice to have you around again. I miss your mom.”

“She misses you too. Now go. It’s your-“

“Party. I know.” She says with a laugh. “Thanks for coming, Dex.”

“Happy birthday, Vanessa.”

And like that he was alone again.

[fledermaus]

B O R D E A U X E S T A T E
B O R D E A U X E S T A T E

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^{October 18th, 1985}

Autumn arrived in a whirlwind of frazzled hair and visible puffs of breathlessness; but, by the time Vanessa opened her door, not a single hair was displaced. It was the push and pull of their relationship Autumn found familiar — tucking her vulnerability and imperfections carefully before Vanessa could find them. And Vanessa wanted to find them.

"You're here early." Vanessa sang, as Autumn was the first one to arrive. Autumn suspected she would be the first one to go, too.

"I couldn't wait to see the birthday girl." Autumn smiled, though the truth was much more complex. She was in the mood to be held and touched, but Autumn wouldn't dare say that aloud. Instead, she thrusted her small wrapped gift forward, "This is for you. I, ah, got something for your brother, too."

She did. It was a stupid gift, something she saw in the window and grabbed because it was just expensive enough to count as 'thoughtful'.

Vanessa thanked her and they spent the half hour chatting amicably on her couch until the other guests started pouring in. Autumn eventually lost Vanessa to the hurricane of 'welcomes' and 'happy birthdays', and sat uncertain and glum on the couch. At one point she peeked her through the crowd, simpering (or, at least, that's what it looked like to Autumn) to that burnout, Robert James Scott. Autumn tossed him a surly glare; it wasn't that she was jealous, it was that she didn't like boys like RJ and she didn't like that Vanessa deigned to give them her attention. They were a bad sort, in Autumn's opinion (but, then again, she thought anyone with a grade below a B average was of a bad sort).

Autumn wasted her time on the couch, counting down the minutes until it was socially acceptable for her to leave. And, when she could safely say she was tired, stayed on the couch anyways. She twisted her fingers in her lap and felt like the walls were closing in on her. It would be so easy to stand up and walk through the door, get into her shitty car and chug home. She yearned, though. Selfishly, anxiously, stupidly.

"You're still here." Vanessa said breathlessly into her ear, and Autumn wanted to pull her into a kiss right there.

"It's your birthday." Autumn responded, as if she wasn't planning on bolting only a second before. Vanessa stumbled over someone's feet and gripped Autumn's forearm, her drink sloshing dangerously until it spilled all over Autumn's pristine cream shirt.

"Autumn, I'm sorry!" Vanessa gasped, placing her drink on a table, "I think I have another shirt you can borrow."

Her arm still encased in Vanessa's grip, she was ferried through the sea of people and Autumn couldn't help but feel conspicuous. Like they could tell what she was thinking (soft hands, smooth cheeks, bright eyes in the dark) and Autumn wanted to melt into the floor. The trek to Vanessa's room couldn't be slower, the birthday girl was stopped every dozen steps for good wishes, and Autumn kept her head ducked so they wouldn't see her blushing cheeks or the embarrassing stain on her blouse.

"I have this really pretty pink shirt you can try on." Vanessa babbled, her hand slipping from Autumn's forearm to grasp her hand. Autumn wanted to snatch her hand back, yell at Vanessa to never do that again; instead, she smiled wanly and followed Vanessa to her door.

The oak door opened and closed behind them, the clicking sound damning. Autumn fell back against it, trying to gather her senses. It was so easy for her to fall like this, for her mind to spiral when crowded and the noise had been too much for her to think but now it was too silent. Vanessa was oblivious to her friend's troubles and had her back turned to her, ruffling through her drawers for that pink shirt.

"Vanessa," Autumn gasped into the silence, fingers clenched on the door knob. Vanessa pivoted towards her, looking at her fully for the first time that night. Autumn hated it. "Vanessa, will you kiss me?"

The words were whispered, she was too paranoid to say them any louder. For a second, Vanessa didn't move and Autumn thought she might not have heard. If she didn't hear the first time, Autumn wasn't going to ask a second time. She twisted the door knob, ready to flee, when Vanessa finally moved. Her eyes shuttered, as if she was shedding into another Vanessa. A Vanessa that Autumn needed, wanted — someone that could ground her.

Vanessa's lips were on hers and she tasted like raspberries and guilt. It was wrong of Autumn to seek this from her. Not only did Autumn have no feelings for Vanessa, but they were both girls. Autumn wasn't gay! She liked boys, she knows she does because she kissed Matthew Craddock in the fifth grade. Vanessa was so soft though, sighing into Autumn when she wrapped her arms around her. The thoughts spinning in Autumn's head quieted to a whisper and she shoved down the guilt until it was a ball of barb wire in her gut.

"Autumn," Vanessa whimpered, pulling back and the look in her eyes wasn't different than usual. Autumn was never good at pinning others' emotions down, she couldn't read the signs, but even she could see Vanessa warring with herself. "I–"

Thump. "Has anyone seen Vanessa?"

Just like that, the world leaked back in and Autumn felt the ground falling beneath her. Vanessa looked at her like she was a startled animal, and Autumn thinks she might be. She bit out, "I need fresh air."

The door clicked behind her and she scrambled into the throng of people, away from whatever Vanessa was going to tell her.

[Skai]

Andy

---

Andy hummed softly to the radio as she drove down familiar roads. She didn’t need to pay too much attention to where she was going. After five years of knowing Vanessa, Andy could have driven blindfolded to her best friend’s home without a problem. Except this time when she arrived her usual parking spot was already taken.

She blew a puff of air out of her mouth and watched her bangs rise and fall in front of her forehead. As much as she liked big parties, she just wasn’t in the mood tonight. She had a big track meet tomorrow. Not only was it the state competition, but officials from her dream college would be in attendance. If she did well, she could potentially get a full ride and at the very least a scholarship. She wouldn’t be able to afford the school without it. Tomorrow she needed to be focused and prepared. Which meant no alcohol, no smokes, and to be home before eleven. Her eyes glanced at the clock on her baby blue 1980 Ford Sierra. It was eight. She’d have three hours to celebrate with Vanessa, chat with some of the others, and then make her way home. It was enough time. She also had plans to swim with Vanessa tomorrow anyways.

Andy parked her Sierra behind a car she hadn’t seen in this driveway for a while. A red Mazda Miata; Dexter’s favorite possession. She smiled wistfully as she realized she’d never seen both the Miata and Cabriolet in the same driveway before. Back when all three of them were inseparable, it was just their three bikes standing side by side. Maybe tonight would be a bit like the old days. Before her closest friends fought and avoided each other. The three could laugh together again, if the liquor smoothed things over. It was wishful thinking, but Andy always had hope that things would get better between them.

It was this hope that made Andy pick up the two small gifts in the seat next to her and carry them towards the front door. She didn’t knock. In fact, she thought of this place as a second home. Walking through the threshold felt more comfortable than walking through her own, anyways. It was just as inviting as walking through Dexter’s doorway, too. She stepped inside onto the polished hardwood and almost shouted “Honey, I’m home!” as she usually joked. Instead, Andy took a moment to adjust the length of her tight denim skirt and make sure that she’d buttoned her lavender cardigan high enough to show just the right amount of cleavage. She was just about to remove her converse when she noticed the sloshing drinks around her and decided against it. It was never a good idea to be barefoot at a party.

“Andrea Marie Walsh!”

At the sound of her full name, Andy’s head snapped up. Vanessa was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her hands on her hips. Andy grinned.

“You’re late.” Vanessa’s voice feigned irritation. Her chin even stuck out to make the act more dramatic. She was already drunk.

“Why, Vanessa. I believe I’m only fashionably late.” Andy retaliated before she held up one of the gifts in both hands with a wide smile. “Anyways, I’ve brought you something to make up for it.”

Vanessa’s eyes lit up with excitement, but she hid the emotion as she walked over to her. ”Andy, you didn’t have to-” Andy cut her off.

“Oh stop. Of course I’m going to get you a gift on your birthday.”

Vanessa smiled sheepishly. Andy knew she didn’t need any gifts. Her family had enough to get her anything she wanted. Yet she tore open the gift like it was Christmas morning. Andy watched her with an eager, yet smug grin as the present was finally revealed.

“Andy, you bought me the necklace?” Vanessa exclaimed happily. She pulled the necklace out of the box and held it up in the air. It was the same necklace that they’d seen in the window of a store a while back.

Andy beamed. “I may have gone back to the store to buy it when you were getting our movie tickets.”

Vanessa beamed back at her friend and quickly moved in for a hug. The two embraced, giving each other a light squeeze like they usually did. Although this time Andy felt different. Vanessa’s squeeze was a little too tight. A little too long. Andy’s brows furrowed for a second. Was there something wrong, or was it the alcohol? When they finally parted, Andy only saw Vanessa’s bright smile. She was still wary of it, but she wasn’t going to press it. Not on Vanessa’s birthday night.

“Thank you, Andy. I’ll never take it off.”

Andy smirked. “You better not.” She teased as she watched her friend place the gift around her neck. Her smirk faded, before she glanced into the living room to their right. “How is it, seeing Dex tonight? I don’t see him anywhere.”

Vanessa’s smile faltered, before she shrugged her shoulders and plastered the smile back on her face. Andy had a feeling that she already knew the answer. “It’s alright.” Vanessa’s eyes scoured the adjacent room too. “Actually, I haven’t seen him since he arrived.”

Andy pursed her lips, but nodded instead of saying anything more. “I’ll probably bump into him somewhere.”

Vanessa smiled knowingly, and Andy picked up on the look in her peripherals. She smiled and her cheeks flushed a peachy pink. She looked Vanessa in the eyes. “Alright, birthday girl. Go enjoy your party. I’m gonna grab a cup of juice and try to give Victor his gift without getting pressured to smoke with him.”

The two girls laughed and embraced once more before heading in different directions. Andy made her way into the kitchen only to be immediately surrounded by some other track team members. She only had to say no to a drink once and they laid off of her. Andy sipped on her juice while the others took their shots together, and they stood around the island chatting about tomorrow’s meet until Andy grew sick of the second hand smoke and slippery floor.

“Alright, guys. I’ll see you all tomorrow! I still need to give Victor his present.” She said against their disappointed boos, and merely laughed as she walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. She walked in just in time to see Vanessa enter as well from the back porch. Her eyes followed her until she saw Vanessa whisper something into Autumn’s ear, and she frowned. Autumn was sitting where she always sat. An unsociable lump on the couch awaiting Vanessa’s attention. As if she was bored of the company without Vanessa’s presence. Andy quickly turned towards the doors to the patio before she could watch Vanessa pull Autumn towards the stairs. Something about the way they moved to a quiet room every time had caught Andy’s attention long ago. There was always some small reason, but Andy had a feeling there was a secret intention behind them. Had Vanessa ever spoken of it to her, though? No. Andy didn’t bring it up. She understood there were parts of her best friend that wasn’t shared with her. It was just the way things were. Like how Andy never talked about her long drives or weekend flights with Dexter. Andy and Vanessa never pressured each other, which was why they enjoyed each other’s company so much.

The fresh air was a blessing as Andy stepped out into the night. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her lungs craved the oxygen. Tonight would have been a great night for a run. The crisp air would have done her well. She might have run all night, if she didn’t have an obligation to make tomorrow.

When her eyes finally opened to gaze at the pristine lawn of the Bordeaux family, she heard some quiet movement to her left and turned. There he was. Dexter Quinto. He didn’t look happy. Was it Dexter that Vanessa had come to talk to before she ran to Autumn? She held her hand up beside her and waved to catch his attention. The beaded bracelet on her wrist shifting back and forth would make enough noise to draw his attention.

“Dexter Quinto, have you been out here all evening?” She asked, almost demanding the answer, as she made her way towards him.

[JunkMail]

Andy and Dexter

---

Dexter froze, his shoulders tensed as if he was about to bring his hands up to surrender. As if he had been caught red handed doing something he shouldn't have been doing. But despite his body language, there was a small smile on his face. He recognized her voice anywhere. “Guilty,” Dexter said easily, dropping his hands. “You know cigarettes and I don't mix.”

Andy moved to stand beside him. Her body turned to lean against the railing and she looked over his expression. The slight puff to his eyes. The small downward turn of the edge of his lips. He’d been crying. She knew the look too well. She turned to face the pool in front of the patio and she busied her eyes with the dancing water. “I came out for the air, too,” she murmured. She was quiet for a few moments before she gave him a sideways glance. “It means a lot to me that you came tonight. To Vanessa too.” Dexter seemed to straighten a bit at the mention of Vanessa’s name, but it was subtle. The kind of motion that wouldn’t be picked up by a stranger, but someone like Andy might very well notice.

“Yeah, she told me.” Dexter confessed. “We talked and it went… Okay? I think? I’ve never been any good at stuff like that. I always leave the talking to you-” He poked her in the side playfully. Andy flinched at the jab and gave him a sour look in response. “You’re way better at it than I am. I just kinda word vomit and hope for the best.”

Dexter raised his drink and finished the remaining third in one go, and upon realizing he was out of drink, seemed rather off put about it. “I need to get another beer,” he started. “Do you, I uh…” He caught himself stumbling over his words and recovered. “Should I, y’know, grab you something while I’m up?”

Andy was smiling like she was trying not to laugh; her eyes crinkled at the edges. She took a moment to look down at her half empty juice, and then held out the cup to him. “Would you get me a juice refill? With some ice too.” Dexter nodded wordlessly, and was off. It only took him a moment or so before he returned with two solo cups in each hand- he was not one to be out done by his friend even if she did debatably have a greater constitution than he did. He would stay in the race, dammit!

Dexter ended up leaning against the railing next to her, abandoning his chair so some other sap could sit at some later time, and passed her the drink she had requested. He cracked a smile when she took it. “I put some cyanide in. Just for you.”

“Mmm, my favorite.” She stated before taking a swig and grinning afterwards. “Should we just stay out here all night? It’s peaceful.”

“Well, I’ve found that after a few hours people start meandering out and throwing up on the lawn. I figure if the cops show, we’d be the first to book it.” He explained. “Y’know you don’t have to wait out here with me. Won’t bother me any if you leave to go socialize.”

Andy shook her head and swirled the juice around in her cup. “I think if I went back in there I’d end up staying until dawn. Can’t afford that tonight.” She smiled over at him. “Plus, I’ve barely seen you all week because of practice.”

I’ve missed you too. Is the first thing that goes through Dexter’s mind, and he eyes his drink for a moment, trying to decide how he wants to answer that. So he drinks, and decides that the liquid courage is enough to merit a little risk. So he says what he thinks. It’s simple and concise, but it's all he really needed to say. “I missed you too,” he starts. Dexter, for all his wit and intelligence, is not very good at saying all he needed to say. Usually it’s too much or not enough and, well, this was one of those times. “Shame, was hoping to spend the night with you.”

And with that, well, Dexter doesn’t even realize how she might potentially misconstrue his words. It wasn’t meant to be a double entendre, but it certainly ended up that way. Dexter is too preoccupied looking at his shoes to notice her initial physical response, but he wasn’t exactly comprehending his words properly at the moment to begin with anyway.

Andy’s smile was small when he said he missed her. The kind of smile someone would have if they knew the meaning of the words, but didn’t want to admit them out loud. She was looking at her drink too, until he spoke again. Andy, usually so confident and smooth with her words and actions, was suddenly the complete opposite. She opened her mouth, but not even air escaped her lips, and her head turned to look at him. For the first time in their friendship, Andy was the one left speechless.

But she wasn’t scared. Her mind may have been a whirlwind of thoughts, but her body had made up it’s own mind before her brain could catch up. Her cup was left on the balcony’s edge as she slowly edged closer to him. “Do you really feel that way, Dex?” Her voice was soft. It lacked it’s usual gusto.

“Well, yeah of course I do you’re-” And before he can properly ask her what the hell that's supposed to mean because of course he’d want to spend all the time he could with her, Andy is leaning forward and proving that she doesn’t mind giving potentially nosy neighbors a show. Except she doesn’t punch or kick him like some sort of scene from Karate Kid. God, she doesn’t punch him. She opposite-of--punches him.

When Andrea Walsh gently grabs his face and kisses him, Dexter thinks one thing (quite eloquently considering the situation):

Oh.

---

Written with @Skai

[Natty]

J O A N I E P O R T E R
J O A N I E P O R T E R

^{_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

^{October 18th, 1985}
It was an hour since the party had been due to start, yet here Joanie was, sitting at the foot of her bed, frozen in thought. Music bellowed loudly around her room, emanating from a beat-up record player tucked away into the corner. Clothes and junk littered the floor around her. Contrary to this mess around her, she looked decent if she did say so herself; an old oversized jumper atop a cute pleated skirt. Despite her outward appearance, however, the mood was sombre as an empty cold ran through her, her mind racing back to exactly a week ago. All she could feel was regret as she replayed the kiss over and over in her mind. It had been everything she had hoped it would be. As magical as it was described in the books she poured herself over. It felt perfect. It felt right. Yet she knew that it shouldn’t have. Vanessa wasn’t like her. Vanessa was normal. Better than normal in fact.

Yet, a lone thought kept tugging at her heartstrings. What if it hadn’t been her imagination? What if that really was the feeling of Vanessa kissing back she had felt? What if?

Joanie hadn’t spoken to her since that night. Throughout the last week, she had done her best to avoid encountering Vanessa. She kept her lingering eyes locked away from her during class, despite feeling Vanessa’s upon her constantly. In the halls she moved quickly, dodging any attempts she made to contact her. And there were a great many attempts too. Before all of this, such attention would’ve caused a fury of butterflies to stir within her, yet now it was merely a grim reminder that everything was about to change.

She turned her head towards the two crudely wrapped presents on the bed beside her.

The larger of the two was for Victor; a second-hand vinyl of the Star Wars Soundtrack that her father had managed to acquire from one of his friends at the college. Looking at it immediately caused a whole new wave of guilt to wash over her. While they hadn’t always been close, he’d been such a loyal friend to her over the last year. It was why she had felt comfortable to tell him everything that had happened. He seemed to understand and didn’t get mad as she had initially expected, but Joanie could only guess what he really thought. Had she only been friends with him to get to Vanessa? The more Joanie overthought, the more even she didn’t really know for sure.

The smaller gift was for Vanessa. Even from a distance, you could see that more care had gone into wrapping it compared to the former. The sight of it only added to the well of guilt within her. Her fists clenched into fists as her anger swelled. It was currently her friend's birthday, yet here she was moping over something that was never allowed to happen. Tonight shouldn't be about her, nor the bullshit that was racking her brain.

“Fuck it.” She announced to herself, before swinging her arm, swiping the smaller of the two packages from her bed and launching it onto the mess of her floor. Placing a look of determination onto her face, she swallowed her guilt, before rising to her feet. Scooping up both her bag and Vic’s album, she ventured into the night.

[Roman]

JENNY VENOM
JENNY VENOM

---

^{Bordeaux House, October 18th // ft. @Hillan as Victor Bordeaux}

The party was already in full swing when Jenny Venom and her cronies arrived. She’d had to walk, her parents refusing to give her a lift, and despite her father’s lucrative job they had not gifted her with her own vehicle upon her birthday, unlike many of her more fortunate peers. Micheal had offered his daughter use of his bike, a gesture that was equal parts genuine and passive-aggressive. Jennifer had quickly decided that the only way she would depart on the rusted, out-of-style old frame would be to ride it directly into River Shannon, and then dive in after it holding the sincere hope that no one she knew had seen her on its saddle in the first place. So she’d walked instead, setting off as early as she could so she could loop around into town to her usual hang-outs; it was there that she found, as she’d hoped, her usual companions, a mixed bag of Mathers Memorial students and alumni, all on the social fringes and united under a banner of defiance and ‘fuck you’.

Whys and Hows and Whos aside, they arrived late. The gang immediately went for the kitchen, a roving pack of booze-seeking missiles; Jennifer hung quiet and secluded on the outer circle of the party, carefully observing. Everyone was here - most of MMH in fact - and as Jennifer’s eyes scanned the ebbs and flows of social interaction, cliques forming and breaking and reforming, she spotted the key players: Dexter, the ex of the star guest; Andy, the best friend; RJ, the bad-boy wannabe with a thing for the girl-next-door. Autumn was hanging around, by herself as usual, moping and likely pining for the birthday girl. Victor was flitting about as well, once again playing understudy at his own birthday. No one of note had noticed her belated entry, or the uninvited she’d brought with her. Better that way. She slunk across the living room towards the kitchen after her friends, silently sneering at the records piled up next to the stereo waiting to be played, and no sooner than she had crossed the threshold from beige carpet to white tile, she had a plastic cup of beer thrust into her hands. She drank quickly, handing it back to be filled again.

“Man it’s all kids here, Venom. The place reeks of freshmen. ’ Danny piped up, the oldest and tallest of the group, kept around by virtue of his fake ID being the one most consistently accepted. He’d passed the initial beer, and now passed her the refill, of which Jenny threw back half the cup before responding.
“It’s the Bordeaux’s party. Who did you think was gonna be here? Most of Mather’s here tonight.”
Danny shrugged, looking to the others, who also shrugged. Half of them were Jennifer’s year anyway, and were well aware of Vanessa Bordeaux. The party had been well-anticipated by most of the school.
“If I didn’t show after getting Vanessa’s pity invite I’d have caught hell from most of everyone. I don’t need every grody loser and nerd getting rips on me for not being at the ‘It’ party of the year. Shit, half of these burnouts have just clawed their way up to zeek just by being here. ”
Danny nodded, half-listening. Jennifer was sour - it wasn’t a pity invite, it was Vanessa extending an olive branch, but Jenny wasn’t the accepting-olive-branches type, and she damn sure wasn't going to show just what kind of years-old regret and heartache the gesture had dredged up in her.
“Not even,” he eventually replied, but it was clear he was only rebutting for rebuttal’s sake, “but we’re bouncing anyway. Scoop a couple dollars and score some more booze from the 7-11 downtown. You in?”

Jennifer took stock. There wasn’t really anything here that she felt the need to hang around for; her face had been seen by the miscellaneous and she would be officially recorded as ‘in attendance’. But still, something wanted to linger here, a misplaced sense of wistfulness. Jenny looked around and saw, clear in her mind, a ‘What If’. She could have been here early, welcomed in by the twins before enjoying a slow glass of wine as more guests trickled in and then switching to beer as the energy and tempo in the house built. She could have kissed someone and laughed about it with Vanessa, speaking in hushed tones about who likes who and who had a totally hot bod and who needed to bag their face. Jenny put her hand in her jacket pocket and held a tight fist around the object she’d stashed in there to be presented tonight, crudely wrapped in some torn up newspaper. At the same time, she watched from the far side of the kitchen island as Vanessa trailed through the lounge straight to Andy’s side, dancing and laughing, before collapsing onto the sofa next to Autumn. Jenny’s knuckles were white gripped around her present as Vanessa led Autumn away by the hand to the upper stories of the house.

“I’m out.” She said simply, taking Danny’s cup of beer and swiping a liquor bottle from the countertop before pushing away from the kitchen, snaking her way through the lounge - swiping a pack of nails from someone’s back pocket as she did - before quietly climbing a short set of stairs and pushing through a door onto the balcony that overlooked the backyard. She finished the beer and poured in some liquor - gin? fucking gin? - and then sipped that as she sparked up a cigarette. Her plan was to reluctantly sip the gin until everyone else was inebriated enough to sneak out, and then finish the cigs on the way home to cover the smell of booze. And then Jennifer heard the balcony door open and close behind her, and she stiffened up as she turned around to discover who had deliberately sought her out, despite her caution to avoid those that would otherwise only serve to make her uncomfortable, or instill her with melancholy nostalgia.

Out of the door stepped the older of the Bordeaux Twins. He had a sheepish smile on his face. He walked up next to Jennifer and leaned over the railing on the balcony, gazing out at the people in the yard.
“Party too lame for you Jennifer?” He joked, as he got out a cigarette from his pack. Producing his father’s zippo lighter from the other pocket and lighting the smoke.
“Jenny.” She corrected emphatically. Victor conceded wordlessly as Jenny turned around to lean next to him.
“If I have to fake one more conversation about football, I’ll blow my brains out.” Victor said, miming two fingers next to his head.

Jenny “hmphed” instead of laughing, not wanting to give Vic the satisfaction, and they silently stood side-by-side, taking drags from their smokes and watching as the party began to spill out from the house into the spacious Bordeaux garden. She finished her measure of gin and poured another, pushing the cup across to Vic and keeping the bottle for herself. She sipped again before she spoke.
“You ever get sick of sharing your birthday, Vicky? Being overshadowed every year?”

Vic smiled as the cup slid it’s way over to him, catching it, he didn’t drink from it. He simply whisked the alcohol around in the cup by playing with it in his hand, watching the gin float from one side to the other. He glanced over at Jennifer and a soft smile crept up on his face. Dragging the last bit of tobacco out of his cigarette.

“A little. But I often put myself in the background. My sister thrives in the spotlight. I think I work best in the shadows. Behind the scenes.” His words were soft, almost solemn. It was clear he wasn’t jealous of Vanessa, but he also wasn’t satisfied with his position in the grand scheme of things.

This time Jenny did laugh. “You sound like you’ve practiced that line a lot, Vicky.” She drank, swilling the gin around in her mouth, letting the flavour mix with the rough smoke of the cheap cigarettes. “Believe yourself yet?”

Victor chuckled. “Maybe I have. At least twice a day in the mirror.” He finally took a swig out of the gin and almost spat it out. That was disgusting. As much as he tried to hide the fact that he thought so from his companion. “Remember when we were kids and I’d punch you for calling me ‘vicky’?” He said, after he had finally forced the alcohol down into his stomach, the burn hitting.
“Yet, I feel like you’d kick my ass now. So I guess I’ll just have to live that nickname down.” He concluded. He opened his pack again and got out another cig. Lighting it up, flipping the lighter with the dexterity of a Wild West desperado, thoughtlessly.

“You’re welcome to try.” She replied. More quiet. Jenny stubbed her cigarette on the railing. “Why are you out here, Vic? Go enjoy your party. Nessie’s hogging the guests. I came out here to be by myself anyway.”

Victor smiled. “It’s my balcony. Isn’t it? Party’s getting a little too much for me. I like smaller crowds. We ended up getting talked into inviting the entire school with their plus one. I haven’t talked to half of the people downstairs before in my life, and suddenly they’re buying me birthday gifts. It just doesn’t feel genuine.” He looked up at the sky, and then back down again. Eyeing the tree that had branches that almost reached all the way up onto the balcony. It was a big oak tree. Had been there for fifty years. Planted back when his mom was a kid. “Remember when we’d climb that tree and Vanessa couldn’t get down? She got so scared.” Victor chuckled, taking another swig of gin. It was truly awful.

Jennifer considered the tree and the memories its branches bore. The memories of childhood turned sour mixed with the experience of aging, and she felt bitter about Vic’s seeming ungratefulness for the outpouring of friendships laid before him. Jennifer remembered her last birthday; a sixer from Danny that she split into 3 pairs, and her father refusing to purchase the latest Ramones record, instead banning Jenny’s music from the house. She put her hand in her jacket pocket, and pulled out the gift. Scraps of torn newspaper drifted to the floor, but the sellotape and sheets held together. It was rough, and crude, and messy, but so was Jenny. She set it on the railing, balanced carefully between the two of them.

“That’s your present. Joint present. But Vanessa's too busy with her real friends, so you can have it. Hopefully it feels more ‘genuine’ for you than everything else you’re getting tonight.” She sparked up another nail, finishing the dregs of Vic’s cup for him before pouring the last of the gin into it and tossing the empty bottle over her shoulder onto the grass. She sipped as she took two short steps to the door, pulling it open and lingering on the threshold back into the house, head cocked to look over her shoulder, the shape of Vic blurry in her peripheral. “Happy Birthday, Victor. Enjoy your night.”

And with that she left him alone on the balcony.

The rest of the night passed quickly for Jennifer. The gin settled in her stomach as she emptied the cup before she made her way from the Bordeaux house, and by the time she walked through the garden, kicking the discarded bottle as she went past, moving past the tree line with a third cigarette lit and burning, she was decidedly drunk and well on her way to wasted. ‘Home’ barely registered in her alcohol-addled mind, and instead she just wandered as the roads took her, eventually ending up downtown again and causing trouble.

[Tackytaff]

E R I C A D O U G L A S
E R I C A D O U G L A S

B O R D E A U X E S T A T E
B O R D E A U X E S T A T E

^{_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

^{October 18th, 1985}

By midnight, Erica was slouched in a beach chair in the Bordeaux's open garage, laughing at a joke she couldn't quite remember and reaching for a drink only to realize it was empty. Passing her spliff to the next person she excused herself, staggering out of the circle of seats they'd created. The cooler was by the door to the house, which Erica leaned on for a moment, waiting for the pins and needles in her feet to stop and trying to measure how much time had passed since she'd first sat down. Deciding it wasn't really all that important, she kicked open to cooler only to reveal a couple of wine-coolers floating in ice-cold water.

"Seriously?" She said, quickly looking over the room to see Trevor, looking glassy-eyed and cradling the dredges of a fifth of whiskey.

"Puke in my car on the way home Trevor, and you're a dead man. You know that?" Whether too drunk, stoned, or apathetic, Trevor just rolled his eyes as Erica left for the main house.

There were reasons Erica had stayed in the garage with her own friends; and she was quickly surrounded by them. The kitchen the obvious haven for most of the booze in the house, and so was predictably crammed with teenagers shoulder to shoulder. Despite living in Crestwood Hollow her entire life, there were few Erica recognized. Fewer still she cared to see, even less so high. A few classmates made eye contact but looked away nearly as quickly. When a gap along the counter finally opened, Erica all but bolted for it, reaching for the first not-empty bottle she could find so she could get back to her friends when a tap on her arm made her turn.

"Erica? I didn't think you were coming!"

"Oh hey Vanessa" Erica recognized the voice, not having the chance to see Vanessa's face before being pulled in for a very unexpected hug. For a moment she wondered if maybe there had been something more in what she had been smoking and maybe she was really still sitting the garage on the chair.

"I wasn't expecting to see you, what's happening?" Pulling away, it was clear to see Vanessa was clearly a few drinks deep herself; and reached for Erica's wrist for balance. Mild paranoia was slowly edging into the pleasant coolness out of Erica's high. The last conversation she'd had with this girl had involved much less cheer and hugging and much more cursing and insults.

"Yeah, wasn't sure I'd make it, sorry I don't have a gift for you."

Vanessa brushed the worry away. "Bum me a cigarette and we'll call it even." Erica wasn't so much surprised that Vanessa smoked as she was at Vanessa asking her for one as though she hadn't refereed to Erica as 'an spazzing idiot with no sense of responsibility' barely a month before.

"Oh, yeah, aces." She freed her wrist from Vanessa's grasp and dug out the pack in her jean's pocket.

"Thanks" She said, pulling two out of the package only to tuck them behind her ear. "Look, I heard you're going to be doing photos for the school paper this year."

Erica shrugged and contemplated her options as she stared at the bottle in her hands; she wasn't a fan of the run-around they were doing. If Vanessa was going to kick her out of the house for their shared final grade from the year before, she'd just as soon leave herself.

"I think that it's just super rad, and you'll do fantabulous- seriously I have a camera and you should-"

Like the answer to Erica's frazzled, desperate prayers, a hand appeared on Vanessa's left elbow and began to tug enough to nearly make the girl lose her drink. "Find me later!" Was all she managed to say before leaving Erica once again alone with strangers in the kitchen. She stood in semi-stunned silence for a moment before swiping a bag of pretzels along with her rum and returning to the garage.

[Natty]

J O A N I E P O R T E R
J O A N I E P O R T E R

^{_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

^{October 18th, 1985}

Joanie’s newfound determination remained intact as she made her way through the sleepy suburbs of Crestwood Hollow. The flickering street lamps lit her way as she marched onwards, her arms wrapped around herself in an effort to brace herself from the wind. It was only a short journey, with the estate of the infamous Bordeaux twins only being a couple of blocks from her own house, yet the darkness of the night made her uneasy. As she neared the party, she watched in bemusement as numerous kids her age drunkenly stumbling from the direction she was heading, having already decided to call it a night. Due to their number, she was beginning to worry that she was going to be arriving just after everyone had left, but she felt herself at ease as she turned into the driveway to see that those she had passed had only been a small fraction of the party-goers, with the house swarming with countless more.

Thankfully, the person she was looking for was visible to her immediately. Victor Bordeaux stood coolly atop the balcony overlooking the lawn, a cigarette between his fingers. The sight was not entirely unique to her; Vic had a habit to take time for himself at events like this in order to contemplate his existence or something existential like that. Joanie awkwardly gave a wave of her arms to get his attention, receiving a smile and a beckon in return once he had spotted her.

Upon entering the house’s entryway, her breathing slowed, her eyes adjusting to the haze of cigarette smoke. Music blared around her, amplified by the shouts and cheers of her classmates. Her eyes darted among them, scanning their faces. She liked to get a lay of the land. It was a habit she had developed in school. She could stay near to who she wished to be near. Avoid those she wished to avoid. And right now, that list to avoid was topped by the name Vanessa.

Life seemed to be in her favour, as despite how hard she looked, there seemed to be no sign of her. Her heart ached in response.

Finalizing her route, she moved forward, keeping her head down now as she crossed the room and climbed the stairs.

“And there’s the birthday boy!” She announced fondly as she made her way back out into the night’s cool breeze and approached the balcony’s railing.

“Glad you could make it, Jo!” Victor said, thankfully. He was still bordering on sober since Jenny had swiped what was left of the drink he had.

“You had something to drink? There’s plenty. Mom uh... Kind of went overboard. And everyone brought plenty of their own supply.” The boy mentioned, putting out the sixth cigarette for the night. He was chain-smoking, and he usually did it when something bothers him.

Something always bothered him.

“Clearly!” She expressed, glancing back towards the doorway in bemusement. “I’ll grab one in a minute. Dad was still up so I wasn’t able to sneak a couple o' bottles like last week.” A rare smile flashed across her face as her mind floated back. That was until her eyes met the railing beside them and the now half-empty cigarette box Vic had been pulling from. She raised an eyebrow as she watched him reach for another.

“How’s your night been so far?” Vic lit the cigarette as her question hung in the air.

“That’s a loaded question. I’m 17 and on top of the world.” Victor joked, taking a long drag of the cigarette. Still not really answering the question. He began again.

“I’m not too good at this whole party thing. It’s probably why I’m out here, instead of down there.” He paused, pointing behind him. "I told them that we should have just invited our closest friends and have a barbecue. Like a normal family. But my mom and sister both insisted that we’d do this. They said that Dad wanted us to celebrate like this. It’s our first birthday since he died, you know?”

She could do little but nod as he spoke. Joanie knew of his dislike for events like this, with her usually sharing the same opinion. Yet as he spoke and talked of his father, she realized how little she truly knew him. Despite their friendship, they had rarely spoken about his dad and what had happened. She had figured he would talk when he was ready. Given how fixated her mind had been lately, she hadn’t even considered how difficult a day Victor must’ve been having.

“I can’t… I can’t imagine how that must feel Vic.” She moved closer, placing her around his back and stroking the shoulder of his jacket with her thumb soothingly. Resting her head onto his arm, she embraced him tightly. Victor hugged back and was surprised by the surge of empathy coming his way. Making sure not to accidentally burn or get ash on his friend.

“Whatever you do, he’ll be proud of you. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. He always was.” Victor said, a faint smile on his lips and a tear in his eye. He escaped the hug and took another drag of his smoke, turning around and wiping his eye quickly.
“Anyway. How are you doing? I imagine this isn’t too easy for you, either.”

It wasn’t. But she couldn’t say that now, not after everything she had just told her.

“I’ll manage. I think.” She affirmed, hoping to God that her face wasn’t letting her down here. “Going to just drown my sorrows and hope I don't act like a complete spaz and do something totally pathetic again.”

Stepping towards the door, an idea popped into her mind as she gave Vic one last look.
“Hey, maybe we could still have that quiet barbeque you wanted soon?”

Victor smiled. “I’d like that a lot.” He said, taking another puff of smoke.

“I’ll be down soon, too. I’m sure Vanessa’s gonna worry about me. And, Jo.” He paused, looking her in the eye, making sure his well-meaning would come across. “Tell her how you feel. I don’t like to get too sentimental. But birthdays always remind me that time goes on and every year, there’s a lot of regrets since the last birthday.”

She pondered his words for a few moments, as what was the first genuine smile Joanie had had in days began to form across her face. Her hand moved to cover it, as by habit, but she stopped herself by running it gleefully through her hair. She was amazed that she was actually considering it. The power of the Bordeaux' family charm.

“We’ll see.”

At that she turned on her heel, leaving Victor alone once more, and rejoined the hustle and bustle of the party.

Her journey back through the mess of alcohol and adolescence that was the rest of the house was uneventful bar the occasional greeting to a classmate or a racial jeer from one of the meathead jocks. Minus the booze, it did not feel much different than school. That was when from behind her came the enchanting voice that Joanie had been hoping with all her heart that she would hear tonight.

“Joanie, you made it!”

Her heart skipped a beat, before launching into overdrive. Trying her best not to seem erratic, Joanie turned to face Vanessa. Despite her efforts though, her cheeks flushed hot immediately as her stomach grew heavy. Joanie’s eyes took in everything. The coolness of her smile and the red of her lips. The way her hair fell over her shoulders in perfect curls. Even her outfit, while not something that Joanie would have normally been a fan of on anybody else, just felt right on her.

It was clear that she was drunk and enjoying herself, contrasting heavily with her previous encounter with Victor. Joanie considered whether behind that cheerful persona was a soul as in pain as her brother was.

Vanessa moved forwards and wrapped her arms around her. She regretted wearing that jumper then, longing for how it would have felt to feel Vanessa’s touch upon her skin then. They parted quickly, with Joanie stammering out a hello.

She wanted to say something cool and funny. Make her laugh. Make her think she was more than an awkward mess of emotions right now. No words came when she opened her mouth though, her brain frozen with insecurity. There was just so much she wanted to say. So much she wanted to get off her chest.

Vanessa continued, however.

"Alan just opened up a keg in the lounge” She exclaimed, nodding her head to the doorway to their left. “Wanna’ join?”

Joanie glanced in the direction that she had pointed. A large group were laughing together inside the doorway. It was made up of a number of Mather Memorial’s student royalty. They were Vanessa’s people. The complete opposite of Joanie’s.

Victor’s words echoed in her head. She clenched her fists.

“No thanks, Vanessa.” Joanie could do nothing but accept the words as her truth as they came out of her mouth. She knew now that agreeing would be stupid. “I actually… I actually have to go.”

Vanessa’s face showed an expression of disappointment, amplified by her drunken state.

“Aww, well I’m sorry I never ran into you sooner!” Joanie’s cheeks could only blush up once more as Vanessa apologized. As if to only further prove that she meant it, she leaned in for another hug. They stayed there in silence for a few seconds, before Vanessa pulled away, running her hand down Joanie’s arm lovingly as she did so.

“I’ll speak to you Monday!” She promised, before walking away.

[Stein]

S I M O N E M E L A N C O N
S I M O N E M E L A N C O N

^{_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

^{October 18th, 1985}

The Day Before the Party

“What does it mean to be seen as a person?” Simone asked. She could feel the glacier clear set of eyes on her, like red-hot tips of fire pokers near the nape of her neck. But she continued to look over the sprawl of quiet buildings from their perch on the roof of a building in mid-construction, the sunset squinting her eyes. There was a flint flick of a lighter and the first waft of smoke. She turned around to face the only friend she had in this new town.

“I guess that depends on how you mean it,” Vanessa told her. Vanessa took a long drag. They seemed to be getting longer in recent weeks. But Simone didn’t ask. Simone, of all people, knew when and when not to ask why a girl might want to poison her body. To damage it beyond repair. It’s why Simone ran, still. It’s why they were on top of 10-story building. Vanessa handed her the cigarette. “So, how do you mean it?”

“I don’t know,” Simone took it, pressed it to her lips. Long but shallow inhale and hold. Release and she felt the heady rush, the flex of her mind. She swam in the sensation for a few seconds before exhaling. A smile ebbed onto her face like memory and she was looking beyond Vanessa. “Sorry, it’s this habit I think I’m picking up. Something my brother used to do.”

A gust of wind almost drowned out Vanessa’s voice, “Don’t be! You’ve been bringing him up more, compared to when we first met.”

Simone rode the tail end of the cigarette’s rush before responding. “Well, yeah. There was no way I could tell someone like you what happened to him at first. Mathers assigned you to be my “campus transition buddy.” Where I come from, that’s just a thin way to say “assigned white friend” but during school hours only.” She held up a hand to stop Vanessa, “I know, I know. It’s not necessarily always like that here. But remember, ‘Ness. I ain’t even been here a full year.”

Up until 4 months ago, Simone called her small parish outside of Baton Rouge home. ‘Home’ in the sense that she could name each road like siblings—their tar pavement something like her own skin, the dirt roads ashy like her feet after chasing cicadas. ‘Home’ like she’d shared a meal with almost every family in her parish. Like she could go to Auntie Bea’s general store when Mi*les—Simone had to pull herself to the present again. “And I definitely didn’t expect to actually become friends with you. You actually get it."

Vanessa jabbed at Simone’s side with her index finger, “Even-though-you-hardly let us hang out in public together!” Simone laughed, falling to the ground. She was always extra ticklish after taking a run. But finally she looked up at Vanessa.

“You’re right. I just…I couldn’t, y’know. Before, when I was just the new girl. The new black girl. I just, I know things are different here. But —I didn’t want to feel like there were eyes on me again…” her voice trailed off in the presence of budding tears.

“Oh, Sim! I’m sorry. Jesus, Vanessa that was totally idiotic. I was only kidding, but I didn’t think how insensitive that could be.” Vanessa was hugging Simone now.

Things back home had been fine as they could be for a black girl in southern America up until her town’s small high school—a converted church—caught fire one night. It was the switch to a new school. So many new eyes, so many blue eyes. And then things were not fine as they could be--

Simone exhaled, singing the hairs of her nostrils with acrid smoke. The pain anchored her to the present because it was becoming too simple for her to lose herself, lapping up dark waters of her past. "Nono--no, you're kinda right. I been meaning to try...try being more...y'know--comfortable in being outside my comfort bubble." She ground her foot into the gravel, flexing her calves. That coiled sensation of flight so common these days. But she remained still. "I just...I don't know how. And I ain't gonna grovel to people for a friend." Her days of looking up from her knees for mercy, those were done.

Vanessa wrapped an arm around Sim's. "Theeeen, that's why you should come tomorrow, Sim. No one can know if you don't give them the chance to. I promise, this party is at my place so I'll be setting the rules. I run that house...until my brother decides he has to open his fat mouth. But these guys coming tomorrow, I like to think they're a good bunch. And--"

"I know, I know," Simone took the cigarette back, savoring the billow of smoke in her lungs. "Besides, my aunt Bea's been threatening to put me in her church's choir if I don't start socializing somewhat."

Vanessa jumped and kicked her feet out, "So that's a yes?!"

"It's a MAYBE."

"Well, Maybe is just ebyam spelled backwords. And ebyam is just a ancient Greek for 'most likely'."

"Nuh-uh. Really?"

"Who knows? But it sounds about right."

The two girls cackled--a burst of tense energy suddenly unwinding, taking form in their exhaled breaths. Simone was actually considering what living in this new town could be, instead of just surviving until she was an adult. She found herself smiling, walking down the building with Vanessa, chatting about who would be at the party--namely Vanessa reminding Simone who different individuals were. Thinking that this might be a good idea. This might be a step in the right direction for her.

---

The Day of the Party

Simone ignored the urge to bolt in the opposite direction of Vanessa's house as she walked up. There was no hanging moss in the trees, no cicadas in the air. The air that wasn't sticky with the tingle of humidity. Everything was crisp in this state--she'd recognized this when she'd moved. But it seized her again, walking toward the large house, along with this feeling like a screwing of the stomach and a prod at the base of her spine. The feeling like she'd had back in Louisiana. Even when everything else was different, this feeling rang through her body.

Simone was already a little past fashionably late to Vanessa's party. "Vanessa and her brother," Simone told herself, "gotta remember that." Originally, Simone was going to bail on the party. On her morning run, she'd plotted a dozen excuses to use.

And yet, here she was. Re-checking the set of brass knuckles in her high-waisted jeans before shoving her hands back into the pockets of her splatter-neon windbreaker. Always something visible, never dark on dark anymore. The sudden cut-off of a motorcycle engine alerted her to the fact that she was still standing outside while everyone else was going in. She fiddled with the gift in her small purse and the can of mace. The music was something robotic and new-wave—she tried not to grimace and walked into the house, thanking the person who held the door for her.