How to Make a Human

You don’t question when you wake up with a burrito in your hand. You momentarily assume it’s safe and take a bite because that burrito is the one force field creating a barrier between tempestuous stomach acids and your esophagus.

My stomach squirmed around uncomfortably and my tongue fled to the back of my mouth to avoid the cold beans and soggy tortilla. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to discourage more light from shining through my eyelids. The cold burrito made me want to vomit. I sat up at what felt like a normal pace but must have been too quick because everything was spinning and my mouth began watering, preparing itself for vomit. I opened my eyes, because instinct told to focus intently on one solid object. My eyes were crusted shut with sleep and probably Elmer’s glue because there is no possible way that bodily fluids could make such a thick, concrete sealant.

The light was bright, but it helped to focus on something. I stared intently at a stuffed bear, feeling my eyes zoom in and out of focus the moment my mind began to wander. When I tried to piece together last night my vision blurred due to lack of focus and my stomach raged, rising to my mouth. When I got the courage, I carefully pushed myself off the hardwood floor and once again had to find a solid object to focus on because my average pace felt like I was sitting shotgun without a seatbelt in Speedracer’s car.

Bear was sprawled out on what I assumed to be her bed, half the covers on and half off. Ben was on the ground next to where I was, sleeping on his side and using my jacket as a pillow. Next to Bear’s closet was a bathroom, which I stumbled to, holding my head with one hand and the burrito in the other. Bear’s bathroom had two doors. The shower/tub ran between both walls, and parallel to that was the toilet and sink. Bear’s door was closest to the sink. I tossed the burrito in the small trashcan and spit out the bite I had taken earlier. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and wondered foggily what I had to go through to look like this. Mascara was spread far below my eyes, my lips were swollen, and my skin was red and blotchy. My hair stuck out at extreme angles, and to be honest, that actually wasn’t weird to me at all. The shredded lettuce in my hair was new though.

I closed my eyes for a moment and the room began to spin. I could feel the vomit welling up, but I welcomed it. It’s like there was some kind of troll living in my stomach and I needed to force it out. My mouth watered and remnants of last night tried to force their way out. Before I let myself throw up, I closed the sliding door leading to Bear’s room. I think that would be too much embarrassment then I was willing to handle.

And then I let loose. I was vomiting out meaningless kisses, alcohol, forgotten names, bad jokes, creepy guys, push-up bras, and poor decisions. I’m pretty sure there was also some taco bell, but we can lump that in with bad decisions. Tears streamed down my face, but not because I was actually crying, but because tears are the shitty sidekick of vomit.

I grabbed several tissues and wiped down the seat and the upper rim of the toilet. Not because I have horrid aim or anything, but because it was someone else’s house and I know I’d be pissed if someone left barf leftovers on my toilet. I through the tissues into my pile of sloppy sin in the toilet and flushed twice just to be safe. I then picked the lettuce out of my hair and ran my fingers through the tangles until my hair looked borderline normal. Only slightly worse from its usual rodent burrow. Afterwards I washed my face vigorously. I stopped momentarily because I saw a can of air freshener on a shelf above the toilet. I made the room smell like “Seaside Memories” and then continued washing my face. What started with a casual rinse ended with my practically sticking my entire head underneath the sink. I heard the other door creak and roll open and turned my head to the side, still letting the water wash over me. I could see a long torso but I was too far under the sink to turn my head to see the face. The person left briefly and came back with a small, orange towel. The sink shut off and I was gently pulled out from underneath it.

Shane was smiling and using the towel to gently dry off my face and neck. He pushed hair out of my face and combed it slightly with his fingers. I sat there because I was dumb and I was too tired to do anything else.

“I think I got food poisoning,” I finally mumbled weakly.

“Nope. That would be the alcohol,” he answered.

“Did we get Taco Bell last night?”

“Yeah, I think you guys grabbed some on the way back.”

“I don’t even remember getting here.”

“Bear called me when you guys were outside. That was at like… maybe four in the morning? Anyway, we snuck you guys in and you fell asleep basically immediately,” Shane answered and put the towel on my head.

I grabbed it and lightly patted my hair dry. “What about Bear and Ben?”

“They stayed up for a little bit longer.” Shane stretched and grinned. “You were wasted.”

“Oh,” I pause, “did you guys talk about last night?”

“Well… yeah.”

“What all did they tell you?”

Shane opened his mouth, thought better of it, closed it, and scratched his chin. “What all do you remember?”

“I remember… significant events. I don’t really recall how I got from place to place. It’s like skipping scenes in a movie. Like, I’m inside. I want to go outside and I’m just there. It just happened. No recollection of these mini journeys. I think I apparated.”

“Sounds like you had a good night,” Shane smirked.

“They told you, didn’t they?”

I could tell that Shane was briefly wondering whether or not he should lie, but instead he nodded. “So, you made out with Demetri?”

“Well, I didn’t. Drunk me did. But I definitely didn’t,” I answered.

“Spoken like a pro.”

“I’m never drinking again.”

“You say that now but then, BOOM, Jaeger bomb!” Shane laughed. “Let’s go get you breakfast.”

“I can’t eat,” I mumbled.

“You can’t NOT eat,” Shane corrected, “You puked out too much nasty-ass.”

“Okay,” I answered, nodding my head as slowly a possible so that my head wouldn’t spill over.

Shane and I ate plain oatmeal because my taste buds couldn’t handle any flavor. I filled him in on what I could remember and Shane enjoyed the drunker version of the story.

“It sounds like a night worth having,” Shane laughed.

I shrugged, “I guess. Maybe if I could remember it better.”

“The night wouldn’t be as good if you could remember it,” Shane grinned, “All you need is bits and pieces and some semblance of a good memory.”

I swirled the oatmeal around and it mimicked my stomach acids. The microwave clock read 8:03AM. “I should probably wake up Ben, so we can get home and clean up before Oma and Opa get back from church.”

“Good thinking,” Shane hopped down from his stool and put our dishes in the sink. I ran upstairs and gently shook Ben until he mumbled slightly and opened his eyes.

“You’re up early, Sir Drinks A Lot,” he grumbled and rubbed his eyes.

“Let’s go home before Oma and Opa get back from church,” I responded, tidying up any mess I might have made and throwing on my jacket.

Shane was leaning in the door and peering down the hallway to make sure his parents were still in their bedroom.

“Should we wake up Bear?” I asked Shane.

“I wouldn’t. She’s hella hungover. We’ll just say that you dropped her off early this morning because you had to go to church and she’s catching up on sleep.”

I looked down to make sure I didn’t leave anything and absentmindedly grabbed my larger than usual boob. “Oh, tell Bear I have her bra because I left mine on the roof of the car.”

Shane laughed, trying to piece that story together. He gave me a hug and ruffled my hair, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Olive.”

Ben nodded at Shane, still barely awake, “See ya, man.”

Ben and I rode home in silence because Ben was too tired to think and my brain was currently sloshing against my skull walls. When we parked the car, we were relieved to see Oma’s car missing, revealing that they were still at church. Upon slouching into the house, Ben immediately went to bed to sleep the rest of the day away. I showered because I felt disgusting and then parked myself in front of the TV where I watched Sunday morning infomercials until 11. When Oma came I told her we tried to watch The Exorcist, so I was exhausted because I had to stay up until five in the morning because I was afraid. She believed me because I’m so lame that that story is believable. I spent the rest of my day watching shitty celebrity documentaries.

By the next day, Ben was rejuvenated, I was awake-ish, Mae Beth wanted to hear stories, and Oma still assumed that I spent my Saturday at a friend’s house watching scary movies.

After dropping Mae Beth off on the way to school, Ben and I finally addressed what had happened.

“So, you really threw a shit storm at Demetri,” I stated.

“Well, yeah, and maybe I feel bad about punching him, but that was a skeezy thing to do,” Ben rubbed his knuckles, remembering the incident.

“What?”

“You’ve never really had alcohol before, he let you get wasted, and then he was… all up on you. It’s gross.”

“It is gross,” I agreed, because upon further recollection of the details, I was making out with someone in plain sight. And he kissed my boobies. My little Bobbies, if you will. Oh god, how did I ever even get that far?

“That being said, he was pretty wasted too,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but he should have at least tried to withhold. He was just like, ‘yeah, I’ll keep your cousin safe from pervs and then like, wait, nope--” Ben opened his mouth and mimed a hideously sloppy make out session. “I’ll apologize for socking him though. That was kind of stupid. So, what are you going to do about this whole” Ben gestured wildly, not finding the right words, “thing?”

“I don’t really know what the standard procedure would be. Do I ignore it?”

“I don’t actually know. I mean, you can do that with some people, but it will usually bite you in the ass later… I don’t know if Demetri would really harbor that kind of pent up aggression though. Maybe you can just address it and see where it goes from there.”

“Could I pretend that I was so drunk I don’t remember?”

“I don’t know if you could play the blackout drunk card. Plus, I don’t think he’d buy it.”

“I’d buy it,” I shrugged. “You’re probably right though.”

“I’m always right.”

“Except when you punch people for my mistakes.”

“Well, I was still partially right,” Ben smiled, wished me luck, and we parted ways.

When I arrived to my English class, I peeked through the window, saw Demetri, and stood outside for five minutes, breathing deeply and trying to think of something to say. A couple of students who passed me smiled or waved slightly, and one even said “Bobbie! We have got to have that Disney party you were talking about!”

I couldn’t think of anything to say so I responded with a overly enthusiastic, “hell yeah we do!” even though I didn’t recognize them or know what they were talking about.

Shortly after a familiar looking boy strutted down the hallway, popping his collar. When he saw me he threw his hands up and shouted, “No waaaay! Bobbie!”

I couldn’t remember who he was. I vaguely remembered some guy who continually shouted “no waaaay” and laughed at everything I said, so I just repeated “No waaay!” back at him and gave him a high five.

“UV, we have GOT to hang out! You feel me!”

“Oh, fo shizzle, just hit me up on the tele-phizzle and I’ll be all up in da bizzle, G!” I don’t know why I said it or why my voice got continuously higher with every word or how it ended up that I sounded like I was casually joking around, but apparently he thought it was socially acceptable because he just shook his head and laughed, saying, “You’re craaaazy! See ya in bio!”

I literally had no idea we were in a class together until this moment. It’s amazing what alcohol can do. High off of the thrill of twisting social ineptitude into comedy, I entered the classroom. Before I could sit down Miss Goilleur stopped me by holding a hand up. Then she motioned to Demetri, who was slouched back in his chair next to a dosing Shane.

“Mr. Bodello, would you please?”

I held my breath. Did she know we made out? Did she know we got drunk? What did she know? Were we in trouble?

Demetri joined us in the front of the class while the students filtering in and getting sorting their school supplies eavesdropped conspicuously.

“You two have been called to Mr. Fredrick’s office.”

“Mr-?”

“The principal,” Miss Goilleur clarified.

“Do you know why?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not, but I assure you, it’s nothing too terribly horrid,” she steered us towards the hallway and pushed us out the door so she could begin class. We walked in silence for the first couple of minutes, but one of us was bound to break the silence and I decided it was my time to nut up and go for it.

“Alright so--”

“Here’s the thing--” Demetri and I began at the same time.

“Oh, sorry. It’s all you,” I retracted, giving Demetri the opportunity to speak.

“Oh, okay. Cool… So, yeah,” he scratched his neck, “I think it’s obvious what we need to talk about.”

“Yup… The whole making out thing.”

“Yes… that,” he nodded. “Look, I’m probably about as uncomfortable about this as you are, so here’s the thing: we made out. We were drunk. We, uh, I don’t know… we just did and… yeah.”

It was honestly sort of enjoyable to see him flustered, but I was glad that he was talking instead of me, because it probably would have been way more awkward. And by “probably” I mean definitely. And by “way more awkward,” I mean catastrophic.

“We were drunk,” I agreed. We were nearing the main office so we needed to reach some substantial closing point.

“Exactly, we were wasted so I think that there, um, there’s no reason to really take it seriously,” Demetri glanced at me briefly before turning his body away from me and pushing the door open with his shoulder.

“What?” I asked but was ignored as we approached the secretary.

“Name?” she asked, clearly bored.

“Bobbie Heising,” I answered before turning to Demetri, “What does that mean?”

“Demetri Bodello,” Demetri stated to the secretary, before mumbling, “We’ll talk about it later.”

“You may have a seat, Mr. Fredericks will see you in a moment,” the secretary nodded.

Demetri and I turned around to take a seat while I muttered, “That’s some bullshit. It’s a copout. Man up and say what you want to say.”

“Really? We don’t have time for this.” We took a seat and argued in hushed whispers, but it didn’t hide anything. Every student and teacher and everybody else forced into the stuffy, overheated office could didn’t need to hear the words to know we were partaking in petty teen drama.

“Well, what were you going to say then, hm?” Demetri grunted, turning to face me and gesturing for me to make all things wonderful again.

“I-” I didn’t actually know. For all I know, I agreed totally, I just didn’t like the rejection. That being said, I also could have wanted him to propose that we elope to Canada. I really didn’t know what I wanted, but fate was gone and we were called into the Principal’s office before I had to make a shit decision.

When we entered Principal Fredericks’ office it was decorated with the normal professional documents and adorable animal posters. Principal Fredericks himself was decked out in his classic 1970’s garb. He had a nice plate of welcoming cookies in front of him, just like last time. In the corner of the room sat a pudgy ginger, arms crossed, wire glasses slipping down his sweaty face.

“What the fu-” Demetri started before I cut him off.

“Ron? I thought you were expelled!”

“What idiot told you that?” he snorted.

Both Demetri and I looked at Principal Fredericks, but he just shrugged.

“I never officially expelled him, you made that assumption on your own. Now please, take a seat. Cookies?”

Demetri and I exchanged glances and sat down in front of his desk, taking cookies but not eating them.

“Now, as you both know, Ron has been out of school for a while ever since that… incident. Ron, would you like to tell them where you’ve been?”

Ron wheezed an exasperated sigh and stood up, “Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been going through intense anger management classes. I realize now that I behaved… rudely and I would like to apologize and mend our friendship.”

Rude was an understatement and friendship was an overstatement. By the way Demetri crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, I cold tell he was having a similar thought process.

“Now, Ron will be returning to class this week, and in order to maintain some semblance of a healthy relationship between you three, I’m requiring you to attend counseling once a week,” Principal Fredericks stated, jotting something down in his agenda.

“Um, who?” I asked, unclear.

“All three of you. On Thursdays during lunch, you will attend a meeting held with the school counselor. Simply to strengthen your relationships and make sure nothing like the previous incident ever happens again.”

“Uh, Principal Fredericks, is this necessary? I mean, Bobbie and I didn’t really do anything wrong,” Demetri began.

“Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘it takes two to tango’? Well, in this case three. Now, I understand that it was Ron who did the physical attack and participated in all the arguments that built up to this one disaster, but he’s done his extra time to fix this problem and now it’s your turn to put forth some effort. I’m not asking you to become best friends, I’m requiring you to grow up. You’ll always have to deal with people you don’t like in life and it’s time you’ve learned how to deal with it.”

Ron snorted and smirked, but Mr. Fredericks cut him off, “That goes doubly for you.”

-

We left the office after about an hour of limp arguments, stuck with a new Thursday punishments.

“This is some serious bullshit,” Demetri mumbled, shoving his note to get back to class into his pocket. I was almost distracted by the new punishment, but I had one pile of shit to deal with before the next.

“What did you mean about not taking the kiss seriously?” I demanded.

“You guys kissed?” Ron asked, hobbling behind us.

“Well, don’t take it personally. It’s nothing against you and it’s not like I’m trying to offend you, I just don’t think we should take a drunken mistake seriously,” Demetri shrugged. “Once a week counseling? I don’t believe this.”

“I’m not saying we should get married or something, but we should at least address it!” I was a little shrill.

“We are addressing it. What more do you want?”

“Did you guys do it or something? I knew you were together!” Ron squealed, hot on our heels.

“I don’t know! Something more than just brushing it aside,” I finished with a mumble. I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to be dramatic, I didn’t want some kind of love confession, I just wanted something. I don’t know. There’s just something about giving away your first kiss when you’re drunk that feels like you got the short end of the shit stick.

“Is this why you wouldn’t date me?” Ron asked, pushing his glasses up his nose and wiping his hands on his jacket.

“Oh, Ron, I’m sure there are plenty of reasons why she wouldn’t, I mean, will not date you,” Demetri snorted.

“Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you!”

“No, fuck both of you!” I intervened. We all stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Demetri, I may date Ron, you don’t know that!”

“Really?” Demetri raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” Ron licked his front teeth.

“Well, no, but Demetri doesn’t know that!”

“Jesus, Bobbie, what the fuck is your problem?” he sighed, throwing his hands in the air like he could no longer handle the conversation.

“Probably needs some peen-action,” Ron nodded.

“God, Ron, shut up! I don’t want any ‘peen-action,’ whatever that is.”

Ron pointed to his crotch and thrusted upwards a little.

“Stop speaking,” I rubbed my eyebrows and continued walking. The boys followed in suit.

“What do you want from me?” Demetri groaned. “I was about as drunk as you. You can’t hold me accountable and act like you’re some kind of victim. We both fucked up! Your double standards are getting old and I--”

I stopped and whirled around. “ I WANT an APOLOGY.”

A classroom door nearby slammed shut.

“Fine then. I’m so sorry that we got drunk and made out. It’s entirely my fault, even though we were both wasted. And I’m a scumbag and you’re a pretty princess jewel who never does jack shit wrong ever.”

“Not for making out, I don’t give a fuck!”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Ron nudged Demetri and mumbled, “Bitches, am I right?”

“Just for everything! You’re a douche bag, you’re nice, you’re a douche bag, you’re nice. I can’t keep up! I’m over it! It's like when you're nice it's just so you can check it off your to-do list. It’s like you have to fill some decent person quota so you can be an ass again!”

“You can’t keep up? You? What about you? You’re shy, then you’re yelling, then you’re shy again, and then, oh wait, you’re pissed again! You pretend to be some sort of victim. Like, poor Bobbie, she’s the new girl, she’s shy, she’s adorable because she can’t make friends. Well, here’s some news: You’re not a pushover. You can stand up for your own god damned self. You’ve shat on me several times but then you crawl back in your shell so all your ‘friends’ can come to your rescue! You’re the adorably retarded puppy that people adopt so they feel like they’ve done their charity work!”

“Cool, so that’s one thing we have in common, we both might be schizophrenic. Awesome. You know what? You’re right, I can stand up for myself. I’m done. Finito. Maybe we’ll be friends someday, but I doubt it.”

A door opened, and a teacher stuck her head out and told us to “shut up or go to class.”

“It’s cool. I’m leaving anyway.” And I stormed off to class.

“Oh, so now what? You’re denying it? Like you don’t milk the socially awkward card for all it’s worth?” Demetri called after me.

I turned around and smiled, “Goodbye, Demetri.”

I wasn’t mad at Demetri for not wanting to whisk me off my feet and I really didn’t care that he just wanted to shrug the whole ordeal off. I just felt like after all the times he’s acted like an ass, the least he could do for me was apologize. And I wasn’t going to whine anymore. I wasn’t going to deal with his shit and hoped that he would be nice. I was going to stand strong until I got a god damned apology because that’s what I deserved.

… Well, I would probably whine still, but I would have some dignity (when in public).

“So,” Ron began, “is she like available now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Ron.”