We Were Lost and Broken Until We Met You Guys

It was only the first week at school; it shouldn’t have been so darn hectic. My cousins were almost like strangers because I hardly saw them. I don’t even know why. I was already conflicted because of that stupid geek in my AP Calculus class, but Katherine had to remind me and Francis of Leslie and Sam’s party that happened to be today, Friday, my day of escape from this hell hole of school. Why did the party have to be freaking mandatory for us?

I had a whole new thing to worry about now: My younger cousins - my younger, innocent, sweet cousins. They have been to Leslie’s parties before but it did not make it any different. They would still be exposed to alcohol, the unholy way fellow classmates grinded against each other, and the rough housing (disgusting rough housing) in the bedrooms upstairs. Kat and Francis did not need to be surrounded by that - neither did I, but I would take it all for them if I had to.

Friday went by too quickly. It was like a day at school you actually wanted to go by slowly it did just the opposite. The class that I really wanted to go by with lightning speed went by painfully slow: AP Calculus. That geek I met before was named Kevin and was smart, had a nice smile, and was annoying. I only told myself he was annoying so I would refrain from talking back to him when he spoke to me. He would ask questions, I would roll my eyes at him and sometimes scoff. He did not care, however; instead he just smiled at me and shrug. What was with this guy?!

At lunch I decided to sit with Drake and his jock friends, away from Francis and Kat. The jock tables - both JV and Varsity - were near the cheerleader and band nerd, geek, and nerd tables. Only the jock and cheerleader tables mixed and mingled; the various assortment of nerds were shunned. From where my cousins were I was all the way on the other side of the cafeteria, and there were a lot of tables and alumni in between us. It made me anxious, but I was somewhat distracted by the game of tonsil hockey being played by Drake and myself. Ugh, Drake. I wouldn’t be going out with him if Leslie hadn’t told me to. I had to listen to her because I owed her. She kept me safely at the top of the high school food chain.

I had to get up to use the restroom and I excused myself, only to find myself tripping over my own foot. I ran into the side of the cheerleader table, right next to the spot Shelly McMan was sitting. She and I narrowed eyes at one another.

“Still drunk from Leslie and Sam‘s last party, bitch?” Shelly said, and every word dripped venom.

I straightened up and put on my signature smirk. I had so much on Shelly McMan only because she was so easy to read. “I don‘t know, still hoping that sleeping with Mr. Reynolds is going to get you an A in Bio?” I retorted. Her victorious smile turned into a frown of defeat. “Are you done sleeping with both JV and Varsity football teams already? You had a productive summer, didn‘t you, Slut?”

“Takes one to know one,” she replied harshly. “Besides, both football teams said I looked much better than you did in your pictures.”

“Wow, someone has low self-esteem. Maybe if you got more confidence, you wouldn‘t have to sleep your way to the top.”

She flipped me off and I turned around before I completely lost it, and in the bad way, tears and all. When I made it to the door I noticed someone out of the corner of my eye stand up, near the spot where Drake was. When I turned around to check, however, I found Kevin standing up with a pitied look on his face. I wondered what or who was pitying and I realized it was me. I also wondered if he noticed how my eyes were turning red. I just shot him a dirty look before I looked over at my usual group to find Priscilla Lopez (Leslie‘s other best friend and “Perky Priscilla” in dirty terms) grinning maliciously at me before doing the same to Kevin. Oh God please no. She better not think anything is going on between Kevin and me and she better not tell Sam and Leslie or I’ll show her exactly how I became The Bitch. Heck, after I deal with her I’ll have a new name: “The Super Bitch.” Like Christina Aguilera sang, “Some days I‘m a super bitch.” That’s where it’ll stop with me.

Of course, after I escaped the cafeteria and went to the restroom, making the freshman girls who were in there flee, I cried my eyes out. I hated all of this about ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine, nine percent of the time. The percentage that I didn’t hate, that made me happy, were my cousins and, for some odd reason, the sight of Kevin’s smile. As I redid my makeup to hide the fact that I was crying, I could not cover up that worried expression that came along with the thought of Kevin’s smile.

School finally ended and I met up with my cousins at my car. Kat was furiously texting someone, someone she has been texting nonstop since school started. I had no idea who it was, but by her body language, smiles, and various other happy reactions to the text messages, it was obvious to anyone that she liked whoever this person was. I looked away from Kat when I noticed Francis walking over to the car. She silently threw her bag into the backseat while Kat got in the passenger seat next to me.

“How was school?” I asked Francis as she banged her head against the window. Not only was she killing precious brain cells, she was smudging my window.

“Fine,” she replied in monotone, but I knew better than that. Anyone could tell that she was frustrated with the banging of her head against my car window, but I could tell that she was frustrated over something Leslie and boy related. I wanted to know more about it but I knew she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Cupcake, is everything okay?” Katherine questioned, and I was surprised she had even looked up from her tiny cell phone screen.

Francis answered with a smile, and I knew I was the only one who could really see behind that smile. I sighed and shook my head, sorry that Francis had a crappy day.

Getting ready for the party wasn’t that eventful, but my cousins looked both beautiful and much older than they really were. Though they looked great, I was worried about what other guys would think when they saw them. The whole drive to Leslie’s I kept on imagining them getting sucked into the bad, dangerous things these parties always had to offer. I imagined Kat playing a round of beer pong or having a shot contest and passing out as I watched in horror; I imagined Francis sitting on the lap of some creep and making out with him with a spiked drink in her hand. I knew they wouldn’t really do that, but my mind comes up with crazy things when I’m stressed.

When we arrived, Drake was there in an instant to greet me with yet another game of tonsil hockey. With how much tonsil hockey we play we’ve probably won the championships ten times over. Oh God, not only did he have his usual stanky breath, but it was now tainted with the familiar taste of scotch. I stopped the yuck fest when I heard Francis scoff.

“Francis,” I called. “Please be careful. Don‘t get caught up with the wrong guy and do something you‘ll regret.” The image of her sitting on some creep’s lap was played over and over in my worried mind.

She turned around abruptly. “That‘s good advice. Maybe you should use it, Brianna,” she replied with obvious disgust, annoyance, and with as much acid she needed to make her words painfully harsh. I couldn’t hide behind my smirk, my façade, anything I usually used as a shield to hide my hurt.

And she just walked away. What was I doing? I only wished I could have driven her away from this place.

During the party I got caught up in all the things I imagined my innocent cousins getting into: I was sitting on my creep of a boyfriend’s lap, making out with him, and taking a break to take gulps of my fourth extra spiked drink; I was trying various alcohol drinks and was challenged to a game of peer pong, which turned into who could finish the cups of beer before the other (and I lost purposefully); and I was the one currently winning the shot contest. I know what I was doing was absolutely horrible, but it was all part of the façade - the freaking show I put on for everyone. It also distracted Leslie and Sam from what Francis was doing - which was being the sweet, innocent, smart girl I know her to be - and whatever Kat was doing. I didn’t know what, but I was sure she was texting her mystery person.

When the girl - Shelly McMan, of all people - passed out, I screamed a victory scream and downed the eleventh shot. Needless to say, I was just about wasted. I barely heard over the cheers for me coming from the audience Shelly and I had what Leslie said to Sam. Something about the geeky eye candies were here for the cousins.

While Leslie walked away, disappearing with the waning audience, Sam came over to me with a dirty margarita in hand. “Congrats on your win, biotch,” she said with approval. I smirked, and it was more of a drunk smirk than my usual smirk. “I have your prize waiting for you at the door. You should thank Perky Priscilla for that - but save it for Monday, if you remember.”

“My memory‘s as good as a frickin elephant‘s, dude,” I slurred, and she nodded. “Where - where is my prize?”

“He’s looking for you now,” she answered. “Better go find him. I think he‘s with Leslie.” He looked over to her far right. “Yep, there he is. And look! Francis is there too . . . with Nick. Maybe you should go find Kat before you go anywhere.”

I gave her a thumb’s up before clumsily walking away from the kitchen counter, away from the unfinished shots. Absentmindedly and definitely not thinking about it, considering I’ve probably destroyed five trillion brain cells with all the alcohol I’ve consumed, I sauntered over in the general direction Sam was looking. I only saw the back of two curly-haired boys, one fo-hawked boy. Leslie was standing in front of them and I saw Francis walk away. She looked pissed and her body language told me that she was ready to dump the soda - at least I hope it was soda and not some spiked drink - on Leslie before she tackled her to the ground.

I went to follow her and I saw a guy whose name escapes me grab her and kiss her furiously against the wall nearest them. Angered flared up in me and I darted toward her as fast as my clumsy feet could take me. I was the clumsy, laughy, tear-filled, and angry drunk. Basically all the drunk categories mixed into one - except the dancey drunk. No way. With how clumsy I am that would end in my death.

Francis was strong enough to get him off of her and she ran outside. Good girl. Get away from here. Don’t end up like me. Please don’t end up in the dead end I was in.

I went over to the guy who tried to make out with her and noticed him rubbing his lip. I saw a tiny bit of red and was so proud of Francis. She must have bit him. I happily walked over to him, watching satisfaction cross his face as he thought of me as easy prey, and smacked him so hard across the face he didn’t even know what hit him. I walked away before he could react, but then he followed me. Drake noticed and came to tell the guy that I was his woman - gag me with a freaking spoon - and Steve backed off. I remembered his name. Ha.

Drake caught me before I could stumble over into the expensive china and wrapped his arms around my waist. I was at my most vulnerable when I was drunk, and most of the time I was numb to whatever Drake did. When he reached his hand to my butt, I didn’t react like I normally did. I continued to kiss him. It was like the logical part of my brain was shut down and the switch was set to DUMBY instead of THINK BEFORE YOU ACT, IDIOT. However I wasn’t so lost in my idiocy when I felt Drake’s hands slowly lift my shirt up. I began to panic, and when I tried to stop him he only continued on. He was touching my chest inappropriately but I couldn’t stop him because I was too drunk to do anything.

Francis was right: I should take my own advice.

I finally just kneed him in his family jewels, bit his lip so hard I tasted blood, and punched his jaw when I was completely free. I shoved my shirt down and ran to the door, running into people, dodging a beer bottle with a bra tied onto it, and tripping over couples making out on the floor in my attempt. Drake followed me and when I turned around to look at him and saw that malevolent, wicked, and evil look he only had when he was drunk and would do anything to get what he wanted, and at the moment that was my innocence.

He chased my outside and down the sidewalk. I could see the bike trails, the dog park, and the regular park down the hill, and I pushed my drunk butt to get to them. Drake would get tired. But then again, he was an athlete. He could chase me longer than I could run from him. And that’s what he did. I finally tripped and scraped up my face and my arm. Drake came closer but I saw a shadowed figure running towards us. I sat up, ready to cry, and hoped that person, whoever it was, would help as Drake muffled my scream.

“Shut up, bitch,” he slurred almost inaudibly. Oh yeah, he was definitely drunk, and it was worse than I was. I still had a conscious - or at least I was conscious enough to know this was dangerous. He didn’t. He was working with his drunk, one-tracked mind, and that track was leading towards forcing me into doing this.

Suddenly a foot came out of nowhere and kicked Drake square in the face, and I stared in awe as Drake landed a good ways away from me and slumped to the grass. I realized he was knocked out cold when he just stayed there, the only movement from him was the up-down of his chest as he breathed. At least he was still breathing.

I felt nauseous as I looked up to thank my hero. “Thank you-” I began until I recognized that face. “Oh, Lord.”

“I would like a thanks too, you know,” Kevin replied as he stuck out his hand. “Are you okay?”

I rolled my head and tried to get up without much success. I wasn’t as wasted as Drake, but I sure was wasted. I was very dizzy when I finally got up, rejecting any help from the geek, and when I noticed the ground coming closer and closer to my face I felt arms underneath me.

“Let go of me!” I shouted at him and separated myself from him. I began walking out of the park and back up to the party. “I don’t need you.”

“Yeah, you do, actually,” Kevin replied, and I heard him chasing after me. It wasn’t much of a chase since I was moving so slow and so clumsily. “I get a lot of crap from you and I take it, but this I‘m not going to take. I at least deserve a thank you.”

“I thought I true hero doesn‘t stick around for the praise,” I replied almost incoherently. “Stop trying to feel accepted, stop overpowering yourself with all that cologne, and stop being a geek, and then people will actually pay attention to you, not that the attention and approval from these assholes will do you much good.”

He faltered in his steps but quickly regained his composure and chased after me. “I‘m seeking attention?” he questioned harshly. “What about you? I suppose the whole charade you put on is just out of boredom, not attention seeking at all, Princess.”

I stopped cold in my tracks. No one has ever been able to see through my façade - no one has ever read me like I usually read them and see through them. But this guy - this geek - figured that out in a week. I began to hyperventilate and tried to hold back the churning acid in my stomach. I felt sick, a whole new kind of sick, a worried sick, and I almost began crying. I told you I was the teary drunk.

He sighed and got in front of me. “I‘m sorry,” he said sincerely. “That was none of my business. I shouldn‘t -”

I told him to F-off and pushed him aside, only launching myself to the ground. He wasn’t able to catch me in time and he was just holding my hand while I landed on my back. He helped me up, and what did I do? I freaking shoved him off of me once again and stormed off to my car.

“Oh no you don‘t,” he said, and he dragged me in the opposite direction. “Friends don‘t let friends drive drunk.”

“Who says I‘m your friend?!” I snapped. I told you I was an angry drunk, too. “You and I are on completely different social levels. I‘m not even aloud to talk to you.”

“I never cared for the popularity ratings,” he muttered and opened the passenger door of a jeep for me. “But I do care for you.”

My brain still set on DUMBY I got in without even thinking about the fact that I was getting into the car of a guy I hardly knew, yet a guy I felt like I knew inside out. He stood in front of me for a bit, looking sympathetic, and I recognized it from earlier today when I walked of the cafeteria ready to cry.

“Don‘t look at me that way,” I hissed.

“Then how would you have me look at you?” he asked. “Would you want me to look at you like this?” His expression changed, and it was something I didn’t recognized. It was almost dreamy, hypnotized, delirious. I saw something in his eyes, like compassion and kindness. My ability to read people was nearly gone because of how wasted I was, but I realized how he was looking at me once I recognized it: He was staring at me with love, with a strong feeling that I haven’t received at all from Drake, the way it was supposed to be between a couple.

“No,” I begged. I was falling for him. I hated to admit it, but I was. I was from the moment I laid eyes on him. “Please don‘t.”

His look of love turned to concern and as he opened his mouth to speak my innards came pouring out of me. For once, I was actually glad I vomited. It ruined the moment we were having. And sadly enough, I threw up on him.

This is why I hated Leslie’s and Sam’s parties.