A List of Best Intentions

My parents weren’t all that bad at first. They were pretty lenient, ‘cause to them I wasn’t a huge problem child. Really. Like I said, it wasn’t like I started riots and cussed ‘em out at every chance.

So I took advantage of this opportunity to ask them a big question and lie straight to their faces at the same time:

“So, uh…mom…” I had trailed off, slinging my backpack onto the counter as I walked in the door from school. “I have a question for you.”

She raised her eyebrows at me as if she just knew I was gonna ask the dumbest question ever. “Yes, mijo?”

I itched the back of my neck. Asking for something like this wasn’t gonna be easy. “Er…is it cool with you if I, like, throw a party next weekend? I mean, you and Dad could go on a date or something and I’ll keep the house clean -” I bargained, already blurting out the conditions even though she barely heard me.

“A party?” she asked accusingly. “Why?”

“Just…a party. To be happy and have fun and stuff.” I didn’t bother telling her it was to live it up before we’d all die. If I told my parents about my list, they’d think I was bonkers.

Mom sighed for a long time. It was a thick pause that made me bite my lip so hard it bled, anxious for an answer, whether it was a yes or no. That’s the worst feeling, you know? Waiting for a parent to either approve or deny something right in front of your face.

“Okay, you can have a party…” she started.

“Yes!”

“But!”

“Oh…”

“No drugs, no alcohol, no sex, no loud music, no going past curfew, I will make sure the neighbors will check up on -”

“Okay, mom, I get it,” I grinned, telling the truth for once. I understood her rules. Did that mean I was gonna follow all of ‘em? Well…that’s a different story. “I’ll do all that. Er, make sure it’s not happening, I mean.”

Mom stared me down for a long time, intimidating me just a little bit. They just have that way of terrifying you with a single glare. “Kevin, you’d better not break any of those rules. I mean it. Your butt’s gonna be fried if you don’t.” She sighed for a long time. “And the only reason I’m letting this happen is because you are a good child and you almost never get into trouble. Let’s keep it that way, alright?”

I nodded happily, fully aware that I was lying through the gap in my teeth. Anything to get my parents away, ‘cause I had stuff to do!

~~~~~

I called Cody over the next day. I wasn’t about to plan a party by myself, and I needed someone with half a brain - that’s what he had, compared to my quarter-brain.

As soon as he took a lazy seat on my couch, I thumped a giant notebook down on his lap. He jumped a little, looking up at me like I had just told him I was a serial killer; I couldn’t help a smile.

“What the heck is this for?!” he gasped.

“We’re gonna plan a party for this Friday, buddy,” I nodded, so sure of my own intelligence. “You’re helping.”

He gave me this deadpan look that could depress an optimist. “What kind of party.”

“An awesome one.”

“What’s gonna be there?”

I pointed to the stack of notebook paper I just threw on him. “That’s what we’re gonna figure out.”

“Great,” he grunted.

“I know it is!”

Cody looked at the ceiling for a moment, and then held his hand up in an objection. “Wait. This Friday?”

“Yeah…” I trailed off, waiting for another party-pooper moment from him.

“I can’t make it. My cousin’s coming down for some singing thing they’re doing at the arena downtown,” he shrugged. “I gotta be there.”

I grunted, rolling my eyes. “How is that more important than an awesome party?!”

“He’s five years old and he’s all into singing and everything. And my parents and aunt adore that,” he muttered, spitting the words as if they made him angry. “He’s good, though.”

“Now, I’ve already got a few ideas,” I explained in an attempt to get us back on topic, taking a seat next to him and shuffling around for a pen, “I know that there’s gonna be booze, at least.”

“What? Are you stu – well, yeah, you are stupid, I knew that,” Cody gushed, answering his own question. “But…seriously? Booze? You know that’s illegal, right?”

“My parents ain’t gonna be there! I got ‘em to go away for a night,” I grinned arrogantly.

One of his eyebrows shot sky-high while the rest of his expression remained unchanged. “Um…okay…well, I’m not gonna be the one getting the alcohol, so I dunno who’s gonna help you with that.”

“Aw, I’ll get Kara to help us,” I assured, referring to his college-bound sister. “She loves me.”

He snorted. He and I both knew she hated my guts, though we weren’t above using her for this purpose. She was always hanging at his house when she wasn’t ditching her community college courses and getting wasted at parties, so I knew she knew a thing or two about our situation here.

“So what else do we need?” I asked.

“Food. Music. Something to clean up the place after you trash it.”

“Psh. You sound so hopeful,” I said sarcastically. “Would it kill you to be happy about this? This is on our list, bro.”

“Of course it is. How’d I know?” he rolled his eyes. “You know, let’s get a clown.”

I looked at him funny. I guess he was trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn’t working. I was hell-bent on making this one hell of a party.

“Seriously,” I added.

“Alright…” he smiled.

The whole process of planning the party was a pain in the ass. Let me at least tell you that. Cody wanted to take a safer route and just invite people we knew and stay away from drinks and stick to Pin the Tail on the Donkey, but I didn’t hang like that.

I wanted to invite every kid in the school. This was gonna be an epic party in my book; there was a reason I had it on my list. For starters, I wanted to at least try alcohol before I died. And secondly, maybe something like this would help me out with the fact that I was a virgin. What does every fifteen-year-old boy fantasize about? Sex. And because I’d never had a real girlfriend (Shelly Hopkins in second grade didn’t count), of course, I never got a taste of that kinda stuff.

I remember taking a health class in junior high about drugs and sex ed stuff and all the bad things that come outta it apparently, but back then I thought I was a pretty responsible kid. What’s the worst that could happen to me?

I made careful sure to invite Stephanie, handing her a special invitation in the hallway, as opposed to the flyers Cody and I had plastered everywhere else. I had my heart set on making out with her, at least, and that couldn’t happen if she didn’t come.

And when it was all said and done, and when school swung around again and Cody and I had spent a good chunk of time making sure everybody knew about this killer fiesta, I had a gut feeling that it was gonna be a damn good night.

~~~~~~~~

Parties are fun.

And this one was no different.

It wasn’t like the one I Am You Are threw, ‘cause we didn’t have a kickass band playin’, but it was still pretty awesome. We had the tunes going, playing the radio and CDs and it just didn’t get any better than that.

Even Cody was getting into it, too. That might’ve been ‘cause early on I spiked the drinks, but still. It was something. The kid was dancing like everyone else and for once he seemed normal, talking to other folks like he knew them their whole lives, probably dishing out his cynicism right off the bat.

Me? I had at least five cups of the Tropical Punch we were serving that had traces of booze in it, but I wasn’t buzzed at all. When I realized that I had a strong spot for alcohol, inside I kinda scoffed. It totally wasn’t what I was expecting.

At first it was kinda boring, just waltzing around crowds that were destroying my house with not even a little impairment, looking around for a face I knew. Then once I saw the girl I invited with the most important intentions in mind, my heart skipped a beat.

“Stephanie!” I called out across the room. A couple of drunken heads turned my way but then ignored me when they realized I wasn’t talking to them.

The apple of my eye whipped her head around to meet my eyes and beamed when she saw me. It was almost like a music video the way she moved; her hair seemed to go all slow-mo and her eyes were just sparkling so awesomely. I almost dropped my drink.

Instead, I gathered my senses and walked up to her, cracking a miniscule smile and saying, “Um, hi.”

“Hey Kev,” she answered, doing that little wave that princesses and queens do. “Nice party.”

“Really? Oh, thanks,” I grinned.

Tilting her head down and giving me a sinister yet knowing look, she added, “I hear you spiked the punch, too.”

I was caught off-guard for a sec. ‘Cause if she didn’t like it, then Lord knows I’d be willin’ to switch it all out. “D-does that…is that…bad?”

Stephanie laughed. “No, silly. I just wish there was something I could drink without getting drunk. I’d rather not stumble back to my house with puke in my hair.”

“Well, I got a bunch’a water bottles in the fridge in our garage – I mean, they’re my parents’, but I don’t think they’re gonna miss ‘em…” I bargained, kicking at dust with my feet the best I could without getting tackled by crazy party-people.

She shook her head. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I’m good.”

“No, seriously. I’m the host, I gotta make sure my guests are feelin’ good,” I winked.

“You’re a dork,” she smiled.

I led her through a little path I’d forced on our way to the garage. Everywhere I’d been getting bumped into by drunken teenagers and elbowed and shit, but I made an effort to protect Stephanie; I had the authority to kick people out. Kind of. Well, I could yell at ‘em. That counted.

She was holding onto my arm. It felt…nice. It kept me sober even though there was a buzzing in my ears that seemed to grow as the time progressed, blurring the sounds of Pearl Jam into nothing but static. It at least made me a little conscious.

Finally, without any serious damage, we made it to my garage and shoved through. Thankfully, the place was completely empty. It was quiet, too. Other than the occasional thud and distant cheers coming from the other parts of the house, the garage was an area of peace.

“Thank God,” Stephanie sighed. “I think I lost some hearing out there.”

“Hey, that’s the price you pay for goin’ to a party,” I shrugged, waltzing over to the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water. For a moment I just stood at the open door, taking in the nice cold air that was a good change of pace from the hot Georgia nights.

“No, it’s a good party, I’m having fun,” she assured. “Thanks for inviting me. I don’t really get out that much.”

I looked at her funny after tossing her the water bottle. “Why not? You’re…I mean, you’re…pretty and all.”

As she gulped down the liquid in a few short gasps, the silence was thick with possible rebuttals. I had no clue what I had just said, and I didn’t even wanna know what she could possibly say back.

But she pulled the bottle from her lips and just stared at me for a moment. “You…you think I’m pretty?”

My buzzed self wanted to kiss her and tell her she was beautiful. To be sane, though, I had to kick that self in the ass and make it go away. Instead, I just stuttered and said, “Well…yeah, I mean, you ain’t ugly…”

Stephanie laughed airily, haphazardly. “God, you’re the first person who’s said that to me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Another miniscule silence fell between us.

“I mean, other than family, of course,” she added quietly.

I shuffled over to her side and fought not to trip. The buzzing was getting louder. “I don’t believe that.”

She tipped her head up, smiling slightly. “I’m Bruce’s cousin. So they’re always focused on him. And then when they find out I’m related to him, that he has a chick in his family no one knows about, they freak out.”

The name went right over my head. “…Bruce? Springsteen?”

“Bruce Beckett. I Am You Are? Their singer?” she insisted, cocking her eyebrows like I was the living embodiment of the word “dumb.”

“Ohhh! Yeah, that makes sense. ‘Cause if you were Bruce Springsteen’s cousin you’d be an old hag.”

She folded her arms and stared at the ground. “He always goes to parties, and he’s always got friends and stuff. When we were younger we were like best friends, and when I moved here in eighth grade he just acts like I don’t even exist.”

“Well, you know what they say…lead singers are always douches,” I reassured. Then it dawned on me that that didn’t really help much.

“But he’s not,” she continued. “He’s nice to me, but…we used to be like brother and sister. And now he ignores me and stuff.”

Who knew I’d be listening to Stephanie’s family issues rather than making out with her at this party? Not me. It was all good, though. I liked talking to her and learning about her, and to think that she actually wanted to talk to me was an enigma in itself. I slung an arm around her shoulder and smiled right at her.

Her hair tickled my neck and I held in a giggle.

“Tell him he’s an asshole,” I suggested, half-serious.

“He’ll think I’m joking.”

“Then beat his ass. I’ll do it for you, actually.”

For the first time in five minutes, she laughed. And that laugh made my heart flutter – definitely, positively.

When I looked down at her and she looked up at me, there was nothing I wanted to do more than just lean over a little more and kiss her freakin’ face off. So I did.

And our lips touched. She gasped a little bit, but I held her around her shoulders and ran my fingers through her honey hair and just kept kissing her. It was the best thing I’d ever done, I think.

The music in the background intensified, though. The thump-thump-thump beat of TLC got louder and the static in my head was like a TV on full blast, and all of a sudden my head felt like it was getting split in half.

Stephanie ran her hands up my arms and let them rest on my shoulders. As much as I hated to say it, that little comfort didn’t help much.

When I closed my eyes, I saw stars. Blue and yellow and purple shooting stars that gave color to my eyelids. And the longer I kept them closed throughout the kiss, the more those stars moved, until it became too much. The combination of static, stars, and the growing nausea in the pit of my stomach was staggering.

I ripped away from Stephanie and went cross-eyed.

“What’s wrong, Kevin?” she whispered, red-faced.

I couldn’t answer. A drop of sweat just dripped down my back all the way to my belt and I could feel it trickle, just as my innards starting doing backflips even more and my mouth began salivating.

I turned around right at the perfect moment.

And…then I blew chunks.

As soon as my lunch hit the floor in huge drops of liquefied lumps, Stephanie yelped. My esophagus was on fire, bro. It wasn’t the kind of puke where it’s just liquid and stuff and it ain’t much of a big thing; it was meaty. It had chunks of recognizable food and stuff and acid that burned away at my tongue.

I was doubled over on the garage floor, holding my gut and hearing my puke splatter on the front of our washing machine. A hand gently touched my back; it was Stephanie trying to soothe me, but it didn’t work. Like I said before, it was one hell of a puke.

“Kevin! Oh my God, what do I do?!” she cried, holding her hand over her mouth. (Good idea. This shit was going everywhere.)

Obviously, I couldn’t respond.

Suddenly, the door to the garage opened up and all I could hear was a hasty, “Kevin, your parents are - oh my god, are you okay?!”

It was Cody. He held a phone in his hand – our new cordless phone, in fact – and as soon as he saw me tossing my cookies, he nearly dropped it.

He weakly raised it back up to his ear and whimpered, “Um, nothing, it’s…he’s just…he…tripped. It’s okay! I’ll see you later, Mrs. Slater!”

After he hung up he dashed over to me and seemed to get a little woozy watching me barf. Like Stephanie he had his hand on my back, but unlike her, he was totally losing his head.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, we gotta call an ambulance and get him to the hospital -” he flailed, bending over to get to my eye level. It was like he sobered up just in time to freak out over me. “Dude, you’re pale as a ghost…”

“Cody, calm down! He’s just drunk,” Stephanie grumbled, seeming a little aggravated. “He’ll finish up eventually. Just help me get him up when he’s done.”

I hawked a huge lugee of spit and leftover chili from this afternoon, coughing up the last of my innards. When I opened my eyes again, I saw the biggest pile of disgustingness I’d ever seen.

And I kinda wanted to puke all over again.

The silence was back. No more buzzing, though my headache was still throbbing.

Cody was biting his nails. And Stephanie was busy pulling her hair back.

“…I’m done,” I whimpered weakly.

She bit her lip to keep in a smile, but it didn’t work. The grin overtook her face and spread to me. “Are you sure?”

I wiped my mouth. “Yeah.”

“God, at least I had the decency to puke in the bathroom,” Cody rolled his eyes.

Awkward silence.

“Wait…what?” I asked.

He looked as though he’d just been electrocuted. “Nothing. Um…c’mon. Let’s clean this up before your mom and dad get back…”

By the grace of God, we’d managed to get the stench of puke out of the garage. And let me tell you – it was hard, especially while we were trying to call off the party and haul everybody out of the house, throwing drunken bodies into cars willing to drive them home. No one had to know that there were drunken teenagers here.

And hey - lesson number fifty-seven of 1999 from Kevin Slater: if you try all the items in the cleaning cabinet, eventually, something will work. Trust me.