Alex Gaskarth Must Die

Naturally, the news about All Time Low getting signed spreads like wildfire until literally everyone at school has either given them a congratulatory slap across the back or just whispered and stared at them in the hallways. It feels good, walking beside them and knowing that they’re my friends, and that for the foreseeable future they’re going to be doing what they love and it’s not going to be just a brief respite from math homework and English essays, but a legitimate thing that they’re actually getting paid to do. It still feels kind of funny, and I know that they’re a long way from actually making it, but right now they’ve got the guarantee of an EP, an album, and tours with bands that they’ve only dreamed about knowing.

Robin, Brittany, Zoe, and Lauren were predictably enthusiastic about the news, all screams and exclamations of actually knowing a real, live band and being friends with them and, okay, that last one was mainly Zoe and me. I invite all of them sans Lauren to sit with us at lunch and, much to my surprise, they agree and we drag a table over and squish ourselves in. This is the first time my two groups of friends, so to speak, have been together without alcohol getting in the way, and it’s weird how well they seem to mesh. Brittany and Kara immediately launch into an in-depth discussion on how mad they are that Sephora has stopped carrying their favourite perfume and what other alternatives they could seek out and Zoe and Jack (predictably) geek out about Blink-182 but what surprises me the most is Robin and Zack turning out to have the same favourite Third Eye Blind song, as well as a shared love for the one sport that Robin actually does well.

(‘Oh my god, The Background? Please, please tell me you love London and How’s It Going To Be too.’ ‘Those are my favourite Third Eye Blind songs! If you told me you loved mustard I’d probably have to marry you right now.’ ‘You like mustard? But not more than ketchup, right?’ ‘Who even likes ketchup when it’s not with mustard?’ ‘Oh God, okay, I can’t be friends with you anymore.’ ‘Jesus, I don’t even want to be friends with someone who likes ketchup more than mustard anyway… You probably, like, hate the beach and surfing anyway.’)

Then, on Thursday, my parents present me with a giant stack of scary looking letters from colleges and - Jesus Christ - I get into Pratt. I beam so hard my face hurts and then I hug everyone I know and am nauseatingly nice to everyone I don’t know. I send back my acceptance letter and all the forms needed the day after and it’s like a giant load has been taken off, the next few years of my life accounted for and no more of the scary empty space that was there before. I’m sure I can’t get any happier even if I try, only the next day Robin announces her acceptance into Georgetown and I can’t even comprehend that 1) the two of us both going to our dream colleges on the East Coast and being within five hours, driving time, of each other and 2) holy shit Robin actually got into the college Bill Clinton went to, this girl is insane, before I’ve jumped on her and spontaneously started crying. (She groans when she sees my tears and demands, ‘Are you seriously crying? Jesus, Becca,’ before laughing and wiping away the wetness by her eyes too.) On Saturday Brittany drags us all over to her house before throwing her UCLA acceptance packet in our faces and then Zoe screams and announces her plans of UC Berkeley, and then we all scream and shout and maybe cry a little, or a lot, because holy fuck, college is actually happening and we’re actually good enough and we’re not going to be complete homeless failures and we’re even going to be kind of together for the whole ride and it’s enough to make anyone feel like the world is perfect for once.

By Monday, mostly everyone knows what everyone else is doing after high school and the amount of excitement in the air is contagious, everyone beaming and smiling and hugging together, like all of what July and graduation will be like, minus the tears and sadness. I feel sort of bad for everyone who hasn’t gotten such good news, but it’s hard to feel too sad when I’m going to the Pratt, to go be artsy and not be laughed at and take photographs and study in the same city that millions of artists have lived in before and have the Metropolitan Museum of Art be right next to me and wake up every morning in the same city as so many people that I’d kill to even see. For at least a little while longer, my future is set and right now, honestly, I couldn’t ask for anything more.

- - -

Thursday is Senior Ditch Day and I convince my parents to call in sick for me because I’m not rebellious enough to actually, um, ditch class. Mom gives me a disapproving look and Dustin and Jane both whine about how it’s so unfair that I get to skip school just because I’m a senior (along with some snorting about how uncool it is that I’m actually calling in sick) but Dad pulls through and convinces Mom to tell the office I’ve got a fever.

‘I love you all so much,’ I say, beaming over the breakfast I’ve cooked everyone.

‘I hate you,’ Dustin says, and Jane makes a sound in agreement.

Dad rolls his eyes and gives me a one-armed hug on his way to the sink, pressing a kiss to my forehead in a rare display of sentimentality. ‘Have fun today, Bex, you deserve it,’ he says, and I make a face at the nickname but hug him back all the same.

‘Not fun with drugs though,’ Mom adds, but she smiles too.

I beam at them, although by now it’s more like ‘I look at them’ because that’s honestly my default expression these days, and say, ‘Will do, madre,’ with a salute. I’ve already told them my plan for today, which is having my friends over and watching TV and eating with them, and they’re mostly fine with that. Just glad I’m not out doing drugs or vandalizing school property like some other charming individuals are.

‘Nerd!’ Dustin coughs under his breath.

‘Sorry, I think you’re mispronouncing “Pratt student,”’ I say, making a face and flipping up my middle finger when our parent’s backs are turned, and Dustin laughs and punches me in the shoulder as he walks past.

- - -

Almost as soon as the house is completely empty, Jack comes barreling through the door, yelling, ‘ARE YOU READY TO FUCK - THIS - SHIT - UP’ and Robin (who arrived about ten seconds prior) says, ‘If by ‘fuck this shit up’ you mean ‘eat all of Rebecca’s food and watch TV’ then yeah, we are totally ready to fuck this shit up, get excited.’, which mollifies Jack a little, but not enough for him to stop running around screaming about how much he wants a taco for ten minutes.

After they arrive, it’s a steady stream of everyone - around eighteen people, give or take - until my living room is stuffed with people. A few leave for the kitchen or Dustin’s room to play on his XBox but eventually everyone returns and sprawls out across my living room while we watch Friends. It’s not at all like what we normally do when we see each other, the eyebrows over a girl’s low-cut dress or Chug, chug, chug! but it’s nice. Like a slow, sleepy Christmas morning, like when you were a kid and you’d wake up and suddenly all of your family is clustered around in your living room, presents everywhere and cookies too. I catch myself beaming so hard my face hurts too much, but I can’t bring myself to care at all. It’s kind of great, so I allow myself to feel mushy and sentimental as I wander into the kitchen looking for food, Alex behind me, knowing that everyone here is my friend and even though that was kind of brought about through less than savory means, they’re my friends and they’re brilliant and I can’t really ask for anything more.

‘You’re thinking too hard,’ Alex mumbles from behind me, his fingers tap-tap-tapping on my wrist. ‘Stop.’

‘I like thinking,’ I protest, and he stops tapping to tangle his hand in mine.

‘Well, can you tell me what you’re thinking about so we can think together?’

I hum a little noncommittal noise and say, ‘I think you’d like what I’m thinking about.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. I’m being all emotional and romantic and sentimental with everyone.’ When he doesn’t respond, my mouth keeps moving and I fiddle with his fingers. ‘Like, all I can think is that I kind of love everyone here and it’s ridiculous and kind of stupid because we’re pretty much all leaving each other after high school but right now we’re all together and it’s kind of weird how I didn’t even know most of the people here seven months ago and -’

‘Hey, hey.’ He laughs quietly and pushes my hands together in his larger ones. ‘Don’t think, don’t worry, just be happy.’

‘Words of wisdom from Alex Gaskarth,’ I say. I can feel him smiling into my neck, his heartbeat under my shoulder, so I slow my own breathing and follow him down.

- - -

At seven, mostly everyone has left, leaving only Alex, Jack, Evan, Danny, Zack, Robin, Zoe, Brittany, Kara, and me. After Zoe whines about not wanting to leave and drive all the way home, we decide that everyone’ll sleep over at my house tonight and, after clearing it with our parents, cover the living room floor with mattresses and sprawl across it in varying states of undress. I pop in Home Alone, if only to shut Jack up, and we settle in for the next twelve hours, rolling our eyes and groaning as Jack quotes another line along with the movie and pointing out extras who are super hot. At twelve, after finishing E!’s Top 100 Sexiest Celebrities (both male and female editions), we turn off the lights and burrow underneath our blankets, elbows and knees jabbing into each other’s backs.

‘Hey,’ Zoe says quietly once we’ve all managed to get comfortable. I roll my head back and see her raise a hand towards the ceiling, her glow-in-the-dark nails the only visible thing in the room.

‘Hey?’ Kara asks.

‘This was - nice. Really nice,’ she says.

‘Yeah,’ I agree. ‘It was, wasn’t it?’

‘It is nice,’ Alex corrects quietly into my neck, tightening the arm that’s around me.

‘Gross, feelings,’ Evan says loudly, and everyone laughs but still makes vague noises of agreement with Zoe. We talk a little more, stuff about how much someone changed over the course of this year or how we wish we’d gotten to know that person better, until eventually everyone’s breathing evens out and they’re all asleep except me.

I hold still for a while longer, just to make sure everyone is asleep, before turning around so I’m facing Alex. I stare at him for a while, aware that I am probably emulating some creepy serial killer from a horror movie, but I can’t quite be bothered enough to care as I look and look and think my way in circles. Eventually I tell myself to shut up because I’m being ridiculous and get up and head to the kitchen, flicking on the lights and blinking blearily at the too-bright room. I start a pot of coffee and another of tea, and get out my tub of chocolate ice cream while I’m waiting. At some point, it starts raining, a gentle patter at first but then a pounding torrent upon the windowpanes, and I smile like I always do when I’m alone and it’s raining, looking down at my dinosaur pajamas and around at the house where I’ve spent my whole life, knowing that in a few months I’ll be in a different city altogether, and coming here will be an effort and not just I feel hungry, I’ll go downstairs. I’m so lost in my thoughts, staring at the tea brewing and the ice cream melting on my spoon that I don’t notice someone’s here until Alex slips his hands around my waist and puts his chin over my shoulder.

‘Oh my fuck,’ I yelp, ‘give a girl a warning, would you?’ He laughs and kisses me, until eventually he tastes as much like chocolate ice cream as I do. He pulls away and sits down on the stool next to mine after grabbing a spoon and filling two mugs with tea and coffee, claiming the tea for himself after putting a splash of milk and sugar in.

‘So,’ he says, ‘whatcha thinking ‘bout?’

I shrug and eat more ice cream.

He pouts and pokes me in the cheek with his spoon. ‘You know, 9th grade health taught me that honesty and trust is the pillar of all good relationships.’

I snort and grimace at the wet spot on my cheek. ‘I’m just – ’ I shrug again ‘ – thinking.’

‘You have a little something on your cheek,’ Alex says, grinning and pointing to his cheek.

‘Really? Yeah, this asshole I know called Alex decided to smear ice cream all over my cheek,’ I tease, smiling back at him.

‘What if the asshole called Alex weren’t such an asshole and helped you get it off?’ Alex asks, and before I can respond he pulls me close and licks my cheek.

‘Oh my God!’ I scream, jumping back and wiping furiously at my face. ‘Did you just lick my face?’

Alex pulls back, laughing hysterically, and wipes my cheek with his thumb before dragging his stool closer to mine. ‘So,’ he says, bumping my shoulder with his, ‘you wanna talk about whatever you’re over-analyzing?’

I shake my head and say, ‘No,’ but Alex knows how I work and just nods at me before sitting back to wait. It annoys me that he knows me so well, but I do sort of want to talk about it, so before long I’m opening my mouth and saying, ‘I don’t want to leave.’ He makes a sort of humming noise and hooks his ankle around mine, nodding as I continue and tell him that I don’t want to leave, not Dulaney, not Baltimore, not this house, and not this day. After a while he starts talking back at me and before I know it we’re talking about how excited we are, what we can’t wait to leave behind, and how we’ll definitely, definitely become rich, successful, and above all, happy.

One o’clock turns into two and then three, and at 3:47 on a Tuesday in February, Alex says ‘I love you.’

He blurts it out like he’s not meaning to, in between me reaching up for a plate for the apple I’m cutting up and getting the knife to cut it up, and immediately afterwards he goes pale and makes a weird sound like he’s choking.

‘Um,’ I say intelligently, the bowl clattering to the floor.

‘Oh – Oh God,’ he says back, staring at me.

‘Uh,’ I say, probably looking like a deer in the headlights because, what the fuck, Alex just said he loves me and this isn’t like Robin or Dad or a girl who likes my shoes and I can’t process anything or even gather my wits enough to panic about it because the message in my head is a unanimous and resounding, I want to say it back, and quickly afterwards, I actually mean it, too, so I lurch forwards and grab Alex’s head and crush his lips to mine. It’s awkward and there’s too much teeth and the angle’s wrong but then something clicks and we re-align ourselves, fitting into place like a jigsaw puzzle or maybe just like Alex and Becca.

‘You don’t have to say it back,’ he says as soon as we part.

‘I love you,’ I say immediately afterwards, ‘you absolute idiot, why would I not say it back?’

‘Because – ’ he sucks in a deep breath and his eyes go wide like saucers, like I’m not pushing him up against the kitchen counter in my house, like I’m not freaking out about what I’ve just said, like I’m not freaking out about how I actually mean what I just said, like something I know deep inside and all the way down to my bones, like how immediately after this happens I won’t be able to sleep, like how – ‘Really?’ Alex says, and he sounds utterly shocked.

‘Yes,’ I insist, grinning and pulling him back down.

‘I love you,’ he says again, quieter this time with his forehead against mine.

‘I love you,’ I say back, the same volume and the same sentiment, and we smile two twin smiles as the sun breaks outside the window, the rain still pouring in.

- - -

Robin B. to Jack B. on 03/07/06
hi, this is a casual note to say if your boy does anything to my girl, i’ll rip off his balls and feed them to my cat

Rian D. to Brittany L. on 03/07/06
so even if jack (and alex) have reassured me ten times over that the sun shines out of rebecca’s ass, if she does anything to hurt alex we won’t be happy

Jack B. to Robin B. on 03/07/06
noted although if alex does anything to becca i’ll probably want to help

Brittany L. to Rian D. on 03/07/06
feeling’s mutual, dawson