Art & Soul (15 page)

O
n Friday
, Connor was annoying me once again during gym class. “We have to go to this party tomorrow night. You don’t understand the utmost importance of this,” Connor barked, bouncing a basketball around. “Tori Eisenhower parties are like taking a trip to the Playboy mansion. So many boobs.”

“You’ve been to one of Tori’s parties?” I asked.

“No, but I’ve heard. And she invited you?!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Only the top of the top get invited to her parties. We
need
to go.”

“Sorry, man. Not interested.”

Connor sighed and flipped me off as he walked away.

Simon walked over to me with a basketball in his hands. “You were invited to Tori’s party this weekend? Tori Eisenhower?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going.”

“No way. You have to go. And you have to take me with you,” he said, his eyes filled with hope.

“What? What happened to O.G.A.A.?”

“I asked her out, she declined, and I felt like a complete loser. Therefore, I need this party to happen.”

“She said no?” That was shocking. I could’ve sworn Abigail was into Simon. “Why? What was her reason?”

He cringed. “Let’s not keep talking about the way I was rejected. She wasn’t into it, so she said no. So instead, let’s go to this party.”

“I didn’t take you as the party going type.”

“That’s just because I haven’t been invited. Come on, it could be fun. Us men bonding over manly things,” he joked, shooting the basketball toward the hoop and missing by a mile. His finger pushed up his glasses. He cleared his throat, pointing toward his fantastically failed attempt at basketball. “I think the wind interfered with that one.”

W
hen Saturday night came
, Simon was at his highest level of excitement. “Don’t tell Aria about this,” he said, walking up to Tori’s house. He told me that he’d taken a bottle of wine from his parents. “They won’t notice it’s missing. We have more wine in that house than needed.”

“Simon, are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, knowing that this party wasn’t a good idea.

He turned to me, wine bottle in his hand and started begging. “This is my one chance to swoosh in on Tori, Levi. Don’t back out on me now. Please.
I need this
.”

The way he stared at me so pathetically showed me that this was the last thing we should’ve been doing, but I rang the doorbell anyway.

Tori opened the door wearing a bikini top and shorts. “Alabama!” she squeaked, swaying back and forth. I had a feeling she wouldn’t need Simon’s wine. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

“
We’re
,” I corrected her as I nudged a wide-toothed Simon. “We’re happy that we’re here, too.”

“Who invited Four?” she said, staring at Simon. I was certain he was going to pass out from the excitement of being a few inches from her.

“I thought we could bring friends?” I flashed a smile.

She giggled. “Whatever. Come in! Let’s take a shot!”

Tori led us through the house where everyone popular from our school was partying, drinking, or making out. Simon leaned in toward me. “Did you hear what she said? She nicknamed me.”

“What?”

“She called me
Four
!”

“And…that’s a compliment?”

“I know it’s probably easy for people like you to get a nickname the first day they arrive, Alabama, but for people like me—we dream of making it this far! We are pretty much waiting in a corner begging for our classmates to nickname us.” He patted me on the back. “Now, excuse me as I proceed to get ridiculously drunk.” Simon wandered off with his bottle of wine, muttering, “Holy shit. I’m in Tori Eisenhower’s house.”

“Well, look here. If it isn’t Mr. Alabama at the party he swore he wouldn’t be attending.” I cringed at the sound of Connor’s voice. “And to think you brought one of the oddities with you.”

“What’s up, Connor?” I said, turning to face him. From the dazed look in his eyes, he was already drunk.

“What’s up, Connor?” he echoed, shoving me in the shoulder. “Can you believe this, Matt? He said
what’s up
.” He shoved the guy standing beside him, who looked confused as hell. Connor turned back to me. “Look, Alabama, I know you want to try to be seen with me right now at this party because I’m a big fucking deal, but it’s too late. You can’t just wander back over to me. I got a new partner in crime. Meet Matt. He’s the new ‘it’ guy. He’s from a foreign country, doesn’t speak English, and the ladies can’t keep their eyes off of him.”

“Dude. I’m from Canada.” Matt sighed. “And I speak English.”

“Not if you ever plan to get laid,” Connor scolded. “Sorry, Alabama. You’re old news.”

“Oxymoron,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Old news, you can’t be old and news. That’s just stupid.”

Connor frowned and patted me on the back. “You were such a contender before and now the oddities tainted you. Goodbye, Alabama. Goodbye.” They walked off in the direction of Simon, who was in the kitchen surrounded by a few people who all had a row of four shots in front of them and were chanting,
‘Four for Four! Four for Four!’

I
wondered
the whole night if Simon knew that everyone at the party was mocking him or if he was just so wasted that he didn’t care. Most of the party I stood in the living room, talking about pointless things with pointless people, watching to make sure Simon didn’t completely fall apart. He was currently reordering the cabinets in the kitchen so all of the cups and plates were in groups of four. The assholes were recording him, asking him to explain the importance of color organizing his clothes. But Simon was having a ball with it all, so I wouldn’t interfere unless I found it completely necessary.

Out of nowhere, a drunken guy walked up to me and patted me on the shoulder. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, holding a beer can in his hands. “I’m James Martin,” he slurred. “And you are?”

“Levi Myers,” I replied, giving him my famous fake smile.

“Let’s go get you a drink, Levi,” he offered, nudging me toward the kitchen. I shook my head.

“I’m not a drinker.”

“Not a drinker.” He laughed and took a gulp from his beer can before slamming it down against the ground. “You’re funny. I like that. But you know what I don’t like? I don’t like you screwing around with Aria’s feelings. See that boy over there?” He gestured to some guy with a girl on his lap. “That’s my best friend, Mike. He’s like a brother to me. And seeing how he’s Aria’s brother that makes her a sister to me. So if you hurt her, I’ll,” he poked me in the chest, “kick your fucking ass.”

“James,” a girl said, stepping behind the guy. “You’re drunk.” She sighed heavily.

He turned toward her, giving her a big smile. “Of course I’m drunk, Nadine. It’s a fucking party. Only lame assholes wouldn’t be drunk at a party.”

Nadine gave me an apologetic smile. “Maybe you should step outside for air, James,” she offered.

He sneered. “And leave you here with Casanova? That is what you called him, right? The Southern Casanova? As if you don’t already have a fucking boyfriend.” His words were slurring, leaving him looking like a big asshole.

“You’re acting like a jerk,” she whispered.

“Whatever, Nadine. Maybe you need a drink, too. Then you wouldn’t be as lame as Casanova.” He wandered off to the other side of the living room where a keg was stationed.

Nadine blushed with embarrassment. “Sorry about him. He’s not always like that. Only when he drinks.”

“No big deal. Alcohol has a way of making the nicest people turn into assholes sometimes.”

She frowned. “Yeah. Pretty much. Anyway, I think it’s great the way you treat Aria.”

“She’s something special.” I nodded, wishing that my night involved her instead of this party.

“She is. But, I actually came over here to tell you that Simon is kind of a few minutes away from drunkville in the kitchen.” Unlike everyone else, she didn’t call him Four.

My eyes moved to the kitchen where I saw Simon standing on the countertop, holding four plates in his hands before dropping them one by one to the ground, making them shatter. “Opa!” he screamed.

For fuck’s sake!

S
imon was completely shitfaced
by midnight. His glasses were bent, his shirt was covered in spilled drinks, and his words were slurred more than seemed humanly possible.

“C-c-can you be-be-believe that? She said no to me! Awkward Abbbigaail turned ME down!” he shouted. Instead of swooshing in on Tori, he spent most of the night talking about Abigail. “But I am now on-on-on to better things,” he slurred. “I’m popular!” People were standing around, recording his drunken breakdown, snickering. “I’m fucking popular!”

“Okay, Mr. Popular. Let’s get going,” I muttered, holding his body up as we walked through the house.

The people who were recording Simon followed us the whole way until someone shouted, “FIGHT!” and they hurried off to the living room, where a guy was being tossed across the room and onto a coffee table. Another guy flew over to the one on the coffee table and started swinging nonstop, punching the dude repeatedly while everyone cheered, including Simon.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” he shouted, jumping up and down. “Kick his ass, Mike!” Simon yelled toward the guy fighting.

Shit.

Aria’s brother was the one throwing the punches, and he was also getting a few hits to his own face. “Call my sister a whore again! I swear to God, do it, asshole!” Mike said, slamming his hand against the guy’s jaw.

I hurried over and pulled Mike off of the guy.

His eyes were wild with anger and he looked at me once before storming off. Simon clapped his hands together, excited with the craziness of his first house party, and then he kindly bent over and threw up on my shoes.

What a perfect freaking night.

I
was
happy that the weekend from party hell was over Monday morning. Simon texted me telling me he had the time of his life, which was good for him. It was weird knowing so much more about him and how much blame he put on himself for what happened to his sister, therefore I was kind of happy I was able to aid in his night of freedom.

He kept talking about the party for the next three days, trying his best to not say anything about it around Aria, but I knew he would slip up soon enough.

“We’re skipping school today, Art,” I stated on Thursday as Aria walked up to me in the woods at 5:55 A.M. She was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and yawning in her sweatshirt and pajama pants.

She’d been joining me for the morning deer feedings almost every day when she wasn’t feeling sick. Whenever she didn’t show up, I would leave a pack of saltine crackers on her windowsill.

“Did you get my best friend wasted this past weekend?” She yawned.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She gave me a knowing grin.

“Okay. He might have been wasted this past weekend, and I might have been there with him.” I smirked. “He was a bit heartbroken over Abigail rejecting him, so he asked me to go out for a manly night with him.”

“But I thought she liked him?”

“I know. Freakin’ women, I tell ya.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Watch it. Hormonal pregnant female here.” She chuckled.

“I also almost got my ass kicked by a guy who thought I was screwing you over.”

“What? By who?”

“James Martin. He told me that if I was screwing with your emotions, he would kick my ass because you’re like a sister to him. Later that night he also told me that I was messing around with some girl named Heather, which was a surprise to me seeing how I’d never heard of her.”

Aria’s mouth dropped. “Seriously? He said I was like a sister to him?”

“Yeah. He seemed to really care about you. Which I can’t fault him for.” I smiled.

She didn’t. She huffed. “Oh my God. I’m going to kill him.”

“I’m going to place the murdering side of you in the pile of hormonal pregnant things, too.”

“No. That’s not hormonal. That’s just the facts. I am going to kill him.”

“Oh. Well, then I am a bit terrified, yet oddly turned on by this dark side of you. If killing him is your goal, that’s fine and dandy. But just not today. Today we’re skipping school.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, reaching for a few berries for the deer from my tin bucket.

“We’re. Skipping. School. Today,” I repeated, this time slower.

“Don’t be silly,” she replied, leaning against a tree. I leaned against the one beside her.

“I’m not being silly.”

“You are.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“The girl who’s skipping school today?”

“No, the girl who’s not skipping school today because she’s already behind in her classes.”

I sighed. “I’ll help you with homework,” I offered.

“You hardly do your own homework.”

“Homework is overrated.”

“Maybe.”

Maybe.

“I’m sad we aren’t skipping school,” I said.

“Why would we skip anyway?”

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a pair of tickets. Aria’s eyes fell to the tickets. “It’s your birthday present.”

She snatched them out of my hands. “Shut up.”

I shut up.

“You got tickets to the Jackson Pollock exhibition?”

I didn’t reply.

“Are these for real?”

Silence from me.

“Why aren’t you talking?!”

“You told me to shut up.”

“Well, talk now.”

“Okay. I got us tickets to the Jackson Pollock exhibition, but today’s the last day.”

She frowned. “It’s in Richman. That’s a two hour train ride away.”

“Then we better leave soon.”

“I have a therapy appointment after school.”

“Then we better return early.”

“You really want to skip school?” she asked, a bit of hope in her voice.

Only if you do.
“Yes.”

She didn’t reply right away. She stared at the tickets in her hands while I stared at her. I tried to count each freckle on her nose, and when I lost count, I started over.