Deep Green: Color Me Jealous with Bonus Content (4 page)

So Shawna and I arrived at the party right on time since we’d promised Ashley that we’d help her get things set up, although it looked like she already had everything under control—at least to start with. So we were just kind of hanging with her in the kitchen and talking, and pretty soon more kids started coming. It wasn’t really too surprising that some kids were bringing various forms of alcohol with them. I’ve discovered this is pretty much the norm at these parties.

Even so, I must state that I am not a boozer. The pure and simple reason for this is that due to my size or metabolism or whatever, I simply cannot handle alcohol. I tried it a couple of times, just to be sociable, and it totally wiped me out, made me sicker than a dog, and then I couldn’t even remember if I’d had fun or not. On top of that, I basically felt like crud for most of the next day. So, I’ve decided it’s just not worth it. It doesn’t particularly bother me when my friends indulge, and I’ve actually decided that I make a pretty good designated driver, although there are those who shall remain unnamed who think my driving skills could use a little improvement. Anyway, because there wasn’t much to do yet, I just casually sipped my Sprite and kept an eye on the door for Timothy.

Meanwhile, Brett had arrived and seemed to be really putting the moves on Shawna. Not surprising, since Shawna looked pretty hot in that sweater, and I’m sure the snug fit didn’t bother Brett a bit. But I was happy for them and smiling as I watched the two of them joking around, dancing and drinking together. And I was thinking,
All right, my troubles are over
. Like this should really cinch the deal for everyone. My third mistake. Good grief, how many mistakes did I make?

Timothy finally showed up with a couple of buddies, and the first thing I realized was that they’d already been drinking. But that didn’t seem like such a big deal since these are hefty guys and usually able to hold their liquor, so to speak.

Well, to start with, Timothy and I were just hanging out like everything was cool, and it was. But I could tell by the way he was acting that he was expecting something from me. And to be perfectly explicit, and based on some suggestive conversations, I’m sure he was expecting
sex
.

Now, while I found this to be somewhat flattering (I mean, it’s nice to be wanted), it was also making me a little uncomfortable. And I felt kind of self-conscious when he would start grabbing for me in, well, slightly conspicuous places (I don’t mean
places
as in locations in the
house
, but
places
on my
body
that I’d just as soon not be touched, at least not in public). And I honestly don’t think he’d have been so bold and pushy if he hadn’t been drinking. But I could be wrong. I’ve been known to be wrong.

“Timothy!” I said for like the umpteenth time, carefully removing his hand from where it had wandered. “Behave yourself.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking seriously hurt.

I glanced around the noisy and increasingly crowded room. “People are watching.”

Well, he just laughed. “Hey, look around, Jordan. No one gives a rip about what we do.”

“I give a rip,” I told him and knew I sounded prissy, even to myself.

“You wanna go someplace more private?” he said in this lowered voice that normally thrills me.

I actually considered his suggestion for a moment. I mean, I did like the idea of having all of Timothy’s attention to myself, and I did really like him. But at the same time, there was something about the way he was acting—not to mention the smell of something a whole lot stronger than beer on his breath—that made me hesitate. I suppose that was my fourth mistake.

It was then that Timothy let go of me and flopped down into an easy chair in the corner of the living room, but I could tell he wasn’t happy with me. So I went over and sat down on the arm of the chair. I started playing with his hair, hoping I could cheer him up. He has the best hair—thick and blond and cut short, but not too short. Just perfect. Then he pulled a silver flask out of his jacket pocket.

“Want some?” he asked, holding it in my direction with a slightly sloppy, but undeniably cute, grin.

“No thanks.” I patted him on the cheek.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it figures.”

He took a long swig, and then another. We sat there for what seemed like quite a while without talking or anything, and I was starting to get pretty uncomfortable because it almost seemed like I had totally disappeared as far as Timothy was concerned.

I finally turned around to see what he was so captivated by and realized that he had his eyes focused on Shawna and Brett, who slow-danced in full embrace to what was actually a fast song.

Then, in that same instant, Timothy stood up and walked right up to them. He tapped Brett on the shoulder like the way people used to do back in the old days when they wanted to cut in. Of course, Brett and Shawna both looked pretty surprised. Brett said something to Timothy, and although I couldn’t hear it, I suspected by Brett’s expression that he was telling Timothy to back off.

But that’s when I saw this look in Shawna’s eyes. Now, how would I describe that look? Maybe like a hungry cat or perhaps a tiger who sees raw meat. Then she turned and said something to Brett, who then frowned and just walked away. And the next thing I knew, Shawna and Timothy were dancing together—slow-dancing just like she’d been doing with Brett, even though the song was still fast.

Now, I can’t even begin to describe the millions of emotions that surged through me in that instant. First of all, I was hurt, deeply hurt. But then I was embarrassed too. More like humiliated. But then I told myself to just chill, be mature. Timothy was probably just dancing with Shawna for old time’s sake. I told myself to be a good sport about it. Before long, I’d be the one dancing with Timothy again. But when they danced right into the next song, I realized I was in serious trouble. I went into the kitchen to get away from the crowd and the music.

“What’s up with Tim and Shawna?” asked Ashley as she refilled a bowl with cheese puffs.

“I don’t know.”

She shook her head. “Looks to me like they’re patching things up.”

Amber came in. She put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Now, don’t you go falling apart on us, Jordan. You knew when you started going with Timothy that this could happen.”

“I did not!” I turned and glared at her.

Amber laughed. “Come on, Jordan, don’t play stupid. You know good and well what goes ’round comes ’round, and you should’ve known that Shawna wouldn’t let Timothy go without putting up a good fight.”

“But Shawna and I are friends,” I began.

“Good,” said Amber. “Let’s keep it that way. But if Shawna and Timothy get back together, I don’t want to hear any whining or complaining out of you.”

“But—”

“No buts,” said Amber as she popped an orange cheese puff into her mouth. “All’s fair in love and war. Right, Jordan?”

Well, I had no answer for that, and feeling embarrassingly close to tears, I decided to just split. Maybe that was my fifth mistake. I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll never know for sure. All I knew was that I had to get out of that house before I said or did something really, really stupid. So I jumped in my Bug and put the pedal to the metal. It’s too bad that Bugs aren’t designed to go faster. I could’ve made a really spectacular exit.

five

I
DIDN’T WANT TO GO HOME YET. IT WAS BARELY TEN AND MY CURFEW ON
nonschool nights isn’t until eleven thirty, so I drove over by the high school—don’t ask me why—and then I noticed the apartment complex that Kara lives in. I knew it was a little late for an unexpected visit, but I drove over there anyway, and to my complete and utter relief, Kara was climbing out of this big old black Cadillac that I swear looked just like a Mafia car.

“Kara!” I screamed out my window as the car pulled away.

“Jordan?” She peered over at my car.

I parked my car with one wheel on the sidewalk and then leaped out and ran over to her, literally falling into her arms as I sobbed uncontrollably. Okay, so what if I am a bit of a drama queen at times? Tonight I had good reason.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as I continued to sob. “Is it your parents? Did someone die? Jordan, what is it?”

“It’s, it’s Timothy,” I cried.

“Is he okay? Did he get hurt?”

“He’s with Shawna. They’re, they’re dancing.” I felt Kara try to hide a giggle, and feeling a little silly I stepped away. “It was awful,” I told her, looking down at my feet. “I just need to talk to someone.”

She shook her head in this dismal sort of way, and I suspect she was thinking I was a total idiot, and maybe I am, but then she invited me to come up to her apartment to talk.

I was relieved that her mom and sister were both out. Sometimes I think Kara is so lucky because she has such a small family (only three of them all together) and so she has the apartment, which is really pretty cool with its contemporary furnishings and her dad’s modern art, to herself a lot.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she finally said as she handed me a cup of green tea.

“The
best?
” I cried. “How can it be for the best, Kara? I think I
love
him.”

She sat down and looked at me. “Does he love
you?
”

I shrugged. “He’d been drinking tonight.”

She nodded. “So, he’d been drinking and started flirting with his old girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds like a really great guy, Jordan.”

“He is,” I insisted. “You just don’t know him like I do. When it’s just the two of us and we’re talking . . . well, it’s like we’re the only two people in the world. He’s not really like the guy you see in school. He’s actually got a very sweet, sensitive side.”

“Obviously.”

I studied her closely, wondering since when she had become so outspoken and opinionated. In fact, I wanted to ask her but felt certain she’d include “Jesus” in her answer, and frankly I just didn’t want to hear anything like that tonight.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Well, that’s better
, I was thinking. But I just nodded my head in the most pitiful manner, hoping I might be able to garner just a bit more sympathy.

“It’s too bad that you had to get hurt, Jordan,” she continued. “But you never know, something good might come out of it.”

“Something good?” I demanded. “Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. But when I went through something hard”—she peered at me in this sort of way that made me think that “something” had to do with me and then continued—“well, it made me grow up in some ways, and it made me realize that I needed Jesus in my life.”

I held up my hands. “Listen, Kara, I just had my heart stomped on tonight. I do not think I can handle a sermon right now.”

She just shrugged. “Whatever.”

So we just sat there in silence, and finally I realized that Kara was just not going to get this. If I wanted sympathy, I had come to the wrong place.

“Thanks for the tea,” I told her as I stood up. “I better go.”

“I’ll be praying for you,” she said with a smile.

I rolled my eyes at her. “Yeah, whatever trips your trigger, Kara.”

And then I left. But instead of going home like a smart girl, I decided to drive back by the party. Okay, I’m almost losing count here, but I think that was my sixth mistake.

Of course, the party was still going strong, and there were cars and kids everywhere. The music was blasting out through the open doors, and I could see that Ashley’s house was getting a little trashed.

I decided to go through the back door to the kitchen and make as inconspicuous an entrance as possible. And for some reason, I began to get this hopeful feeling, like maybe Timothy had quit dancing with Shawna by now. And perhaps he’d noticed I was missing and gone looking for me. I imagined him apologizing to me with big sad eyes, telling me the dance with Shawna was just a fluke, that his judgment had been impaired from drinking and that it would never ever happen again. Maybe Shawna and Brett had even left the party together, driven to Reno, and gotten married or something. Okay, call me a perennial optimist, but I felt like it could happen.

As I was going in the back door, Ashley was coming out. She was carrying an area rug, held out at arm’s length, and had a very sour expression on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Everything,” she snapped as she tossed the rug out the door.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“It’s a disaster, Jordan,” she told me. “Kids I don’t even know keep crashing the party, and they’re all acting like total pigs. Betsy just puked on my mom’s Oriental carpet.” Her voice broke like she was about to cry.

“Can I help you?” I offered, not even sure what I could actually do. To be honest, I just wanted to find Timothy and get out of there.

“Would you?” Her eyes grew hopeful.

“What can I do?”

“Help me start clearing the place out. Maybe we could say my parents are coming home.”

“Or that someone called the police,” I suggested, half worried that it could actually happen. I wasn’t sure how my parents would react if they knew I was at a party like this, even if I hadn’t been drinking.

“That’s it,” she said. “But I can’t say that myself, since this is my party. Oh, Jordan, could you go out there and start telling kids, kind of quiet you know, so that it seems real?”

I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

She hugged me. “Thanks, Jordan. You’re my hero.”

So I went out into the crowd of people, most of whom I didn’t even know, but as I spotted my friends, I began telling them with wide eyes and a slightly frightened expression that I’d heard the party was going to get busted any minute. And let me tell you, it was amazing how the word just spread like wildfire, and pretty soon the whole house, at least the downstairs, was evacuated.

“You are a lifesaver, Jordan,” said Ashley as she started picking up empties and dropping them into a trash bag.

“I think there are still some kids upstairs,” I told her.