Indian Hill (5 page)
A freak cold snap… We went back to school in January in one of the worst cold
spell
s recorded, it was the kind that when you opened the door and took your first breath the snot in your nose would quite literally freeze. It wasn’t a pretty sight. I had begged my mother for a ride, but she had refused.
S
he hadn’t
taken me to school
since the third grade, and she saw no reason to start now. So there I was at the bus stop dancing around like the other ten idiots trying to keep from freezing solid. I was in entirely too much misery to take too much notice of my fellow sufferers, they weren’t any people that I hung out with anyway. I recognized all but one. I tried but I couldn’t recall ever seeing him in school. Oh well, must not have made that big of an impression, and to be honest I didn’t care much beyond the thought of the once again late but heated school bus making a hasty arrival. The bus was packed which at this point was a great relief; more bodies meant more body heat. I don’t think I stopped shivering until we finally got to the school, and then I had to get off the damn thing. I was going to have to make sure that I begged my mother for a ride tomorrow, station wagon or not
, t
his was ridiculous. I trudged my way up to the third floor where my home room was, I just wanted to get rid of my books and my jacket and gloves and all of the other gear that rounds out a day in frigid
New England
. I sat down at my chair, which by the way was now one removed from the back row. It used to be the back row, but an extra row had been added in the off time due to a teacher’s illness. The school administration had not been able to replace her before the start up, so in their infinite wisdom they had simply dispersed students throughout the rest of the classes. I turned to see the person who had enviably taken my favorite seat from me. It was the kid from the bus stop. He couldn’t be from around here, I knew everyone in my class, whether I liked them or not, and he was neither. I just didn’t know him. I guess the Yankees hat should have given him away. Nobody with half a brain wore a Yankees hat in the heart of Red Sox country even in the winter.
“Hey, my name is Dennis,” as he leaned over his desk and extended his hand. I had almost been ready to turn back around without taking the proffered hand but that gesture would have had cataclysmic effects further on down the road, and I also would have missed out on the person that would share co-best friend honors. Not that I knew it then. And he still had that friggen Yankees hat on. But we shook hands and went on from there. I told him my parents were going away this
coming
weekend (not together I might add), and I was having a party and that he was more than welcome to attend. He thanked me and told me that he
had just moved
to the area and would look forward to meeting some new people. I told him that if he had any inclination of getting somebody to actual talk civilly to him and girls to even look at him, he might not want to wear that hat. He laughed and assured me that it wouldn’t matter what hat he wore, girls loved him no matter what and everybody else could go screw themselves. We both knew it was male bravado, but we laughed anyway.
The week stayed in the below zero range; my mother never budged on the whole ride thing. Dennis and I never talked much at the bus stop more than your average pleasantries, it was just too miserable. Homeroom really wasn’t the place to develop relationships either, everybody was too busy wiping the snow from their shoes and attempting to rid the chill from their bones. Early January in New
England
can be among the most severe weather in the nation and this one was no different. The school week
tr
udged on by, and I was actually too busy concentrating on
conserving body
heat that I didn’t piss off one teacher. It had to be a record. Friday came at last. I reminded the appropriate people about the party so that they would disseminate the information. Dennis assured me that he would be there. To be honest, at the time I didn’t care one way or the other. My dad left right after dinner Friday night to parts unknown, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I wouldn’t have to worry about him till late Sunday night. My mother could be the trickier of the two, she played cards every Friday night, and she was about fifty/fifty when it came to spending the night over at her friend’s house a few towns over. If she did not stay the night, I could expect her home like clockwork at
1:45 a.m.
That might put a damper on the events to unfold but it sure wouldn’t stop them. My mother got a late start getting out of the house, that was the most nerve racking part. I had told people to start showing up at
7:30 p.m.
and she was just walking out the door at twenty past. Dodged that bullet, now I had the gut twisting time of being in an empty house. This is the time when you wonder if people like you or not. There are no guarantees when you have a party even in near frigid temperatures, if people don’t like you they won’t come. So you sit there in anticipation of the first guests’ arrival. Inevitably they are your closest friends, which can be a blessing or not. If they are the first and only to arrive you can be labeled a loser by the ones that are closest to you. So I waited.
7:30 p.m.
came and went, not a big deal, nobody shows up on time right?
7:45 p.m.
came and the bell rang. I opened the door. It was Dennis. ‘Oh great,’ I thought to myself, ‘now the new kid is gonna think I’m a loser.’
“Hey, Dennis how you doing?”
“Not bad, sorry I’m late,” as he walked into the house. “Where is everybody?”
“Well, you know how it is, you tell everyone
7:30
and nobody shows till 8.” At least I hoped that was the case.
“Yeah,” he said but I’m not sure if he said that more to allay my fears or in agreement. Oh well, I guess only time would tell.
“Want a beer?” I asked.
“Sure, what flavor you got?”
“Mostly Moosehead, but there’s some Budweiser in there.”
“I’ll take a Moosie.”
I no sooner turned to get the beers and the doorbell rang once again. It was Paul and another one of our friends, Kevin Thomas, but what was of much more interest to me was the line of people coming down my street. My first official party looked to be getting well under way.
“Dude,” Paul said as he pulled me aside. “Who’s the guy in the Yankees hat?”
“That’s that new guy Dennis I told you about.”
“He better hope nobody wants to kick his ass when they get drunk.”
“Yeah, that definitely takes some balls to wear that thing around here.”
“Balls or stupidity, sometimes the two things can be so closely intertwined as to be indistinguishable from each other.”
“Dude, big words,” as I high fived him.
“Did you like that?” he said with a big grin. “I’ve been working on extending my vocabulary.”
“Save it for the girls, Einstein. Want a beer?”
“I never thought you’d ask,” as he put an arm around my shoulder and we headed into the kitchen. “
H
ow did you get all this beer?”
“I told my sister I was having a party and she bought it for me.”
“When?”
“While she was home for her winter break from college.”
“You’ve been sitting on this stockpile for a week and you never told me? I’m hurt,” he said mockingly.
“
Y
ou know if I told you, you would have wanted to raid it from the get go, and we’d be high and dry for the evening.”
“You’re probably right my friend.”
“Probably?” as I raised my eyebrow at him.
“Just get me a beer so I can scope out some honeys.”
The party was cranking, the girls were gorgeous, and the beer was flowing. The cops hadn’t busted it up an
d I was sucking face with someone
. Damn, I hoped she wouldn’t ask me what her name was, cause I didn’t have a clue.
Midnight
was rapidly approaching and my mother would call like clockwork to let me know if she was spending the night at her friend’s. Luckily I had just enough presence of mind, though not much, to lower the music and let everybody know what was going to happen. I wish I had a video camera because what was two minutes ago a loud beer guzzling, girl chasing event now turned into a quiet waiting game. Everyone was literally staring at the phone, hoping that it would ring so that the fiesta could continue.
Twelve o’clock
came and everyone, even Chris Smith who was puking in the bathroom, held their breaths. Okay
twelve o’clock
and ten seconds, alright
twelve o’clock
and twenty seconds.
H
ow much longer could we hold our breaths? At
twelve o’clock
and forty-two seconds the phone finally rang, and everyone let their breath out. I put my hands up to hush the already church-like crowd.
“Hello?” I said, trying my best to sound tired and not drunk.
“Hi honey,” my mom said through the phone line. “We’re going to be playing late tonight, I’ll be home in the morning.”
“Okay Mom.”
“Is everything alright?”
Oh no, did I slur? “Yeah everything’s fine Mom, I’m just really tired.” And I did my best exaggerated yawn; I even moved my arms much to the delight of the anticipatory crowd.
“Alright honey.” Thank God nobody else could hear this. “Sleep good.”
“Thanks Mom. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I hung up quickly because I knew Paul’s hand was on the stereo volume control. He had the music cranked back up before I had the phone in the cradle; luckily I had pushed down the tab first. The crowd did a collective “hurray” and resumed their previous business. Whether it was drinking, smoking, sucking face, or as in poor Chris’ case, just plain old puking.
Dennis came up to me. “Hey Mike, great party.”
“How could you tell, your face was planted in that girl’s.” We laughed.
“Yeah, pretty good huh? I had to come up for air and beer. Thanks for inviting me.”
“Hey, one thing Dennis.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” as he turned to face me.
“My friends call me Talbot.”
He looked for a second at me before the light of recognition lit up; beer can significantly affect this by the way.
“My friends call me Wags, short for Waggoner.”
“Good to meet you, Wags,” as I extended my hand.
He took it. “And you too Talbot.”
“Dude, I wouldn’t leave that girl for too long, I think she’d suck face with whoever walked by next.”
“Kiss my ass,” as he laughed and headed for the fridge.
The party rolled till around the
2:00 a.m.
hour, I can’t be sure because it was very difficult to focus on
a clock face
.
T
hat was roughly about the time the beer dried up and curfews became an issue. Dennis and Paul stayed the night. Much to their chagrin, their dates did not.
The next morning was the realization of what fifty drunken teenagers can do to a house. The place was trashed. And I had somewhere in the neighborhood of two hours to get it looking like home again. With this crippling hangover I didn’t see the point in even trying. I heard noise in the kitchen, loud bottles rustling around. Oh man, was somebody still looking for beer to drink? They were some hardcore mothers, I thought to myself. I pulled myself up from the grasp of gravity, damn she was unrelenting. I strode my green-gilled self to the kitchen to see what was going on. I was pleasantly surprised to find Dennis in the midst of throwing out the first of many trash bags.
“Thanks man, I appreciate that.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
And then it was my turn to reflect on his words; yeah I guess that’s what they were for. Friends were there for you when you couldn’t do it alone. What an awesome concept, hardly new, but new to me.
“Where’s Paul?” I asked groggily.
“That Ginner guy?” Dennis responded in kind.
“Yeah.” I figured he had split hours ago.
“I think he’s in the bathroom cleaning up some mess.”