Wishful Thinking (18 page)

"Are we early?" Dean asked staring at Ian’s house as I slowed to a stop in front of it.

"It’s ten, text Nate," I said.
 

Dean already had his cell phone out. He texted and we waited. His phone started buzzing. He checked the message, "Nate says they’re here, but it’s just them.”
 

"Should we go inside?"

"Don’t you want to?" Dean asked.
 

"I don’t know. I guess."

"Let’s go," he said. He unbuckled his seatbelt, "Hanging out with Nate will put you in a better mood."

"Oh yeah, how’s that?"

"He’s a dumbass, and a dumbass is good for a laugh.” Dean sniffed the sleeve of his sweater, "What’s this smell like to you?" He reached his arm across the space in front of me.
 

I pushed his arm away, "I’m not smelling you dude."

He brought his arm back and smelled it again, "I think it smells like maple syrup, but I can’t remember eating anything with maple syrup today.”

"Why are you so mercurial today?" I asked knowing that throwing around big words meant Dean would tease me. Hopefully, his teasing would distract me.

"You know what that means?" He started to laugh, "Decided to put on big boy pants today?"

"Sometimes you are so intolerable," I added getting out of the car. Dean laughed even harder. "Shut-up," I said and slammed the door so I couldn’t hear his laughter anymore. I could still see him laughing through the windows. I flipped him the bird and headed towards the front door. Dean caught up with me, a hint of mirth still in his voice, "If we don’t laugh we’ll go insane."
 

Too late, already there, I thought. I didn’t even lift my hand to knock and the door opened. Nate and his protégé Ian stood in the doorway. Nate assessed Dean and I for a moment, nodded, and handed us each a shot-glass filled with an amber colored liquid. Nate walked around everyone’s house as if he owned. No matter where he was he became host. He ushered us in leaving Ian to close the door behind us.
 

A small sniff of the shot glass made my stomach clench up, "What is it?"

"Some shit to make you feel better. You can drink right?" Nate responded.

I shrugged, "The doctors didn’t say anything about drinking. Not that I asked. Seriously what is this?"

Nate shook his head and slid his arm around my shoulder. "What is it," he repeated an effeminate voice full of disgust. "It’s alcohol and that’s all you need to know."
 
Nate slapped his other arm around Dean’s shoulder and turned his head towards him, "Take the shot, trust me it’ll cure what ails you."

Nate’s weight pulled me down slightly, his friendly gesture helping to keep him standing.
 

"Bottoms up," Dean said and slammed the shot. He made an ugly face after he swallowed and followed it up with gagging. "Another," he said.

"Now that’s what I’m talking about, stop being such a pussy James," Nate said. He bit down on a mint which was losing the battle against alcohol breath.
 

Nate slapped my shoulder and let go of me focusing his attention on Dean alone, "Follow me."

Not wanting to be a pansy, or outdone by Dean, I held my breath and tossed back the shot. Warmth quickly spread down my throat into my stomach.
 

Every time I stepped into Ian’s rec room excitement buzzed through me. It was an immense room with the sole purpose of entertaining teenagers. Two large plush couches, a vibrating lazy-boy and a few bean bag chairs scattered around the room served as seating. It featured the latest in technology; sixty-five inch plasma hooked up to satellite TV complemented by an X-box 360, Playstation 3, Wii, Blu-ray disc player, and a surround sound system that’d give George Lucas wood.
 

Pool and foosball tables were off to the left near a set of patio doors which lead out to a deck with hot tub. And the masterpiece, a contemporary bar near the back corner of the room stocked with every snack you could want and a fridge filled with every non-alcoholic drink imaginable.

Ian’s house tended to be where we all congregated, and it wasn’t because of his rec room, though it was nicest, we all had a version of his rec room at home. No, what made us hang out here were Ian’s parents. Happily married for thirty-one years and the kindest, most inviting people you could know. I think at one point or another we all secretly wished to trade places with Ian, at least I did.
 

When we entered the room Caleb looked up from a Halo game he was playing and gave us a curt nod. Nate immediately headed behind the bar taking on role of bartender. Dean, Ian, and I took up the empty barstools. Caleb turned off the game and joined us at the bar. Nate placed two bottles of Jack on the counter and five new shot-glasses in front of them. He filled each one and slid them across to us.
 

He held up his glass and we followed suit. "A toast," Nate began, "to hoping rugby starts again Monday."
 

"Cheers," we all said and tossed back our shots each of us shivering and gagging. Then five empty glasses clanked down on the counter.
 

Caleb’s face scrunched up. "Tastes like shit.”
 

"Give me another," Dean said.
 

Nate raised an eyebrow, but poured him another shot. Dean stared at the liquid as it poured into his glass.
 

"What’s up," Nate asked when he’d finished pouring.

"Why does something have to be up for me to partake in merriment with my friends?" Dean tossed back his shot.
 

"Because you’re the strait and narrow, squeeze coal into diamonds type and they don’t drink, and … don’t ever say ‘partake in merriment’ around me again."

Nate was right. Dean had a one shot max. I gave him the one raised eyebrow look. "What," Dean said, slamming his glass back down, a lopsided smile curving his lips. We never did talk about his freak out at school, but the warmth of two shots was taking effect and my cognitive abilities were slowing. Maybe I’d pester Dean about it tomorrow. Tonight, though, we were drinking and forgetting.
 

Nate refilled our glasses and plucked the bottle on the counter. “If practice doesn’t start again soon, what’s going to keep this body impeccable?" He pointed to his chest. "I’m going to have to actually workout when I go to the gym, for real … First round of acceptance letters went out today." Nate poured himself another, "Princeton here I come," he said guzzled his shot, and slammed the glass on the counter.
 

Caleb took a shot."What about you James, where’d you apply.”
 

“I don’t know, I’m thinking of going to Northern Maine Community College."

Nate snickered, "Community college? No wonder Summer’s letting Trev sniff around her back door."

Anger crept up my neck tensing my shoulders and contracting my hand into a fist. "And you’re the role model I should follow?”
 

I’d applied to RISD and Yale and even Cambridge as a long shot, but I didn’t tell a soul, my father included. I wasn’t stupid just undecided, my friends, however, operated under the assumption I was an idiot. Their assessment arose from my quiet, you know because I didn’t broadcast my plans. I didn’t find it necessary to brag that I aced every test I’d ever taken, instead I’d complain that tests didn’t accurately assess someone’s abilities—read, dumb. Every time someone asked me what grade I got on so and so’s test my automatic response was a B which was a lie I only ever got A’s. I didn’t flaunt being on dean’s list, or having a 4.0 GPA and nobody asked.
 

I didn’t show-off, didn’t feel the need to be better than anyone. In truth, all I wanted was to figure out where I fit in, find it then be left the hell alone.
 

"Dude come on," Nate said pulling me from my thoughts, "a girl like Summer doesn’t end up with a guy who went to community college …” Nate refilled our shot glasses, “… that’s all I’m saying."

Ian laughed, "It’s only high school man. Does it matter yet? I mean we’re a little to young to be worrying about marriage already."

"I know that, asshat," Nate said after he finished his shot, "but eventually all of us will get married—even Dean since gay marriage will be legal everywhere by then."

“Shut the fuck up and pour," came Dean’s response.

“Hey,” I said, “I didn’t know you could major in being an asshole at Princeton?”

“At least it’s from a reputable college,” Nate shot back.
 

“Fuck you,” I said.
 

We all slammed back the shots and rushed to be the first to plunk down our shot glass.
 

“What woman in her right mind would let you drag her down the aisle," I said to Nate.
 

Caleb laughed. “No self-respecting woman would ever agree to be Mrs. Nathaniel Heathburn the third.”

My fingers tapped on the bar like I was playing a piano, “Will it be an arranged marriage with dowries and a virgin sacrifice, or just a mail order bride?"

"Say what you want," Nate took another shot and slammed his empty glass back down on the counter, "but all of us want to marry a Summer—eventually."

"Whatever," I conceded.
 

And it progressed that way for the next few hours. Someone would complain someone else would make a joke of said complaint. Then we’d all laugh at their expense. After everyone got at least one go round of teasing, we turned to playing Kings.
 

Caleb tapped the table, “Drink,” he hollered at Ian as he placed a King on top of the pile.

“You didn’t say bullshit,” Dean said following his outburst with a fit of giggles.

Nate said, “If you don’t stop giggling like a bitch you’re going to be cut off."

Dean shrugged and slouched down in his chair.

 
Nate scrolled his phone. “Kyle wants to know if we’re gonna hit up Trev’s party."

Trevor always made it a point to have parties but never extend an invitation to the rugby team. Trevor played basketball and kept his friends limited to basketball players. Kyle was the go between. The one that united our two different social circles since he played both basketball and rugby.
 

“Dude, we’re too fucked up to drive," Ian said giving words to what I was thinking.
 

“Chill,” Nate said his voice slurring his words, “my dad gave me the number for his car service. So do you want to be party crashers or what?"

A collective "hell yes" was said and Nate bobbed his head.
 

"Good," he said offering us each a mint.

The car service showed up in record time. We’d barely finished freshening up—which was nothing more than all of us taking a leak—when Nate hollered, “Ride’s here.”

An older, broad shouldered man with a severe looking face stood holding open the back door of a black Navigator. Nate, Ian, Caleb, Dean and I piled into the backseats.
 

I texted my dad to let him know I wasn’t coming home, that I’d be staying the night at Ian’s. He didn’t respond but at least I had documented proof in case. At this point I was toasty warm, ready to party crash and totally distracted.
 

We stopped two houses down from Trevor’s house. Cars overflowed from his drive down both sides of the street. Our driver pulled into the first vacant slot he found and asked, “What time sir?"

Nate checked his Rolex and ran a hand through his hair. His green eyes focused on me, "How long you need?"
 

“For what?"
 

Nate rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to our driver, “Be back at this curb at two,” then slid out of the car.
 

Ian and Caleb followed Nate, then Dean and lastly me. Our group stayed together as we made our way into the house. Rick Ross’s The Boss blasted from every corner and I bopped my head to the beat. A few kids I recognized from the Penobscot Indian reservation. Trevor was a quarter Penobscot, and through a few relatives—in the name of getting Trevor in touch with his roots—hung out with some of the high school aged kids from the reservation.
 

Perfume and aftershave hung thick and stifling.
 

As we made our way through, a few girls looked our way and gave a once over—some a twice over. I caught a few winks and more than enough smiles. I ran a hand through my hair brushing it back from my face as one girl with very long black hair licked her lips when I winked at her.
 

Oh shit.

We made our way from the living room and down a hall where I recognized a face—Katie.

Nate stopped. “Hey where’s the alcohol.”
 

She scowled and pointed down the hall. When her eyes fell to me I gave her a weak smile she didn’t return. Instead she shook her head disgusted. Her attention fell back to a redhead next to her I didn’t know. Katie was senior class president and also happened to be quite close with Emily so I could only imagine what she thought of me. Further down more familiar faces popped up; Desi from French, Matt and Nathan from debate class and several girls from cheer, but no Summer. They greeted me with a bit more warmth than Katie, but not much.