by Cyn Balog
45 Days Before
The party was raging before ten. Mr. and Mrs. Weeks were gone, and my parents had gone to New York to see the ball drop, so all of Fox Court was choked with teen cars. They parked on the lawns, in the woods, backed up against one another like in a used car lot. Music pumped and light blared from every window.
“This is more of a speakhard, do you not think?” Javier asked me. It was clear Javier came from a culture way more sophisticated than ours, because he never drank to excess. He’d told us the drinking age in Spain was sixteen, but Europeans are way more casual about drinking in general and rarely got shitfaced. So he usually absorbed all our naïve American antics with amusement and was our responsible designated driver. He picked a half-deflated Santa lawn decoration off the floor. “Where did this come from?”
I had no clue. The party was about three minutes from dissolving into total chaos. Most people hadn’t gotten the speakeasy memo, so only ten people were dressed up. I had on one of my mom’s dresses. Even though it was modern, it had fringe on the hem, but I felt ridiculously stupid and old lady, so I’d changed into jeans. Luisa was wearing the full flapper outfit, complete with headband and minidress, and looked like she could’ve come out of the twenties. Kane was wearing a suit, but he was the only one, because most guys had no clue how to dress. It was a flop, as far as themes went, but as far as parties went, it was shaping up to be the most talked-about event of the new year.
“You know what?” Nina said to me, unable to keep her eyes open as she lay on the living room couch. She was badly balancing one of Mrs. Weeks’s martini glasses in her hand, but there wasn’t a martini in there. The liquid was purplish, and it smelled noxious. Her sparkly fringed dress, the one I’d thought looked so chic when she’d come in at nine, just looked rumpled and sad, and her dark bob was falling in her face. Her eyeliner was smeared, and her face was shiny. “I love you. I really do.”
“I know, dear,” I said as she closed her eyes and her head lolled onto my shoulder. I patted her arm and took a swig of my beer as her head lolled back to her boyfriend’s shoulder.
She looked up at him, as if seeing him for the first time. “And I love you too! Really, really, I do. I want to make babies with you.”
I groaned and loosened her death grip from my shoulder, then slid out of the way. “I think I will leave you to it, then.” I winked at Javier. “Just maybe not right here, or right now.”
In the time that Mrs. Weeks had moved in, she’d gradually added the needed woman’s touch. The furniture was nice, there was actual art on the walls, and the carburetor had been moved off the center island. So what was happening was a shame. There were bottles on every surface, bodies crammed into every space, and knickknacks were being broken or ruined at an alarming pace. I reached over to steady Nina’s drink before the white couch became the next victim.
Luisa was at the kitchen table, sitting on Kane’s lap as they played Quarters, the little feather in her headband bobbing and fists pumping as she celebrated landing a shot. Everyone seemed pretty smashed, or getting there, because Kane, wonder that he was, had only secured alcohol from one of his old teammates, and not a lick of food. There were some pizzas in the freezer that disappeared earlier—though I wasn’t sure anyone had actually cooked them, because I never saw the oven on—and a wilted, half-eaten salad container from Wendy’s that Mrs. Weeks had left over disappeared too. It was all very bizarre. These people were like locusts. I hadn’t seen Declan in an hour and hoped he hadn’t succumbed to the swarm.
I went upstairs to check, navigating bodies and garbage on the stairs. The door to his room was locked. I banged on it and called his name, but no one answered.
So I went outside and climbed the trellis. I’d gotten to be a pro at it. I peeked in his window. He was wearing headphones and lying on his bed, face up, a tented magazine across his middle. I waved and knocked until he noticed me. He ripped off his headphones, pushed open the window, and dove back onto his bed. “Hey, stranger.”
“Oh my God, Declan,” I said, climbing inside and flopping onto the bed beside him. The beat of the bass downstairs made the mattress vibrate pleasantly. I was already buzzed, but I’d left my beer downstairs, so it wouldn’t last long unless I went back down. “You have to see what’s going on down there. Everyone’s letting loose.”
He picked up his magazine. “Nah. Not my thing. Thus, the locked door.”
Being with Declan for the past year, I’d made partying not my thing too. But what was going on downstairs? It was a train wreck. I knew people would be talking about it in school, and I didn’t want to miss the gory details. “Yeah, but…don’t you want to dance?”
His mouth turned down in distaste. So, that’s a no.
“Darn it,” I said to him. “I should have gotten film for my new camera. I could’ve taken pictures of us, but I only have one left.”
“Where’s your phone?”
“Charging. The battery life is terrible. I think I need a new one.”
“Too bad.”
I rolled over and looked at him. I’d never actually seen Declan in a mood. But this was one.
“Is everything okay?”
“I’m just thinking about how I’m going to have to clean up this hole tomorrow,” he said. “You know Kane will sleep until dinnertime.”
“It’s not a big deal. I can help.”
When he set down his Rolling Stone, I knew that that wasn’t all of it. “Also. I’ve been thinking. About the future.”
I should’ve known. Declan was always thinking heavy thoughts. I wished he could relax and not think about heavy things for just one night. Have fun. Hell, especially on New Year’s Eve. “You have to think about that stuff tonight?”
“It’s a new year, Hail. You ever wonder where you’ll be next year at this time? What you’ll have accomplished? Whether you’ll be better off, or worse?”
I smiled, and those thoughts I’d had earlier in the winter vacation flooded me again. “You’ll have graduated high school. And you’ll be at Penn. And we’ll be together, Declan. Right?”
He nodded.
Set in stone, I’d thought. We’re forever. “So what’s there to worry about?”
He put up a finger. “I never said I was worrying. Just thinking.”
I sighed. “Anyone ever tell you that you think too much?”
“Yes. You.”
I checked the clock on his nightstand. It was still an hour until midnight. “Don’t you want to kiss me at midnight?”
His face broke out in a grin. “Why wait ’til midnight? Come here.”
I tilted my chin toward him, and he leaned down and gave me a very chaste kiss, then started to put his arm around me. I knew where we were headed. Hours and hours of fooling around. Declan was still frustrating me, since I always knew where we would stop. I wriggled out of his arms and stood up.
“You know what? I think I’ll go down for a little longer. But I’ll be back up for midnight. Or…you can come down?”
He frowned and shook his head slowly.
“Fine,” I grumbled, giving him the finger. He grabbed my extended middle finger with his own and we had a little sword fight with them. I laughed, but that was more the beer than anything else. Deep down, I was disappointed. And maybe he was disappointed with me too.
Downstairs, I breathed in the chaos excitedly. Kane was now at the center island, doling out orange Jell-O shots. He had on an Abraham Lincoln hat, no clue where that’d come from, and again I wished my phone was working, or I had more than one stinking shot left in my camera. I took a Jell-O shot and let the orange glob tumble down my throat, squeezing the paper cup to get the whole thing out. “Where’s Luisa?” I asked him.
“Lying down somewhere,” he said. “She wasn’t feeling well.”
“Oh.” I plucked another shot off the tray, and one for good luck, since they were
going fast. I knocked the next one against his, and we downed them at the same time. “Cheers. Happy New Year.”
The third wasn’t as neat; some dribbled off my chin. That was a perfect portent for the direction the rest of the evening would head. Things just got sloppier and sloppier. By midnight, I was huddled over a toilet, puking my guts out. I’d wanted to be present for the whole party, but I missed everything after that third shot. I recalled flashes, blurs, people coming and going, screaming, scraping my elbow, sloppy kisses, laughing until it hurt, crying until I couldn’t breathe. But in the morning, I couldn’t recall the why behind any of it.
When I woke in that new year, mouth sour, head pounding, I didn’t even know how I’d made it to my own bed.
Wednesday, February 27
Actually speaking to Luisa ends up being more difficult than I thought. I text her as soon as I get to gym class: Can we talk?
Right away, the message shows itself as being read, so I know she got it. But after two periods, she still hasn’t responded. Which means she’s avoiding me.
Since Luisa and Kane stopped hanging out with us at my locker in the morning, I have no idea about her schedule or where to find her. I’m in the advanced classes, but she’s on the honors track, so we don’t share a single period. Whenever I see her, she’s with Kane. I manage to ask around and find out that she’s in third period study hall, so instead of making my way to class, I head to the cafeteria.
I poke my head in, but she’s not there. When I’m about to give up, I see her making her way past the award showcases toward me. When she sees me, her eyes narrow slightly. She approaches, looking up and down the hallway as if she’s afraid to be seen with me, and says, “The answer’s no. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Come on, Luisa. I—”
“No,” she says. “Kane told me what you’re up to. And I don’t really care what happened to you when you were in the hospital. I’m not going to feel sorry for you.”
I’ve never actually heard Luisa, usually all sunshine and sweetness, sound so cold.
Or maybe I have. Something about this exchange feels familiar. We’ve fought before.
She crosses her arms, hugging her notebook to her chest. I’m not sure if it’s possible for her to hate me any more than she does in this moment. Her tone could only be about one thing. Kane. Kane giving me a flower on Valentine’s Day. Kane hanging with me at the party, when he should have been with her. “I know you hate me. But I want to know what happened the days before Declan died.”
She laughs bitterly. “What happened? Kane said your mind was messed up. You really don’t remember anything?”
I shake my head. “I really don’t.”
“That’s probably a good thing. Because if I did what you’d done, I don’t think I could show myself in public again,” she says.
My skin blooms with goose bumps. “What do you mean?”
“You used to look at me like I was pathetic, because I loved Kane, even though he wasn’t the best of boyfriends. But you know what?” Her pretty face is wrapped in a snarl. “You were worse. In fact, you’re so obsessed with the Weeks boys that you didn’t want anyone else to have them.”
I stand there, frozen. People sweep by us in the hallway, but some drag their feet, watching as Luisa rails at me, her voice gradually getting louder.
Luisa getting riled up is enough to gain attention, but when she starts poking me in the chest with every word, more people stop. I back away, until I’m pressed against the wall. “So if you don’t remember what happened, I’ll fill you in. The last time I spoke to you was at Declan’s funeral. I told you that you and I were done as friends, and that I didn’t want to see your face again. And I mean it. You disgusted me then, and even more now.”
My face is hot. People around us are whispering. Tears threaten to pour from my eyes. “But why?”
“Why do you think?” She looks around, surprised by the crowd that’s gathered. She leans in and whispers, “He told me how you hounded him. All those games you played. If you want to know who’s responsible for Declan’s death, look in the mirror.”
She spins on her heel, opening the door to the cafeteria and sliding inside, as the period bell clangs above me.
39 Days Before
The first week back to school after winter break sucked. The high temperatures were in the single digits, and all the Christmas presents and decorations and cheer that made winter fun were over. Summer wasn’t in sight. All we had on our schedules? Months of more bleak, dark cold. The only thing I could say I was looking forward to? Valentine’s Day. Ordinarily, I dreaded the holiday, but this was my first Valentine’s Day as part of a couple.
I. Couldn’t. Wait.
About a year ago, if you asked me, I would’ve rolled my eyes and said Valentine’s Day was commercialism at its finest. But now? I’d pictured it: those goofy flowers the Key Club was offering for purchase? I was all over that. Didn’t matter that the actual day was more than a month away; I’d already gotten the form and written out my message to him.
D—I love you, you amazing, wonderful, gorgeous but also completely insane person, you.—H
Maybe I’d buy Declan an enormous chocolate heart too—if I had the time and funds.
I also thought I could put together a book of our selfies. He had taken a thousand of them of us together, always texting the best ones to me, and now that I had a new camera, I knew there’d be more. I’d have to go to the craft store to get a nice scrapbook, but he’d appreciate it. Declan was sentimental that way, which was why he kept mementos of our life together—movie tickets, napkins from restaurants we visited, things like that.
I was visibly cheerier than everyone else in our group. The ones who showed up to school all went around like zombies, still getting over their New Year’s hangovers. But Kane, Declan, and Luisa all had a stomach flu that kept each of them out for much of the week. And our pre-first-period meetings had stopped including all six of us. So I decided to rally the troops. We should all do something over the weekend.
I set up a group message: Movies. This weekend. YOU MUST BE IN.
Kane responded first: K.
He was notoriously terse when it came to texting.
Then Nina, who had to know everything: What are we going to see?
Javier responded with: You get to spend 2 hours in the dark with me
Declan was last: What time?
Luisa never responded, but I heard from Kane that she was up for it. We arranged to meet at eight at the Grand, which is this old-style one-screen movie house on Main Street. Since I arranged it, I told the boys I’d drive them and we’d pick up Luisa on the way, but Kane bailed on me and told me Luisa would pick him up, so it was only me and Declan.
When Declan showed up at my door, I waved the paper for my Key Club carnation in front of his face. “Guess what this is?”
His eyes followed it. “Paper?”
“Funny. No, it’s my secret message for you. But you won’t find out what it says until Valentine’s Day.” I folded it and wiggled my eyebrows cryptically. “Intrigued?”
“Very.” He nodded slowly. “Actually, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I stuffed the paper into my purse. “You know. The Key Club does that flower fund-raiser every February fourteenth. I’ve never had an occasion to buy one before.”
“Oh. Right. I have the paper at home. When are they due?”
“By the thirty-first. So you have time to think of eloquent, inspired words of passion. If, by chance, there was someone you wanted to send one to,” I said, giving him an innocent look.
He tapped his chin. “I’ll have to think on that one.”
“Snot.” I jumped into his arms and kissed him. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“That’s the first kiss you’ve given me this year, you know,” he said.
His eyes didn’t sparkle the way they usually did, and he kept his hands in his pockets as I kissed him. Cool, aloof, his body tense, like a rod. Something was wrong.
It hit me that I was supposed to have gone back up to his room that night. Hadn’t I? I guess I hadn’t. He’d gotten a stomach bug right after that, so I thought that was what was keeping us apart. I hadn’t realized it was something else. “You’re angry about New Year’s.”
He shook his head slightly. “Just tired.”
I studied his face carefully. I would have apologized, had I known what I was apologizing for. But the rest of New Year’s Eve after I’d done Jell-O shots was still a blur. Nina and Javier had gone on and on about some hilarious antics, but I’d missed most of that. I hadn’t been the subject of any of those good gossip-worthy stories, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t done anything gossip-worthy. Maybe it meant that no one had the guts to remind me of what I’d done. That scared me.
We got into the car. I shoved the key in the ignition and pumped the heat to ward off the frigid temperatures. Our favorite song came on the radio. Usually Declan usually would have remarked about it or sung along. Instead, he was silent.
I couldn’t take it for another second. I said, “Tell me. Please. I can’t take the silent treatment.”
I was waving my hands, and he plucked the nearest one out of the air and held it between his two warm ones. He said, “You’d been drinking.”
“But that’s no excuse.” I closed my eyes, hating myself. So I had done something horrible. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. What happened, Declan. Please.”
He shrugged. “You were hanging all over my stepbrother.”
I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.
“Is that all?” I laughed. “You know how Kane and I are. We always do things like that. He’s like my brother.”