The Sound of Us

by Julie Hammerle

  “That’s not true.”

  “No, it’s quite literally true. I kissed one guy before this. You know who.” I shudder at the memory of Tromboner Dave. “But that was a total fluke and, obviously, a huge mistake.”

  Kendra doesn’t say anything.

  “And before Jack, I liked this other guy, and I thought he liked me, but he ended up taking my best, well, ex-best friend to prom.”

  “Your best friend went to prom with the guy you liked?”

  I nod.

  “Well, she sounds like a horrible person.”

  I shrug. “No, I mean, yeah, she sucks. But maybe she’s right about me. What if I actually am just a huge loser? What if that’s all I’ll ever be?”

  Kendra stops walking, and so do I. Then she pulls me into a giant hug, my second big hug of the night. This one is even bigger than the one Norman gave me earlier. “If I ever hear you talk about my friend like that again, I’ll kill you.” She lets me go. “Dude, you are the tits. You’re the smartest of all of us.” She waves her hand to indicate everyone in front of us. “You’re funny, and you don’t take everything so seriously. At least you don’t appear to.” The two of us rush to catch up with our friends who are about to turn the corner.

  “And as for the guy thing,” she says, “it’ll happen. I promise you not every guy has a secret girlfriend waiting for him at home. You just have to put yourself out there. I know that’s easier said than done, but it’s true. Loosen up and be yourself. Don’t over think it.” She hangs her arm around my shoulders and whispers, “I know you’re feeling self-destructive and awful right now, but rein it in. Don’t forget why you’re here. You need that scholarship so we can room together next year.”

  She skips up to the rest of the group, but I hold back. Next year. I can’t help thinking about the night with Jack in his room and how he told me we’d hang out and watch Game of Thrones together. He said he wished he could play music with me. And the whole time, he had a secret girlfriend.

  What’s the point of the scholarship anymore? Why would I even want to come back here next year, like a chump? I’m the girl who fell for the guy with a girlfriend. If I follow him back here next year, I’ll look like the biggest idiot on the planet. Maybe he’s ruined Krause for me, too.

  I run to catch up with my friends.

  At the end of the block, our little group stops in front of a dilapidated ranch home, which has been decorated like a flea market threw up all over it, but in a good way. On the porch is a psychedelic watering can filled with dime-store pinwheels; and on the lawn, standing like a sentry in an evening gown and feather boa, is one of those lawn geese that old ladies love to dress up. There are Christmas lights everywhere. My friends and I trudge into the backyard, where we find a sea of people dancing in front of a makeshift DJ booth, which is really just a card table and someone’s phone plugged into a speaker.

  A handsome, tall guy with a shaved head comes over and hands Andy a Solo cup full of beer. Andy stares at it like it’s a bomb.

  “Uh…” Andy says, glancing around at all of us.

  “Get rid of it, Andy,” says Brie. “Now.”

  I take the cup from Andy’s hands and lead my friends a few feet away to where the keg sits. I never drank, ever, at Matt Carroll’s parties. I was always the designated driver. I always sat in the other room, watching people pounding beers, running to the bathroom to throw up, or heading upstairs to hook up. I feel like I’ve been missing out, except maybe on the throwing up thing. Tonight, at least, I need to know I have the ability to be one of those people, the party people, the people who have fun and don’t overthink everything and somehow manage to have the whole romance thing work out for them, at least for one night. “What if we did it?” I ask, contemplating the cup of beer in my hands. “The full college experience?”

  “Kiki,” warns Kendra. “What did I say about self-destruction?”

  “The mole.” Mary widens her eyes.

  “I’m in,” says Andy. “If everyone else is.”

  “Right. Either we all do it, or none of us does it,” I say. “And if we do it, can we all agree that this party is like Vegas? What happens here stays here? Like, none of this mole bullshit.” I hold up the cup of beer. “This is the chalice of friendship and truth. We all must drink from it as a sort of oath—if we all take a sip, we’ve all technically broken the rules, which means we’re all in this together. Okay?”

  “I don’t drink,” says Mary.

  “One sip,” I say. “One sip for solidarity. I’ve had a pretty shitty day. I’m away from home, living at a college, and I want to act like it for one night without having to worry about someone telling Bertrand about it. Can we all agree? We’re the”—I count everyone around me, including the other voice students—“eleven musketeers. All for one and one for all.”

  “All for one and one for all,” says Kendra.

  I hold up the cup of beer. “Let’s take an oath. I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Though if I am up to good, I solemnly swear that I will not snitch on those who choose to be up to no good. Got it? Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” says everyone, except Brie.

  I raise my eyebrows at her.

  “Go ahead. I won’t tell on you.” She folds her arms.

  I lift the cup toward her. “One sip,” I say. “For solidarity. You don’t even have to swallow.”

  She glances at Seth, who nods toward my outstretched arm and the Solo cup at the end of it. “This will make everything better?” she asks me.

  “Probably not,” I say, “but it’s all I’ve got at the moment.”

  Brie sighs, snatches the cup from me, and takes a longer swig than I would’ve expected. She wipes her mouth and hands the beer back. “Happy now?”

  “Actually, yes, kind of. Thank you, Brie.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  I drink from the cup and pass it to Kendra, who passes it to Finley. Everyone in our group takes a sip of beer. We’ve all broken the no-drinking rule. We’re all in this together. “Okay,” I say, “let’s be college students.”

  I start pouring more beers from the tap. I hand a cup to Seth, noticing that his eyes are down on my chest, where Kendra’s tight, black dress has been stretched taut. My first instinct is to fold my arms, but I stop myself. Dana wouldn’t act embarrassed. Dana would own it. Seth’s a hot guy who probably doesn’t have a secret girlfriend. I’d be stupid not to flirt with him. I wait until his eyes meet mine and I smile. He beams at me and I’m invincible.

  Kendra and I clink glasses ceremoniously and raise the cups to our lips. The first sip is all foam, and most of it ends up on the tips of our noses. “Here,” I say, “I think you’re supposed to do this.” Kendra’s nose crinkles as she watches me wipe the outside of my nose with my index finger and swirl it around in my cup. I saw this on an episode of Project Earth, the one where Dana and Ethan infiltrate a fraternity house. The foam dissipates immediately. Kendra shrugs and does the same thing. Science.

  Neither of us is used to the taste of beer, so we tacitly decide to drain our cups as fast as possible. After we finish, Kendra and I look at each other and laugh. She stifles a little burp. “Should we get more?” she asks. I nod and we make our way back over to the keg.

  After a few beers, I notice my eyes are sweeping around the party at a slower pace than usual and the ground below me feels a little wobbly, like it’s doing its part to make me feel off-balance. My friends and I move to the middle of the yard, to the dance floor, and we bounce around in a herd. I wrap my arms around Kendra and Finley. I fake slow-dance with Mary. I start to forget about Jack and his secret girlfriend. Mission accomplished. But when Seth comes near me, squeezes my shoulder, and rests his head on top of mine, things start getting too real and something compels me to wander around the party by myself.

  I leave everybody, strolling along the perimeter of the fence, telling myself I’m looking for the perfect guy to help me forget Jack, but really, on some level, I’m looking for hi
m. I smile at a few people who I’ve seen around Yunker Hall and stop for a second to chat with Andy and the guy he likes. The stripper theatre major gyrates up to me, and, without introducing herself, proceeds to use my body as a stripper pole. After she finishes, I thank her for the party and continue on my way, eyes peeled for Jack or this party’s Jack equivalent.

  Finding nothing, I rest against the fence and watch the sea of people for a few minutes, feeling lonely for the first time in a while. Being alone used to be so easy for me, but I’ve grown accustomed to having people around. I pull out my phone and send a tweet:

  Kiki Nichols @kikeronis: I’m lonely, guys.

  Winnie Dixon @Windry87: @kikeronis Now you know how we feel, stranger.

  Kiki Nichols @kikeronis: @Windry87 What? I’ve been around.

  Winnie Dixon @Windry87: @kikeronis Barely. You left me here with all the losers and pervs.

  Eric Damien @TyrionsBanister: @Windry87 @kikeronis Hey, leave us losers and pervs out of it.

  Winnie Dixon @Windry87: @TyrionsBanister @kikeronis Gladly.

  Winnie Dixon @Windry87: @kikeronis You OK? You seem not great, Bob. I’m worried about you.

  Kiki Nichols @kikeronis: @Windry87 The guy I like has a girlfriend, so…?

  Winnie Dixon @Windry87: @kikeronis Well, that blows.

  I assume that’s the end of the conversation, but @Win-dry87 keeps going.

  Winnie Dixon @Windry87: @kikeronis Listen to Auntie Winnie, my friend. You fell off that horse. Find another one to ride.

  Kiki Nichols @kikeronis: @Windry87 Heh.

  Horses. What other horses? Tromboner Dave? I had my one shot with a guy, Jack, and that turned out to be complete bullshit. I put myself out there and he rejected me. He picked his girlfriend over me, who obviously meant nothing to him. Sounds about right for my life. Par for the fucking course. And, yes, I just used a golf metaphor. And, yes, I hate myself for it.

  Winnie Dixon @Windry87: @kikeronis Seriously. Get out there and meet new guys.

  Kiki Nichols @kikeronis: @Windry87 WWDD

  Winnie Dixon @Windry87: @kikeronis WWDD?

  Kiki Nichols @kikeronis: @Windry87 What Would Dana do? I’ve been saying that to myself all night.

  Winnie Dixon @Windry87: @kikeronis EXACTLY. Look to the Dana.

  Winnie Dixon @Windry87: @kikeronis Now get off your phone and talk to some boys. Do as I say, not as I do.

  Winnie Dixon @Windry87: @kikeronis Leave the losers and the pervs for me.

  I put my phone away and lean harder into the spikes at the top of the chain link fence, letting that pain take over for the hurt I feel over Jack. I want to cry, but I will myself not to, because I’m coherent enough to know I don’t want to be that kind of lush.

  I focus on a conversation happening a few feet away. I can’t hear what they’re saying over the bass of the stereo, but I have a good idea what’s going on. A girl in a busty summer dress stands on the outskirts of a group of guys, sidling up specifically to the one in the Pacers hat. She laughs hard at all of his jokes, touches his arm, and, every once in a while, tries to throw her voice into the conversation. He never once looks at her. Not until his friends walk away. Then he glances down and notices her skimpy outfit. And he goes to get her a beer, leaving her behind smiling, excited to see where this is going. And I, the outsider, know it’s going nowhere good.

  Is that how Jack sees me? Am I just a girl he kept around to feed his ego while his girlfriend was home waiting for him? I thought I meant more to him than that, but apparently I was wrong. I take a few deep breaths and walk away from the fence and the girl in the sundress. I hope for her sake, for the sake of all us girls, Pacers Hat doesn’t dick her over too badly.

  I glance over to where my friends were when I left them. Kendra is nowhere to be found, and neither is Mary or Norman or Andy or Brie, but Seth is still on the dance floor, slow dancing with Yvetta. She’s hanging on him and he’s looking everywhere but at her. He spots me over by the fence and he smiles.

  I smile back.

  He waves me over.

  I pull myself away from the fence and walk over to him.

  He whispers something to Yvetta and sends her away. Glancing over her shoulder, she sneers at me as she heads off toward the makeshift bar.

  Seth runs his fingers through his floppy, dark hair. “You wanna dance?”

  “Okay.” I shrug.

  Seth pulls me in close and wraps his arms around my waist. I rest my forearms on his shoulders, holding my hands out rigidly because I’m not sure what to do with them and I’m scared of grazing his back or touching his neck. He shimmies his shoulders a bit and my arms bounce against him. “Relax,” he whispers. The words tickle my ear. I let my hands fall limp and my fingertips brush his shoulder blades.

  I’ve never danced with anyone before, not really, not like this, even though I’m not even sure what this is. I’ve gone to dances, usually with some random guy Beth’s date managed to scrounge up for me. The guy and I would barely talk to each other the whole night. We’d end up doing one compulsory slow dance where there’d be a foot of space between us and then we’d detach ourselves from each other and go our separate ways for the rest of the night.

  But Seth is holding me close and his breath is hot against my neck. The tendrils under my ponytail flit like insect wings against my skin.

  I think about kissing him, which is a ridiculous thought. I laugh to myself even as it occurs to me. The gall of my brain even going there. Seth is a friend. He knows I’ve had a bad day. He’s trying to make me feel better. That’s all this is.

  Seth pulls away a smidge and looks down at me, little smile crinkles appearing near his temples. My breath catches. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this is it. Seth Banks is about to kiss me. I lick my lips to moisten them, but I try to do it quickly and furtively, so as not to draw attention to the fact that I’m doing it.

  Instead of leaning in and putting his lips to mine, Seth grabs my shoulders and turns my body toward the house. “Check that out,” he says.

  My mildly disappointed heart slows. This was what I thought it was. This was a dance between two friendly individuals. It was not a time for smooching. “What am I supposed to be seeing?” I pull off my glasses and wipe them on the hem of my dress.

  He points to a couple making out near the gate.

  I put my glasses back on and squint my eyes. “I can’t tell. Who is it?”

  “I think it’s Mary and Norman.”

  Sure enough, they’re either making out or performing upright CPR on each other.

  At least she’s getting kissed tonight.

  *

  We finally have to leave the party when Kendra throws up in a houseplant. She pulls Mary and me into the house when she starts feeling sick, but she’s too late.

  We scurry through the back door, and Kendra zooms around the house looking for a bathroom with no success. So she uses the next best thing, a three-foot-tall ficus standing innocently next to the back door, not bothering anyone. Being drunk and insecure and seventeen and thus not thinking rationally, Mary and I help Kendra sneak the plant out of the house, holding it in the middle of our huddle as we escape the party. We tuck it underneath a bush next to the fabulous goose.

  Seth runs over when he sees us shuffling near the gate. “You leaving?” he asks, his eyes crinkling at me again. He tells us to wait a minute. We stand there blocking the ficus, holding our noses against the stench of Kendra’s regurgitated beer and pretzels, as he retrieves Finley, Norman, and Andy.

  The seven of us take off for the dorm together, staggering down the road and into the garden behind Krause Hall and Yunker Hall. The classroom buildings sleep, resting after a long week of housing students and teachers. The gardens hum with crickets and rushing water from the stream. With the world in the throes of summer, the garden is lush and wild and fragrant. I’m a little tipsy and a lot giddy. I look good and I just slow danced with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. This moment is perfect. I’d bottle it if I could
.

  I’ve almost forgotten about Jack. Almost.

  Our group stops at the Persephone fountain, where Kendra and I let our Latin geek flags fly. “I am craving some pomegranate seeds right now,” she declares.

  “Meretrix.” I call her a whore out of love. “Tu es meretrix salax.” That means roughly, “You are a horny prostitute.” I’m putting my Latin knowledge to good use. My father would be so proud.

  “Why is she holding a penis?” Finley asks, staring at Persephone’s naked bosom.

  Kendra punctuates the conversation by ralphing all over the statue’s pedestal, covering Persephone’s story in brown and green chunks that nearly match the bronze statue above. Finley and Norman grab Kendra’s arms and the two of them plus Mary walk her quickly through the garden and back home.

  Seth, Andy, and I take a slower pace, walking in a line across the center aisle of the gardens, like Dorothy, the Scarecrow, and Toto, the stars and the moon lighting our path. The stars force Jack into my mind again, but Andy saves the day by doing a flip off the end of a bench like it’s a balance beam and doing a quick somersault in the grass. “I have to pee,” he announces and stumbles a few paces off the path and into the woods.

  I sit down on the bench from which Andy just dismounted and Seth plops down next to me. I lean back, tilting my head to the sky. “Say some stuff, Seth.”

  But he says nothing. I turn to look at Seth, who’s looking at me. Seth Banks is looking at me with those eyes, those beautiful eyes that are saying so many more things than most people’s mouths. I think about what Dana would do and what I want to do and how the alcohol has lowered my inhibitions. I consider the ramifications for just a second: If I do this now, at least I have an excuse.

  Then I do to Seth what I’ve been waiting forever for Jack to do, what I wanted Seth to do while we were out on the dance floor together. I lean over and kiss him, a chaste little kiss that lasts only a second, so quick it scarcely happened. I pull my mouth away and look Seth in the eyes again, asking for acceptance or permission, I’m not sure which. But this time, instead of his eyes answering me, his mouth does and his lips are on mine again, devouring me, our faces mashed together and our hands in each other’s hair. Kissing Seth is not like kissing Tromboner Dave. I’d keep kissing Seth for days if he’d let me.