One

by Mari Arden

  My head feels lighter, so light I'm afraid I'll drift away. When Nat catches my hand, I know I'm still grounded. She pulls me closer and when she jumps, I do too. Soon, I feel nothing. I'm a mass of air and hair, hovering close to the ground, but never quite touching it. We go up, up, up, and I'm not attached to my troubles anymore. I'm flying.

  CHAPTER 2

  There's a drum inside my head. Every time someone shouts the drumbeats become louder, more obnoxious. It doesn't feel heavy, but it's distracting.

  "What?" I ask again. I sway, and whomever I'm talking to, catches me.

  "Your hair is so rad. There's like peacock feathers in it." The man's voice is low and groggy.

  "Huh?" I touch my head. I don't feel any feathers.

  "Oh, man." He stops, gazing intently to somewhere over my hair. "They just changed colors! Dope!" I watch him watch me, unsure of what he's seeing.

  "That guy's stoned!" Nat shouts in my ear as he suddenly turns to walk away. I watch him walk into a wall. A feminine giggle escapes my lips. The sound is so foreign and high pitched, I try making it again, suddenly laughing hard when I realize it's possible to sound like a cackling middle-school girl after all. Nat's shaky laugh mingles with mine until we're both giggling uncontrollably.

  "You want to do something spontaneous?" I shake my head, but somehow it turns into a nod. Nat crouches forward, bending toward my chest. I watch her with a detached gaze, almost as if I'm outside of my body looking in. Her fingers are on my shirt, but her head is blocking what she's doing. When she looks up again, she smiles. "Ta da!" She sounds proud. Even my alcohol-ridden brain recognizes that, so I don't expect to see what I see when I look down.

  I blink several times because it takes many moments to register what she's done. The first five buttons of my white shirt are undone, and anyone with eyes can see the lace from my cream-colored bra poking through, almost glistening in the dim light. I gasp. "Nat!"

  "I'm sorry, Jules." She doesn't sound sorry at all. "But you were looking like an eighteenth- century school teacher or something with your buttons going all the way to your neck. Now you look cool and hip!" She burps when she says "hip" so it sounds like "bip", but eventually her words register in my head.

  "Nat!" I protest again.

  "You don't look as stern. Even your mouth is relaxed." She puts an arm around me. "Your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard…" she starts singing the song we were just dancing to, forcing my body to sway with hers as she continues her exaggerated dancing.

  With my shirt half , I feel less constrained. Nat blows air onto my face and I feel it travel to my chest, resting there before disappearing. I fan myself with the hem of my shirt, and the burst of air feels freeing. A second later, a layer of sweat and heat resettle over my body.

  "And they're like… it's better than yours…" Nat's still singing, but I only hear my own breath.

  I put an arm around her, bringing her close. "Outside. Need air!" She nods, and we make our way out, navigating through sweaty, wet bodies. Along the way someone grabs Nat's waist, and her laughter rings out like musical notes as she sidesteps him. It seems like an eternity, but we get to the foyer. People are milling about, moving in and out through the door. I dash toward the front entrance, gasping loudly when I feel the night breeze trickle over my skin. I straighten my spine and open my arms out, wishing my skin were a layer of holes to suck in air. The breeze isn't fresh; it's not what I'm used to growing up in the countryside, but right now, it tastes as sweet as pie.

  "This feels so nice," Nat groans from behind me. "It was like a sweat house back there." I nod in agreement, closing my eyes a little. Something pricks at my subconscious, trying to remind me of all the things I need to think about. Thoughts about Grandma and Braidon. Thoughts filled with red. Before the color can devour more of me I wave my hand out, pushing it away. Like dust, the thoughts scatter into little debris that my buzz eats up greedily. I sigh in relief.

  "What's going on down there?" Nat's voice drifts into my ears.

  My lids are still closed. "Hmm?"

  "Open your eyes and look below." I do as she says. She's a foot away from me, and moving further as she walks across to the edge. I almost trip following her, and the lightness in my head returns. It makes my body heavy though so I focus on putting one foot right after the other. I have a sudden thought I should walk in a straight line. Sober people walk in straight lines. I concentrate on doing that. My toes feel nimble, graceful even.

  "Nat!" I call out. "Watch. I'm walking in a straight line." I spread my arms out like I'm on a balance beam.

  She laughs, guffawing as she clutches her stomach. "That's not a straight line, you goose! You're walking diagonally. Over here!" She gestures to me. "Come over here!"

  You're mistaken, I want to say, but I watch my feet move and abruptly I realize I'm going sideways. "Oh no!" I look up with wide eyes. I'm two feet away from the edge of the hill. I'll fall down for sure. "I can't stop. My feet won't stop moving!" My voice carries all the panic I feel and for some reason that makes Nat laugh harder. There are tears in her eyes when her gaze meets mine.

  "Just tell your legs to stop."

  I look down at my moving feet. "Stop." I look back up. "They're not stopping!" Glancing sideways I estimate I'm a foot away from possibly falling and rolling downhill. The sounds of footsteps bring my gaze back to Nat as I watch her jog unsteadily to me. She clasps my elbows, breathing hard. Suddenly, my body is still.

  "Oh my gosh, Jules, that was so funny!" She's breathless with laughter. "'They're not stopping'" she mimics in a high voice as she continues to giggle. She wipes a tear from her face. "You just made me cry."

  "That wasn't funny," I say, but there's a smile on my face.

  "We need to get you buzzed every weekend. You're hilarious, woman."

  She folds her hands in mine and together we walk toward the edge to look below. There's a green expanse of flat land. It doesn't look very large especially with the crowd of people gathered below. Spectators have formed a circle around some men.

  "Let's go down." Nat tugs my hand.

  "We'll fall," I warn her.

  "Not if we roll." Why didn't I think of that? It makes sense.

  So we roll.

  I drop to my knees, falling to my side effortlessly. An image of an Egyptian mummy crosses my mind, and I fold my arms across my chest. Taking a deep breath, I squeeze my eyes shut and propel my body forward. The ground is softer than I imagined it would be. From this perspective the world is nothing but blue skies and green grass. It whips by so fast I only manage to gasp before the sky is gone and an emerald lawn greets my face. Suddenly, I wonder if Grandma is looking down on me. Is she smiling right now? She always wanted us to "stop and smell the flowers". We were never good at that although we tried. It's hard to stop when the world doesn't stop for you, when your next meal may never come if you aren't out there looking for it, working for it.

  My nose is squished against the ground, cracking the perfume of grass and soil until the odors drift into my nose like a pungent last breath. A strand of grass is pulled into my mouth and I start coughing, trying to get the sharp taste out, but the taste lingers no matter how determined I am to push it out. Abruptly, I laugh. Rolling down a hill with grass in my mouth isn't what Grandma had in mind, but maybe it's a start. That thought sends shivers of warmth through me, and I roll down with abandon, letting the rush of the moment wash over me.

  Soon, something hard stops me. I open one eye. A leg. Two legs. An unfamiliar face.

  A handsome face.

  He reaches down to help me up. His hands are long and big, and they fold over mine like a blanket. He's strong; he pulls me back on my feet swiftly as if I weigh no more than the blades of grass I'd just rolled over.

  I'm a little dizzy, but I manage not to sway as I look into his dark eyes. "Hi."

  "Hi." He waits for me to explain.

  "I was sledding on the grass."

  A pause. "I think that would require a sl
ed."

  "I'm the sled."

  "Hmm." A longer pause. "How much have you had to drink?"

  "Only a little." Somehow "a little" becomes "a widdle" in my mouth. I frown. I can't possibly be drunk- can I? "Where's Nat?" I suddenly ask.

  "I'm assuming you mean your other friend who was rolling with you?" I nod.

  "She managed to make it to the group." He stops to point, but my eyes don't leave his face. "You, on the other hand, almost went into the road. I saw you and came over to help." He grins, and his teeth are white like snow. "I don't want the headlines to read 'Girl rolls to her death, crushed between tires of car moving five miles an hour'."

  "That would not be good," I comment.

  "No," he agrees, deadpan. "It wouldn't."

  We stare at each other. My eyes aren't as focused as I would like them to be, but I see a mass of dark hair and dark eyes. He's so tall I have to lean all the way up to see his face. I glance down.

  "You're naked," I blurt.

  "Not quite." He sounds amused. "It's hot so I took off my shirt." It's his turn to glance down. "Your blouse is undone." He says it so casually I don't feel embarrassed.

  "Yes."

  He says something to me, but I don't quite register it because I notice his mouth has a nice shape to it. Full, like a present.

  "Hmm?"

  "I said, are you a freshman? I've never seen you before."

  "I am," I confirm. "I'm here with Nat. She's a sophomore. She transferred here from New York. She's fun. Spontaneous," I add. "It's a night of spontaneity for me." I'm babbling. I seem to have lost an important component in my brain that filters thoughts before I say them. It's disappeared and anything that comes to mind bursts out like a waterfall.

  "Spontaneity, eh?" He smiles slowly, like an old light bulb flickering to life. His long fingers rub his chin, and my mind takes a picture of that moment; that glimmer of amusement attracting my gaze like a magnet. I think I'd color his eyes with silver. I'd draw his smile faintly, making it disappear underneath the brightness of his eyes. They wouldn't be the windows to his soul. I'd make his gaze a beacon; a reminder of how a smile reaches every part of you.

  "Would you like to do something… crazy?"

  No. Old habits die hard, but I remember what it felt like as the alcohol burned a path down my throat. The sting brings me to life. "Yes."

  "Come with me." He sees the look on my face, and laughs, smirking a little. "I won't hurt you, I promise. If I do, you can scream, and a hundred people will hear you. Come on," he gestures ahead. He doesn't touch me, but I feel an invisible rope of consent between us. I let it pull me forward. I follow his steps like a shadow. We're approaching a crowd, the same crowd I'd seen standing on the hill. Boisterous laughter booms out, husky and loud like bass drums. Many bodies are standing together even though there is room further out. I imagine being on an airplane and seeing them from the sky. They're in a circle, tight and grouped together like a donut ring.

  A hand grabs me. "There you are!" Nat gasps, stopping me from going further in. I see his back disappear into the throng of people. Nat tugs at me again. "I was looking for you. I was afraid you hadn't made it down, and I would have to climb that hill in my four- inch heels." That would be a sight to see. I grin. "Your shirt's a mess," she continues, looking down. She pulls something from my chest. "Grass." She shows me a long blade of grass, and makes a face, throwing it to the ground. "That would never happen to me." She points to her own chest, sighing. "I'm flat as a board. Nothing could get stuck in my cleavage, not even if I paid it."

  I pat her shoulder awkwardly. I've never thought of my chest as an asset before. Braidon's gaze traveled over them more than once, but he was different. I was a math equation he couldn't figure out, an experiment he tried to learn more about. Love and relationships aren't logical. Attraction isn't something that can be forced. We both had our reasons for trying. None of it was innocent. None of it was selfless.

  As usual, thoughts of my past send weariness through my heart. I'd come to this place to start again. I'd come to this place to learn to live. I didn't come to regret.

  I didn't come to remember.

  An ear-splitting cheer erupts from around us. Clapping followed by roars of approval is heard. This continues for several moments as Nat and I glance around, trying to figure out what's going on. Finally, someone whistles, and the sharpness pierces the night, silencing the clapping. Nat tugs at the sleeve near my elbow, waving to indicate we'll be going through the crowd. All I see is male flesh, but it doesn't deter Nat. She pushes onward like a soldier. Nat sees a little space between and she slips between it, murmuring, "Excuse us." Someone looks over his shoulder, surprised. He does a double take, and his gaze travels up and down. I see her straighten, pushing her chest out. Maybe he thinks it's an invitation because he grins attempting to grab her. I look straight ahead in case he thinks I'm trying to play, too. I ignore his gaze even though I'm sure I feel the heat of it on my neck.

  Nat drags me through whatever human crevices we find, slipping between bodies and underneath a couple of foul smelling arms. I cover my nose, wondering if I'm going to faint. The dizziness has tripled, like I'm on a seesaw, rocking back and forth. The sea of bodies catches me so I don't fall. When we get to the front, she gasps. I follow her line of vision.

  Oh.

  Oh my.

  CHAPTER 3

  There's a girl riding a boy.

  Actually, there are two.

  Correction: there are many girls riding many boys.

  At first, I see nothing but flesh. Tan and pale, dark and light. It's an explosion of muted colors. The colors shift, moving, slow and graceful, like a snake uncoiling. I grab Nat's shoulder to steady myself. Blinking once, twice, I finally make out what's before me. Something is happening where girls are riding the backs of men like they're horses; and the men are doing push- ups as if they're in military camp. I see bikinis and short shorts on the girls, and for a brief moment, I think we're on a beach, and the men are living mounds of sand.

  I hear shouts of encouragement; at least I think that's what "ride that bull, lady" is meant to be. It could be something derogatory, but there's so much giggling it can't be an insult. Something catches my attention and I notice a man in a referee shirt. He's wearing orange board shorts though. A part of me realizes the combination of black and white stripes with bright orange flames don't go well together, but there's a haze covering my eyes and I think it may not be so bad after all; especially not against the backdrop of a dark night sky. I name him "Ref" in my mind, and watch him walk the perimeter of the circle, slapping a few bottoms. He whistles two, three times and the people in the middle move away, leaving space for one lone man. He's sitting casually on his knees. His shirt is off, and his nipples are pierced. The metal rings glint against the array of tattoos across his chest. I can't make out what they are.

  "It's down to two. Cade," he gestures to the tattooed, nipple pierced man, "is up first. Remember, this is all for charity," Ref says with a southern drawl. He draws out the words, making sure everyone hears. "We're giving back to the community, y’all." Someone snickers.

  "Strip poker!" A voice from the crowd shouts.

  Ref chuckles, looking toward us. "We tried that last year, remember? Almost got arrested. Turns out there's a law against public nudity after all." He raises his hands in surrender. "Something about 'unsuitable for children'." He smirks, and the crowd follows suit, booing. "I don't know why there would be children on a campus for eighteen and older, but a law is a law, and we need to abide by them. So, push- ups with half naked people it is."

  The crowd cheers. They sound happy- sloppy, hysterical happy. It's contagious. I smile.

  "In the old days, men in Rome proved their worth by fighting to the death in a dome for thousands of spectators. Now we throw a ball around instead of a sword, but the crowds are still here watching, still cheering for us to squash our opponents. The UW-Madison Badgers would like to thank y’all for your continued
support, for your bloodthirsty cheers, and for your mother fucking victory parties!" he shouts and instantly the chants start.

  "Mad town, Mad town, Mad town…"

  "Another victory, another step closer to the goal baby!" Ref continues, pounding his fist in the air. A series of grunts follows, and I listen to them, suddenly reminded of a colony of apes taking over the world, grunting with the same gusto.

  I laugh and Nat elbows me. "What's so funny?"

  "Planet of the Apes," I reply. She gives me a blank look. "They sound like apes." Couldn't she hear it?

  Nat sighs, smiling dreamily. "Isn't it beautiful?"

  My eyes go round. "If you like that sort of thing."

  "Oh, I do," she breathes. "There's nothing like a man who goes all ape shit in the sack for you, trust me."

  In the real world, I'd be shocked. In the real world I might blush, and maybe mutter a stammered reply. But in this world, where down is up and up is up; where my mind feels lighter than air; where the night seems as endless as a star; in this world, I'm not embarrassed.

  I'm intrigued.

  "Do you see that man right there?" Nat points to the tattooed man with the nipple piercing next to Ref. "His name is Cade, and he's a wide receiver. He and Pax are the stars of our football team. They pretty much defeated Alabama single-handedly last year," she explains. "They're also number ten and twelve on Sport's Illustrated's One Hundred Sexiest Men In Sports, College Edition. It's their last year playing," she continues. "And rumor has it they're not going pro." Her eyes are wide, dramatically hurt looking. "All that talent, Jules!" she almost snaps when I look blankly at her. "And they're going to waste it away on some sort of nine-to-five job. A shame." She shakes her head, and turns back. I absorb the information and vaguely wonder if I'll still remember it tomorrow.

  Ref is calming the crowd down, making shushing motions with his fingers. The energy is rumbling. I feel restless, too. "This is all for people who've fallen on hard times, y'all. Every smile, cent, and dollar given is meant for them. Let's be generous. Let's be supportive. Let's live life to the fullest. Let's make this night one to remember!" I'm clapping, cheering as wildly as the rest of the crowd. I'm riding a wave, and I'm at the peak right now. I'm on a crest, a pinnacle with no way to come down.