Alive

by Chandler Baker

  Outside, mist covers the windshield as we drive. It’s not raining, but the tiny droplets hit the front of the car like someone has spritzed it with a giant bottle of Windex. I imagine it’ll wreak havoc on my hair before the night’s over.

  “So,” I start, slapping my palms to my thighs. “Your first Duwamish High party. Are you ready?”

  Levi smirks, but behind it there are shadows forming underneath his eyes. “Can’t be that different than other high school parties, can it?”

  “Probably not. Red cups, sticky floors, ill-advised attempts at keg stands. You get the gist. What was your old high school like, anyway?”

  Levi drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “You know, it’s weird. I can barely remember. It was…” His face scrunches up and he gazes off down the road.

  “Levi.” I laugh. “It’s been, like, five seconds since you left.”

  He huffs quietly. “I know. I guess. I mean, I didn’t come straight here. Straight to Duwamish, you know. There was a little…break.”

  “There was?”

  He nods. “Yeah, but before that, I don’t know. I mostly hung out with my best friend, Dan, I guess. I’d play guitar and he’d play the drums. We used to jam in his garage and drink beers from his dad’s icebox.”

  “Will you play guitar for me sometime?” I clasp my hands together, begging.

  “If you’re good. I’ll warn you, though, that I sing better than I play guitar. But I love guitar more.”

  “Why don’t you play anymore?”

  “Maybe I will. One day. One last time at least. I don’t know.” One thing about Levi is he has a tendency toward the melodramatic. One moment he’s all sparkly eyed and flirtatious, then the next he’s spinning off into the philosophical, going on about firsts and lasts and the end of the world as we know it. It’s all very exciting when each conversation seems to take on a meaningful weight that I don’t experience with any of my other friends, but sometimes it can be hard to keep up.

  “Will you sing for me then?” I brighten.

  He rolls his chin toward me and peers up through his eyelashes. “I have sung for you, Cross.”

  I think back to the Action Hero Disco concert and the first restless flutters in my chest before he put his hand on my leg. “Yeah, but that didn’t count.

  “Well, the night is young. And maybe”—he reaches over to take my hand and I swear I could melt into the seat right there—“we’ll get a moment alone later.” There’s a warmth in his ordinarily cool eyes, and I feel the heat in my cheeks return it tenfold as I smile.

  I try to look unfazed, but I had already searched whether it’s safe for a recent transplant patient like me to engage in sexual intercourse. Oh God, I sound like my mother. Engage in sexual intercourse. Sex, Stella. It’s called sex.

  I comb my hair with my fingers, flipping down the overhead mirror, so as to look busy and not preoccupied with the previously mentioned alone time.

  It’s as if my life has been divided into two halves. Before and after. Darkness and light. No Levi and Levi. Simple as that. I sink into the seat, relishing the quiet in my heart. For a girl for whom pain is a constant, the lack of it comes with its own distinct feeling—relief.

  When we pull up to Mitchell Boerne’s house, I know we’ve timed our arrival right. The bass is thumping in the air outside of the house and I can see a whole mess of kids through the window. A beer-pong table is set up next to the garage below a rusted basketball hoop, and a few of the guys from the swim team are tossing Ping-Pong balls and guzzling booze.

  Mitchell’s house is in a big subdivision where each home is spread out a half acre from the next one. The two-story mansion backs up to a field full of Douglas firs and a man-made lake that I can just make out from the car, where the crescent moon glints off the water. His parents had to be either totally oblivious or clinically insane to leave him home alone here for a weekend. Have they never seen a teen movie before?

  Now that we’re here, my knee bounces involuntarily and my palms sweat. I forgot about the pre-party jitters. It’s not that I’m nervous. Not exactly. But the truth is, I don’t know a ton of people. At least not well. Since I’ve been in and out of school for a couple years, I’m not past the small-talk stage with many people other than Henry, Brynn, and now Lydia. And one of those people isn’t even speaking to me.

  Not that I can unravel whose fault that is anymore, mine or his.

  I pull out my phone and text Brynn. U here?

  Brynn knows everyone from cross-country and so does Lydia. I’d never admit it, but it bothers me that Brynn has other friends besides our small group, and I don’t. God, that sounds selfish.

  My phone buzzes. “Brynn’s in the kitchen,” I relay to Levi.

  The muscles in my shoulders relax and I climb out of the car, boots sinking into the soft ground. Mist clings to my hair as I wait for Levi to come around the other side.

  We find Brynn sitting on a marble kitchen counter, taking sips of something clear out of a shot glass.

  “I think you’re supposed to take that all at once,” I say, poking her in the arm.

  “Stella!” Brynn squeals. “You made it!” Her eyelids are droopy and her nose is red. “And you brought Levi!” She reaches her arms out wide and Levi hesitantly leans in for a hug.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “You’re drunk,” I tell her.

  “So?”

  I crack my knuckles, not wanting to look her in the eye. Why should I care if she’s been drinking without me?

  “Stella.” Her face is blank for a moment before a lopsided grin stretches over it. “I’m only a little drunk. Swear.” She holds her pinky out for me to take and I do, hooking my finger around hers like we’d done so many times before. Meanwhile, I try to shove down the hurt of being left out of her life and of life in general once more.

  As if sensing my mood, Levi’s at my elbow with a red cup full of beer. “Here you go. Cheers.” He holds up a plastic cup for me as he takes a swig.

  I stare at it. “I’d rather have what she’s having.” I point at Brynn’s shot glass. He lifts his eyebrows but doesn’t object and instead pulls a University of Washington shot glass off the counter.

  I down the vodka in one gulp. It scorches my throat on the way down and I start to choke.

  “Stella Cross, ladies and gentlemen!” Brynn whoops and cheers for me.

  I smile, wiping my mouth. Take that, Old Stella. Levi slaps me on the back until my eyes quit watering. I take the beer back from him and take a long sip to hide my embarrassment.

  “Soo. Are you two going to…” She smacks the heels of her hands together. “You know—is tonight the night?”

  “Brynn!” I yell, nearly dropping my own cup. “Don’t be such a bitch!”

  As if in slow motion, Brynn covers her mouth with her hand. “My bad.” She slurs. “I just thought—”

  I can’t look Levi in the eye.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” he asks Brynn smoothly.

  Brynn’s nose wrinkles and she cocks her head at Levi. “Boyfriend?” We share a look. I’m still mortified by what she said, but I’m also confused now. I have no idea what Levi’s talking about. Last time I checked, Brynn had almost had sex with Davis Briggs after Homecoming, but she’d stopped short because she said Davis kissed like a gorilla and she didn’t want her first time to be someone who reminded her of an ape. I’m pretty sure Brynn just chickened out, but the gorilla-kissing thing stuck with poor Davis and I don’t think he’s had a date since. In any event, that hardly qualifies as boyfriend material. I can’t imagine Brynn having the patience for one.

  “Yeah, what’s his name?” Levi snaps his fingers. “Henry, is it?”

  I playfully shove Levi’s shoulder. “Come on, you know who Henry is.” And, I add silently, you know he’s not Brynn’s boyfriend.

  “Henry?” Brynn hesitates. “Trust me, he’s not my boyfriend.” She gives me a meaningful look, because he was supposed to be mine.

/>   I tug at the sleeve of Levi’s T-shirt until he bends down so I can whisper in his ear. “What was that?” I ask, annoyed.

  Levi winks at me. “Just thought maybe I could plant a seed, that’s all. You don’t mind. Do you?” He ruffles the hair on top of my head. I look off to the side to hide how much I mind. He pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger and brings his face closer to mine. “Do you?” he asks again.

  “No.” I pull away. “Of course not.” I know then that this isn’t Levi playing the clueless boyfriend. This thing about Henry…He’s testing me.

  He kisses my cheek. “Good girl,” he says, squeezing me to his side. A test I’ve passed apparently, at least according to his rules.

  Lydia comes over and gives me a hug. She’s dressed up in a jean skirt and a long-sleeved red shirt. Her hair’s been pressed into a bun to reveal gold chandelier earrings and, unlike Brynn’s, her eyes are bright and clear. “Have you ever been out here?”

  “First time,” Levi and I say at once.

  Lydia lifts an eyebrow. “Have you all seen Henry? He said he’d be here by eleven.”

  “Weird. We were just talking about him.” Levi nudges me again.

  I ignore him, wishing he would just drop it. “No.” I shrug. “We just got here.”

  She looks over her shoulder at the front door and flips her hair.

  “Hey.” I turn to Levi. His eyes are sparkling at the mention of Henry’s name again. It’s like he thinks we’re in on a joke together, only I don’t think it’s funny. “I’ve, uh, got to run to the restroom. Can you wait here for a sec?” I feel bad leaving him unattended at a party where he barely knows anyone, but I need to regroup.

  I know, I know, people are always saying communication is the key to any good relationship, but when it’s an hour before a guy is supposed to see you au naturel for the first time ever, there has to be some sort of exception.

  “I think I can manage.” He looks adorable, as usual, and it’s easy to forget, without even trying, that he had just been poking at me about Henry two seconds earlier.

  “I’m sure you can,” I say.

  “Thanks.” He kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll be right here.”

  I take an educated guess that the closest, least occupied bathroom will be upstairs and start threading my way through the throng of people. There are a handful of unfamiliar faces—kids from other schools, I guess.

  Someone sloshes beer on me, leaving a big wet spot on my pant leg. Fantastic. I’m close to the speakers now, which are situated by the couch in the living room. A new song starts up. Loud. A rap song I’ve never heard, and it vibrates through my chest.

  There’s a line that reaches partway down the top of the stairs and I climb to meet the back of it. So much for thinking I was two steps ahead of everyone else. I tap my foot while I wait impatiently. I knew I should have gone before.

  It takes at least fifteen minutes until it’s my turn. Rachel Cami opens up the door and I dart inside, where I find a hair dryer and manage to shrink the spot on my pants to the point it doesn’t look like I had an accident.

  When I’m finished, I examine my reflection, wishing I’d stuffed a tube of Chap Stick in my back pocket. “You’re fine,” I tell myself. “You and Levi are fine.”

  I use the tips of my fingers to tousle my hair, then flip it upside down and back over to give it some volume. “Better.”

  There’s pounding on the door. “Are two people in there? Because some of us have to go!” I shrink, having forgotten that people may be able to hear me.

  “Coming!” I finish up and hurry downstairs. I’m almost in the kitchen when there’s a tap on my shoulder. Whirling around, I’m met with a skinny frame and a baby-blue polo. My eyes travel up to meet Henry’s.

  “Hey.” He shifts his weight on his feet. We haven’t spoken since our fight. I’m not sure if I’m mad or if I feel sorry or what. It’s complicated. There’s too much left unsaid.

  “Hey,” I repeat, avoiding his eyes. Craning my neck, I look into the kitchen, but there’s no sign of Levi.

  Henry sighs. “Okay then.” His hands get shoved in his pockets. “Look, I, uh…I don’t want things to be weird. You know, between us.”

  “They’re not.” I cross my arms.

  “Right.”

  I can’t help it. I look for Levi again and spot him through the back door talking to Tess. An involuntary quiver passes through me. The rational part of me knows that whatever I saw or didn’t see was nothing more than my brain playing tricks, but I can’t look at her without imagining that spot at the top of her head crowned in blood. And even still, the fact that he’s talking to her after she’d been such an asshole to me feels suspiciously like betrayal.

  But he’s right there, I tell myself, returning my attention to Henry. Don’t jump to conclusions.

  I see Henry take note. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment longer than a blink. “I know you’re mad at me, Stella, and I can’t stand it, okay? Seriously, it’s eating at me. So can we just forget I said anything? I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s none of my business.” He rubs at his forehead with the back of his hand.

  I soften. I wasn’t expecting an apology. I’m not even sure I deserve one. “Fine. I’m sorry, too. About—”

  Henry shakes his head. “No need to relive that. Thanks, though. Anyway, I thought you and—”

  “Levi,” I supply.

  “Right. I thought you guys would have been officially stitched together by now.”

  “Hilarious. I was actually going to head back to him right now.” A piece of me feels guilty for being in such a hurry. Henry’s right. The two of us are practically joined at the hip. “I, um, I think Lydia was looking for you, though,” I say.

  Only a brief flash of disappointment registers on Henry’s face when I drop him off at the kitchen and step out onto the deck, but there’s no sign of Levi or Tess. A dozen or so of my classmates are standing outside, drinking and smoking cigarettes. I ask a girl if she’s seen Levi and she tells me he was here a minute ago.

  The throb in my chest suddenly radiates pain. I duck back inside and ask Lydia if she’s seen Levi.

  “Not in a bit. He went to get something to drink, I think. I don’t know, sorry.” She goes back to talking to Henry, who only offers me one more fleeting glance, but he’s shut back down at the mention of Levi.

  Trying to stay calm, I walk through the house, checking every face, looking for Levi. The living room, the basement, outside where the guys are playing beer pong. He’s nowhere.

  With leaden steps, I trudge up the stairs to the second story, past the line of girls waiting for the restroom. Don’t freak out, Stella, I tell myself, but it doesn’t do much good. My mind races ahead of me and the raw spot in my chest has opened up into a roaring cavern of pain. Huffing, I make it to the top of the staircase and turn left down a dark hallway.

  The carpet mutes the sound of my footsteps. I pass an open room and poke my head inside. A ray of moonlight slices through the empty study, casting a silvery glow over a heavy, claw-footed desk and towering bookshelves. A rocking chair teeters unoccupied in the corner next to the window.

  With no Levi in sight, I move on. Mitchell would probably kill me if he caught me up here. As I pad down the hallway, I stop at the sound of a giggle escaping from behind a closed door.

  I step back a few paces and stare at the door. Another squeal. Eyes wide, I press my ear to the door and listen. There’s the sound of muffled rustling. A few grunts. The creak of a bed. My nails dig into my palm. There’s a guy’s voice. I can’t make out the words. They’re soft, dampened by the wood between us.

  The pieces fall into place, tearing into me like plummeting shards of glass. It’s him. It has to be him. Where else would he have gone? Without thinking any further, I shove open the door.

  One shadowy figure lurches out of bed, pulling the comforter as he goes, while the other sits up pin straight. “Stella?”

  My eyes adj
ust as what little light the hallway contains floods into the bedroom. “Brynn?” Her eyes shine in the darkness. Her hair is ratted and her arms are wrapped protectively over her exposed top.

  “What are you doing here?”

  My mouth works, struggling to produce words. “I was looking—I thought—”

  There’s a rustling of fabric and then Brynn crawls out of the bed wrapped in a sheet. Another figure moves in the background. “Stay there, Connor,” she snaps.

  Brynn shuffles toward me. She gives me a quick once-over and seems to assess me as the crazy one, even though she’s standing there undressed. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  “I can’t find him. I can’t find him anywhere.”

  “Who? Levi?”

  I try to leave, eager to return to my search, but she catches my elbow. “Stella,” she says seriously, “get a grip. You’re going overboard.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little obsessive?”

  “Shut up, Brynn.”

  “No, Stel. Look at you. You’re crying.” I hadn’t even noticed. “You think this is normal?”

  “Shut up,” I repeat.

  “I’m sorry, but I—”

  “You’re jealous. Excuse me for having something that doesn’t involve you.” I say this without thinking. Like my mouth has a mind of its own and I’m only along for the ride. I push every inch of pain out and try to inflict it on anybody else but me. “Admit it. You can’t handle it.”

  “I can’t handle it?” she hisses. “Do I look like the one not handling things?”

  “Let go of me.” I wrench my arm free. She stares at me, openmouthed.

  “Stel, stop. This isn’t you.” She hikes up the sheets and follows me. “He’s not worth this.”

  At the stairs, she stops trailing me, peering down at the partygoers with still nothing on but the Boernes’ bedding. I turn back to her. The pain in my chest flares. “How would you know? If you’re such a relationship expert, how come you’ve never been in one?” My stomach begins to ferment in a sticky, swampy consistency that makes me feel as if I’m about to hurl.