These Things I’ve Done

by Rebecca Phillips

  My stomach prickled with unease, but I smiled through it. “Already tried that. I think I’ll stick with Coke.”

  He blinked at me for a moment before running a hand over his face. “You’re so fucking distracting,” he mumbled.

  My heart thumped in my chest, so hard I wondered if he could hear it. What did he mean? What did I distract him from? Aubrey? The thought made me so uncomfortable that I turned away from him, facing the fridge instead. The can of Coke in my hand was still half full, but I grabbed the fridge handle anyway, pretending to need a fresh one. But I didn’t get that far, because before I could pull open the door, Justin was right behind me, his chest inches from my back.

  “It’s not all in my head,” he said, his beer breath rustling my hair. “I see the way you look at me.”

  My legs wobbled, and for a moment it felt like my grip on the door handle was the only thing keeping me upright. Justin was drunk, so drunk, and it was clouding his judgment, lowering his inhibitions. That was all. In the morning he wouldn’t even remember saying these things to me, and I’d never remind him. I’d walk away now and pretend it never happened.

  “Justin . . . stop. Please.” I let go of the fridge and started to turn, pushing against him with my shoulder so he’d move back, give me some room. But he didn’t. Instead he pressed closer, running his hand along my hair and then down my bare arm, his fingertips grazing the side of my breast.

  I gasped at the contact, and my Coke slipped from my hand and dropped to the concrete floor, sending sticky brown droplets flying. The noise snapped Justin out of whatever had possessed him and he backed away, allowing me to slip out from between him and the fridge.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I hissed at him, but he wasn’t even looking at me. He was looking past me, his gaze focused on something beyond my right shoulder. I spun around to see what had caught his attention and came face-to-face with Ethan.

  He was standing just outside the doorway, his face red with either anger or embarrassment. Maybe both. I wondered how much he’d seen, how much he’d heard, and my face flamed to match his.

  Justin glanced at me once, his eyes foggy and confused. “Sorry,” he muttered. Then he left without another word, brushing past Ethan like he was a decorative plant, no threat at all. Ethan glared after him for a moment before turning back to me, his expression softening.

  “Are you okay?”

  I opened my mouth to say yes, but nothing came out. My legs felt like someone had replaced my bones with cooked spaghetti, and I stumbled over to the chest freezer, lowering my body until I was sitting on the dirty floor in front of it. The coolness of the freezer seeped through my shirt, making me shiver.

  Ethan walked over to the fridge, stepping over the spilled Coke on the way, and got me a fresh can. He handed it to me before sinking down beside me on the floor.

  “What do you need?” he asked, his gaze skimming over me like he was checking for injuries. “Should I go find Aubrey?”

  “No,” I said quickly. He raised his eyebrows at my tone. “I mean, not right now. I don’t want her to know about this yet.”

  “Seriously? He was touching you and you were telling him to stop. Aubrey will understand that it wasn’t your fault.”

  I wasn’t so sure. If Justin had noticed the way I looked at him, maybe Aubrey had too. What if she blamed me? What if she uncovered the deep, hidden place in my heart where I’d locked away every smile, every word, every secret desire I’d ever felt for the boy she loved?

  I concentrated on the can in my hand, forcing back tears. “What he said wasn’t entirely off base, okay? The way I felt about him wasn’t all in his head. You know that. You’re observant.”

  “So? He still had no right to touch you.” He shifted closer and lowered his voice. “I hope you don’t think you asked for that.”

  Deep down I knew Ethan was right, but another part of me—the part that was still in shock—insisted on downplaying the situation. “He had a lot to drink. People do stupid things when they’re drunk. Things they don’t mean.”

  “Why are you defending him? Drunk or not, he’s still an asshole. I should’ve smashed his teeth in when I had the chance.”

  “Ethan,” I said, shocked. He’d never hit someone in his life. When did he get so bloodthirsty? “Please, just . . . let me handle this on my own. I want to give Justin a chance to explain himself before I tell Aubrey about this. Okay?”

  “If he even remembers in the morning,” he muttered. He let out a noisy breath and tipped his head back against the freezer. “So, what, we’re supposed to walk out of here and pretend like nothing happened?”

  “Just until I figure this out.” I gripped his knee. “Please, Ethan. Do this for me.”

  He stared at me, unblinking, a mix of uncertainty and anger simmering in his eyes. After a few moments, he swallowed and looked away, toward the sticky brown stain on the floor.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll stay out of it.” He slid his foot over, resting it against mine. “For you.”

  nineteen

  Senior Year

  LUNCHTIME HAS BECOME SOMETHING THAT I count on. With the exception of Subway Fridays, Ethan and his friends spend the hour either hanging out in the science wing near Hunter’s locker or—on nice days—in the parking lot by Ethan’s car. They never go to the cafeteria, and since the first day I tagged along with them to Subway, I started avoiding the cafeteria too, opting instead to hang out with them. Every day, Noelle meets me at my locker and then the two of us head to wherever the guys are waiting. I like the consistency of it, the routine. It’s comforting to have something to look forward to each day. To have friends in my life again.

  Today, though, the usual lighthearted atmosphere feels subdued. Ethan barely touches his lunch, and his leg jiggles like my mother’s does when she’s had way too much coffee.

  “You okay?” I ask softly. We’re in the science wing today, and he’s sitting next to me on the floor across from the lockers. I can almost feel the tension radiating from his body.

  He stops fidgeting and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m fine.”

  Across from us, Hunter swallows a mouthful of sandwich and says, “Stage fright.”

  Surprised, I look at Ethan again. Tomorrow night is the band showcase at the community center, and through all these weekends of practice, he’s never once expressed any apprehension about it. Seeing him like this is a relief, in a way. He may seem confident on the outside now, but inside he’s still the same Ethan who used to get nervous before orchestra concerts.

  “Are you like this every time?” I ask him.

  “He barfed for three days before our last show,” Hunter says, smiling. Noelle, who’s sitting next to him eating some kind of pasta from a thermos, reaches over to smack his arm.

  “I’m fine,” Ethan says again, like a mantra.

  We all slide our legs in as a group of people approach. One of them, a guy named Seth who’s in my Global Geography class, looks at Ethan and me and raises his eyebrows. This isn’t anything new—people sometimes take notice when Ethan and I hang out at school, probably because the sight of us together is so unexpected—but Seth is known for being a bit of a loudmouth. Ethan watches him warily, unfolding his arms and placing his hands on the floor like he’s preparing to jump up if Seth says one word. But he walks by without comment, and Ethan relaxes somewhat, his warm arm brushing against mine. Goose bumps rise on my skin. I rub my arms, telling myself it’s just chilly in here.

  “Don’t worry about tomorrow night,” Noelle says, picking the conversation back up without missing a beat. “We’ll all be there for moral support. Right, Dara?”

  I stop rubbing. “What?”

  “You are coming, right? You’ve been sitting in on practices for weeks now. You owe it to the band to be there.”

  “I do?”

  Going to their show isn’t something I planned on doing. Realm isn’t even scheduled to go on until eight forty-five or something, and I don’t go
out at night anymore. Also, I don’t do crowds. They never used to bother me, but now they make me feel claustrophobic, panicky. What if I had an anxiety attack in front of everyone?

  I glance at Ethan and he smiles shakily at me, his face pale. Maybe I do owe it to them, or at least to him.

  “I’ll have to think of something to tell my parents,” I say, giving in.

  Noelle grins. “Do I need to show off my freckles again?”

  I shake my head. Dealing with my parents is something I need to figure out for myself.

  The next night, I wait until the very last minute to announce that I’m going out. This time, it’s only my father I have to get through. Mom left at five thirty to meet her girlfriends for dinner and a movie.

  Once I’m ready, I head downstairs and stand in the entrance to the living room, where Dad and Tobias are watching one of the Star Wars movies. “I’m going out with Noelle,” I say. “I’ll be home by midnight.”

  Dad tears his gaze away from the TV and looks at me, not quite meeting my eyes. Two weeks have passed since the fight with my parents, and my father and I have barely interacted since. “Where are you going?”

  “The community center.” Points for honesty. “There’s an all-ages show.”

  Dad’s gaze slides back to the TV. “And your mother knows?”

  “No,” I say, moving away from the doorway. “But you can update her when she gets home.”

  Before he can say anything more, I make a break for the door and step outside. The air is crisp and cold and smells like snow, even though we haven’t gotten any yet. The slight breeze seeps through my thin jacket as I walk to the end of the street, where Noelle has promised to pick me up. She’s there already, sitting behind the wheel of her mom’s red Toyota. Julia is in the passenger seat, so I climb in back.

  “Oooh, I like your hair,” Noelle says when she sees me. Julia, of course, is texting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without her phone in her hand. I’m not even sure what color her eyes are, because she never looks up.

  “Thanks.” My hair does look better since I got it trimmed and started conditioning again. Earlier, I flat-ironed it until the strands hung down in a smooth sheet. “Where’s Lacey?” I ask as we pull away from the curb.

  Julia snickers, the first sound I’ve heard from her since I got in the car.

  “Ethan broke up with her,” Noelle says, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “About a week ago.”

  “Really?” I say, shifting in my seat. Lacey wasn’t at band practice last weekend, but aside from that, nothing seemed amiss. Ethan hasn’t been acting brokenhearted or depressed. In fact, he didn’t mention her even once this week. Not to me, anyway. Then again, he’s been acting sort of cagey around me since he hugged me in his car. “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah.” She watches me for a moment before returning her focus to the road.

  The community center is near the middle school, and luckily we don’t need to take Fulham Road to get there. When we arrive, the parking lot is full and I can already hear the distant thump of music coming from inside. It gets louder as we approach.

  I stick close to Noelle and Julia as we pay admission and go inside. The place is teeming with people, mostly teenagers, but I see a few who look college-age. At the far end of the room, dozens of bodies surround a small stage, which is currently in use by a band that sounds part metal, part operatic. The sheer volume coming from the speakers makes my eardrums quiver, and I know I’m in for at least a day of hearing loss after this.

  “I just texted Corey,” Julia yells over the music as we wind through the mob. “They’re in the back room next to the bathrooms.”

  The three of us crane our necks, searching for a bathroom sign. Noelle spots it first and veers left, motioning for us to follow. I try to keep up while simultaneously doing everything humanly possible not to bump into people. It isn’t easy. My stomach tightens with rising panic.

  Several minutes later, the crowd spits us out into a long, dimly lit hallway. The bathrooms are clearly marked but the “back room” isn’t, so we keep going, following the sound of voices to the only open door. As soon as we step in the room, the knot in my stomach loosens. This area is busy too, but unlike the frenzied crowd we just came from, the vibe in here is definitely quieter and more relaxed. It’s like some sort of holding room—bands waiting their turn onstage, lounging around on plastic chairs and tuning unplugged guitars.

  Julia and Noelle head straight for their boyfriends, who are across the room talking to another band. Kel is nowhere to be found, which doesn’t surprise me, because he’s always disappearing and keeping the other guys waiting. But I stop wondering about Kel and his whereabouts the moment my gaze lands on Ethan.

  He’s slouched in one of the plastic chairs near the corner of the room, one foot propped on another chair in front of him. His guitar rests against his stomach, but he’s not strumming or tuning like everyone else. He looks relaxed and peaceful and infinitely less nervous than he’d been since yesterday.

  I make my way over and claim the chair next to his. “How’s it going?” I ask, giving him a quick once-over. His face has regained some color, and he’s no longer fidgeting.

  “Better now,” he says, still smiling.

  “Why? Did Hunter slip you some tranquilizers?”

  Before he can answer, Kel plunks down in the chair on my other side and says, “Nope, not tranquilizers. Beer. We all slammed a few in the parking lot about an hour ago.”

  I turn to stare Ethan down. So that’s why he’s so calm. I want to ask him how much he drank, but that would make me seem mother-hen-like, so I resist. I’m not his big sister and I don’t want to be.

  “Two,” he says. “I only had two.”

  I shrug like it’s none of my business how many beers he slams in the parking lot. His eyes flick to Kel’s arm, which rests on the back of my chair. He’s not touching me, thankfully, but I can feel the heat of his skin on my back. It’s not entirely unpleasant, but I still don’t want him touching me.

  A chubby guy with greasy red hair and a clipboard in his hand appears in the doorway. “Realm,” he barks. “You’re up next. Ten minutes.”

  Ethan drops his foot from the chair and sits up straight, his face going white again. Two beers only go so far. My fingers itch to touch him, to squeeze his hand, to do something to let him know he’ll be okay, but all I can do is catch his eye and smile. He smiles back tremulously and stands up to join the rest of the band. They all walk out together, and Noelle, Julia, and I follow close behind.

  For some reason, I expect it to be like a real concert, with the band walking out onstage and playing with barely a pause in between. But high school bands don’t have roadies and sound guys, so it takes several minutes for them to adjust their sound before they can start. When they finally do, it’s even louder than the last act.

  “Come on,” Noelle screams in my ear. “Let’s get closer to the stage.”

  Closer to the stage means heat and pressing bodies and not enough air. Bad idea. “I think I’ll hang out back here.”

  Noelle tilts her head at me. “You sure? I’ll stay with you, then.”

  “No.” I nod toward the stage. “Go stand where Hunter can see you.”

  “If you’re really sure . . .”

  I nod again, and she squeezes my elbow before disappearing into the throng with Julia. Once they’re out of sight, I find a vacant pocket of space at the back of the room and lean against the wall. Even though I’m as far away as possible from the stage, I can still see the band. Or at least their heads. A portion of the audience is in my line of sight too, and most of the girls seem to be watching Kel. Not all of them, though. Some of them—the ones who probably think Kel is too pretty and prefer the ruggedly good-looking type—watch Ethan.

  And despite trying to convince myself otherwise, I’m one of them.

  It’s hard to tell from back here, but I think he’s found his groove. He’s not puking, anyway, and he definitely
looks less terrified. By the end of their set (originals sandwiched between covers, like he suggested), he’s even smiling. The audience claps and cheers as they leave the stage, and I’m relieved for them. They did great.

  I lose track of everyone when the crowd near the stage starts to disperse. Suddenly, I’m trapped against the wall as people file toward the exit a few feet away from me. I stay perfectly still, waiting for an opening and trying not to panic. A girl steps on my foot, then shoots me a glare like it’s my fault. That does it for me. Crossing my arms over my chest, I zigzag my way toward the bathroom and slip inside. This room, too, is mobbed. I back out again and stand next to the door, prepared to wait it out. I can hear the next band gearing up on stage.

  Five minutes pass before I finally see Ethan. He’s at the other end of the hallway, emerging from the back room. As he approaches, I notice his face is even whiter than it was earlier.

  “Hey,” he says when he reaches me, and that’s when I hear the telltale shortness of breath, which I know is one of the warning signs.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, alarmed. I’ve only seen him have a full-blown asthma attack once, when he was about twelve, and it was scary as hell.

  “It’s nothing.” He leans against the wall beside me and coughs. “The band on now is using a smoke machine and my lungs didn’t like it. But I’m fine.”

  “Did you take some medicine?”

  He nods. “That’s what I was just doing. I keep it in my guitar case.”

  This makes me smile. “Very badass.”

  “I know, right?” He tries taking a breath, and his face visibly relaxes when he discovers he can. “So what did you think of our set?”

  The color is returning to his face, along with the high of success, and I remember how all those girls looked at him while he was up there onstage. And how instead of feeling protective or slightly amused, like Aubrey would have, like I should have, I felt a little annoyed.