by Adi Alsaid
Leila and Elliot moved past the front entrance into the hallway that led to the kitchen. Signs had been taped up on the walls all over the house, pointing the way to the bathrooms or the booze or, in true high-school-movie fashion, the sex dungeon. “God, I hope she’s not in the sex dungeon,” Elliot said.
“What’s she wearing?” Leila asked, standing on tiptoe to try to see over people but failing at it. Most of the people around were in tuxedos and prom dresses, making Leila’s yellow sundress stick out.
“A purple dress, with a matching orchid corsage.” They squeezed through the hallway and into the kitchen. “I was afraid she’d have a date for the prom, and he’d be the one giving her a corsage,” Elliot said. He had to speak almost directly into her ear so she could hear him over the music. “But she and some friends said they didn’t need to be hanging off some guy’s arm to have a special night. So, I got to give Maribel the corsage I made her.”
“You made her a corsage?”
Elliot felt himself blush. “I had to look up online how to do it.”
“That’s sweet,” Leila said with a smile. “And she wore it?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Most people don’t get it, but we’re actually really good friends.”
They stood by the stockade of alcohol in the kitchen for a few minutes, waiting for Maribel or one of her friends to show up to get a drink. A guy in a Vikings jersey that Elliot recognized from his freshman-year art class stood next to them as if waiting for a bartender to come by.
“Hey, Victor!” Elliot said, after finally remembering his name. “Remember me?”
“No,” Victor called back resolutely, still waiting for someone to pour him a drink.
“Oh.” Elliot frowned, then realized he wasn’t all that offended. “Have you seen Maribel around? Maribel Palacios?”
“She’s standing right next to you, bro,” Victor said, clearly pointing at Leila.
“Right,” Elliot said. “Thanks.”
“He was helpful,” Leila said, turning to a group of girls on the other side of the bar and asking after Maribel.
Maribel wasn’t exactly one of the popular kids, but she was on the student council and acted in a lot of the school plays, so Elliot figured asking random people would eventually lead to something. But only a couple of those they asked knew who she was, and only one guy had seen her. “Somewhere around here,” he said uselessly, reaching for a bottle of vodka.
After a couple of minutes, they decided to move on toward the living room. The lights were off, and bright green lasers shot across smoke that Elliot hoped came from a smoke machine and not an actual fire. The room was packed with people dancing, a DJ playing music from his computer. Elliot had a hard time imagining Maribel among the throng of sweaty bodies, so they headed outside.
The backyard was a huge expanse of lawn surrounded by trees, adorned with statues and a shimmering pool. One couple had laid claim to some patio furniture in a distant corner, but the rest of the lounge chairs were taken up by stoners looking up at the stars. The smoke looked like a conglomeration of factories letting out steam.
Elliot and Leila stationed themselves by the keg and looked around for Maribel.
Two guys Elliot knew stood in line for their beers. Peter Jones, who Elliot heard was headed to MIT on a scholarship, turned to his buddy. “You know what I’ve never understood about life?”
“We’ve reached that point of the night already? It’s epiphany o’clock?”
“World population is weighted to females, right?” Peter went on, ignoring his friend. “Fifty-two percent of the planet—something like that. Everywhere in the world, there’s more women than men. It’s a mathematical fact.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Why have I never been to a party that reflects that ratio? Seriously, look around. It’s easily a three-to-one lead for the penises. And that makes this a pretty successful party. Usually it’s at least five-to-one. Why are parties exempt from mathematical probabilities? What kind of laws are they being governed by? I don’t get it.”
“You need a girlfriend, man.”
“I definitely need a girlfriend.”
Finally, Elliot spotted one of Maribel’s friends, Stephanie, coming outside. Aside from the fact that she was a junior on the yearbook staff, Elliot knew very little about her. They caught up to her as she was lighting a cigarette. She looked embarrassed by Elliot’s presence, avoiding eye contact with him. Maribel had obviously told her what had happened.
“Hey, Steph. Is Maribel here?”
Stephanie exhaled a puff of smoke and eyed Leila curiously. “Yeah. Why?”
“I just need to talk to her.”
She flicked her cigarette with her arm extended way out to avoid getting ash on her dress. “You know that the only time you’ve ever talked to me is when you’re looking for her, right? Any time I see you heading my way, I have to think: Okay, where is Maribel?” She glanced at Leila, as if trying to place her, then finally met Elliot’s eyes. “Next time you’re in love with a girl, it might be a good idea to try talking to her friends.”
Elliot didn’t know what to say to that. He stammered a couple of times, then looked at Leila as if she was his interpreter.
“What?” Leila said. “She’s right.”
Steph sighed, bringing the cigarette back up to her lips. “I saw her inside,” she said. “She was going upstairs.”
“Thanks,” Elliot said. He felt like he should say something else, but Leila repeated the thanks and then started to pull Elliot back across the yard toward the house.
They slowly pushed their way through the crowd, Leila looking around and pointing things out, as if Elliot had never been to a high school party and seen people doing keg stands and double-dipping chips in the guac.
“There are eighteen people on their phones in this room alone,” Leila said from behind him as they tried to slink their way through the kitchen and past the dance floor. “Who are they texting if everyone they know is here?”
“Are you serious?” Elliot said, raising an eyebrow.
“That guy almost put his phone in the onion dip!” Leila shrieked with delight. “And that girl looks like she’s about to—yup. She just threw up. And there is no commotion about it. Elliot, why is there no commotion?”
“Do people not throw up at the parties you go to?”
Leila ignored the question, swiveling her head around to take in more of the sights.
Elliot made his way deeper into the party, and Leila trailed behind. Elliot had assumed the upstairs area would be off-limits, but the staircase wasn’t cordoned off, and the paper signs invitingly pointed the way toward MORE BATHROOMS, COATROOM, AND OTHER PLACES TO GET WALKED IN ON WHILE MAKING OUT OR WORSE.
“Better this than the sex dungeon, right?” Leila said. Elliot groaned involuntarily. “Kidding,” she said, and she gave him an encouraging pat on the back. “Wait, no. I’m not kidding. This is better than the sex dungeon. I’m just sorry I mentioned it.”
“Leila?”
“Yeah?”
“That aura of mystery and wisdom we talked about? Wanna get back to it?”
“That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever told me to shut up,” she said, leading the way up the stairs.
They tiptoed around a girl who had passed out in the middle of the stairway. Leila glanced, expressionless, at the family photos on the wall. At the top of the stairs was another living area with a couch and a big-screen TV. People drunkenly played video games as they passed around a hookah hose, failing to blow smoke rings in the air. A couple cuddled on the far end of the L-shaped couch. The girl’s dress was bright purple, and for a second Elliot’s stomach dropped, as if he were free-falling. But then the girl turned to look over her shoulder at Elliot and Leila, and he saw that the girl was a redhead with a nose ring and that the dress wasn’t even the right shade of
purple.
They moved on, knocking on doors and stepping inside. Every time Leila pushed a door open, Elliot held his breath, hoping Maribel wasn’t in there with someone else. In one room, people sat on the floor listening to Pink Floyd with their pupils dilated. The bathroom smelled faintly of vomit. The master bedroom was the only one that was locked.
At the end of the upstairs hallway, they reached the only door they hadn’t checked. It was cracked open, and they could see that the room was dark. Another paper sign had been taped onto the door, warning people to enter at their own risk. Leila put her hand on the door.
“Wait,” Elliot said, reaching out for her shoulder, “what if she’s in there with someone?”
“The lights are off.”
“Not exactly a source of comfort there, Leila.”
“Maybe she’s alone in there and napping or something? I don’t hear any sounds coming from inside.”
Leila pushed the door open with one shove.
“Anyone in here?”
She took a step forward, and Elliot followed to get a better look. There were indistinguishable noises coming from somewhere in the room, and he got that ineffable feeling that someone else was there.
“Hello?” Elliot tried. “Maribel?”
The noises continued, whoever was making them paying them no mind. Elliot grasped at the wall, searching for the light switch. He could barely make out Leila moving forward with her arms outstretched. She cried out as her foot or shin bumped into something.
As soon as Elliot found and flipped the lights on, the door slammed behind them. Elliot didn’t know what to react to first: the surprise of being shut in, the couple on the bed aggressively making out (not Maribel, at least), or the fact that the walls were completely covered in shelf after shelf of Cabbage Patch dolls. Hundreds of creepy plastic faces stared out at them like something out of a B horror movie. Some of them were old enough that they’d lost all their hair, or a limb, or their facial features had been eroded away, leaving them faceless except for the bump of a nose, a blue smudge where an eye used to be.
The couple on the bed—thankfully, still clothed—finally noticed that the lights had come on and stopped making out. The girl sat up, glared at Leila and Elliot, then slapped her boyfriend across the face. “Tacos for dinner, forties at the prom, and you texted your friends to walk in on us again? I’m so done with you.”
“Babe, I don’t know these people,” Carl cried, holding a hand to his quickly reddening cheek.
As Leila let out a laugh, Elliot felt himself start to hyperventilate. He could feel the Cabbage Patch dolls’ eyes on him. The slight smiles etched onto their plastic faces looked as if they were purposefully mocking him. Even Carl could get the girl, even if he was about to lose her now. He rushed to the door and pulled frantically on the handle. It was locked from the outside. He rattled the knob a few times and called out for help but was answered only by the sounds of the party raging on.
“Very funny,” he called out. “You locked us in the room. Now stop being dicks, and let us out.”
A little girl’s voice called out from the other side. “Can’t you people read? That’s my room, and you need my permission to go inside. So now, you need my permission to come back out.”
“Is that a child?” Leila asked. “What is a child doing at this party?”
“Kid! We were just looking for someone. Please let us out!”
“Nope,” the little voice answered, already fading away.
Elliot pounded on the door, but even he could barely hear his own knocking above the beat of electronic music. He let his forehead drop against the wood.
“You promised tonight would be special!” Carl’s girlfriend was yelling in between sobs.
Elliot banged his head against the door. This was not how his night was supposed to go. He felt Leila’s hand on his shoulder. “Hey, we’ll get out of here. Don’t worry.”
“Look at what you did,” Carl said, pointing at his girlfriend sobbing into the pillows.
“Sorry,” Leila said, “we were just looking for someone.”
“Yeah, well, they’re not here. Now will you please get the hell out?”
Leila made a show of jiggling the door. “Did you miss that whole part about us being locked in here?”
“Whatever,” he mumbled, turning his attention back to his girlfriend, whose whole body was shaking. Carl tried to put a hand on her back, but she smacked it away. “C’mon, babe. I love you, okay? Don’t be so dramatic.”
Elliot stared in awe as the girl lifted herself from the bed and smiled. “You do?” Within seconds they were back to making out, the noise of smacking lips like food being chewed with an open mouth.
Elliot put his back to the wall and slid down to the floor, rubbing his face with his good hand. Leila took a seat next to him. “I’m dead, right?” he said. “You ran me over with your car, and I’m now in hell.”
“I must have killed both of us,” Leila said, grimacing at the unsightly exchange of saliva taking place on the bed.
“You don’t happen to know how to pick a lock, do you?”
Leila shook her head slowly. “If I do, I’m not aware of it. Think you can break the door down?”
“I’d like to say yes, but I’ll probably just end up having to go back to the hospital.” Elliot looked at his bandaged hand, wondering if the scars would ever be anything other than a painful reminder of that night. “I can’t tell which is worse: them, or the dolls. I feel they’re going to come to life and try to tickle me.” He shuddered at the thought.
Elliot banged his elbow against the door behind him, hoping someone would hear the knocking, or that the little girl would let up.
“I love you so much,” Carl said, kissing his girlfriend, though she continued to sob.
She pulled away, her eyes blinking back tears. “You do?”
Leila and Elliot looked on with a mix of awe and repulsion as the couple went back to making out, murmuring not-so-sweet nothings to each other in between sloppy kisses.
“We have to get out of here,” Elliot said.
“Immediately,” Leila agreed. She stood up, looking around the room as if a second door might appear. She put her hands on her hips as she thought. “Windows!” she cried out. “A house like this wouldn’t have an upstairs bedroom without windows.” She moved to the back wall of the room and started clearing dolls from their shelves. Sure enough, the Cabbage Patch kids had been covering up a window.
Elliot rose to his feet and rushed to Leila’s side. Fortunately, the shelves themselves weren’t bolted into the wall but were just fitted into slots on supporting beams on either side of the window. The two of them started pulling the shelves out, laying them down on the floor next to the dolls, which were just as creepy looking up at them from below.
When Elliot removed the last of the shelves, Leila reached for the window. “Maribel, here we come,” she said, and pulled up. The window didn’t budge. Before Elliot could feel too dejected, though, Leila reached and flipped the latch that was locking it into place. She tried again, and this time the window opened easily, letting in the warm summer air. Elliot poked his head out the window. There was a ledge right below them, and they were no more than ten feet above the lush front yard. Even without the desperation of being stuck in that room, it didn’t seem like a long way down.
Leila hoisted herself up and through the window. Elliot, operating mostly with just one hand, followed her carefully. They climbed down onto the ledge, hands flat against the side of the house to steady themselves. Leila turned to Elliot with a smile. “We’re not giving up on this, even if it takes us all night. You’ll have your big movie moment.”
And then they jumped.
5
ELLIOT LANDED ON the grass with a thud. There was a shooting pain coming from his hand, but he was so happy to be out of that room
that he ignored it. When he looked up at the house, the lights in the Cabbage Patch room turned off. “Where to now?”
“I don’t know,” Elliot said. “She could be at another party, or at someone’s house.”
“Why don’t we just call her?”
“She accidentally put her phone in the washing machine the other day. Hasn’t gotten a new one yet.”
“That’s inconvenient. What about one of her friends?”
“We don’t have a whole lot of mutual friends,” Elliot said. “My social circle has a diameter of, maybe, four people.” Leila didn’t laugh. “Not that I need much more than that. Three good friends and someone to be hopelessly in love with—that’s about all I can handle.” He chuckled to himself, but she was still quiet.
Leila looked up and down the street, chewing on her bottom lip. “Where else could she be?”
“The record store,” Elliot realized aloud. “Sometimes she likes to go think on the roof of the record store where she works.”
“Last day of high school, and my best friend just professed his love for me,” Leila said. “If it were me, I’d be probably feeling pensive. Let’s go check it out.”
They returned to Leila’s car. Leila put on some music and started the car, and Elliot closed his eyes and thought of Maribel, imagining that the toe prints on the windshield belonged to her. After only a few minutes, though, the car started groaning, slowing down, and then advancing in small bursts that snapped Elliot from his reverie.
“Shit,” Leila said. She reached to turn on the hazard lights just as the car slowed to a stop.
“What? What happened?”
“We may have run out of gas.” She turned off the engine and tried starting it again, but it wouldn’t take. “Damn. It can usually go a solid twenty miles after the light turns on.”
“Why didn’t you stop to get some?”
“I got caught up in this whole Maribel thing.” Leila smacked the steering wheel and leaned back in her seat.