Burnt Orange

by Melody Carlson

“I’ve been better,” I admit.

  “Still hung over?”

  “I think it’s almost gone now.”

  He sits down beside me and sighs. “I felt pretty cruddy too.”

  That’s when it occurs to me that he’d had as much to drink as me, and yet he drove us home. “Do you feel bad about driving after you’ve been drinking?”

  He nods. “Yeah, but I never think about it at the time. I mean, I always think I’m okay, like I can handle it. And I do. But then, like the next day, I think that it was really stupid, and I tell myself I’ll never do it again.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “But then you do.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “I’m sorry you got sick last night,” he says. “I felt really bad, like it was kind of my fault, you know?”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Slater. No one forced me to drink that much.”

  “But I should’ve seen it coming. I mean, I know how much alcohol is in a Long Island iced tea.”

  “How much?”

  He kind of laughs now. “You really wanna know?”

  I nod.

  “Well, okay, there’s a shot of tequila, a shot of rum, a shot of gin, a shot of vodka, and a shot of triple sec.”

  “Are those all alcohol?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s a lot of alcohol.”

  “Yep.”

  “How come you know so much about mixing drinks?” I ask.

  “My parents like to drink.”

  “Oh.”

  “And I guess that’s why I feel bad.”

  “Because your parents drink.”

  He smiles. “No, because I knew better than to let you drink two and a half Long Island iced teas. I mean, I shouldn’t have had that much myself, and I weigh a lot more than you. That’s too much.”

  “Why do we do it?” I ask as much to myself as to him.

  “Drink?”

  “Yeah.”

  He shrugs. “Most of the time, I don’t drink. I mean, I’m not like Claire or some of the guys I know who have to have a drink first thing in the morning and just keep it going all day long. I couldn’t do that.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to run track if I did.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to do anything.”

  Now there’s a long pause, and it occurs to me that we’re actually having a conversation without the assistance of either booze or Claire.

  “I guess I drink to fit in,” he says, “and to help me loosen up, you know? To talk more.”

  “You’re talking now.”

  He nods. “That’s cool. I mean, I can talk around people I’m comfortable with.”

  I feel hopeful. “So, does that mean you’re comfortable with me?”

  He pushes some hair away from my face and really looks at me now. “Yeah.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  He sort of laughs now. “I guess you can’t help but be comfortable with someone after you’ve seen them get completely wasted and act like a total fool.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But I still like you.”

  I smile now. “Thanks.”

  We talk some more, and I’m amazed at how we really seem to understand each other.

  “The thing is, I don’t want to drink like that,” he says. “I mean, I’m not giving it up completely, but I don’t want to get drunk. And I don’t want to drive under the influence. I think that’s incredibly stupid.”

  “I’m with you, although I have been considering giving it up completely. I even promised myself that I’d never drink again.” I don’t mention my promise to God. “But then my head was hanging over the toilet at the time.”

  “Well, I just think we need to be sensible about it. I get worried about people like Claire. She’s taken it way too far.”

  “Do you think she’s an alcoholic?”

  “You think?”

  “Okay. I suppose it’s obvious. But it just seems so weird, you know? I guess I assumed that only older people became alcoholics.”

  “I think anyone can become an alcoholic. I’m pretty sure that my dad is, but he’s a functional alcoholic.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He goes to work and stuff, but when he gets home, he starts drinking and doesn’t stop until he falls asleep.” “Why do you think he does it?”

  Slater just shrugs. “I don’t know. It doesn’t look like much fun to me.”

  “Well, I think it’s good that you realize this stuff now,” I tell him. “It’s like you won’t make the same mistake.”

  “I hope not.”

  I close my eyes and lean my head back, allowing the warmth of the sun to wash over my face. I’m amazed at how good it feels to be alive right now.

  “I wanted to ask you something, Amber.”

  I sit up straight and look at him. “Yeah?”

  “I know we don’t know each other that well, and last night was pretty much a disaster, but I was kind of wondering if you’d like to go to the prom with me?”

  “Seriously?” I feel the excitement behind my voice.

  He nods. “I know it’s kind of short notice, since the prom’s just a couple weeks away and—”

  “No problem,” I tell him. “I’d love to go.”

  Now he smiles, and it occurs to me that he has the best smile. Then I throw my arms around him and we hug briefly. Then it’s like we’re both kind of embarrassed and that old familiar feeling of nervousness and self-consciousness kicks in. And in the worst case of bad timing, my parents pull up, and the next thing I know, they are both standing on the porch and looking curiously at Slater.

  I manage to pull off introductions without too much pain, and Slater makes some polite small talk and then says that he has to go. He promises to call me later.

  And naturally, this is when my parents start questioning me. I somehow get them off the “why aren’t you at work?” inquisition by casually mentioning my latest news—the prom invitation. And then they want to know if Slater is “my boyfriend.” Parents!

  sixteen

  I TRY TO AVOID SPENDING MUCH TIME WITH CLAIRE DURING THE NEXT few days. Of course, I do this discreetly, using my job and homework and even Slater as the reasons I can’t hang with her more. But as the week draws to an end, I can tell that she’s seeing through me.

  “What’s up with you?” she finally asks me on Thursday. We’re in English lit, but it’s almost time for class to start.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s like you’ve been snubbing me lately.”

  “I’ve just been busy.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” But I can tell that she’s hurt, and I don’t know what to say.

  “And I’ve been wanting to tell you the latest news,” she says.

  Okay, this makes me curious. But then the bell rings, and I have to wait until class is over before I can get the scoop.

  “What’s up?” I ask as soon as we’re out in the hall.

  “Well, Eric is taking me to the prom.”

  I smile. “That’s great.”

  “I ended up inviting him, but he was cool with that. He said that he didn’t want to go to his own prom anyway since they’re doing this Hawaiian theme. Everyone has to dress like a tourist or something. Kind of lame, don’t you think? Anyway, we’re going to hire a stretch limo. Actually, I’ve already reserved it. Do you and Slater want to join us? My treat.”

  “I don’t know. I can ask Slater.” To be honest, I’m a little uneasy with the idea of going to the prom with Claire and Eric, but at the same time, it would be so awesome to show up in a limo.

  “I’ll see Slater in my next class,” she says quickly. “I can ask him.”

  There doesn’t seem to be any point in protesting. Besides, maybe it’s better if Slater makes this decision.

  My cell phone rings just as I’m parking my car at the mall. I’m pulling in next to Simi’s little orange Bug, and I realize that I’m a couple minutes la
te for work.

  “Amber,” says Claire happily. “It’s set. Slater is cool with sharing a limo.”

  “That’s great,” I tell her. Even so, I’m still wondering if it’s really a good idea.

  “I think Slater liked the idea of having a designated driver.” She laughs.

  “Yeah,” I say as I hurry across the lot. “That’s probably a good thing.” Although I am pretty sure that I won’t be doing any drinking that night.

  “Have you got a dress yet?”

  “No. I haven’t really had time. But I do get paid today, so I guess I better start looking.”

  “Why don’t we look together?” she says.

  Well, I can’t think of any good excuse to say no, and besides, I know that Claire would be a great asset when it comes to picking out something that will look good on me. So, eager to get off the phone, I agree, and we decide that we’ll go shopping tomorrow afternoon since I’ll only be working until one.

  “You’re late,” says Simi when I come in through the back door.

  “Sorry,” I tell her as I head for the tiny bathroom that I’ve been using to change into work clothes. “Is Jan here?”

  “Lucky for you, she’s not.”

  So I hurry and change and then come back out. “I’ll skip my break,” I tell Simi as I put on my apron.

  “Nah, that’s okay,” she says, peering at me more closely. “As long as you haven’t been out drinking or something.”

  I roll my eyes. “Go ahead,” I tell her, “smell my breath and see.”

  She laughs. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “So how are things with Andrew?” I ask as I start to wipe down the soda machine.

  “Not bad.” But I can tell by the twinkle in her eye that this is probably an understatement.

  “Did you go to church with him last night?” I ask as I scrub a sticky spot on the counter.

  “I did.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “Good.” Then she turns and looks at me intently. “He is such a cool guy, Amber. It just seems like a God thing that we got together. It’s like we have so much in common and it’s so easy to talk with him, like we’ve known each other forever.”

  “That’s cool.” And I guess I feel a little envious because although Slater and I really connected on Sunday, it still feels awkward, and I’m not really sure where I stand. I mean, I know we’re going to the prom together, and that’s a big thing. But sometimes when we talk, it just seems so hard.

  “And last night, he even asked me about the prom.”

  “He’s taking you to the prom?”

  “No. We just talked about it. He said his prom isn’t very appealing this year.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I heard that North is doing a Hawaiian theme.”

  “So what does that mean? Like coconuts and grass skirts?”

  “Yeah. They probably do the hula and wear leis instead of corsages. Anyway, maybe you should invite Andrew to come to our prom.”

  She makes a face. “Isn’t that kind of pathetic?”

  “That’s what Claire did.”

  “Yeah, well, she was probably under the influence too.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Hey, if you and Andrew go to the prom, maybe you could ride with us in the stretch limo.”

  “You’re going in a stretch limo?” Simi actually looks impressed.

  “Well, Claire hired it.”

  “Oh.” Now she doesn’t look as impressed.

  “Hey, it could be fun. And think about it, you and Andrew could be missionaries to the rest of us heathens.”

  Simi narrows her eyes now. “So you’re including yourself on the heathens list now?”

  “I just figured everyone else was anyway.”

  She sighs loudly. “Oh, Amber.”

  Then we have customers, and I am thankful to have this conversation interrupted. I feel like I’ve been walking on eggshells with Simi this week. I know that she thinks I’m a big mess, but at least she hasn’t been preaching at me. In fact, she’s been incredibly gracious. Strangely enough, that makes me feel more guilty than ever, and I wonder if she knows this and is doing it on purpose.

  I’m tempted to confess everything to Simi, like my fake ID and how we went to Lola’s and how horrible it was when I got sick. But at the same time, I don’t know if I want her to know just how low I’ve gone. I keep telling myself that I’m done with that kind of stupidity, but the problem is, I’m just not sure. And so far, I don’t really feel like I’ve come clean with God yet. In some ways, I feel more lost than ever.

  We’re both tired when it’s time to quit. We don’t talk much as we lock up the shop and head out to the parking lot.

  “See you tomorrow,” I say as we get into our cars.

  “Yeah, see ya.”

  Then we both drive out of there and meet again at the stoplight where Simi turns left and I turn right. As usual, we wave and go our separate ways, but for some reason, it makes me really sad tonight, like it’s some kind of metaphor of where we are in our friendship. But honestly, I don’t really want to go our separate ways. I love Simi and want to keep being friends, but I’m just not sure how to do this. It’s like I know I need to start making some better choices and need to get my heart right with God—yet I don’t.

  Simi only works until six the next day, and since we’re surprisingly busy, we don’t talk much until right before she leaves.

  “I’m going out with Andrew tonight,” she announces as she hangs up her apron.

  “Cool,” I say as I shovel some caramel corn into a small box. “You going to ask him about going to the prom?”

  She winks at me. “I’m going to pray about it.”

  “Well, remember Ruth in the Bible. She had to make the first move on Boaz.”

  Simi laughs. “It’s good to hear you still know your Bible.” And I can tell by her playful tone she’s not being judgmental.

  I turn back to the counter, where a middle-aged woman is waiting for her caramel corn and listening with a confused expression.

  “Don’t mind us,” I tell her. “My dad’s a preacher and my friend’s a religious fanatic.”

  Simi snaps me with her apron. “For that, I am leaving.”

  “Have fun,” I tell her as I ring up the caramel corn.

  Later on I’m happily surprised when Slater shows up. Things have quieted down, and he just hangs around the shop to visit. I figure Jan shouldn’t mind since I keep myself busy cleaning the windows while he’s there. Besides that, it’s easier to be around Slater when I’ve got something to do besides just stand there and talk. He only stays about twenty minutes, but I think I’m relieved when he finally goes.

  The next day, Saturday, Simi and I work together for only an hour before my shift ends. But during that time, I learn that she has asked Andrew to the prom after all and that he told her he’d be honored to take her.

  “So did God give you the green light?” I ask her in a slightly teasing voice.

  “I had a real sense of peace about it.”

  “Well, good.”

  “How about you?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you have a sense of peace about going to the prom with Slater?”

  I consider this. “I don’t know. I guess I never really thought about it like that.” The truth is, I don’t have a sense of peace about anything. Not only that, but it’s really starting to get to me, and although I feel kind of trapped, I also think it’s about time to do something about it. I’m just not sure what.

  “I also told Andrew what you said about being missionaries and sharing your stretch limo.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Uh-huh. And you know what he said?”

  I shake my head.

  “He said he wanted to.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. But are you sure that Claire will really want us? I mean, she might think we’re a couple of wet blankets.”

  “Le
t me ask her,” I say. But I don’t tell Simi that I’ve already got plans to go dress shopping with Claire. I know that would hurt Simi’s feelings. But had I known Simi was going to the prom, I’d probably have gone shopping with her instead. But what can I do about that now?

  “When are you getting your dress?” I ask.

  “I think I’ll just borrow something from Lena.”

  “Oh, yeah. She probably has some cool things to choose from.”

  “And it’ll save me some bucks,” says my ever-practical friend. “Besides, it seems crazy to buy a dress that’s only for one night.”

  “Lucky that you and Lena are the same size.”

  “Too bad you’re not or she could probably loan you something too.”

  I laugh. “I’d have to wear eight-inch heels and a corset so tight that I’d probably pass out.”

  And so when my shift is over, I don’t feel quite so guilty about going dress shopping with Claire.

  “Have fun,” I say as I leave.

  “Yeah, right.”

  Then I drive over to Claire’s house, and we head for the good mall. “Let’s start with Nordstrom’s,” she says. “I heard they have a good selection still.”

  And so we shop and shop, and after going to several stores and then going back to where we started, Nordstrom’s, we both find something that works.

  The theme of our prom is Hollywood, which we think is much cooler than Hawaii, and our plan is to go with the red-carpet look, which is mainly sophisticated and with lots of bling bling. Of course, my bling is some fake stuff that I got at an accessories store. But Claire plans to borrow some real bling bling from her mother. I just hope she doesn’t get so drunk that night that she loses something valuable. But then again, I guess that’s not really my problem, right? I have no doubt that she’ll be drinking, because the truth is, I have never been around Claire when she’s not drinking—or just been drinking. And I also have no doubt that she is an alcoholic.

  Claire’s dress is a backless pink number that we think looks like something Marilyn Monroe might’ve worn, and Claire has the right kind of figure for it. My dress is a sleek, classic number in black satin that Claire picked out. She swears it makes me look taller and thinner. I wish. Lucky for me, the saleslady marked the dress down because of a small rip in the side seam, and I’m sure my mom can fix it with no problem. And I plan on getting some cheap shoes at one of those discount shoe stores. Claire showed me several designer styles that cost a fortune at Nordstrom’s, but I’m sure I can find an adequate imitation for a whole lot less. All in all, I’m set and feeling happy.