Of All The Stars

by Ally B

  McArthur’s tuition is too high for me, but it’s too high for a lot of the other kids on the east side too. Two parents with doctor’s salaries still can’t pay for more than one kid to go to McArthur.

  “Happy birthday, by the way,” Gabby adds.

  “Thanks,” I say awkwardly, taking another sip of my drink. How do you respond to happy birthday in a cool way?

  “Yeah, it’s Phoebe’s birthday, remember?” Violet laughs nervously. But the tension is still high.

  “I feel like we’ve covered that, Vi.” I press my red Solo cup to my lips.

  “Did you make macarons?” Jackson asks. I find it odd that he remembers my silly tradition.

  “Yeah.” I nod, seeing Max walking back toward us out of the corner of my eye.

  “You make macarons? That’s so cute!” Ava gushes.

  “Here.” Max offers her a sealed bottle of Fiji water. “I stole this out of your fridge. I couldn’t find anything else.” He explains to Jackson, who simply shrugs.

  “It’s almost 11:57.” Vi sing-songs.

  “What’s at 11:57?” Graham asks.

  “Your girlfriend’s birthday.” Max glares at him.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he laughs nervously.

  Vi looks to me, eyes wide with shock.

  I feel a lump in my throat. Of course, I knew I wasn’t his girlfriend, but I didn’t expect him to be so defensive.

  “Well, she’s almost seventeen!” Violet fakes enthusiasm.

  Kendall gives a pitiful, “Wooo.”

  “Want another drink?” Graham asks me.

  I nod, handing him my cup and breathing a sigh of relief as he walks around the pool with Gabby at his heels.

  “What the fuck?” Kendall asks as soon as they’re out of earshot.

  “Yeah, uh, what?” Vi exclaims.

  I just shake my head.

  “Drop it.” Jackson squeezes Vi’s arm.

  I feel the bass vibrate the ground, ever curious how Jackson’s neighbors haven’t called the cops with a noise complaint, ever.

  “I’m done sitting around the fire like we’re camping,” Violet declares, downing the entire White Claw Graham gave her moments before. “I fucking hate camping.” She grabs Jackson’s hand, pulling him off of the couch and dragging him to the beer pong table on the other side of the pool.

  “I’m bored too.” Ava smiles, walking toward the pool with Max on her heels, guiding her to be sure she doesn’t end up in the crystal-clear water.

  “Come on.” Kendall grabs my hand and Graham, Tommy, and Gabby follow us to watch Violet and Jackson fail epically at beer pong.

  Gabby somehow convinces Kendall to dance when ‘Truth Hurts’ begins, meaning I’m somehow dragged into it by a very drunk Ava who somehow ends up on the beer pong table and manages to throw her pink Sherpa jacket into the pool.

  “You’re not getting that back!” Jackson shouts over Lizzo.

  Graham stays with Gabby for most of the night and only seems to be around when he’s refilling my drink.

  11:57 comes and goes without notice, and it’s nearing two in the morning when Jackson begins to turn down the music, signaling for people to leave.

  The majority of the crowd seems to take the hint, but we stick around.

  I end up fishing Ava’s jacket out of the water with a bright orange pool noodle, but I have to give it to Max to keep her from trying to put the soaking wet garment back on.

  “Are you drinking?” Ava covers her mouth with her hand in over exaggerated-shock.

  “No. I don’t drink.” I shake my head, giving me a tiny bit of a headache.

  “Then what’s in that cup?” She pops the p, her eyes getting wide.

  Violet takes the cup out of my hand and takes a sip. “What the fuck?” She recoils, handing the cup to Jackson.

  “Why are you drinking jungle juice?” Jackson asks, eyes wide.

  “I’m not,” I tell him, feeling my breathing grow sharp.

  “Max!” Violet shouts into the kitchen. “Let’s sit down. Who was giving you drinks?” She grabs my arm, leading me to the lounge chairs next to the pool.

  “Graham. I told him I don’t drink. He wouldn’t—”

  “He did.” She sits next to me on the long chair. “Did you actually tell him, or did you spew the DD bullshit?”

  I shake my head, not wanting to admit that I was in the wrong. “I didn’t want to talk about my dad.” I feel tears welling in my eyes. Of course he gave me alcohol, it’s my birthday, and I don’t have to drive anywhere. Of course he did. It’s not his fault. It’s mine. I should have just changed the topic instead of lying. I lied. This is my fault—all of it.

  “Hey, you’re okay.” Max crouches down in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Can you take deep breaths for me? In through your nose.” He instructs.

  “Hey, what’s the problem?” I hear Graham’s voice approaching and shake my head at Max, not being able to verbalize how much I don’t want him near me right now.

  “Graham, go,” Violet instructs calmly.

  I feel my muscles tense, my hands clenching at the sides of the chair.

  “What’s the problem?” I can tell by his vocal inflections that he’s not sober. But neither am I—and it’s my fault.

  “Not now, dude.” I hear Tommy speak up.

  I try to control my breathing, but it’s too random. There’s no pattern, just breathing too quickly and then forgetting to breathe, gasping for air when my lungs allow it.

  I can’t understand Graham as Tommy puts a hand on his shoulder, keeping him away from Max and me.

  “Eyes on me.” Max squeezes my hand, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Let’s go home, okay?”

  “She doesn’t drink.” I hear Violet struggle to remain calm as Graham shouts over her.

  “Leave her alone for a minute,” Jackson instructs.

  I manage to take a deep breath. “You’ve been drinking.”

  “Not in a while, I’m fine.” He shakes his head. “My car is right next to the curb. Jackson, help me out?”

  Jackson rushes to Max’s side. “Is she good?”

  “Fine,” I speak up. “I’m not getting in a car with someone who’s been drinking.”

  “Stay here. Guest room, my room, whatever.” Jackson offers.

  I make wordless eye contact with Max, and he immediately knows. “She needs to get home. Her mom wants her home tonight.” That’s a lie, I didn’t talk to him about my mom or going home tonight, but he knows.

  “I haven’t had anything to drink.” Gabby appears out of nowhere, making me turn my head in a dizzying spin.

  Max looks at her doubtfully. “You’ve been here since eleven, Gabby.”

  “You can breathalyze me. I swear, nothing. I drove. I don’t drink and drive.”

  “It’s fine,” I tell her. “I’ll figure out a way—”

  “I’m your way.” She cuts me off. “Everyone still here is shitfaced. I have my car.”

  I look to Max, and he looks to Gabby for a moment, turning to me and nodding. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Someone’s gotta deal with her.” She tilts her head toward Ava, who’s struggling even to remain standing. She wasn’t this drunk after the McArthur game. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen her this drunk on Snapchat, and drunk Ava videos are plentiful.

  “Can you wait a few minutes?” Max asks Gabby.

  “Of course.” She nods. Their pitying looks bring me back to school right after the accident. I was finally released from the hospital and so ready for things to be back to normal. My dad’s trial was over, my physical therapy was finally working, and I could finally ride in a car without having a full-blown panic attack. It was cold when I went back to school. I wore a pair of black leggings and a too-big light blue Adidas sweatshirt to hide the back brace. My shoes were some silly slide-on canvas sneakers because I still couldn’t bend down to tie my own shoes.

  I wasn’t able to start school with everyone else, but Max st
ill saved me the seat next to his in the front row. We were sitting in math class when I heard the sirens. Every siren is slightly different, but I can recognize the sound of an ambulance from a mile away. I still don’t know what happened next. I woke up in the nurse’s office with my mom, the red-headed nurse, and Max, all hovering over me. They looked at me like a puppy in one of those SPCA commercials with Sarah McLaughlin playing in the background.

  Max and I spent that night sitting in my room. I tried to explain it to him, but neither of us really understood the reason behind it. We ended up googling symptoms of PTSD on my iPod touch. I’d been to therapy, but it wasn’t Doctor Hines. Some woman the hospital had recommended who just wanted me to learn to play the piano and listen to whale noises.

  Max got used to it as I did. He was around me more than anyone else. So he saw them more than anyone. Ambulance sirens again, rainbow sprinkles, the one-time Camila accidentally drove us down that road on the way to play laser tag for Jackson’s thirteenth birthday party. Eventually, the sad puppy looks stopped, but I guess drunk people can’t control their facial expressions.

  Old habits die hard.

  “I don’t want to listen to this anymore,” I speak up. Violet and Tommy are trying to be discreet as they tell Graham some poorly-crafted story.

  “Just tell him the truth.” I sigh.

  “Let’s go. Don’t let Ava get hurt.” Gabby warns Max.

  “Of course not,” he says. “Get her home safe?”

  “Duh.” She rolls her eyes. “Ready?”

  “Yeah,” I answer, prying my fingers off of their place around the metal bar.

  “Love you,” Max says. “Get some rest? I’ll be over as soon as I sort this out.”

  “Love you, too,” I say softly, following Gabby through the sliding door and closing it behind me.

  Circinus

  The Compasses

  Gabby leads me wordlessly to her car. I aimlessly run my hand over the door, searching for the handle, the dull street-lamps not helping at all.

  I find the handle and climb into the passenger seat, shakily buckling my seatbelt.

  “That shit really fucks you up for a while, huh?” She asks as we drive slowly down the street.

  “It’s not fun.” I weakly scoff.

  “My house burned down when I was little.” She stops at a red light. “Still afraid of old lamps.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t drink tonight,” I say blankly.

  “I brought my car and knew I wasn’t staying at Jackson’s. I don’t drink and drive.” She shrugs.

  “Don’t you usually drink?” I ask.

  “Not when I drive.” She shakes her head, her dark brown shoulder-length brown bob reflecting the light.

  “Didn’t you get in an accident sophomore year because you were drinking?”

  “Rumor. Jake was driving.” She brushes it off.

  She’d been friends with benefits with Jake for our freshman and sophomore years. She’s never really been with anyone, just slept with the entire football team.

  “None of its true, you know?” Her face is briefly lit by the green glow of the traffic light. My face must’ve given it away.

  “What?” I ask her. Of course I know what she’s talking about, the rumors about her had been going around school since freshman year when she’d gotten drunk at a party and lost her virginity to a senior football player.

  “That I’m the school slut? Passed around like a bong? Fucked so many people on the basketball team, I deserve my own jersey?” I can hear the pain in her voice as she continues, but it’s quickly replaced with anger. “It’s all just a big lie. I’m sure you’ve heard it all. There’s no way you and your friends are as nice and ignorant as you pretend to be.”

  I stare sheepishly into my lap. “My friends have said stuff about you?” I look up to her.

  She stops at a light. “I don’t know. I’m willing to bet Vi has. She’s hated me since I kissed Jackson that one time.”

  “Max?” I ask her softly, silently praying her answer is no. The boys on the soccer team are ruthless, but that’s the only time I’m not with him.

  “I don’t think so. You two are weirdly nice.” She huffs.

  “Where did the rumors start then?” I ask her.

  “Freshman year when I had sex with Jake.” She answers, confirming my suspicions. “I really did like him. I thought I could fall in love with him, and the fact that I was drunk for the first time ever, didn’t help.” She pauses. “After that, he told all of his friends. I don’t think it was meant to be mean-spirited, he’s a decent guy, but his friends somehow got it in their heads that the fact that I slept with him, meant that I would sleep with them.”

  “It was just Jake?” I ask her.

  “I’ve slept with people I’m comfortable with. And honestly, who gives a fuck if I’ve slept with a few other guys? I’m eighteen years old. Why is everyone so concerned with who I have sex with?” She rambles. “I spent my entire freshman year trying to stop people from talking about me, but I gave up. People are gonna talk anyway. May as well give them a story.” She allows a small smile to spread on her lips.

  “You thought that you could at least make the rumors true…” I say to myself. Of course. It’s not the soundest logic, but I understand.

  “There was no way they were going to stop talking, so I may as well have had a good time.” She laughs.

  “Why didn’t you just ignore it?” I ask her.

  “Even Ava believed them. There was no way to escape it. Not even my best friend thought better of me. Everyone thought of me as a dumb alcoholic slut.”

  “Ava?” I ask her.

  “Ava thought it was cool.” She nearly laughs. “It got us invited to parties where she could drink and flirt, and no one thought anything of it. But if I drank half as much as she did or wore the same low-cut top, I was a slut. Just because I slept with Jake and the rumors got out of control.”

  “I had no clue,” I tell her honestly.

  “That’s why I’ve been hanging around Graham since his first day. He doesn’t know the rumors about me. I get to feel normal for an hour and just be myself.”

  “That’s why I was interested at first, too,” I confess.

  “Why are you interested now?” She asks, changing the topic.

  Why am I? Why Graham? “I don’t know.”

  She pauses for a moment. “It’s okay not to know. Sometimes you just want to have fun with someone and move on after a few weeks.” She shrugs.

  “That’s not me,” I tell her, reaching to my neck for my star necklace before realizing it’s not there.

  Pulling into my driveway, she asks, “Then why are you with him?”

  I shrug and shake my head because I genuinely don’t know. She nods with understanding as she stops the car in my driveway, and I unbuckle.

  I thank her quickly before leaving her car, basically running to the door, unlocking it, as my stomach starts churning while I lock the side-door behind me. I pull myself up the stairs using the railing and hurry to my room before falling onto my bed.

  The desire for sleep seems to leave my body the second I fall onto my back.

  All I can think is I don’t know.

  Over and over again.

  I don’t know.

  I don’t know.

  I don’t know.

  137 I don’t knows.

  I leave off on Orion, staring at the poorly-copied version of the constellation on my ceiling and desperately wishing I was lying on the porch staring at the crystal-clear sky.

  It’s then when I realize I didn’t see the stars at all today.

  Pegasus

  The Winged Horse

  “I’m so sorry, Anna.” I hear Max’s voice ring through the hall, but it sounds like he’s screaming.

  “It’s not your fault. It’s cracker boys.” There’s an undeniable edge to her words. “I figured she was smarter than to drink out of cups from boys with poofy hair.”

  “N
o one knew.” Max sighs.

  “She couldn’t smell the alcohol?” She nearly shouts.

  “She’s been to exactly two parties and prides herself on not drinking.” He defends me.

  “I know you idiots drink when you hang out at Jackson’s pool in the summer.” She scoffs.

  “I promise you; your daughter has never consumed any alcohol.”

  “And if she did and didn’t tell you?”

  “You know she doesn’t keep secrets. I’m her plug, anyway.” I can tell his joke isn’t well received by my mom.

  “Cracker boy took your job.”

  “He’s a bad drinker. Forgetful.”

  “I don’t like forgetful people.”

  “I’ll watch out for her better. That’s one slip up in what, nine years?”

  My mom simply sighs.

  “I’m going to wake her up.”

  “She might kill you. She’s irritable as it is.” My mom warns.

  “I can put up a pretty good fight.” I hear Max’s footsteps as he slowly walks up the stairs.

  “Go away.” I groan as the hinges of my door squeak.

  “Aww, baby’s first hangover.” He reaches over my bed, pulling open my semi-sheer white curtains, letting in the light. “Think you’re going to survive it?”

  “Barely.” I squint, pulling the comforter over my eyes to block out the light.

  “How was Gabby?”

  “Depressing.” My heavy comforter muffles my one-word answers.

  “Brace for light in five, four, three, two…” He warns.

  I squint my eyes shut, but it’s still too bright. “I hate you.”

  “Your mom made pancakes.” He sing-songs.

  “Or we could not do that.” I huff, opening my eyes slowly to adjust to the light.

  “Breakfast, then you can sleep all day,” he barters.

  “Sleep all day, then eat at like midnight.”

  “I’ll drag your ass downstairs,” he threatens.