Blue Eyes and Other Teenage Hazards (13 page)

Even those who seemed happy were being stupid. Brandon would have never sat down beside me, told me I had beautiful eyes, and broken out into song if he hadn’t been plastered.

I don’t know what I had expected to find at one of these parties. It’s not like I had expected everyone to be playing charades, but I’d figured something entertaining must happen. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized the alcohol was the entertainment. Apparently the idea was to slosh your brain until it had fun by itself—and then, lo and behold, staring at the underside of a table became a thing of joy.

The song ended and Brandon finished his serenade. He turned back to me. “I ought to start my own band. It would be great. I could play the guitar, get paid lots of money, and women would throw themselves at me.” He took a sip of his beer. “Have you ever thought about being a groupie?”

“Not really.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. Elise’s three minutes were up. I motioned for her to come over.

She got up and pulled Chad along after her. Instead of looking at me, she leaned close to Brandon and stage whispered, “How’s it going?”

“I don’t know,” Brandon said. “Your friend isn’t very talkative.”

I stood up. “That’s because Elise and I have to leave now.”

Elise ignored me. “Cassidy is kind of repressed. She needs to learn to enjoy life.” I sent her more psychic kill vibes.

“You know what happens to repressed people,” she added as though she were a doctor delivering a diagnosis. “One day they snap, shave their heads, and start soliciting money from strangers in airports. You don’t want that to be your fate. You need somebody to sweep you off your feet.” To Brandon she said, “Be the broom. Be the sweeper. Be the . . .” she hiccupped, “you know, that plastic thing you sweep junk into.”

“The dust pan?” I provided.

She fluttered a hand in Brandon’s direction. “Yeah. That. Be that.”

“Elise,” I started, but I didn’t finish. While my back was to Brandon, he picked me up, literally sweeping me off my feet. He twirled me around—

something intoxicated people really shouldn’t do. He stumbled once, and I suddenly had visions of cracking my head open and being rushed to the emergency room. Thankfully, after one twirl he set me up right again, still keeping his arm around my waist. I wasn’t sure whether he was trying to be romantic or just using me to steady himself.

“Wow,” he said looking at his feet. “The tile on the floor is moving. Have you ever noticed that?” I turned to find Elise. She and Chad had headed out of the kitchen, holding hands.

I stepped away from Brandon, disconnecting his hand from my waist. “Elise, where are you going?”

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

I knew she wouldn’t be back in a minute. It was all in her diabolic plan. She was leaving me with Brandon, and an assortment of other wasted idiots, to fend for myself.

“So,” Brandon said, trailing after me, “Do you want me to sweep you off your feet again?” I held up a hand to ward him off. “No, my feet are fine on the ground.”

“We can go out back and watch the stars.”

“It’s ten below outside.”

“My car has a heater and a sunroof.”

“I’ll take a rain check, Mr. Dust Pan. I’ve really got to go.”

I made a trip once around the downstairs searching for Elise, then went upstairs to look for her there. As I walked by one of the bedrooms, I heard Chad’s voice from behind the door.

“C’mon, Elise. You’ll like it. I promise.”

All sorts of compromising situations came to mind. I put my hand on the doorknob but didn’t turn it. I didn’t want to embarrass Elise. Then again, I didn’t want to leave her in the room with Chad, either. It was wrong. In her state of mind she’d be easy to take advantage of.

My hand didn’t move.

What if she wanted to be taken advantage of? It was her choice, not mine. She constantly told me to let her live her own life. What if she hated me for walking in on her now?

But it didn’t matter. I knew I would hate myself even more if I walked away from the door.

I knocked to give them a moment’s warning, then turned the knob. The door was locked.

“Who’s there?” Chad called.

“Elise, it’s time to go home.”

“You’re supposed to be off having fun,” she told me. “Go carpe your diem.”

Chad laughed then said, “Don’t worry about Elise. I’ll take her home.”

I rattled the doorknob again. “No. Open the door.”

I heard them talk quietly, then Chad came to the door. He hadn’t meant to open it all the way, but I pushed my way inside. Elise was leaning up against the bed. I started towards her, then stopped abruptly. A couple of oddly rolled cigarettes sat in an ashtray on the dresser.

I stared at them. “Is that marijuana?”

“No,” Chad said.

Elise held up her hands to stop my words. “I wasn’t going to smoke any.”

I turned to Chad. “You were giving her drugs?”

“It’s just a few joints,” he said, as though it were all a joke. “If you want the hard stuff, you gotta go downstairs to the den.” I thought of every statistic and news story my parents had made me read about the dangers of mixing alcohol with other drugs. “That’s dangerous and ill egal.”

“Calm down,” Chad said, putting himself between me and the dresser. “It’s no big deal. A little pot takes the edge off your stomachache so you don’t throw up.”

He was an expert on this? How often did he do drugs? “And then you can drink yourself into a coma instead?” He picked up a joint and took a drag. “See? No coma. Just fun.” He tilted his head back and blew out a puff of smoke. “You wanna try some?” I folded my arms and stared at him. I felt nothing but contempt for him in that moment. “I’m sure Elise told you that I’ve had a crush on you since the eighth grade. But now that I know what you’re like, I think you’re a complete jerk.” He took another drag. “You had a crush on me?”

Elise shook her head. “I never told him, Cassidy.”

Chad smiled and blew out more smoke. “Since the eighth grade, huh?”

I stepped away from the smoke. The last thing I needed was to come home smelling like pot. “Didn’t you hear anything I said?”

“Sure.” He took a step closer to me, still smiling. “Your eyes sparkle when you’re angry. Did you know that?” Elise walked over to us, her eyes tight with anger. She put her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe this. Are you hitting on my friend while I’m standing right here?”

“I’m just teasing her,” Chad said. “Chil the hormones.”

I took hold of Elise’s arm. “We’re going home now.”

Elise didn’t answer. We heard a noise downstairs, like something crashing. Chad held up his hand. “Shh.” We all listened in silence. The music had stopped. We heard raised voices, but not what they said. Footsteps muffled everything.

“I’ll see what’s happening.” Chad put down his joint in an ash tray and strode to the door. “I’ll be right back.” As soon as he was gone, I snuffed out both joints, smashing them hard. “This isn’t living life to the fullest, Elise. It’s living life to the stupidest.” Elise’s hands were still on her hips. “I can’t believe my boyfriend flirted with you. He was flirting with you, wasn’t he?”

“He was mocking me.”

“Oh.” She paused for a moment. “Should that make me more angry, or less? I can’t think straight. I’ve had too much to drink.” She put her hand on her throat. “I really hope I don’t throw up.”

“Where’s your coat?”

“Downstairs. But we have to wait until Chad gets back. I want to say good-bye to him and yell at him for flirting with you.” I glanced out the window and saw movement down on the street. I went over for a better look. That’s when I saw people fleeing from the house.

Someone dropped from a nearby window. He seemed distinctly familiar.

“Hey, Elise, isn’t that Chad running across the lawn?”

She looked, then grabbed my hand. “Oh, no! The party’s busted!”

Before Elise’s words could register in my mind, she had pulled me from the room. I wasn’t sure where we were going or what we were doing or even exactly what “busted” meant, but her panic was contagious, and I ran after her.

The police met us on the stairs.

Elise and I weren’t the only ones who’d managed to be apprehended by the armed forces of Pull man. A dozen or so kids hadn’t been quick enough, or coherent enough, to escape. The guy under the table had to be carried outside. The rest of us were escorted.

A big van with two benches on the sides and padded walls waited with the door open. I could smell the inside of it from fifteen feet away. It was like an outhouse on wheels. Two police officers were helping kids climb in.

I went and found the officer in charge. “Excuse me,” I said, “but I’m not part of this party. I was only here to pick up a friend. She had too much to drink, and I was giving her a ride home.”

“Well, honey, you’re a few minutes too late. Now we’ll give you both a ride—down to the station.”

“But I didn’t drink anything,” I protested. “Isn’t there some kind of test you can do to prove I’m not drunk?”

“Down at the station.”

I looked around the street at the flash of blue and red lights that pulsed shadows onto the sidewalk. “My parents are expecting me to come home. Can’t you have me walk a straight line? It’s not ill egal to pick someone up, is it? You’re not going to arrest me for that, are you?”

“No. We’re not going to arrest you.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“We arrest adults. We detain juveniles.”

“But—”

He held up a hand to stop my words. “Look, when we find drugs at a party, we take everyone in. Everyone.”

“Drugs?” I had touched the ashtray when I’d snuffed out Chad’s joint. Could they get my fingerprints off it? Did the police do that sort of thing? I felt sick. Then I remembered Elise had been in the room too. She was my witness. If they questioned me about it, she could turn in Chad and clear my name.

Elise was angry enough at him that she would probably volunteer the information anyway. From the moment we ran into the police, she’d done nothing but issue a stream of curses on his name, his family, and several of his body parts. It didn’t make a good case for her sobriety, but at least I knew her loyalties.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll go down to the station to clear my name.” Then I thought about the paddy wagon and its outhouse smell. “Can I drive my own car?”

“No,” the officer drawled. “You’ll ride in my car in the backseat cage, and as an extra bonus, you can wear our famous designer police bracelets.” He held up a pair of handcuffs, jiggling them so they rattled. “They’re the latest fashion rage. All the kids are wearing them—at least, all the kids at this party.”

I took a step backward. “You’re going to handcuff me like a criminal?”

“No. The criminals get handcuffed on their feet too. But if you’d like to put up a fight, we’ll oblige you.” I got into his car quietly. Well, nearly quietly. As he shut the car door, I called out, “I’m pretty sure this is a violation of my civil rights.” The officer didn’t answer. I was sandwiched between two completely drunk girls. One kept burping; the other passed out and leaned her head on my shoulder.

I thought of my note back home on the kitchen table. Were my parents home yet? If they weren’t, they would be soon. I pictured my mother reading it, checking her watch, then reading it again. I could even see her lips tighten as she did it.

I was in trouble. Massive trouble. Enormous, immense, colossal trouble. Any synonym for huge—that’s how much trouble I was in.

I rehearsed the events of the evening in my mind and tried to pick out my mistake. What should I have done differently? I couldn’t have let Chad take Elise home. I couldn’t have left Elise alone in the bedroom. I couldn’t have dragged Elise out by her hair, either. Maybe my mistake had been walking into the house at all. Maybe I should have stood on the front porch and rung the doorbel until Elise came outside. I wondered if the police would have detained me for standing on the porch and ringing the bell.

When we got to the station, we were escorted into a lobby-type area. Elise walked over so she stood next to me. All I could manage to say was,

“My parents are going to kill me.”

“You worry too much,” she said lightly. “Think of this as an adventure—something to tell your grandchildren about.”

“An adventure is when you do something fun. This is a nightmare, and I don’t want to tell my grandchildren about it. Even more, I don’t want to tell my parents about it.”

“Then don’t.”

“Right. What will I say to them? I’m here at the police station visiting? I dropped by to make sure the justice system was moving along smoothly?”

A police officer waved for Elise to come to the counter. I went along too. Before Elise could say anything, I started in on my explanation. “This is all a big mistake. I’m not supposed to be here.”

The officer peered at me over the rims of his glasses. “I hope you remember that, young lady. This is a big mistake, and none of you should be here. You should be home doing school work like responsible teenagers.”

“No, I mean I wasn’t actually at this party. I mean, I was there, but only to drive my friend home.”

“Uh-huh. Your name, please?”

Elise blurted out, “We won’t tell you our names, Coppo Swine.”

Without thinking I said, “Elise!”

She hit me. “Thanks a lot, Natasha. Is there any other information you’d like to supply the enemy with?” The officer typed her name into his computer. “What’s your last name, Elise?”

“Just Elise. I’m like one of those famous singers who don’t have last names. Although my good friends call me Buttercup.” She turned to me,

“You’re obviously not one of my good friends.”

The officer was patient. “Elise, you’re not making this any easier.”

“Good,” she said. “I don’t want this to be easy. I want this to be as hard as I can make it.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “And don’t you dare tell them anything else about me, Natasha, or I’ll never speak to you again.”

The officer tapped his fingers on the counter. “If you want to add hindering an investigation to your charges, fine. Spend some time here. Spend days here. I don’t care. Your parents will look for you sooner or later.”

“No they won’t,” she slurred out. “They don’t care about me. They’ve got five replacement children at home. They won’t notice I’m gone—at least not until they need a babysitter. When they both need to go to their stupid store, then they’ll wonder what happened to Elise.” She folded her arms.

“Who knows, a jail cell might be the closest I ever get to having my own room. I don’t want to see my parents. Why shouldn’t I spend time here?”

“All right.” The man turned and yelled to an officer standing behind him. “Hey, Wozniak, can you come and take Buttercup here to the detox room? She wants to take advantage of our deluxe accommodations.”

He came and led Elise away. She sang “Jailhouse Rock” while she walked away. I could hear it all the way down the hall. Some of the less-sober people in the room joined in.

“So, Natasha,” the police officer said, “do you want to help your friend and give us some information about her? We need to call her parents.”

“Can I make a phone call first, please?”

“Going to talk to your lawyer?” He looked exasperated but let me use my cell phone. I dialed Josh’s number, hoping he hadn’t turned off his phone and gone to bed.

A few moments later he answered. “Cassidy?”

I kept my voice quiet. “I’m down at the police station and I need your help.”

“You’re where?” he asked, sounding like he was still waking up.

“At the police station. I’m with Elise.”

“What? You’re with Elise?”

“We were busted at a party.”

“You were busted!” The incredulity in his voice rose with each statement, and it made me feel even worse that he kept repeating everything I said.

“I wasn’t drinking. I was just there to pick up Elise, and now she won’t tell the police anything except that her name is Buttercup, and they put her in detox, and she says she’ll never speak to me again if I give them any information about her. She says she doesn’t want to see your parents, but I can’t just leave her here.”

Josh let out a low breath. “What do you want me to do?”

He didn’t say it sarcastically. I knew he was actually trying to find out what I wanted from him. But what I wanted was for him to somehow magically make this all better. I wanted him to deal with Elise and take care of everything so I would no longer be responsible.

With the phone still pressed to my face, I realized that it wasn’t possible to fix something like that with a simple phone call. It wasn’t possible because I wasn’t responsible for Elise in the first place. Only Elise was responsible for her situation, and right now she was obliviously singing prison ditties in detox. It didn’t matter what Josh or I did. Things wouldn’t get better for Elise until Elise made them better.

I was silent for so long that Josh said, “Cassidy?”

“You know, maybe we should let Elise handle this on her own.”

“What?”

“Maybe what she needs is for someone not to come rescue her this time.”

“Cassidy, she’s at the police station.”

“I know, Josh. I know because I’m here with her. I went running to rescue her from her last mistake, and now I’ll probably get a lovely mug shot to commemorate the occasion.”

Josh let out a tired sigh. “You only want to leave her there because you’re mad.”

“No, I’m only trying to figure out what’s best for her because I care.” I ignored the impatient look the police officer gave me and went on. “I just spent the evening trying to help Elise. I’ve been hit on, mocked, detained, and sandwiched between two drunks in the back of a police car. My parents will go ball istic over this. I’ll never be let out of the house again, and none of it matters to Elise.” I thought he’d protest further, but he didn’t. The line was silent. Finally he said, “I have to let my parents know she’s all right. They’ll worry when she doesn’t show up here soon. But I’ll think about what you said.”

He hung up without saying goodbye.

I put my phone away and turned back to the police officer. “I let Elise’s family know where she is.” He smiled at me patronizingly. “I’m glad to hear that. Now why don’t you give us some information about yourself, Natasha.” Chapter 15

After I told the police every last minute detail about myself, I was able to call my dad. I explained what had happened. He didn’t say much. It was a bad sign.

My Mom barely looked at me when she came to the station to pick me up. She talked to the officers, signed forms, and didn’t defend herself when they lectured her about a parent’s moral and legal responsibility to make sure their children obey the laws.

They pointedly let me know I was getting off easy because I hadn’t been involved in the underage consumption of alcohol. All the other teenage criminals got a court date.

This didn’t all eviate Mom’s anger, however. She walked briskly to the doors, turned and waited for me. “Come-on-Cassidy-we’re-going-home.” It was a very bad sign.

Once we got outside, she strode to her car fast paced. “I don’t believe this. You are permanently grounded. You won’t go anywhere ever again.

Do you understand?” She got in the car and slammed the door.

I got in the other side.

She turned on the car, wrenched it into reverse, and pulled out of the parking lot. “Of all the things we ever expected from you, I never thought I’d be picking you up from the police station.”

I didn’t answer. It hadn’t exactly been on my to-do list either.

“How could you let yourself get mixed up in this?” she went on. “Do you know what this will do to your reputation? Do you?” I listened quietly while she told me how my respectable image was shattered and how hard it would be for me to live a life of dignity in high school from here on.

I was really glad when we reached home.

The lecture didn’t end, however, it just moved into the living room. “Your days of hanging around Elise are over,” Mom said. “Do you understand? No more Elise.”

While I put my coat away, Mom stomped up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door shut.

Dad came out of the kitchen. He stood there quietly for a minute with his hands in the pockets of his robe. “Have you learned anything tonight?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I can’t solve Elise’s problems for her. But having learned that, I think I should still be allowed to be her friend—” Dad held up a hand to silence this line of conversation. “What else have you learned?”

“Chad Warren’s a jerk.”

“Who’s Chad Warren?”

“The guy who ran out of the house and didn’t tell us the police were coming.” Dad didn’t appear pleased by this answer. “Is there anything else you’ve learned?”

“Real police stations aren’t at all like the ones on TV.”

“Cassidy . . .”

I held up my hands in frustration. “I don’t know what answer you want, Dad.”

“What have you learned about drinking parties?”

“Oh that. Don’t worry; I thought it was a stupid party even before it got busted. The whole time I was there, all I wanted to do was leave.”

“Good,” Dad said with relief. “Now, do you think in the future you can manage to stay on the right side of the law?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Go to bed.”

I walked up the stairs slowly. When I walked by my parents’ room I heard Mom crying inside. For a moment I stood there. I didn’t know what to do. Then I knocked softly on the door. Mom didn’t answer. I walked in anyway. She lay on the bed, one hand covering her eyes. I thought she heard me come in, but I wasn’t sure. She didn’t look at me or say anything.

I sat down on the bed beside her. “I’m sorry about everything.”

She didn’t move. I watched her, not knowing what else to say. I felt guilty and was suddenly angry she was making me feel guilty.

“Mom, I didn’t do anything bad. Why can’t you trust me when I tell you that?” She sat up, wiped at her tears, and hugged me. She held me tight like she did when I was a little girl. Her voice was shaky. “I know it’s not your fault, honey. I shouldn’t put this on you. I just don’t want to lose you.”