Smashed (7 page)

I told him everything that had happened: the letters, the calls, Coach Riley’s folder, my training routine. The truth was, I was so excited, I would have told the mailman if he’d asked. But Alec was so enthusiastic, it made it fun.

“That is so cool,” he said. “And it definitely calls for a celebration. There’s a big party on Friday in Bethel. What do you say we make it your night?”

The words were out of my mouth before I had time to think.

“Sounds great.”

Alec was at my door at eight o’clock sharp.

“I brought you something.” He pulled a large pink rose from behind his back.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” My cheeks burned. The only time a guy had ever given me a flower was for the homecoming dance.

“I stole it from my stepmonster’s garden,” he said. “You’ll know she noticed it was missing if you never hear from me again.”

My mother had arrived home earlier that day. She’d filled the cupboards with groceries, washed her uniforms, packed herself some clean clothes, and then started cooking lasagna, macaroni and cheese, tuna casserole—anything she could label and put in the freezer for us. I’d been hoping she’d leave for her eleven o’clock shift before Alec arrived, but she was in no rush, and when she’d heard Alec was picking me up, she said she wanted to meet my “new boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Mom,” I said. But she’d already decided in her head that he was.

When Alec walked in, she was in the kitchen wearing shorts and a T-shirt, her long dark hair falling loose past her shoulders, just like mine. These days, I was used to her running out the door in her nurse’s uniform, hair pulled back and pinned up, her face stressed. But tonight, as she loaded up the refrigerator, her hair swung across her back like a teenager’s.

“This is my mother. Mom, Alec.”

My mom turned and looked up, smiling.

“Wow, you look too young to be Katie’s mother. . . . Sorry, Mrs. Martin. It’s nice to meet you.” He reached out his hand.

My mother was blushing now and smiling, and I was about ready to die from embarrassment. “You could be sisters,” he was saying.

“Well, I wasn’t very old when I had Katie. Not that I encourage that.” She caught his eye.
I’m only thirty-seven,
she liked to remind me
. I had you when I was still in nursing school.
As if I didn’t already know that.

“We should get going, Mom.”

“Let’s at least put that lovely flower in some water before you go,” she said, and took it from my hand, glancing at Alec as she moved across the room for a vase.

I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

*     *     *

JUDD AND PEG OSBORNE
the sign read in script; under the names were two small, painted chickadees.

Alec hadn’t mentioned a trip to his house before heading to the party. “Did you forget something?” I asked.

He stopped his car, a vintage BMW he’d been working on over the summer.

“I thought we’d swing by here for a cocktail first. Peg and Judd are out for a few hours. I know tequila’s your favorite, and margaritas are a bitch to mix in the car,” he added.

“How do you even know that?”

Alec looked at me sideways. “That tequila’s your favorite? I think everyone knows after Cheryl’s party last April.”

Oh God, I thought, color rushing to my cheeks. My friend Stan had been mixing margaritas that night and they’d tasted like heaven, but after a few of those, the night had been a blur. All I knew was that Cassie had taken me back to her house and helped me into bed.

I didn’t want to think about that night. “You can make a margarita?” I asked.

“The best.”

Inside their new house, a shiny oak bar stretched along one side of a room filled with overstuffed couches. French doors, through which I could see a patio and the large inground pool, lined the far wall. On top of the bar, in neat little rows, were the smallest bottles of alcohol I’d ever seen. They were like tiny toy soldiers with black tops and fancy labels, each filled with a shot or two of transparent or golden brown liquid. I picked one up and studied it.

“Where did you get these?”

“Those? They’re from airplanes. My dad collects them when he flies, then refills them at home. They’re great for traveling—
or school.” He grinned. “Here, take one. My dad’s taught me everything—which is why I know what to do with this.” Alec reached under the bar and pulled out some full-size bottles.

“What’s this?” I asked, pointing to a bright blue bottle shaped like a banjo.

“Blue curaçao,” he said. “I’m going to make you a special margarita, one the color of that swimming pool.”

“A
blue
margarita?”

“Exactly,” he said, mixing. “See?” He finished and handed me the glass.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Taste it.”

“Wow,” I said, sipping. It was hard not to drink fast. “That’s amazing.”

“An amazing drink for an amazing girl.” He lifted his own glass and clinked it against mine. “Here’s to a free ride to the college of your choice.”

*     *     *

The two margaritas at Alec’s house had left me feeling giddy, unstoppable. Suddenly I was beautiful and brilliant, talented and funny. I looked great and I felt great and I was going to college on a hockey scholarship. I was as full of myself as I could get.

We pulled up to the party and Alec opened my car door, then put his arm around me as we walked up the long dirt driveway. He stopped once, wrapping his strong arms around me, pulling me in for a kiss. For a moment, everything around us disappeared.

“You like that,” he whispered. “Later,” he said, taking my hand. “Let’s go to the party first.”

Cars were parked everywhere: up the driveway, on the lawn, in front of the garage. I’d heard that somebody’s twenty-something cousin owned the house and didn’t care who came. The kids scattered across the lawn and deck ranged anywhere from fifteen to midtwenties, but one drunk guy looked about my mother’s age. And he kept staring at me like he wanted something.

“Loser,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Give it a rest, buddy—she’s jailbait,” Alec yelled to him. The guy put his arms up, palms out, as if to say
What did I do?
and stumbled away.

Inside, the sour stench of beer slopped on linoleum mixed with the sweat of bodies pushing toward the keg on the counter.

“I’ll get us some beers,” Alec said, and disappeared into the fray.

I looked around and didn’t see any faces I recognized right away. Wait, that was the back of Megan’s head, and Cheryl’s, too, I was sure.

And there was Marcy, her unmistakable white-blond hair free from its braid and falling down her back like spun gold—walking proof, I thought, that beauty is only skin deep.

“Meg!” I hollered. “Cheryl!”

The bass vibrated the floorboards under my sandals. There was no way they would ever hear me. I pushed my way through the crowd, moving in their direction.

“Hey.” I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Hey, you!”

I turned my head and found myself face-to-face with the drunk guy who’d been watching me before. A lank piece of greasy hair fell across his forehead; his breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. I couldn’t believe he was at a party with kids half his age—and what was he following
me
around for?

“I know you,” he said.

It was a lame line by anyone’s standards. “No you don’t.” I turned and started pushing through the crowd again, but he grabbed my arm. Furious, I pulled it away. “What’re you
doing
?”

“Sorry!” He pulled his hands back, palms toward me again. “I’m a friend of your father’s.” He smiled, revealing teeth stained a yellow brown. “Tommy Martin, right? I met you when you was this high.” He held his hand about three feet in the air. “You haven’t changed a bit, just taller. Remember me? Wade Dwyer. I been to your house, over to Westland.”

I did remember him now—his name, anyway. As a kid, I’d thought his name was funny.
Wade.
It had made me think of the ocean.

“How’s Sandra . . . I mean, your mother, doin’? She was always something.” He shook his head, grinning. “We went to school together, your mom and me. What’s your name again?”

“Katie. She’s fine.”

“Gosh, I haven’t seen them two in years. How’s your father?” His face clouded over slightly. “I heard they split up, your parents. Your dad lives up to Bangor now, somebody said.” He looked at me expectantly.

My heart dropped. “Who said that?”

“I don’t know. Why? Where’s he livin’ now?”

My mind went blank. I looked at him, then turned away and started moving through the crowd as fast as I could, not even looking where I was going. Wade called my name behind me. He was following me and I had to lose him.

I knocked into somebody’s beer, sending a golden wave over the top of the cup.

“Hey, watch it!”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

Wade,
I should have said,
you know more about it than I do.
But how could I say something like that? Shame welled up inside me, twisting my stomach in knots. My father obviously cared more about other people than he did about us—they knew where he lived, and it was right here in Maine all this time! I felt humiliated for ever thinking he was out there, in trouble, unable to reach us, maybe even dead. For ever thinking he loved us at all.

Outside, I ducked around the side of the chalet and then back into the basement, where there were fewer people. Finding a bathroom, I locked myself in and sat with my head in my hands. The margaritas weren’t working anymore. I wanted to die.

A couple people rapped on the door, but I ignored them. Finally, after about twenty minutes, I looked in the mirror. The only thing worse than feeling this way was having it show. I smiled, then smiled again, trying to make it look more natural. Not bad. My eyes were a little red, but maybe people would just think I was high.

Actually, that sounded really good right now. Why not have
a good time? My father wasn’t shedding any tears over us
three hours away
up in
Bangor
. Maybe I’d find Megan again. She was always good for a smoke.

Alec found me later, on the edge of the woods, passing a joint back to Cheryl. Megan had just said something moderately funny, and Cheryl and I were collapsing into giggles when I caught sight of him coming toward us, two big cups overflowing with beer in his hands.

“Jesus Christ. Where the hell have you been?” he said. “I go to get you a beer, and you disappear for two hours.” He handed me a cup.

“She had a
need
for
weed
,” Megan said, and Cheryl and I started giggling uncontrollably again. My stomach hurt from laughing so hard, but I didn’t think I could stop. Everything that came out of Megan’s mouth struck me as hilarious. My father may have ruined my life, but he was not ruining this party. “Lighten up, Alec,” Megan added, and handed him the joint.

He inhaled deeply, then looked at me, “You ready to go?”

Go? We’d only been there a couple hours. It was barely eleven. “Go where?”

“Yeah, where?” Megan said. “We’re just getting warmed up.”

“Anywhere but here. This party sucks.” He looked toward the chalet. “I saw your friend in there,
Wade
. He was asking for you.”

“He’s not my friend.”

“Sure looked that way when I saw you talking to him.”

“I thought you couldn’t find me.”

Alec looked away. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere, okay,” he said. It was more a command than a request, but I was too drunk and too high to care.

Across the yard, Marcy hung on her new boyfriend, Rob, but her eyes were searching the crowd for someone else. She saw me and scowled, then found who she’d been looking for—Alec—her eyes following him into the chalet.

“Hey, sweetheart,” a voice boomed behind me.

“Hey, Stanfield!” I turned and looked up into my friend Stan’s broad, smiling face.

He wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug, practically lifting me off the ground.

“I thought I saw you earlier,” he said, “walking up the driveway with
Alec Osborne
.” He made a face and chuckled. “Then I thought,
not damn likely
.”

“What can I say? You caught me,” I said, keeping it light. “I like to keep people guessing.”

“You’re kidding.” Stan caught my eye, sure I was joking, but I nodded. “What are you doing hanging out with that character?”

“Nothing too serious,” I said.

“Better not be,” he answered.

“Hey, I got to run,” he said finally. “We’ll see you at Haley Pond in a couple weeks?”

Every August, as summer was winding down, there was a party a couple miles down a narrow, winding dirt road at Haley Pond. It was in the middle of nowhere, but that’s why we went there: no cottages, no people. When it was hot, people jumped in
the water with their clothes on; if they were drunk enough, with nothing on at all. Everyone would be there.

“Absolutely,” I replied.

*     *     *

Alec came back, in a better mood now, and stuck close to me the rest of the night. Around midnight he pulled me away from the crowd and whispered in my ear. “There’s a place I want to show you over near Westland where I had that painting job. The view is amazing. Let’s go there and stargaze.” He slipped his hand into mine. “What d’you say, gorgeous?”

Alec had this way of looking at me sometimes like I was the single most extraordinary person on the planet. I looked into his eyes, swaying slightly in my sandals. Suddenly, I was in an incredible mood.

“Let’s go,” I said.

*     *     *

I let things go too far, it’s true. But girls get carried away, too. Don’t let anyone tell you we don’t. We lose control, do things we shouldn’t, have to pull back. We’d gazed at the stars for about two minutes before we started kissing, the sky and his car and the party melting away. In the black heat, I closed my eyes and let myself slip away, too. The world disappeared and all I knew were his touch on my bare chest, his lips on my neck. He pulled off his T-shirt, his warm skin pressing against mine. My shorts lay on the car floor and his hand slid beneath my panties, trying to slip them off.