We're All Lost

One: Fiesta

I'm at a party. I don't even know the host of this fiesta, apparently, it's some rich dude from school. How am I in this party? Jayllin dragged me here. At least it's not at some frat house. Too bad Nimue had to cancel, not that it would've made a difference or whatsoever –I'd still be a wallflower. The house is congested. Everyone seems to know each other, except they don't, I bet you half of them don't know who the other person is. Everywhere I look there's dancing, lip-reading, drinking and laughter. Unlike school, here, no one is keeping to their cliques –they all just see each other as equals. The hierarchy doesn't exist in this realm, just vibing. The beauty of parties. Maybe if I was drunk and a social butterfly like my friends, I'd be vibing too –but instead I'm just wallflowering the night away with a cup of grape Fanta on my left hand. The room's temperature is high and the air smells like weed, beer and sweat –it triggers my gag reflexes. I instinctively grip the right strap of my backpack, a thing I do when I'm nervous.

 
A group of shit-faced guys push past me to get to the front door, making me spill my drink all over my shirt. For fuck's sake this shirt is white. At least the jeans remain untouched. I squeeze myself through the writhing sea of hormones, sweaty bodies sandwiching me, I finally make my way to the second floor –there's a huge sign written "Highly Restricted Area". Surprisingly the partygoers took note, because the hallway is empty and a lot quieter. I randomly stalk through one of the many doors in this hallway and lucky me, it's the laundry room. I have to get this cleaned before it dries up, mom is going to freak out if I came home like this. She'd automatically assume that I've been drinking.
The room smells like lavender fabric conditioner, the smell nauseates me. I haven't eaten since this morning, Jayllin took me out to Getty's for lunch –so, it's probably that. I smear detergent on the dirty spot of the shirt and furiously wash the shirt under the faucet in the basin. A laundry basket of clean clothes sits on the washing machine, I look for a tee shirt. I am most certainly not about to walk around with a wet shirt on, neither am I walking around with no shirt on at all –it's freaking cold. I settle on the Mauve essential tee with a small rainbow
embroidered on the chest. They're rich, I'm pretty sure they won't realize a missing tee shirt or at least, they can surely afford another one on Amazon this is what I tell myself to disintegrate what guilt and shame left in me And besides, I'll bring it back. I shove my shirt in my backpack.

Sunday, 21:40 PM
                       BRO WTFYA!!!???

I shoot Jayllin a text. I mean, how could he just leave me, when
he's the one who dragged me here? I don't know shit about
partying!

Sunday, 21:41 PM

                       Bro, chill. wya imma come getchu

Sunday, 21:41 PM
                                                            Aight, I'm on the second floor. You'll find
                                      me in the hallway, WAITING.

I'm casually leaning against the wall in the hallway, scrolling through Instagram when Jayllin finds me "Bro, I'm so sorry. I got caught up" he tries apologizing "Really Jay? Is that the best you could come up with?" I sound like a baby right now, "You left me, alone" or maybe I have abandonment issues of some sort. "Look, I said I was sorry. And besides, the whole purpose of me dragging you here was so that you could make some friends before the school year starts. Now stop being a baby" he exasperatedly flings his hands in front of my face. Jayllin is my uncle Terry's son, we grew up together, he's like my brother. Uncle T just became the head of the African Studies department at MacArthur's Academy about a year ago, he got me enrolled this year "I want to take you out of the hood boy, before get caught up in all that stuff" he said, this is how I ended up in this situation. "Anyways, where were you?" I ask, tailing him, because he most definitely wasn't at the party downstairs with the rest of us, I looked everywhere for him. "Upstairs with the guys, there's just a few of us" he says. The room is filled with boys wearing crimson and white letterman jackets. Jocks. It seems like there's an exclusive party going on upstairs just for the VIP, the crème de la crème of the school. The superordinates –the athletes and the wealthy. The hierarchy is still there, I guess. To think I was naïve enough to believe that it didn't exist in parties too. One of the letterman jacket guys catches my eye, I don't mean to eavesdrop, but he has an amazing voice –it draws me in "You guys don't get it, the oldies are the best. Golden" he says, in a final tone. He has the most perfectly symmetrical face I have ever seen: the perfect teeth; perfect lips; perfect jawline; perfect mild brown skin and the most beautiful eyes –as though the gods have taken time to carve him into perfection and made him a mortal to show off. "Come on, let me introduce you to the guys" Jay breaks my daze, he leads me directly to the demigod's group, "Yo guys" he called out over the music, the music here wasn't as loud as the music downstairs, so he was audible. Here, they had someone connect their phone to the sound system and downstairs, there was a DJ. "This is Jonathan. Jonathan, this is everyone" what a lame introduction, thanks Jay. "Hi, I'm Andrew. Andrew Walker" the demigod rises from his seat not breaking the eye contact, he flashes his pearly smile and sticks out his hand for a hand for a handshake, oh god. I take his hand and shake it "H-h-hi" I breath out. His hands are so soft, his eyes are green. Black guys with green eyes are now my fetish. It feels like he's looking deep into my soul, I feel bare, vulnerable under his gaze. How can someone possess such power over one's emotions? He's most definitely a demigod. He doesn't let go, neither do I –he smiles, a beautiful sight to see. My hand feels cold at the absence of his, this happened so fast, it feels as though I had imagined it all. Maybe I did.