The Arts

9 - It's My Party...

TYLER

Tyler had arrived fashionably late. Sixty-two minutes, to be exact. By the time he had made it up to the senior's wing and been let in by Jack, the party was in full swing. Someone handed him a brightly colored solo cup filled with soda, and Tyler took a swig without a second thought.

The party was surprisingly loud. He turned his attention to the source of the music to see three boys — one on guitar and lead vocals, one on bass and backup vocals, and one on drums — and the tiniest pit of sadness started to form in his stomach. Tyler couldn't help but think, that could've been The Flaming Wolves.

          He shook his head slightly, forcing memories of his old friends out of his mind. He took another drink and stayed standing awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment, just watching the band. They were halfway through a cover of an AJR song, which Tyler had to give them props for; with no keyboardist to handle the techno elements of the music, it couldn't have been an easy feat.

          After getting shoved out of the way by several students and getting a dirty look from a random upperclassman for just standing there like a dope, Tyler returned from his trance and moved closer to the wall. He craned his neck, searching for anyone he might know. Which at this point, was only...

          "This is nothing like what you made it sound like, dude!" Ivan's voice was distinct and shrill, but pleasantly surprised. He held a teal solo cup in one hand while the other waved around exuberantly. Jack leaned against the breakfast bar in the kitchenette as Ivan talked. Tyler started towards them. Ivan continued, "You said this was like, just getting together with friends and hanging out!"

          "Well, we're all hanging out, aren't we?" Jack said cooly.

          "There's no live band when you're just hanging out with friends," Ivan insisted, but his focus switched when Tyler approached them. Ivan stepped forward, arms stretched out. "Tyler! There he is! My man!"

          Ivan attempted to go in for a hug, but Tyler held out a balled hand for a fist bump. Ivan took it.

          "You...are acting super drunk," Tyler assessed the boy and then turned to Jack, suddenly feeling protective. "What did you give him?"

          "Relax, it's just soda. There's no alcohol. Why do all you freshmen think we have access to liquor?" Jack frowned.

          "My mom doesn't let me have sugar!" Ivan's voice rang out, and Tyler's random wave of wanting to protect him had vanished. Tyler's face turned crimson red, and he considered leaving right then.

          Jack also winced. "Buddy, keep your voice down. Don't say weird crap like that out loud. Let's keep it a fun vibe."

          "Right. Fun vibe!" Ivan started wiggling his body, some strange attempt at dancing.

          Tyler looked to change the subject, letting his eyes travel to the countertop of empty, grease-stained pizza boxes. "Looks like I missed dinner."

          "You were an hour late," Jack shrugged. "There's still dessert. A chick from one of my art classes baked cookies and brownies."

          Tyler's hand instinctively reached up and covered his stomach. He had always been scrawny, but he was hoping to build some muscle, and he reasoned that dessert certainly wasn't going to help that cause.

          At the mention of cookies and brownies, Ivan lunged for them. "I'll take one of each!"

          Jack held back the freshman. "Not for you." Jack reached over, grabbed a chocolate chip cookie, and held it out toward Tyler. "Come on. One cookie won't kill you."