Hello, my name is Loser

Chapter 6: Party Invite?

My thoughts are blood red these days when I think about my future...my past. There's nothing but panic and it grips me so hard that I can't breathe. It feels like someone has punched into my chest and is squeezing my heart.

Six months ago I could block out the panic, jam a cork into the memories and expectations, but then everything changed. I changed.

I wish I could say what exactly happened, but the truth is hard to wrestle with. One day I just woke up to my reality. I felt the weight I'd been carrying all these years and it broke me. I did things I'm not proud of just because they gave me a small feeling of control.

I don't know who I am anymore. Am I just a checklist that my parents created? Have I ever had dreams of my own? Will I ever be truly happy? These are the questions that begin to quicken my pulse, so I try to swat them away. It's useless.

A pencil waits patiently in my grip, hovering just above the page of my old sketchbook. It rests upon my lap like a lover's head, the page empty and waiting. My brows knit together and I sigh before tossing the pencil onto the grass. This feels awkward, like I'm sitting with my ex trying to rekindle something long since dead.

Frustrated, I plop back onto the grass with a groan. "Why does this have to be so hard?" I ask the air. No one responds.

The clouds overhead form a heart, but with the exhale of a warm summer wind it shifts into an 'L'. Is the universe telling me I'm a loser?

Rude.

Laughing grabs my attention and when I sit up I find four girls making their way down the patchy hill to the lake. They're clad in jean shorts and bathing suits, bags tossed over their shoulders.

One laugh in particular slaps a memory into place. Holy shit. It's high pitched and sharp like a hyena. High school comes back to me. It's second period chemistry, and Libby Fields sits directly in front of me cackling at a joke some douchey footballer said. That can only mean the three other girls with her are part of her posse. My old posse.

I gotta get the fuck outta here.

I toss the sketchbook and pencil back into my canvas bag with surprising speed and make a beeline for my bike. It rests against the nearest tree, the same one they are now walking towards.

They still haven't seen me yet and I wonder if I can use the tree as cover. I'm still contemplating rotating around it when I hear Libby say, 'Oh my god, Sam? Sam Monroe?"

She's standing a stone throw from the tree, peering around. Her blonde hair is long and hangs in waves over her shoulders, covering some of the fabric of her hot pink bikini top.

"What the hell? Aren't you supposed to be in like Boston or something?"

I force a stiff smile, "Or something." I pull my bike towards me by the handlebars.

Her red-headed sidekick steps forward, Molly (maybe?) "You look exactly the same," She smiles and it looks genuine. "It's been so long. How are you?" Her blue one piece is cut off at the waist by a long white skirt. Freckles dot every surface of visible skin.

"Ew, no. She looks like she's lost weight," Libby snaps at her.

"Thanks, I think...anyway I was just leaving, but it was good seeing you." I mumble, beginning to wheel past them.

"Are you back for the party?" Molly asks. I pause.

"Molly, that's invite only," Another girl with black hair and bronze skin bites out. She's wearing a cheetah print top and matching sunglasses. Her name escapes me, but I feel the animosity rolling off her in resounding waves.

But a party is a party and it also means free booze. I might be sad but I can also be sad and drunk which feels like a slight step up.

"There's a party?," I ask Molly.

She nods, still with a smile. I try to reciprocate but it feels odd on my face and I hope I don't look disturbed.

"It's at your brother's house," Libby says, dragging my gaze back to her. She wears a smug expression. Ah, there it is. I see the rest of my memory now. The douchey footballer turns to leave the classroom and it's my brother. He winks at me as he passes.

"Oh. Right," I manage. The rest of that memory involves scissors and her hair. He always did like long hair.

The one quiet girl mumbles, "Whatever, I'm going to set my stuff down." She glances at me as she passes. "See ya round, Sam." Ash. My old partner in crime, until she wasn't. Her hair is blonde now though, and she's wearing a bathing suit similar to Libby. So much for nearly being twins. I hardly recognize her.

Too stunned to speak, I simply nod at her retreating figure.

"He didn't tell you? This is awkward," Libby laughs.

My poor ears. "I just got in yesterday," I say too fast.

"Well, I'll have to ask him if you can come, but I'm sure it won't be a problem. We'd all love to catch up with you. See why you're back in town and all that." Libby remarks. 

No name says, "Your brother never mentioned you'd be back."

I want to ask why they even care but then I remember how paint drying is probably exciting in this town. It's just above drowning myself in the lake. But only just.

"Well, I graduated early and decided a visit was long overdue." I shrug, "I surprised the family so he wouldn't have known." It feels wrong talking about my brother like I don't hate his guts. I wonder if Libby knows this.

Molly claps her hands, "Wow that's so cool. You must be so excited!"

Libby tosses hair over her shoulder, "Oh, how fun. Well, I'll give him a call –"

I start moving forward, "That won't be necessary." I don't need an invite. I've already decided I'm getting drunk tonight and unfortunately, I still know exactly where he lives.

"Okay..." I hear Libby trail off as I move up the hill and out of earshot. God, why did I come back? 

Oh, yeah, because I burned every other bridge outside of town. 

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Hellaur Babes, 

Been dealing wif stress or whateva. I will be posting Thursdays and Sundays!! Please follow, vote, and comment. Can you draw? I can draw a mean stick figure. 

Awlright bye luvsss

-Heather