When the Shell Breaks

Chapter Three

Though I had never been to a real party it was exactly like I was expecting. The pungent smell of alcohol filled my nostrils and the sound of blaring music filled my ears, so much that I had to yell when I talked to Kira.

"Does this party have adult supervision?"

"No," she yells back at me. "Lola's parents are out of town."

I had forgotten that Lola was the one throwing the party until now. I only remember Lola from when she was Lola from Bugs Bunny for halloween. They had the same caramel colored hair and shared the same name so she pulled it off pretty well. It was all over her instagram.

It doesn't take Kira long before she gets pulled into a conversation with girls who are practically dressed like Las Vegas show girls and I get left by myself. I walk over to the fireplace in the living room and observe the photos on the mantel just to make it look like I'm not inexperienced when it comes to parties. Even though I've been left to fend for myself in a room full of beer pong and girls dancing on the coffee tables, I'm glad Kira is socializing. She had spent weeks picking out the perfect outfit for the party and the perfect shade of lipstick to bring out her already perfect ginger hair. Even though Kira had always been prettier than me she would still braid my hair or pull it in front of me in the mirror and say "I would do anything to have hair and eyes as dark as yours." I don't think Kira ever meant it but it still made me feel good.

 I stare at baby photos of Lola to distract myself from how awkward I felt. I couldn't compose myself as someone confident in a setting like this. I pull out my phone camera to see how I'm holding up but half of the cakey makeup that Kira put on my face is sweating off and my pretty, dark hair as Kira would say is frizzy. I want to find the right time to go to the bathroom, look at myself in the mirror, and tell myself that half the people at this party I'll never see again and that I look fine. But someone taps me on my shoulder. When I turned around a blonde shaggy haired boy smiles at me. I had seen him in the school hallway once or twice, you couldn't miss him from how tall he was, but I never knew his name. He rubs the back of his neck.

"I just wanted to tell you that you look really pretty." He says.

My face gets hot and my cheeks turn red. Maybe I didn't have to run to the bathroom and give myself a confidence boost after all. As I stand there in utter shock, I remember that the boy is probably waiting for a response.

Smiling, I say, "Thank you."

That's when the boy bursts out laughing.

Another boy, which I assume is his friend, puts his hand on his shoulder and passes him twenty dollars.

"I didn't think you would actually say it!" The other boy laughs and they walk away mocking me. I don't want to cry. I don't want to fall to pieces because of a boy, but tears begin to form in my eyes. Thankfully the room is crowded enough for me to run to the bathroom without anyone seeing that I'm upset. And that's exactly what I do.

***

I pace back and forth in the bathroom of Lola's house. Pick up the phone. I think to myself. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. The phone goes to my dads voicemail once again. He was the only person I could think to call to come pick me up though he was probably passed out on the couch. But finally he answers it. I bring the phone close up to my ear.

"Dad, I need you to come pick me up." I plead.

"Dakota what happened?" The voice through the other line says. Expect the voice doesn't belong to my dad. It's my mom. I don't try to deny anything to her. I just want to go home.

"I need you to come pick me up." I repeat, trying to ignore the fact that my mom is probably furious and my dad and partly me. I give her the location and an angry sigh is sent into my ear from the other side of the phone.

"Okay." My mother says.

***

I sit on the curb of Lola's house, waiting for my moms car to pull up. I hadn't told Kira that I was leaving, I didn't want her to have to feel bad for me when she was having a good time, I just assumed I would text her when I got home. Finally a black car pulls up to the curb and I know it's my mom. She rolls down the window and in a gentle voice she says, "Get in."

The car is silent and my thighs stick to the black leather seats. I expect my mom to scold me or my father but she doesn't say a word. All she does is let out big sighs to show that some kind of disappointment is brewing up inside her. Then, she opens her mouth.

"Your father is asleep on the couch, that's why he wasn't answering."

That's what I had figured. It had been Friday night after all which meant my dad would curl up on the couch with more beer bottles than he could carry and would watch the football game.

"He didn't tell me you were going to this party," She says, her voice still gentle but firm. "Were Lola's parents there?"

I wipe a tear from my eye and shake my head no. My mom lets out another sigh, this time a sigh of relief. "Thank god, her mom is a total nut." She tells me. This wasn't the first time I had heard those words. My mom had worked with Lola's mom on school fundraisers. She would come home complaining about what she wore and how she acted.

She pulls into the driveway of our house. I get out of the car but she doesn't. She just sits there. I watch her from the front porch of our house as she fiddles with the paper air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. It's a Christmas scented one even though it's June. I wonder what she's thinking right now.

My room is always cool and air conditioned. I like it better that way. Even in the winter time. Rather than being able to flop down onto my bed and silently sob into my pillow, I look at the suitcase lying on it instead. It's a plain black suitcase with the name Dakota embroidered on it in white at the top. I open up the suitcase and inside there's a lined piece of paper that reads "Dakota's summer packing list." My eyes widened. I had been so caught up on what happened at the party that I had forgotten that I was leaving for Maine in just a couple of days. I hear the door slam from downstairs and the sound of fighting is louder than my own thoughts. I don't bother to open the door and listen in on what my parents are fighting about now. I know it's about me and the party. Shimmying out of my orange tank top and mini skirt, I slide into one of my dad's old beatles t-shirts and crawl into bed. Closing my eyes, I think about living by myself in a New York City apartment or somewhere in Toronto. In my fantasies I'd be some kind of famous lawyer or journalist. And maybe someday I'll be so famous that somebody will write a biography about me and my shitty life.