The Boys I Used To Know

Chapter 6- Me Too

Chapter 6- Me Too.

Mark pulled into my driveway and turned off the engine. I had already gotten my keys out of my backpack so I was ready to bolt through the rain and get in the house quickly. I was about to open the door when I stopped. There was a question tugging at the back of my brain. I turned to look at Mark. He was staring right back at me. His hair was still wet from the rain so he must have just gotten in the car when he spotted me. Being wet, it was jet black just like I remembered it from when he was little. It had gotten slightly lighter over the years. His face, which had once been round, was longer and set with a strong jaw line. Dark eyes looked back at me through his straight wet hair. 

"Do you-" I stopped. What was I going to ask him?

"Do I what?" His eyes never left mine.

It was only me and him. It felt like that barrier that had been between us for so long had finally fell and I could ask him that question that'd been in the back of my mind for years. "Do you think Ian will ever be himself again?"

He shook his head. "I wish I knew, Tomboy."

I smiled a small smile, remembering my old nickname. "I miss him, Dillon."

"Me too."

***

 The next day at school I felt strange. My whole world had shifted with two words. Mark missed him too? Then why does he put up with the Ian we all know and hate? I barely slept the night before, wondering what this day would bring. I was hoping for it to bring answers and my sketchbook, but maybe that would be asking to much of the day. Maybe, I should just wish for my sketchbook.

The bell rang to signal the end of fourth period. I closed my notebook and put my supplies in my bag. It was time for lunch so I didn't have to rush to my locker. The teachers don't care if you don't get to the cafeteria on time. It's a big plus otherwise I'd have so many tardies they would add up to count as absences.

 I was the last person to hop off the stool and head for the door. 

And who should greet me at the door but Ian Bryce. Surprisingly, no one from his posse was with him. He let everyone pass through the doorway until it was my turn. 

 "Surprise," I said with no emotion. I'd practiced my bored face in the mirror for moments like this.

"I have something for you," he said, leaning against the doorframe. 

"Give it to me then," I said with no hesitation. My hand out for the notebook just like the other day.

He gave me a smirk. Then he grabbed an envelope out of his messenger bag and handed it to me.

The envelope was one of those fancy ones you get when you're invited to a wedding. On the top was my name written in beautiful round letters with sharp flips at the points of each word. It must have been professionally done. That was no surprise for something from the Bryce's family.  I flipped it over and broke the seal. Inside the envelope was a card. The stationary was thick. 

I read the paper twice before I realized it was an invitation to one of Ian's biggest parties of the year. For a few years now, since we were Sophomores. Mr. and Mrs. Bryce went go on vacation for a week to celebrate their anniversary. This gave Ian the perfect opportunity to throw a rager at his house.

You would think he would never get away with it, but he took precautions to ensure success. First of all, he was smart about it. In order to have people dying to be invited he had to make it exclusive, hence the invitations. You must bring your invitations and hand in your car keys, phone, and any other electronic devices to the doorman who put it away and gave you a name tag to hand in when you wanted to leave and get all your stuff back. This prevented any drunk drivers and evidence of the party. No pictures. No accidents. No proof.