Pusher

fifteen.

Admittedly, I had never been to a true high school party. Sure Ellie and our immediate group of friends threw little get-togethers but there were never more than ten people at a time. My only other idea of a party had been heavily influenced by Hollywood. As soon as I arrived at the address Raven had scribbled on the inside of my wrist just a few days prior, I realized my perception was grossly wrong.

There were no red solo cups strew along the front lawn, no strobe lights, or substantial damage to the home. A guitar amp in the other room had been hooked up to someone's phone, but it could hardly be heard on the other side of the house, let alone halfway down the block. At least we didn't have to worry about the police showing up on the porch due to a noise complaint.

Through the doorway, I could see a young couple swaying to the music. The boy's head was craned down so he could link lips with the girl. They had been making out for the past ten minutes. Maybe I should have been disgusted by their public display of affection or fawning over their young romance, but instead all I could think about was how sore that boy's neck must me from compensating for their incredible height distance.

What they were doing was hardly dancing, but it was the closest anyone had gotten so far.

Ellie and I had arrived a little less than a half hour ago and spent most of the night on the couch. It was a dull red color, spotted with stains, and the cushions had lost their form long ago. This left me sinking into the cracks as if I were sitting in quicksand.

Ellie had proved to be much better at this party thing than I was. Not that it was much of a surprise. People naturally gravitated to her. She was intelligent, but not intimidating. Pretty, but in an approachable way. Quirky, but too trendy to be classified as weird.

And me? Well, I was myself. I didn't really expect to enjoy myself much tonight anyway.

While we sat in the car, I had tried to convince Ellie that eating pizza in our PJ's and watching Netflix would be a much more enjoyable evening, but she wouldn't have it. I guess if I had actually spent some time getting ready like she had, then I might be a little more inclined to want people to actually see me.

I donned washed out jeans and an old graphic tee. My hair was thrown up into a ponytail, stray strands curving around my face. I flicked on some mascara in the car while I waited for Ellie to get in, but that was as far as my effort for makeup had extended.

Ellie, on the other hand, had curled her hair, the ginger locks falling down her back in perfect spirals. Her dress was modest by today's standards but earned a disapproving glare from her mother as she rushed out to my car. Even she agreed the heels were a mistake though, and she had kicked them off into the corner shortly after we arrived.

My stomach did another flip as Ellie released a laugh, her hand laying over the arm of the boy who sat next to her. They had been flirting for the past ten minutes. I tried to distract myself by talking with the kid who sat on the floor. He was mousy looking, with a pink nose and pinker corneas. It wasn't exactly a riveting conversation.

Shawn or Sam or whatever his name was, got up to get another drink. Ellie declined his offer to get her one as well and turned to me once he had disappeared into the kitchen.

"I've got him wrapped around my finger. Now's the time to pull out that weed," she said. Her red-painted lips pulled into a toothy smile. She was enjoying manipulating these boys just a little too much. Of course, they were doing the same thing to her, weren't they?

"You're kind of scarily good at this," I said, looking at her with wary eyes. She had always been a flirt but this was a whole different side of her. "I can't believe I'm turning you into a drug dealer too."