Ripped [TO BE PUBLISHED 2016]

6

Hush hush. Whisper whisper. The house is alive at night. I push open the window, pray that the ghosts of the past don't find me. I jump, only seven feet or so off the ground. I run, wind whipping my hair, feet flying off the ground, untouchable. Invincible.

There is only one house that is lit in this "privileged" neighborhood. Music is blaring, strobe lights pulsing. I'm surprised the neighbors don't call the cops. Must be a rich kid thing. If everybody knows who your parents are, you can't get busted for anything.

I swing the door open, push through the mass of partygoers and dancers. Nobody notices that I've arrived. Nobody cares.

I find a seat on the couch, sit quietly like a good little girl, and wait.

A sentence looms above me, firm but wandering. "God, where have you been?" Her voice is low and sultry, like it always is when she isn't always quite there. She hands me a lit cigarette.

I just shrug. I take the cigarette, but throw it on the rough linoleum when she isn't looking. Better to take it and toss it than say no to her.

"God, these people are so boring. High school parties are a drag." I nod, silent. I'm not even in high school, let alone in any place of jurisdiction to dismiss one. "Here." She hands me a red solo cup filled with frothy brown liquid.

I take a sip, force it down. Beer has never been my forte. I'm more of a go hard or go home kind of girl. Girls on the brink of womanhood eye my thin fingers. Boys with tainted intentions scan my skinny hips and flat chest.

Even here, I am nothing.

"I can't stay long," I mutter.

"What?" she asks, her voice curt and acidic.

My blood freezes for a few seconds. I take another sip of beer to thaw it.

"I mean it depends," I say. Sip, swallow. Repeat. "If you really want me to, I guess..."

She flashes me a toothy smile. "That's my girl. Good. There's somebody I want you to meet." Another pretty boy with a white smile to match his lies, no doubt. Of course I don't say that. I just nod, let her take my wrist, lead me into a dark musty room.

"Hey, Aspen!" A chipmunk like voice squeaks from the corner.

"Uh, Rosie," I mutter. "Hi." I look beside me at Cassie, but there's only a looming empty space. "Have you seen...?" I let my sentence trail. She's probably hooking up with some type A douchebag. What's more attractive than a smart guy that objectifies women?

"Hey. Ian. Andrew. This is Aspen." Rosie waves at me in an introductory gesture. I look towards them, but don't blink. Don't smile. Smiling might give them the wrong idea, the wrong impression. I just nod my head forward, initiate brief eye contact.

"Wow, Rose. You didn't tell me that your friend was so hot." A thick boy with messy blonde hair speaks, spewing out smoke with each syllable. His eyes wander over my pale shorts and black sweater. As if he can actually see anything. Still, a slight shiver runs down the base of my spine. I tug at the hem of my hoodie, just in case. Just to make sure.

She gives him a toothless smile, a slight grin to get his attention back on her. His dark pupils wander back over to Rosie and I let out a silent sigh of relief.

"Aspen." His words are soft, almost inaudible. I almost didn't notice him. My eyes flicker towards a dark figure in the corner. He is smoking too. Everybody here smokes. But he exhales his clouds in billows instead of ringlets or puffs. Very cool. Very covert.