obsession

four

"Remember, go outside using the back door so your dad won't hear the padlock," Margot reminds me for the thirtieth time. "And make sure you don't wear a jacket. You don't want to look like a dork."

"Hang on," I mumble, wiggling myself into my pleated mini-skirt. I'd smuggled this from Jane's closet without her noticing, and to my surprise, it fit perfectly. It was a bit too short, which made me feel beyond self-conscious. I was used to hiding my body, not exposing it. Especially not to crowds of people. It made me anxious just thinking about it. "Why would I wear a jacket, anyway? It's literally summer."

"Because I know you... And I know that you like to add layer on layer."

"And I know that you never mind your business."

She giggles on the other end and I join her.

"Okay. So. In about ten minutes or so I'm gonna steal my mom's minivan, and I'll come over. Until then, just be lowkey and stay in your room."

"I'm not stupid, y'know," I reply. "I'm not gonna go out in the living room and sit on the couch and just hum to myself."

She giggles again. "Okay. I'm just saying. I'm gonna go and get ready now. Be waiting by the trees for me."

She hangs up before I can even get a word in, and I put the phone down. While I'm waiting, I browse through my bookcase, my fingertips kissing the spines. My eyes dart to a blank, white book. I smile and fish it out, assuming it to be a diary or journal from years ago. I flip through its pages to see nothing. Just a blank, white book with no lines. I put it back in the bookshelf.

When Margot pulls up in her mother's minivan, I can tell she's hardly wearing anything underneath her cardigan.

I get in. "You said I couldn't wear a jacket. Why are you wearing that?"

"Well, because. One, it's not a jacket. It's thin. And when I open it, I'm going to have all eyes on me."

I scowl at her. "Forty year old men is what you want?"

"To be fair, I have daddy issues," she says, holding a hand up to shush me. We both burst into fits of laughter and my anxiety rises as the ride continues.

"God, I really hope Jane or my dad don't check up on me for any reason."

"You worry too much," she replies, waving me off. "Even if your parents were awake for any reason right now, they're probably making out. They're obsessed with each other."

"Gee, thanks for putting that image into my head," I cringe.

After constant jabbering a few tracks from The Smashing Pumpkin's album, we finally make it to a packed parking lot in front of a huge brick building, with a lit-up cherry and an exploding bomb on the front of it. There are women with dyed hair drinking and dancing, and men in leather jackets accompany them.

Margot and I couldn't look more out of place.

But, Margot being Margot, she could care less, and skips out of the car, radiating confidence. I follow her like a lost puppy.

"Hey, wait," I say, grabbing her wrist before we can walk inside. She turns. "Promise me that you won't leave my side tonight, okay?"

She gives me a sly grin. "Tate, of course I won't. I can't lose you either, or I'd probably have a nervous breakdown."

We pinkie-swear. And off we go inside.

The first thing I notice is the stench of marijuana, alcohol, and cheap perfume. Like the kind you would purchase at the Dollar Tree. It's packed, and the floods of people are moshing and dancing to the rock music playing above us, which I immediately recognize to be Depeche Mode.