Underage

[29] Back to the Beginning

Underage

[29] Back to the Beginning

Evan Michaels was a boy with a brand. He was a boy with a label stuck on his back that would follow him to his last days. A certified genius by the age of five, MENSA child as well, graduated from high school at age of twelve, and college with a master's degree by seventeen. Evan wanted to be with kids his own age. He wanted to party and drink and to see what high school had to offer. He wanted friends.

That was his first mistake.

Evan Michaels was never a normal kid. He wasn't one to get along with kids his age. Instead, he preferred the company of adults and people who could keep up a sophisticated conversation and not gawk at the size of his vocabulary. Sometimes, he would say something to me, these words flying out of his mouth that I couldn't start to comprehend. He would always dumb down his language for me, but I knew he hated doing so.

Why he ever wanted to hang out with Grace and me was beyond us. He was too smart for us, and yet too dumb at the same time. I admired him, I looked up to him. He loved literature and the English language. He was a wordsmith at heart and always loved to read. With an eidetic memory, he collected stories and held on with a firm hand. He relied on books.

When he was teased and bullied by boys who would only ever make a living flipping burgers, he turned to books. He turned to living someone else's life instead of his own. And, for a few hours, he was that person, until he closed the book and became him again. It was always hard pulling him away from a book he really loved, which seemed to be all of them. He praised any author who tried to write, even if it wasn't the book for him. We learned, early on, to let him finish the book before trying to get him to go anywhere, and to never touch a book on his bookshelves.

Evan Michaels was the first owner of the infamous leather jacket. He was the first owner of the silver flask always hidden inside. He was the first owner of the gray 1970 Mustang collecting dust in the Michaels' backyard. He was the first owner of the bad boy attitude to grace his family.

Evan Michaels tried to be someone he was not. He tried very hard. He just wanted to be a hero in one of his books. The boy who got the girl, who had friends, who had something to live for.

I was a freshman when I met Evan Michaels. Of course, Grace and I already knew who he was. He was two years older than us. If he were still in school he would have been a junior. It was Annie's late husband who gifted the Mustang to him. Deryl always loved Evan, and Evan always loved that car.

It was the end of the day during second semester. I had left Ethan standing at my locker and was surprised to see Evan sitting in the front seat of his Mustang, the window rolled down and a cigarette between his lips. He waved to me and motioned for Grace and me to come. I looked at my best friend. Grace's shoulders shrugged and we made our way towards Evan Michaels.

I remember the look on Ethan's face when Grace and I climbed into his brother's car and took off without looking back. It was the beginning of a rocky friendship.

It was a Friday, and I was at my second ever high school party. My cheeks were already red with the thought of the first. But, instead of being on Ethan's arm, where I wanted to be, I was on Evan's. He accepted a cup of a deep brown liquid at the door and took mine straight from my hand before downing them both. The boy who had read every book on why drinking and smoking was harmful to the body had gone through half a carton of cigarettes already that night, and kept gulping back drinks. He took the liquor eagerly, almost as if he couldn't get it down quick enough.

A can of beer was thrust into my hands at that point. Evan Michaels was swaying on his feet, his hand gripping mine. I wasn't letting him out of my sight. He was singing loudly and off tune to the song blaring through the house. I didn't think he would know anything played at a high school party. Shots were being served in the kitchen, and a makeshift dance floor took up the entire living room. This wasn't anything like the first party I had been to.