Also At Austin North's Party, Friday Night:
Megan
"I'm definitely regretting my decision," says Mark, to which I pat his arm reassuringly.
The party is total mayhem by the time we enter the house. A couple of people greet me enthusiastically as Mark and I make our way through the crowd.
"Is there anyone here who doesn't know you?" he asks. It took almost fifteen minutes for us reach the dining room from the front door.
I hand him a plastic cup and motion for him to put it under the keg's spout. "Maybe they know of me," I say as I let him fill my cup halfway. "But know me? Hardly."
Now that the whole school knows I'm a Young, they've suddenly become warmer toward me.
"I bet all of them want to get to know you," Mark says as he begins to fill his cup.
"What about you?" My yellow eyes meet his dark blue ones. "Do you want to get to know me?"
"I think I got you figured out," he says, a faint smirk playing on his pink lips.
I look at him with genuine curiosity. "This, I'm definitely interested to hear."
"You see things differently from other people," he starts, smiling a little. "Yes, you give a crap about what other people think of you, but that's normal, and I don't believe that there's such a person who lives without feeling even the tiniest bit self-conscious. No one buys that "I don't care" shit.
"You stay tough, even though you're hurting inside. You don't like showing people you're weak side unless they're truly close to you. You try to change, but it's not to fit in, it's for your own sake.
"If I were in your shoes, I would have beaten up the people who ruined my life. But you? Despite all the pain, you still continue to love. That's what makes you special, Megan, and that's what makes you one of a kind. You don't have to be strong, you just have to stay who you are."
Audrey
"CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!" The crowd is chanting as I drain bottle after bottle of alcohol. So what if I'm still a minor? I want to let loose and have fun tonight so I am--by destroying my sobriety.
My opponent, Annabelle Vasquez, drops her head on the table, admitting defeat. There's a moment of stunned silence--then overjoyed pandemonium breaks out. All the guys are cheering and hugging each other, whistling and drumming tables to death.
Alvin Seville, a junior in a red hoodie, raises my arm, earning a fresh wave of applause. "Give it up for Audrey Henson, y'all!"
"Audrey! Audrey! Audrey!" Now they're chanting my name, and I grin, drunk beyond comprehension.
Intoxicated, I squint my lime green eyes in the dimness of the room, and on my way to the bathroom, I plant a hand on the wall, trying to stay on my feet.
Ugh! How much did I drink? Whatever. I push the white door open and trip over an unconscious girl's figure lying on the beige-tiled floor. She's breathing, so that's a good sign. And there's a half-empty bottle of vodka in her hand, which explains a lot. I flip her over so she's lying on her back.
Friendly Tip: If you're gonna pass out, fall on your back. Getting drunk and laying on your face is a big no-no.
I sit on the floor, lean my back on the apricot wall, and giggle uncontrollably. What a night this has been. I should call someone to help me get home in one piece.
I fish out my phone, which almost slips from my grasp, but I palm the tiles for it.
*Scroll.* Simon Percival? No, I saw him making out with someone in a dark corner.
*Scroll.* Archie Hood? Hell no. He's in a mild coma after skateboarding down the roof, his head hitting the diving board of the pool.
*Scroll.* Celeste Sawyer? Last I spotted her, she was taking body shots off of Cassandra Roman's body. I am running out of options here. It's not like I'm Miss Congeniality.
*Scroll.* Liliane Nicholson? I think she's in a cat-fight with Jessica Morrow.
I sigh and lower my phone as I glance at the unconscious brunette in front of me. I scrutinize her peaceful face, soon realizing that she's Justine Conner, a fellow Performing Arts freshman.
I lean forward, then grab the bottle from her hand. I gulp down its contents, letting out a loud, monster-like burp, and giggle as I press the green Call button next to a familiar name.
Mason
I'm in the studio room, just about done recording a new solo, when my phone rings on a swivel chair.
I let go of the headphones and reach for the phone, my heart racing at the caller ID. I quickly do the math. Here in LA, it's 12:04 pm, so there in New York, it's 9:04pm.
I clear my throat, turning to face the wall. "Hello?" I say, smiling softly.
A soft giggle comes to my ears, making me frown, even more when Audrey speaks. "Your voice is warm and sexy, RM. I like it."
Taken aback by her sluggish voice, and the direction the conversation has taken, I stutter into the receiver. "A-Audrey? Are you okay?" I run a quick analysis on her voice: She's drunk.
She hums lightly before breathing quietly. "I'm just.. feeling lonely tonight. Very lonely. I-I just wanted to hear a friendly voice. I'm sorry."
I know what I want to answer to that statement.
That I want nothing more than to be a part of her life, to hold her in my arms and make sure neither of us ever feels lonely anymore. But I know better than to pressure her, perfectly aware it would cancel the little progress we've made so far.
I'm talking to her, hearing her actual voice without the security net provided by texting each other.
We don't have time to think about what we say, rewriting the same message three or four times before sending it. It's unnerving and yet exhilarating. Not wanting to blow this up, I go with a safe reply:
"Don't be sorry, Audrey. You can always talk to me. It's pretty late, though. What's keeping you up?"
I hear a long sigh. Then she speaks again, her voice definitely sluggish and drowsy: "I just.. got to thinking.. I feel like I wasted my life away.."
"Don't say that. You're seventeen, Audrey. Your life has just begun."
Something breaks in her voice, and I'm sure I hear sniffling. "I'm sick of coming home to emptiness. Sometimes I wish I was less of a lame coward and could come home to you.."
I gasp at that statement, but the young woman continues her tirade, her words coming out more and more indolent: "But no-o-o-o-o-o. I have to be this broken and insecure thing that can't will herself to come out of the safety of hiding from behind a mask.."
I wonder what could have happened to put her in such a state of mind, but Audrey pursues her rant even more sluggishly than before:
"You know.. When I get lonely like this.. I often wonder.. What my life would have been if I had chosen another path? It would have been about two years old by now."
"Audrey? Are you drunk or something?"
"Maybe it would have brown hair and green eyes. Would it have been a boy or a girl? Would it have been a singer? And then I realize I won't ever know because I made a decision with my fucking brain, a decision my heart never fully agreed on."
My heart starts beating furiously in my chest, my throat suddenly feeling tight and dry. I'm perfectly aware that she's rambling, that she's letting me on secrets she probably hadn't intended to share with me in the first place.
My train of thoughts is disrupted by heavy breathing on the other side of the line. "Audrey?"
Seeing as I never got an actual answer, I figure she must have drifted off to sleep, and reluctantly disconnect the call. I'm not sure exactly what just happened, but I push those questions at the back of my mind, putting on my headphones and resuming my work, trying to concentrate on the song.
