KISS: Casablanca High School

Ch 8: Friday Night Highs (Eric C)

The final whistle blew and Ace leapt down from the railing, shaking his head. "Man, that blows. Could've used Paulie out there."

I shot a glance at the scoreboard. 42-28 was not a great start to the season, I'll admit that. We filed out of the stands with countless other disappointed students, doing our best to ignore the raucous cheers from Devereaux's side. That would've been me if I hadn't won that scholarship. Could've been having fun tonight.

A sly smile spread across Peter's face and he looked at me and Ace. "Hey, you guys want to have some fun tonight? Even though the game sucked, it's still early enough that we could do something."

Ace nodded, eyes shining. "Oh, yeah, curly, I know just what you're talking about."

I, on the other hand, was completely lost, and looked between the two of them. "What are you talking about?"

Still smiling, Peter just led us to his car, whistling to himself and swinging his keys. This time Ace slipped into the back and I was lucky enough to ride shotgun. I'll admit, being able to sit in Peter's car without being crammed into the backseat did kinda make me understand why he loved that thing so much. It was a nice ride.

With the soft crunch of tires on asphalt we drew to a halt outside of Peter's place. "Hey you got stuff?" Ace asked as we climbed up the stairs. "Of course," Peter scoffed, fumbling for a moment to unlock his front door. I stood behind them, completely clueless. But hey, I had been invited to hang out and I was in desperate need of friends.

Peter's apartment was honestly a disaster. Stuff was spilled everywhere, ranging from schoolwork to clothes to dishes to tools.

"Do you live alone?" I asked. Peter laughed, pushing aside a stack of plates as he moved into the kitchen. "Nah, not technically. My grandparents live here too, but they mainly live in a house outside the city. I get to stay here because of school and all that."

Ace had moved to the pantry, rummaging through the cupboards. "Pete's place is great because his grandparents are rarely here, so it's basically free real estate."

To my surprise, Peter walked out of the kitchen with a bottle of alcohol in each hand, and Ace emerged from the pantry with yet another bottle and three red solo cups.

So now I knew exactly where this was going.

Peter popped the tops off the bottles, taking a swig before passing one to Ace and offering one to me.

"Oh...I don't...drink," I said weakly. Lamely.

They exchanged glances and shrugged. "Hope you don't mind if we do," Peter said, jumping onto the couch and taking a long drink. Ace followed suit, folding his long legs beneath him and sitting on the floor.

"You want the vodka, the whiskey, or the tequila?" With a huge smile, Ace selected the whiskey, Peter grabbing the vodka.

I went and sat in the corner on my phone because I didn't know what else to do.

Huge shout out to unlimited data for allowing me to act like I was focused on something.

The night dragged on and they drank on. By the time it hit 12, Ace had finished his whiskey and was moving on to the tequila. "Hey Ace, I don't know if that's a good idea," I said slowly, watching him swaying as he struggled to open the bottle.

"Aw but curly!" he began, before Peter cut him off. "Shhhh...don't bother the little foxy boy," he slurred, toppling off the couch. Ace giggled, patting Peter's head and giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Whatttt the heck.

"Cute little kitty," Ace murmured, taking a sip of tequila and wrapping his arms around Peter, burying his face in his chest. 

Peter smiled, petting Ace's shoulder, before leaning back against the sofa and looking over at me. "Ericcc...you're so small!" he cried.

Ouch. I mean he wasn't wrong, but still. "Why are you so tiny?" he slurred, before bursting into tears. A look of absolute horror covered Ace's face and he looked at Peter. "Aw, curly! Don't cry!" Peter shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "So tiny! So cute!" he sobbed.

I didn't know what to do. I had never been to a party where people drank like this, not to this point. Peter looked at me again, reaching a hand out to try and touch my hair, oblivious to the fact I was sitting ten feet away. "Eric...why is your hair so big? You're so small...hair so big..." he said, tears fading to hysterical laughter. Ace joined in with possibly the wildest laugh I have ever heard in my life. All I could do was shrug, running a hand through the hair that was the source of such hilarity.

My phone buzzed, and I looked to see my mom was calling me. Oh no. "Guys, shut up. My ma's calling," I said. Ace kept laughing until Peter clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Hi Ma," I said slowly.

"Eric! Where have you been?"

"Did...you not get my text? I'm over at a friend's house," I said, fear starting to bubble up in my chest. If I had forgotten to text her, that's it. I was dead.

"You didn't tell me you'd be gone for so long! Are you spending the night?"

"Uh...no. I was going to head home soon. I'll see you in about an hour, is that okay?"

"Just stay safe, sweetheart. Love you."

"Love you too."

She hung up and I let out a sigh of relief. Somehow, I was still alive. Peter took his hand off of Ace's mouth, allowing for his wild laughter to fill the small apartment once again. "Such a cute laugh," Peter said, looking at him with a soft smile, fumbling for the bottle of tequila.

"You guys really shouldn't have any more to drink," I muttered, knowing my advice didn't matter and wouldn't be heeded anyway.

"Alright I'm leaving now. Thanks for taking me to the game, Peter."

He lifted his head slowly, giving me a huge smile. "So small..."

Shaking my head with a grin, I grabbed my keys and stepped outside, creeping down the stairs until I made it to my car.