The Price of Falling

Chapter 8

It was the day of Jack Nickson's party, and practically the whole school was going.

"So, where are you going tonight?" My mom was asking me again.

"Going out to dinner with Molly and then going to her house," I lied. I probably could've told my mother the truth and she would have been fine. She knew I was a responsible person, and that I freaked out anytime something went sideways. However, it was like a rite of passage, lying to your parents about going to the biggest party of the school year.

"Okay. Text me when you get home so that I know you're okay. I won't be home until about eight tomorrow morning," she told me for about the fourth time in an hour.

"I know, Mom," I smiled at her. We had been sitting on the couch eating breakfast. On the weekends that she worked the night shift, we would hang out all morning, and then she would sleep all afternoon. We had been watching the news, talking about school and work, and telling stupid jokes all morning.

Mom stood from the couch, stretched her entire body, and yawned. That was her way of saying it was bedtime for her. I watched her walk out of the living room to put her dishes from breakfast in the sink. Then, she returned to tell me, "Good night, honey." She used air quotes when she spoke the word "night," considering it was 1:00 in the afternoon.

"Good night, Mom. I love you," I told her. I wouldn't be home when she woke up.

***

"Aren't you excited?" Molly had this terrible habit of squealing when she was trying to make people as excited as she was.

"Yes, Moll, I'm excited. Now please stop screaming in my ear," I joked with her. The stereo in her room was playing, and I was laying on her bed with my feet resting up above me on the wall. I decided to wear a simple ensemble, while Molly decided that she was going to overdress. I wore tight, dark jeans with holes in the knees, a white and gray raglan shirt that came off the shoulder a bit, with my black Tom's. She was wearing the black dress that I borrowed last weekend, and she decided to play down the outfit by borrowing my silver sparkle Tom's that I wore to prom.

"You're so lucky you have naturally curly hair. I wish I did," Molly was curling her perfect hair in front of her vanity. My hair was in a french braid, because I had a hell of a time taming it when I got ready at my house.

"No, no, no. You're lucky that you have perfectly angelic, straight, never poofy hair. Be glad you aren't aboard the frizz train," I said to her, hanging my head off the edge of the bed to look at her. Molly's phone dinged and I assumed it was Jason texting to say that he was on his way.

"So," she said after she checked her phone. "You finally want to talk about what I walked in on the other night?"

"No. Why? Is Conner coming to the party?" I was paranoid. I had checked with Jason three times since last Saturday, trying to figure out if Conner was going to be at Jack's party. But apparently Jason hadn't heard from him. And Conner hadn't been at school for the last week either. Add truancy to the list of red flags.

"I still don't know the answer to that question, Ruthie," Molly rolled her eyes and breathed a laugh.

***

As soon as we walked into the party Jack Nickson handed Molly, Jason, and I red solo cups full of what I assumed was beer. I took a swig and learned that I had assumed correctly. Jason took Molly's hand and led her over to where the jocks were standing around with their girlfriends. I walked into the kitchen, waving at a few people I knew along the way. I poured the beer down the sink drain and looked for something else. If anything, I was not a beer girl.

Frankie, a guy I knew from school, was mixing Sprite and coconut rum in his cup and I waited behind him until he was finished. "Hey, Ruth," he smiled at me.

"Hey Frankie," I responded as I took his place to make myself a rum and coke. "How are you?" I made polite conversation.

"Good. How are you doing?" He leaned against the counter, running a hand through his shaggy hair. He looked over and kept smiling. His smile was lazy and his eyes were bloodshot. I guessed he had been drinking for a while.

"Good. You look like you're doing better than me, though," I joked with him.

"You're right," he laughed and winked at me. "Maybe you should try to catch up."

"I think I might tonight," I responded, laughing with him.

Macy Thompkins walked into the kitchen then, with her posse around her. "Hello, Ruthie," she slurred. "Hey Frankie," her voice sounded significantly nicer when she greeted him than when she had said hello to me. I downed my first rum and coke, and mixed myself another.

***

"Come dance with me, Ruthieeeeee!" Molly whined at me an hour later. I was 3 drinks in, and I didn't know how many she had had.

I was much more agreeable than I normally would be, and I said, "Okay," with a loose smile.

"Yay!" she screamed, and grabbed my arm, dragging me to what was supposed to be a dance floor. Jack had pushed the living room furniture to the corners of the room to make a large space in the middle. There was a DJ on the wall next to the sliding glass door. Of course Jack Nickson would have a DJ at his yearly party. Molly and I walked, or shimmied, to the middle of the dance space and started dancing. We moved our hips along to the beat of every song. And just like every party, everyone on the dance floor was touching. The lights were bright, but in a good way. My head felt light and my cheeks were hot. We were all bumping and grinding into each other, and singing along to every song. Frankie danced a circle around Molly and me. The DJ changed the song, and Ed Sheeran's "Don't" came on next. The lights changed with it. Everyone on the floor sang the intro. I felt a pair of hands on my hips and kept dancing. This was normal at Jack's parties. Everyone found someone to dance with. I was feeling good, and I liked the way the hands felt in their place on my hips. I kept swaying along to the beat. Molly had turned around and was making out with Jason as they danced. I lifted my arms up and was singing along, "Don't fuck with my love, That heart is so cold...," except, I didn't say the "f" word. I felt a breath on the back of my neck and I enjoyed the way it felt. But, I was getting curious. Who was I dancing with? I turned around to the sight of a chest clad in black fabric. I looked up slowly and saw the last face I expected, or wanted, to see. But my mind was having trouble caring at the moment.

I placed my hands on Conner Price's chest and kept swinging my hips with the music. He looked surprised that I wasn't kicking him or running away. He smelled good, and looked good. I had definitely had too much to drink. I liked the way I was feeling though, and I didn't want to stop feeling that way. I smiled at Conner. When he smiled back at me, he playfully tugged on my braid. My buzz was starting to wear off, so I decided that when the song was over, I would go get another drink. Conner leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Can we talk?"

Well, that totally killed my buzz. I pulled my hands off of his chiseled chest and walked off the dance floor, and towards the kitchen. When I got there though, I realized I had to pee.