Carrie
Ashley almost trips over a branch. Her free hand reaches out for mine, her beer sloshing. “Shit, sorry!” she says, and then she sees me. I used to think Ashley was not as terrible as the rest of the Westwick Prep graduates, until I saw her making a foreign exchange student her slave last year. I don’t feel bad bristling at her pink claws against my skin. I almost pull back and let her fall over, but I don’t want to be as cold as these people.
“Watch your step,” I say matter-of-factly.
Ashley rolls her eyes and takes a big gulp of her drink. “Why are you even here? I mean, you can’t be having fun.”
“No, I absolutely hate this party and everything like it.” I shake my head and start to walk away.
“Take a beer, damn. If you’re gonna be here, you don’t have to be a buzzkill.” Ashley waves over someone who’s carrying two cans.
I don’t really have a reason not to drink the beer. I’ve tried alcohol before. My parents offer me wine with just about every meal. I smile when I see it, Pabst Blue Ribbon. I assume this means we’re drinking the cheap stuff, ironically, and I can’t decide if that’s amusing or not. I pop open the tab.
“Thanks.” I nod to Ashley and the guy. Perry, I think his name is? I mean, in their own backhanded way, they’re trying to involve me. Even if I’m just a buzzkill. I take a big swig of the beer.
It tastes fucking awful, but the more I drink the less I mind. It’s chilled and has a little kick after every drink. I walk towards the water, pulling off my shoes and tossing them near where everyone else has theirs. I watch the water and listen to all the sounds around me fade out to nothing.
I’ve just graduated high school. I’m starting college in the fall. I should be excited. But after the sounds creep back into my consciousness, I just feel annoyed all over again. I wonder for a second what it would be like to not feel so displeased.
Laurel laughs, sputtering out some of her beer when Perry lifts up her towel and shows everyone Jonie’s hairy legs. “Jonie, please, who are you kidding with not shaving your legs? No one thinks that’s empowered, that’s your first visible step in giving up on yourself!”
“Shaving is a huge waste of time,” Jonie says, her eyes cast downward. She tries to snatch her towel back from Perry.
Jonie is mousy and has a surprisingly squeaky voice. Two things that already didn’t help her fit in at Westwick Prep, and she wanted to fit in. It’s made her time at school painful to witness. Laurel and her crew invite her to everything, bully her, and then treat her like their personal whipping girl. I used to feel bad for Jonie until she took personal advantage of her rung on the ladder being a few steps up from the bottom. She took every opportunity to pick on Tabitha until she transferred schools.
I despise being around these putrid people. I realize now that I’m clenching the can of beer that I’ve totally finished, and I have to pee.
Laurel’s father’s beach house is open, so I traipse up there to pee. I can’t believe how quickly one beer went through me, and how I’m already starting to feel a little sloppy on my feet. I’m careful to swerve past the line of sight of my fellow graduates, easier now that the sun has gone down and the bonfire isn’t getting all that well tended to. Everyone else has had way more than a single can, I’d wager. Yet they aren’t going to be pee… at least I’ll get to be away from everyone for a moment.
I start to feel much soberer after I empty my bladder. It was only the slightest buzz, anyway. But something is different. I’m not sure what I’m seeing until I get closer to the fire.
Bodies.
Bleeding, lifeless bodies across the shore. Panic should set in now, but I just feel a cold need to know if they’re dead now…or will be. Where does this eerie harshness come from? I reach down and press my ear to the hearts of one of the bodies before me. No heartbeat. No breath. I look at my dress and see blood on the white fabric.
I hear one screaming voice, someone still alive.
I recognize them.
Laurel.
And I feel…I don’t know what that pang in my stomach is, but I look in the direction I hear Laurel’s voice coming from. It’s getting closer to me. I look down at the blood crossing through the water. I think I forget to breathe.
Why do I know it’s him?
I step closer. Jeremy is dragging Laurel’s body across the beach. I see him stab her. Drop her.
Come towards me.
I pick up my phone and start calling 911. I am barely listening to the dispatcher, though. I alternate between looking at my toes in the bloody sand, wave lapping over it and mixing everything in the moonlight and the dying firelight, and toward Jeremy. He is walking toward me now, Laurel discarded. I keep up with answering the dispatcher’s questions but I’m barely paying attention.
I look right in Jeremy’s piercing green eyes and lie on the phone. No, I didn’t see anyone.
Why would I lie?
Why do I want to touch him?