Page 102 of How (Not) to Conjure a Boyfriend
I can vibe with that.
“Bet,” I say, and lift the can in time with Kaity.
We both take a few deep breaths and then have a tiny sip. At first it’s just liquid, then it hits my tongue and I gag, immediately spitting it back out.
“Shit.” I keep spitting but the flavor lingers on my tongue. It’s so bitter, like a bag of stale coffee beans mixed with dirt and piss.
“Yuck.” Kaitlynn starts spitting too. “Oh hell no!”
“Yeah, no. Me neither.” I throw my can in the big plastic bag tied around the table. How can they like that? “Guess I’m never getting drunk.”
“Probably best,” Kaitlynn says. “That tasted like piss.”
“You’ve drunk piss?” I ask.
“You know what I mean,” she says.
For a moment we stand there, not a word said between us, watching everyone else rioting around the campfire, screaming, and yelling, and dancing. It’s wild, but I feel so out of place still. Even with my mind numb and somehow still racing, it all feels foreign to me. They look so thrilled and excited. It’s like they’re having the time of their life out here under the stars in their crowds of people, with their nasty pee beer, but it’s just not me.
“You want to leave?” Kaitlynn nudges my arm like the mind reader I swear she is sometimes.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” I agree, and without a moment to spare we’re both off to the car. “We could go back to the Harrel House!”
“Why?” Kaitlynn whines, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Why not?” I ask. “At least it’s not getting drunk at a bonfire. So much more fun.”
“But is that really a good idea?” Kaitlynn leans toward me. “Like that’s where, uh…you and…you know? Plus, your mom hates it when you go places like that.”
I sigh. She’s right. Maybe it’s not a great idea. The whole point of tonight wasnotto think about him. That won’t happen there.
“What about that abandoned house near downtown?” I ask. That should be okay.
“Did you only hear half of what I said?” I don’t answer, and she throws her head back all dramatic. “Fine. Whatever. Which one?”
Okay, that’s fair. There are a few.
“The green one next to that oil change place,” I tell her. It’s the best I’ve got. Directions are not my forte, and I can’t for the life of me remember the name of the oil change place.
“Jiffy’s?” Kaitlynn asks.
“Uh…I don’t think so,” I say. “It’s the one with the blue sign.”
“You mean Helton’s Muffler shop?” Kaitlynn shakes her head.
“Maybe,” I say. Maybe it was Helton’s. I thought that was an oil change place. “Is that the one with the ATM out front?”
“Yeah, you’re talking about Helton’s.”
I shrug. “Sure, that house.”
“That’s a little public, isn’t it?” Kaitlynn asks. “What if someone sees us?”
Okay, another valid point. Why is she being so logical when I need her to just agree? I need something to get my mind out of this slump, and there is nothing like slinking through the dark, empty halls of an abandoned house. The adrenaline of it all, wondering if you’ll get caught, or if there’s something scary inside—it’s invigorating. Ineedinvigorating.
“Run?” I suggest.
“I hate you.” Kaitlynn groans.
