Page 23 of Tainted Love

“What’s up, ladies,” he asks, sliding into his seat.

“We’re discussing Sascha’s refusal to attend Dee Dee’s party. She’s being a real buzzkill,” Emily announces.

I shrug my shoulders in response.

Darius’s eyes light up as he declares, “Ohhh, we should go.”

I raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Since when do you want to attend a party with the popular crowd?”

He bites his lip and gazes longingly across the cafeteria at Owen, who’s engrossed in conversation with someone. I nod, understanding his sudden interest. He must have found out Owen will be there. My mind wanders momentarily to Michael—will he be there too? As part of the in-crowd, it’s highly likely.

I let out a resigned sigh before conceding, “Okay, fine, we can go.”

Darius grins triumphantly while I add quickly, “But don’t blame me if we end up getting covered in pigs’ blood like in the movie Carrie.”

Their hands come together in a flurry of excitement, their claps echoing through the room like thunder. They’re entranced by their own joy, oblivious to my words of caution. The scary thing is, I’m not joking.

The clock reads 3 o’clock on Saturday afternoon as I take a quick glance at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I’m dressed in black from head to toe, my favorite pair of ripped jeans hugging my legs and combat boots laced up tight. My t-shirt proudly displays the iconic band Journey, their logo emblazoned in bold white letters across the front. My hair falls freely down my back, strands tucked behind both ears, and I’ve opted for a bare face with a touch of clear lip gloss enhancing my naturally pink lips.

My parents have agreed to drop us off and pick us up from the party. They are overly excited about me stepping outside of my comfort zone. They act like I’m some sort of shut-in. But that’s not true—this scene no longer appeals to me. However, I’ll go for the sake of my friends. It's the least I can do after all they've done for me. Especially Darius.

He recently dropped a bomb on Sarah and me. He’s moving this summer. Apparently, his dad got a promotion at work, and it will take them to Los Angeles. He’s sad to leave us but excited about the new adventure. I’m a bit bummed for myself, but at the same time happy for him as a bigger city meant more opportunities and acceptance. Despite my mixed feelings, I agreed to attend this party because it was what he wanted, and I wanted to do something that made him genuinely happy.

We load into our trusty Subaru and make the quick drive to Dee Dee’s house. As we approach, I see she's invited half of our eighth-grade class. A line of kids snaked through the front door while cars did u-turns in the cul-de-sac, trying to escape the chaos.

“I’ll pick you up in three hours,” my mom says with a smile as we pull up to the curb.

“Sounds good,” I reply with a slight nod before sliding out of the passenger seat and approaching the commotion inside.

“Have fun!” she shouts as the door shuts. I wave at her as she drives away, take a deep breath, and face the house. Here we go, I think to myself. This could be a fun night or a complete disaster.

The party is in Dee Dee’s basement. Her parents shuffle us past the living area to the back of the house, where the door to the basement is open.

We descend the stairs, the music getting louder and louder with every step. Once we reach the bottom, the Thompson Twins yell “Hold Me Now” from the stereo system and large speakers against the wall.

Dee Dee’s parents have a nice setup down here. It doubles as another living space, and right now, that space is being used perfectly to celebrate her fourteenth birthday with balloons, snacks, music, and the ever-present awkwardness between boys and girls in our age group.

I hear a familiar laugh, and my eyes land on a boy wearing faded 501s and a Beastie Boys graphic t-shirt; my heart flutters, reminding me of the crush I can’t shake, no matter how many times I chastise myself for my stupidity. He’s a crush I desperately want to stop crushing on, but my stupid heart has a stupid mind of its own.

The truth is that I miss the boy I grew up with. I miss playing tetherball, sharing lunches, and silly jokes. I miss my friend. And now that Daruis is moving, those feelings are returning front and center. I want to keep in touch, but letter writing can be tedious, and the prices for long-distance phone calls are astronomical. We’ll be lucky to chat for ten minutes on friends and family night when they lower the prices for a few hours per week.

Michael is laughing and flirting with some girl when I steal another glance. I should give up on him, but something keeps me tethered to him. Seeing his smile, even from afar, makes my heart full and light. I’m retrieved from my walk down memory lane as Dee Dee announces it’s time to play “Spin the Bottle.”

For the love of Tears for Fears, do we really have to do this? I turn to get as far away from this ridiculousness as possible, but a hand grips my elbow. “Oh no, you don’t, Bell. You’re doing this.” Darius commands. We usually commiserate over our unrequited love, but he’s worse off than me. As far as we know, Darius is the furthest thing from Owen’s radar. I guess if he wants to sit around an old Coca-Cola bottle and torture himself, I’ll join him in solidarity.

About twenty of us are sitting in a circle around said bottle as Dee Dee exclaims she’s going to start. Michael and his friends sit across from us, teasing and laughing over inside jokes.

The bottle stops on Owen, and Dee Dee leans into the middle of the space to meet Owen for a short, soft kiss. I glance at Darius, who watches with wistful eyes.

The bottle makes its way around the group, a talisman of first kisses and future couples, before being placed in front of Michael. My heart races as he smirks, grabbing the bottle with his large hand which is painted with cuts and bruises across the knuckles.

Don’t land on me. Wait. Do land on me. No. Don’t land on me. This is horrible.

The bottle spins in concentric circles rapidly until the shag carpet slows its movement. Time stops as the mouth of the bottle comes to a full stop directly in front of me. Everyone is hooting and hollering, and my first instinct is to run hella fast in the opposite direction. Darius gently places his hand on my back, urging me forward with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll kiss Michael Tazman in front of people I wouldn’t even share a package of Doritos with.

Michael smiles as his friends push him forward as well, and soon, we are nearly nose to nose. My stomach erupts in butterflies, and I fear people will see through my normally unaffected demeanor.