Cadence
Partying is more than just a bad habit; it has turned into my greatest escape, and sadly, the aspect of life I most look forward to. I read somewhere that certain families have hereditary tendencies toward addiction. I think that I may belong to one of those families, because, since the first time I got drunk on the beach with Cooper and Eli, it’s become my favorite thing to do. Getting bombed takes me away from my problems, even if the headache makes me regret it the next day.
I’m parked in Mom’s Volvo wagon outside of the Bodies in Motion Racquetball Club where Cece serves protein shakes at the juice bar. I’m waiting for her to get out of work. She’s my main accomplice in the ruination of my life. It helps that her mother actually buys our booze for us, so we always have a generous supply, and we have a place to drink because Mrs. Tucker is one of those parents who says that she’d rather have her teenager drink at home than go do it somewhere else. But I suspect she’d much rather that Cece not drink at all.
“Hey, girl.” Cece hops into the passenger seat. “I got some sick news.”
“Yeah?” I start the car. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Party at Julie Carrington’s house. It’s on Old Wagon Wheel Drive—let’s head over.” When I don’t pull onto the road as instructed, she stares at me. “What are you waiting for?”
“Cece, I can’t drive there. I’m in my mother’s car. She’d have my head if I crashed it or got stopped and arrested for DWI on the way home.”
Cece sighs noisily as she pulls her brush out of her purse and starts to primp for the party. “You won’t get stopped if you just get buzzed, not wasted.”
I fight not to roll my eyes at her stupidity. I’ve broken the rules right and left since the bucket-list weekend, but getting an underage DWI crosses a line I’m not okay with. The not-so-slight possibly that I could kill myself or, worse, somebody else gives me pause. “Let’s just go to your house and get drunk, the way we planned. I have all my stuff to sleep over.”
“We aren’t exactly gonna meet guys at my house, are we?” When Cece’s hair is arranged artfully on her shoulders, she opens her makeup case and pulls down the mirror on the visor. “Just get us there, and we’ll figure out how to get home later. Or we’ll crash on Julie’s couch. She won’t mind.” Cece glides some gloss on her lips. “But shit, you are such a goody two-shoes. Loosen up, girl!”
I shake my head, but still pull onto the road as instructed. “I can’t drive us home tonight. No matter what.”
“I should have invited Mara tonight. At least she’s chill,” Cece mumbles, but I know I’m supposed to hear.
When we get to the party, I drop Cece off in front of the house and park the car alone. Instead of sticking my car keys in the pocket of my jeans, I hide them behind a back tire. Cece can’t force me to drive later tonight if I “accidentally” lose my keys. I text Mom and let her know that my plan is to sleep over at Cecelia Tucker’s house tonight, and naturally, she doesn’t question her model child.
Just have the car home before noon so I can grocery shop, dear, she texts back.
Grocery shopping is Mom’s biggest concern when it comes to her only daughter’s use of her secondhand Volvo. She’s still as naïve as when Bradley was a high school sophomore and existed only to party it up with anybody who had what it would take to get him wasted.
I hike up the street to Julie Carrington’s house, where Cece stands in the front yard, already chatting with a guy who was on the Wellington High School football team, which in some people’s minds makes him royalty. She sends me a “get lost” glare and presents me with her back.
As I scan the yard for someone I recognize, a well-used cliché pops into my mind—one that I never considered before because my only pal was Cooper: With friends like these, who needs enemies?