“Why does it smell like Fritos in here?” My eyes scanned Jaxon’s blue vinyl seats like a helicopter searchlight sweeping for a murder suspect. Where was that god-awful smell coming from? When I dropped off Kate a few hours ago, my car didn’t stink like this, so I knew it wasn’t me.
Jaxon cracked open his window. “I don’t smell it. And I don’t eat Fritos in my car.”
“Zach, do you smell it?” I asked.
Zach nodded.
“Oh, wait. I know. It’s my gym clothes.” With only his left hand on the steering wheel, Jaxon leaned down next to my feet and pulled up his mesh black gym bag from the floorboard. Jostling around the contents made the car reek more.
I rolled my window all the way down, even though it was pouring rain outside. “Oh God, I might vomit,” I spat out, dry heaving.
Jaxon tossed the bag in the back seat next to Zach, who immediately tossed it back to the front.
An unfriendly game of stank potato. Back and forth it went, till finally Jaxon yanked the steering wheel to the right and pulled over to the side of the road.
Jaxon got out and opened Zach’s door. “Hand it to me,” he commanded, holding out his palm.
Into the trunk it went. Bye-bye, car anti-freshener.
He got back in and slammed the door. “This is the last time I let you guys ride in my car, you ingrates,” he huffed, wiping the rain from his face with a towel in the center console. After pulling his seat belt across his chest, he got back on the road.
A few seconds of silence passed. “Why is this party at a roller-skating rink?” I asked.
Jaxon blew out his cheeks. “A friend of mine heard about this friend’s party from another guy. I don’t know all the details. He said something about the rent being too high so they’re shutting it down at the end of the year.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So why would some high school kid have a party there?” I got that the roller-skating-rink industry wasn’t exactly booming and the business was failing. But I didn’t get why Jaxon had dragged Zach and me to a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend’s party.
Confession: I’d never been to a roller-skating rink before and was slightly uncomfortable with the whole thing. Okay, terrified was more like it. Frightened of the smelly rental skates. Of falling on my face. Peeing in the bathroom while on wheels. I mean, what if I drift-rolled while pissing in the urinal? I’d gone ice-skating only one time in eighth grade, and I fell on my ass so hard I cried. (In my defense, I legit bruised my tailbone…and for a week I needed to use a special cushion meant for people with hemorrhoids.) My stomach churned, thinking of all the humiliating possibilities.
Jaxon fidgeted with the temperature settings. “Rich people do dumb shit with their money. Especially when they have too much of it,” he muttered, pulling his car into the crowded Skateway parking lot. There were open spaces from all these rich kids trying to park their fancy cars and leaving a space in between. The luxury car drivers preferred to find spots far away from cars like Jaxon’s (a newish black Accord, with a small dent on the bumper). One Range Rover driver took one look at Jaxon’s car, then parked down at the far end of our row instead. Away from the riffraff. Same thing happened in the Clyde Hill school parking lot. We were used to it, sadly. Even if we passed as typical, privileged prep school kids, our cars were a dead giveaway, screaming skid to anyone who knew the approximate CarMax value of a midrange Honda.
Zach pleaded to Jaxon, “Please don’t throw coins at anyone today.” You’d think he wouldn’t have to preface our night out by saying that. And it was the only thing he had said the entire time. He rubbed the top of his head, back and forth, back and forth, his telltale sign he was on the verge of freaking out.
“Okay, grandmas,” Jaxon huffed as he locked our doors with a beep. “I promise, no parking lot altercations.”
“If this sucks, can we leave and go play laser tag?” I asked. “Or go to the arcade?”
“Okay, but Annie said she might meet us here.” He smirked, checking his messages on his phone. “She dumped her boyfriend last weekend. Maybe you can finally grow some balls and ask her out, Natey. Right, Zach? Tell him.”
Zach wrinkled his nose. “Annie’s not his type.”
“Of course she’s his type. She’s breathing,” he laughed, shrinking away from me.
Predictably, I punched his arm, hard.
Jaxon rubbed his bicep. “Owww. Seriously, though, Annie is everyone’s type.” He was right about that. With her bright blue eyes, melty smile, and blond, naturally highlighted (highlit?) hair, Annie gave off more of an aloof, California vibe than a Seattle one. Guys were always asking me about her, whether she had a boyfriend, or a homecoming or prom date, like I was her gatekeeper. None of them knew her at all. What she liked. What she hated. They just knew her as a pretty face. And sure, she had that, but she was smart and nice too. Jaxon, Zach, and I were a little protective, but even we couldn’t stop her from dating some real losers. She never ever went for the archetypical Mr. Right. She always preferred Mr. Absolute Worst Dude Ever.
In the off chance some cute girls might show up, I’d put on a never-worn, forest-green Gap button-down shirt I’d gotten for Christmas, the color of those green army-men toys. But because I hadn’t washed it first, the creases were all still there from the in-store folding. Even worse, I also didn’t have time to cut off the label, so the back of my neck itched like crazy. On the car ride, I’d scratched it like an anxious dog with fleas. Why did shirts even have these stupid labels? The smarter companies had that info screen-printed on the inside. Mental note: boycott Gap. Terrible labels.
“Nice sticker,” Jaxon laughed, pointing at the long transparent sticky label that ran down vertically near my belly button.
L
L
L
L
L
Yet another stupid thing they put on shirts, the sticker size advertisement. I ripped it off and stuffed it in the pocket of my cargo pants.
Jaxon scoffed. “You’re a large? Aren’t you more medium than large? You’re like, lardium.”
“Fuck you, J,” is all I managed to say, playing mad when all I wanted to do was bust up laughing.
Lardium.
“I’m just messing with you,” Jaxon laugh-coughed. “We’re skidders for life. We stick together.”
Zach spoke. “That sounds like it belongs on the periodic table of elements. Lardium.” Snorting hard, he pushed up his glasses to the bridge of his nose using his index finger, in a nerdy, yet nonironic way. Then he hiked up his pants, which were weighed down from his thick leather belt, which was in turn weighed down by all the shit he attached to it, like his clip-on phone holster, his carabiner key ring, and the chain attached to the wallet in his front pants pocket. It deters pickpocketing, he’d say every time we teased him about it. He was right. No one ever tried to steal his Velcro wallet. It was like he was wearing a waist-size leather charm bracelet on his hips, dangling his loser charms.
“All right, I’m situated,” he announced with a definitive nod.
“Okay then, let’s roll!” I battle-cried, realizing only after I said it that I’d made the world’s worst skate pun. Jaxon shook his head as we walked to the entrance.
There were maybe twenty kids our age ahead of us in line, most of them in the “two or more Teslas per household” demographic. A lot of them had pairs of brand-new skates casually thrown over their shoulders. Some even had translucent sports wheels. For roller skates? Really?
All around us, people wore ’80s-style clothes. Headbands, sweatbands, tube socks, fingerless gloves, and lots and lots of zippers.
“Was this supposed to be a costume party?” Zach asked.
Jaxon shrugged. “I dunno, I heard about this from a friend of an online friend, remember?”
“So, basically a complete stranger.” I sighed.
“Yup.”
Zach hoisted his belt a little higher and fished his wallet from his pocket. “I think I only have a twenty on me. I hope there’s no cover charge.” He tore open the Velcro and peeked inside. “Maybe only ten actually.” He pulled out a tattered bill and examined it.
Someone’s hand fluttered down and snatched the ten-dollar bill away from Zach. “Finders keepers,” a familiar voice giggled.
Annie stood behind us, smiling sheepishly, wearing a neon-sweatshirt-type thing that hung off her shoulder.
“That’s not how finders keepers works,” Zach growled, snatching it back. “What you did is stealing.”
“Touché.” She broke into a wide grin. “I was just messing with ya. Sorry, Grandpa Zachary.”
Jaxon looked up from his phone. “That’s Grandma Zach to you. Hey, I heard you dumped that asshole soccer team cocaptain, good riddance to El Co-Capitan Loser. You slumming it with us today?”
Her mouth fell wide open, even though she knew as well as anyone that Jaxon was one of the school’s biggest gossips, and nothing was a secret at our school between us friends. He participated in both the free market and black market for Clyde Hill dirty secrets. He was a walking TMZ.
“Wellllll,” Annie said, drawing the word out and rolling her eyes, “he was a competitive dick who sulked when I beat him at anything.”
We nodded because we all knew the type. Our school was full of them.
She continued. “He ate less than me, even though he was like fifty pounds heavier. It really bothered me that when I’d eat my whole meal, he’d take half of his home. He said it was because he had to watch his weight for wrestling, but whatever.” Her shoulders slumped, and she let out the saddest sigh. “I always pick the wrong guy.”
Again, we all nodded. She always did.
She elbowed me gently. “Enough about my love life. What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you in a while. You look different. Like, happier or something.”
I let out a nervous laugh an octave higher than usual. “Not much, just school, college applications, after-school stuff, work—”
Jaxon interrupted, “He’s being modest. And boring. He’s been busy inventing, writing business plans, learning how to choke people using his bare hands, hanging out with girls.” He really emphasized that last part.
Annie shot me another surprised look, which offended me a little. Was it really that hard to believe?
My ears burned with embarrassment. “You skate much before?” I asked, turning the conversation away from me. “My goal is to not crack my head open like a walnut.”
“No helmets?” Zach squawked. “Err, no thanks. Maybe I’ll just play video games there.”
We made it to the front of the line, and we all turned to Jaxon to be our spokesperson. He cleared his throat. “Um, we’re here for the party.”
The attendant had fiery hair and tiny cute freckles sprinkled on her nose and cheeks. She asked him, “Are you on the guest list?”
Jaxon shot us an “I’m about to lie out of my ass, so just go with me” look over his shoulder, and then turned back to her. “My name is hard to spell, but I see it, right there.” He gestured at the pages in front of her, and with a wave of Jaxon magic, she handed him the entire guest list. Skimming quickly, he said, “Here it is, party of four.”
She took the list back, and she marked a line through the name. “Okay, enjoy the party, Peter Haskill the Fourth, plus guests. It wasn’t that hard to spell.” She laughed, under Jaxon’s hypnosis. “Oh, one more thing.” She opened the drawer by her knee. “You all get VIP wristbands, so you get free Icees and corn dogs.”
“Thank you,” Jaxon said, and, reading her name tag, added, “Camilla.”
She helped us fasten the bands and gestured us to enter the skate center.
We were in.
And Jaxon got her phone number.
As soon as we were out of earshot, we busted up laughing. “You dragged us to a party where we weren’t even on the list? Pete’s gonna kill you,” Zach said, barely above a whisper.
Jaxon grinned. “He won’t know it’s me. No snitching, Zach!” His eyes darkened, and the corners of his mouth turned downward. “Pete’ll be fine. He’ll probably slip Camilla a hundred, and it’ll all be okay. Everything always goes okay for guys like him.”
Out of nowhere, Annie grabbed my upper arm and squeezed it. “Let’s go get our skates.” My bicep tingled at her touch, and instantly, my blood pumped from my heart at double speed. After a few seconds of walking next to her, I deeply inhaled and exhaled out my nose. I’d forgotten to breathe.
Jaxon coughed and then fake-punched me in the chest (right hook, left hook) in a not-so-subtle way. “You two get your skates. Zach and I are gonna check out the arcade.”
He threw a peace sign over his shoulder as he and Zach walked away.
Was it possible to want to kill someone and hug them at the same time?