Looking around Kara's... friend?, I ask her, "You want to keep dancing?".
"Me?", she asks, looking down. I mean, who else could I be talking to?
"Duh, loser", I joke. Of course she isn't a loser. She's pretty badass, actually. Apparently, she isn't going to tell anyone about what she saw that night. Maybe she believes in our cause... at least part of it. Firm believers in the New World cult would have reported us immediately. The group and all its affiliates would "disappear" for threatening our lovely new way of life.
She crosses her arms tighter, looks up into my eyes, and says, "You two have fun. And Shawn, don't forget about our conversation from earlier". And with the coldest expression I've ever seen, she storms away.
Her friend is still blinking rapidly, and I honestly think something's wrong with her.
Getting ready to storm after her, I scream, "Kara!". Please don't leave me with your crazy friend. Didn't they come here together? She still has my flannel on. My precious flannel.
I must look disheartened, because the girl says, "Don't be sad, she's not much fun anyway", with a shrug. Isn't this Kara's friend? "Let's go upstairs", she settles.
This girl, whose name I don't even know, is weird, but I like weird, so I follow her. We head upstairs, and I catch Kara glancing back at us. Why do I suddenly feel the need to explain things? You know what? I don't. It's not my fault her friend's shitty. I'm single, and bound to no girl, ever.
We reach a bright yellow door, and the inside is like a toy store. A car-shaped bed is touching the far wall. Buckets of small model cars line the walls. Books about building model cars stack up on top of the night stand. This is every kid's dream. I wish I would've had a room like this. All I had in my birth dad's apartment was a creaky wooden bed, and a coverless lamp. I would have killed to have this many toys; I frown, thinking about my shitty childhood.
"Sooo sorry, by the way", I look up, "This is the only room I could reserve". Reserve? Hooking up is more of a spontaneous thing...
"Reserve?", I question, raising an eyebrow.
"Yea, I tried to get a room when I got here with", she rolls her eyes, "my friend, but all the good ones were taken", she shrugs. Does she think this is normal?
"So you were planning on hooking up anyway?", I ask.
"Yep", she says plainly. I look up at the Lightning McQueen poster on the ceiling--Cars is a classic, for sure. Did she really think we would hook up in Andrew's little brother's bedroom? Delusional. She starts to unzip her tight pink dress.
"Um, you know what, I'm gonna just go", I say in one quick word.
"Bu--", she says, cut off by my slamming the yellow door in her face. I still don't know her damn name.
If she thought I would fuck in a child's room, she was literally out of her mind. I'd witnessed too much of that already.
7 years ago
Bang, bang, bang. The bed in the only bedroom of the old worn apartment creaks against the wall, connected to the kitchen. They were at it again. The prostitute who resides in this cheap project is at work... literally. His most loyal client, Ms. Screams A Lot, as his son named him, had visited for a session.
His son sits on the cold kitchen floor, waiting for a meal that would never come. He'd promised him dinner... four nights ago.
127, 128, 129, the child counted the bumps into the wall. His stomach growled for the 100th time in the last few days. At least it felt that way, but honestly he couldn't physically feel the hunger anymore. The one bedroom where his dad conducted meetings was actually his room, but it would be "repurposed for work business", his dad would say.
With the child's mother gone in the wind, his dad was all he had. Although his dad didn't live one of the most honest lives, he tried. Children don't understand that, though. He had barely known what his father's meetings consisted of, but he knew it was peculiar, all that screaming.
His mother probably hadn't even given him a second thought before leaving. She disappeared on his birthday... at literal birth. The fact that anyone could up and leave like that sickened the child. In history class, he'd read that years ago, men used to do the same thing. How could anyone do this, he thought. He blamed the creation of the New World for his mother's absence.
As he opened the refrigerator to confirm what he already knew, "Shawn, honey", his dad called, waving him over.
He slowly slumps over, and limps over to his father, hoping maybe this stance would guilt his dad into feeding him sometime soon. It didn't.
"Pass me that bottle", he points.
The bottle read "lubricant". Shawn wondered what this was for, as his father constantly called out for him to pass it over. He could never remember it.
"Good boy", he pats his son's head. Perhaps he used to feel sorry for the life he imposed on his child once before, but now he could do nothing about it, and Shawn just had to deal.
The shanty apartment they live in has been overtaken by roaches. Their thrifted couch is worn down so much that it feels like bare wood. Instead of a television, they have a beautiful view of the concrete apartment across the alley below. It's covered in graffiti.
Shawn would rather be anywhere but here.
May 2040
Shawn's POV:
I bolt downstairs to find the party unchanged. The vibrations shake the tall walls of Andrew's grand mansion. The football team is challenging people to arm wrestles, a group of people are mixing jungle juice. The first big party of the summer is a success. However, I can't fully focus on this because an extremely awkward girl is scurrying across the foyer.
Kara.
She makes a beeline to a bright pink purse on the counter that I found her at. It doesn't seem like hers, though. She's not a bright-pink-purse-bought-with-daddy's-money type of girl. Her wallet probably has some weird animal print on it.
I meet her at the bag, and say, "You know stealing is a crime?".
She looks up into my eyes, frustrated, "It's Tiana's", she settles. Whose? I must seem confused, because she shrugs, "my friend... who you went upstairs... to do upstairs stuff with", she mumbles. Upstairs stuff, huh?
"I'm not sure what 'upstairs stuff' is", I airquote, "Can you elaborate?", I lean against the counter. This will be good.
She glances all around the room, obviously her tell when she's flustered or nervous. She does this a lot. I smile at that. "W-Well, It's", she looks deep in thought, "You know what upstairs stuff is!", she punches my arm. I pretend to be in pain. It kinda tickles, though.
"If you're implying something of a sexual nature, I am deeply offended", I touch my chest, feigning innocence. "I am a child of God", I say, pointing to my fake halo.
"Ugh, whatever!", she crosses her arms. Relaxing her face, she looks up, "So did you do upstairs stuff with her?", she's genuinely asking.
"We went upstairs, and we did stuff, so I guess", I lie. I could never do any "stuff" with that weird girl, Tiana. Maybe I could with you though, I imagine telling her. HA! We're not in some romance novel. I'm not sweeping anyone off their feet. Or maybe I will, just to put them on a bed or counter top. I smile at the thought. I haven't been with anyone in a while. I need to actually put that sock on my doorknob to use. I've just been keeping it up for show now. If my mom thinks I'm hooking up with someone, maybe she'll stop bugging me. It never works.
"Why are you smiling, you weirdo?", she goes for a punch again, but I grab her arm. Not so fast. She looks shocked. Yes, I have fast reflexes.
"Why do you care who I hook up with?", I ask, eyebrows raised.
She sighs, "Because she's my friend, and she's a boyfriend kind of girl", she crosses her arms, "not a fling". I'm genuinely confused. Who would want to be her boyfriend? I actually want to know. She wanted to have sex in a child's room. If that doesn't speak to her poor judgement, I don't know what will. I may like casual, fun sex, but that's where I draw the line.
"Who would want to be her boyfriend?", I inquire.
She laughs, "That's mean". No, you're too nice.
"Her personality is ass. The way she spoke to you earlier", I scowl. She pushes her braids out of her face, clearly feeling awkward. She knows it's true, though. She needs to pick her friends wisely, is all.
"She", she starts, "She's more complex than you think", she says. I can't believe she's defending that girl. Or worse, I could, because people like Tiana always have followers to defend her. She could step on someone, and her "friends" would defend her. I chuckle sarcastically.
"Sure", I reply. It's 11:30 pm. I usually don't leave parties this early, but I'm tired as hell. This girl is hard to keep up with. "I'm actually gonna go", I tap my free hand with my phone.
"Mm kay", she looks down.
"How are you getting home?", I ask.
"I came with Tiana. I was having a sleepover when she suggested--more like demanded--we come to this party. To be honest, I would rather be in my PJs, braless, and wearing fluffy socks", she says. This is what I'm talking about. Tiana couldn't give a fuck about what her friends want or feel. Hmm... Kara braless.
"That sounds more like you", I admit.
"I can be multi-faceted, you know", she looks me up and down.
I take a deep breath, and throw my head back, "I can give you a ride home, if you want", I shrug.
"Sure, whatever", she shrugs back. "Ti can stay in here for hours. She's in her element at parties. She drinks, and dances a bit, then hooks up with at least 2 guys before I'm dragging her drunk ass out", she rolls her eyes, frustrated. She sounds trashy as hell, but deep down, I'm impressed.
"Let's go", I walk ahead of her. She trails behind.
Hopping into my Jeep, she gets on her phone.
"Who you texting", I ask.
"Stop being nosy", she snaps. After a few moments, she replies, "Tiana". "I have to tell her where I left her bag and keys", she continues. I would leave that bitch stranded. But that's just me.
"You hungry?", I ask.
"Yea, actually. I ordered pizza for the sleepover, but I never got to eat any", her stomach growls. She covers her stomach to suppress the thunderous noise. It didn't do a thing.
"Pizza we shall get", I announce.
"Thanks", she smiles. Her dimples show just then, on her soft brown cheeks. I've never actually seen her smile, genuinely, at me. All our conversations have consisted of punching, eye rolling, or sarcastic laughter. This is different.
"Anything for my blackmailer", sarcastic laughter returns.
"Whatever, I'm growing on you", she says. She's not wrong.
We pull up to Domino's, "What kind of pizza do you like?", I ask her.
"Pepperoni", she looks down at her phone.
"Same", I respond. "Medium pepperoni pizza please". She shoots darts at me with her eyes. "What?", I ask.
"Large", she mouths, pointing to her stomach. This girl can eat; I'm impressed. A good quality she harbors, unlike her friend, who most likely calls a cracker a meal. She truly disgusts me.
"Erm, I mean a large pepperoni pizza", I correct myself.
Within 30 minutes, we are opening the piping hot pie.
"You better not get pizza on my fucking seats", I say.
"Whatever", she takes a bite. "Fuck, that's hot", she says, dropping her chewed bite. I look straight at her, tilting my head. She sighs, "Relax, it just got on my lap", she swats at me.
"Make sure that's where it stays", I reply. This tan interior was not cheap.
Once we're finished, I drive her home. On the quiet drive, I try to plan out Wednesday. There's no way Kara can actually come to another meeting. Thus, I gave her a fake date. Hopefully she won't do anything rash when she finds out. I look over to her: she's leaned over on the window in my flannel. Suddenly I remember how stubborn she was earlier, threatening to flash the party crowd. That was definitely out of her character. PJs, fluffy socks, and going braless would suit her more. Well, I mean the braless part is unnecessary, but that aesthetic is hers.
Soon I pull up to the address she put in my GPS. It's a large brick family home. Two cars are parked in the driveway. Two parents, hmm. Must be why she assumed my parents would care about my joining the anti-New Worlders. She had always grown up with two support systems. I'm just glad she's had a good introduction to life, unlike some of us, who aren't as lucky.
"Hey, sleepy head", I throw a napkin at her. "Wake the hell up".
"Arghh", she mumbles, incoherently. "How mature of you", she throws the napkin back. I dodge it.
"You're home, now get out", I snap. I seems as if I'm fed up with taking care of her for the night, but she's not so bad to hang around, actually. Gotta keep up appearances, though.
"Bye asshole", she waves.
I wave and shout an exaggerated "Ha ha" as she heads to the door of the brick house.
Once she enters, I drive off.