Loud music, people shouting, laughing, and dancing—this may be distasteful to some, but Jesse was not one of those highly esteemed intellectuals too busy contemplating the mysteries of life to enjoy a single moment of it. He had just entered his second year of high school, and for the first time in his not-so-amazing school life, he had been invited to a house party. Now, standing in front of the door to this house, Jesse felt uncertain. He wore a black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, and white shoes, which his brother claimed wasn't a bad outfit. Still, Jesse doubted this, considering his brother wasn't much of a social butterfly either. "What if people think my outfit is weird?" Jesse thought to himself.
"Aah... haaah... aah... haaah..." he took a few deep breaths, calming himself a bit. After this, Jesse raised his hand to press the doorbell, trying to outpace his nervous thoughts and the "what-ifs." Ding-dong! A pretty standard doorbell sound cut through his internal monologue, drawing his full attention to the door. Here we go, he thought.
But nothing happened.
No one came to open the door. There could be many reasons—maybe the people inside were already looking at him through the peephole and decided they didn't want him in, Jesse dreaded. But then, a more plausible explanation came to mind: the music inside was so loud that no one heard the doorbell. Even he had barely registered the sound over the thumping bass. He decided to try his luck again.
This time, someone opened the door slightly. Though it was already around midnight, Jesse could still make out the face peeking through the narrow opening.
"Who are you?" asked the person, their eyes narrowing to form a thin slit.
"I'm with Eric," Jesse replied, but the boy's eyes narrowed further,maybe they were closed now. Jesse gulped. Did... did that fucker Eric play a prank on me? If so, his friend had quite the cruel sense of humor.
To Jesse's relief, the boy finally stepped back and opened the door fully, revealing a thin figure with blonde hair. He wore chino shorts, slippers, and no shirt, showing off his skinny upper body. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for Jesse to come inside.
Even as Jesse walked past him, the boy's piercing gaze remained locked on him, making Jesse feel uneasy.
"Eric's with Jason and the others" the boy announced, pointing toward what Jesse assumed was the drawing room.
"Thanks," Jesse replied. The boy's expression, now fully visible, remained grumpy.
What happened next bewildered Jesse even more. The boy made a peace sign, then pointed his upright fingers first at his eyes, then at Jesse's. "I'll be watching," he said before walking away quickly.
For a moment, Jesse stood frozen, thinking, What the hell just happened?
But the pounding music quickly pulled him back to reality. The bizarre interaction had made him forget where he was for a moment, but the blaring music reminded him. He was here, after all, because three days ago, Eric had told him they'd been invited to a senior's party. At first, neither of them believed it. Why would seniors invite second-years like them? Eric had remained skeptical right up until the last minute, and Jesse had doubted it too. But here he was. He had taken a leap of faith, and now he was here to reap the rewards of his courage.
He started walking in the direction the half-naked dude had pointed, and with each step, the assault on his virgin eardrums intensified. But he had to wait no longer, as what he saw diverted his innocent mind and turned his discomfort into excitement. The sight of hundreds of people drinking, kissing, and smoking everywhere until the horizon of the drawing room captivated him. This scene brought a tear to his eye—whether it was from sheer joy or the weird lighting, he wasn't sure. He wiped the tear, lamenting the lonely and laborious 1st year of his high school life, but now, he would be a creepy, antisocial, bitchless boy no more. Finally, he would taste the nectar of youth itself.
"Blehh," suddenly, he came crashing down from his high horse as all the gazes turned toward him. He felt a wet, sour sticky warmth on his back. Considering the factors and the sound he'd just heard—the unmistakable noise someone makes while puking—he deduced someone had done the deed. Fuck me, Jesse thought.
His hands sprang into action, quickly removing his t-shirt. He might not know the taste of the nectar of youth, but he could certainly smell it now.
He turned around, frustration mixed with anger, ready to lash out at the perpetrator.
The puker wore a black tank top. Jesse couldn't see her face, which was tilted downward, but he noticed her hand pressed against her lips, desperately trying to hold herself together as the contents of her stomach seemed on the verge of escaping. But her hand held steadfast.
"Hey, are you alright, Alisha? Should I call an ambulance?" someone questioned with a hint of concern in a mellow tone. Jesse had his own questions, like: Was he supposed to get angry at someone clearly in distress? Before he could decide, the voice's owner appeared, stepping forward in high heels. She placed a hand on Alisha's back, which proved to be the final trigger. Alisha's restraint broke.
"Blehh," she retched, and both Jesse and the new girl quickly backed away to avoid the splatter, not wanting it to ruin their shoes. The commotion drew more attention, and soon, several eyes were on Jesse, making him acutely self-conscious.
His cheeks flushed as he remembered he was shirtless. Even though he wore a white vest under his t-shirt, the onlookers' stares made him feel oddly vulnerable.
Then Jesse noticed a familiar figure approaching: Jason. He was tall, and though Jesse had never met him personally, he had always thought Jason seemed like a decent guy. But right now, he had a frown on his forehead. Jason was flanked by two others—one of them unmistakably Eric, identifiable by his bright red hair. The third guy, who bore a striking resemblance to Jason, was unfamiliar to Jesse. They formed a loose circle around them, with Eric giving Jesse a nod of acknowledgment as he stood closer than the others. There were no verbal greetings exchanged; they knew this wasn't the time or place.
The girl who had supported Alisha was now speaking to Jason, her tone urgent. "We need to call an ambulance," she insisted. "She's been vomiting like crazy, and no matter how much she's drank this is not normal," she added, anticipating any argument against her suggestion.
Jason raised his hands disarmingly. "Alright, alright, we'll call an ambulance," he agreed. "But take her outside, at least to the next street, before she ruins the party for everyone." He was being reasonable; if an ambulance showed up and complained about the party, the cops might just come down with the hammer of justice and shut the whole thing down. The girl looked displeased at his comment, her face contorting as if she wanted to retort, but she kept it to herself. Instead, she supported Alisha and began leading her toward the exit.
Jesse and Eric stood by, merely
as observers. Neither had any intention of intervening. Jesse did feel bad, but what could he do? He certainly couldn't teleport Alisha to a hospital. Besides, they hadn't even acknowledged him, so if he tried to intervene, he'd just seem like a busybody.
"That was awkward," he muttered under his breath.
"Huh, what did you say?" Jason asked, turning to Jesse, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Caught off guard, Jesse stammered, his heart racing. "N-nothing," he managed to say, but Jason continued to stare at him, giving him a pointed look. Forgetting his previous question, Jason opted for a different one. "And who are you?" he inquired, a smile on his face that contrasted sharply with his probing tone.