Aimee: I
Tara sat at my desk with her tongue poking out in concentration as she armored her toenails in coral pink polish. She’d shown up at my house that morning to lament the end of summer, the end of languidly hot days in the pool and being forced to run the gauntlet of last-spurt, dying-breath parties. Everyone had been trying to wring more life out of this final week, like blood from a stone, and I felt like the only person who was actually happy to see these insouciant weeks come to a close.
“This colour makes my toes look big,” Tara commented suddenly, stretching out one lean leg and wriggling her toes at me. “Come here and look. Do they look fat?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, a note of impatience in my voice. Tara looked up at me and I saw the mischief glinting in her dark, slanted eyes. She wrinkled her nose playfully.
“Be a good friend and tell me my toes look skinny.” She grinned, one of her manic grins that made me feel like I was the science project to her mad scientist.
“Your toes look skinny,” I said mockingly, smiling despite myself. “Is this all you want to do today?” I’d expected more from her. Tara was like a hurricane in a bottle. Containing her, as I’d learned long ago, was impossible.
Tara twisted the lid back onto the nail polish bottle and stood up, being careful not to smudge the applied coat. “My friend from that super strict boy’s school invited me to some party over on Riverside.” She smirked at me, apparently expecting a certain reaction. Riverside was the rich neighborhood, where the roads were practically paved with gold. My parents were ambitious social climbers and they would laud any connection I had with Riversiders.
“I guess you’re gonna make me go,” I said with a sigh, turning away from her to open my laptop. The bed bounced as Tara clambered up beside me, pressing her chin against my shoulder and smiling sweetly up at me.
“Only because you wouldn’t make me go alone,” she said. I smiled, ignoring her as I scrolled through my Twitter feed, deliberately focusing on my computer screen rather than my friend. “Aimee! Pay attention to me, won’t you?”
I pursed my lips to keep from laughing and shrugged her chin off my shoulder. I could just imagine the pout on her lips as I studiously pretended not to notice her. Eventually she got sick of that game and she all but tackled me. “You’re coming to the party because I say so!” she shouted, shrieking with laughter as I struggled to free myself from her surprisingly strong grip. She clung onto me like a barnacle on the bottom of a ship and I gave in, laughing breathlessly.
“Fine! Whatever, just let me up, you freak.” I wriggled helplessly. Tara patted my head consolingly and released me, jumping up and going to my closet. “What are you doing now?”
Tara turned to face me, her eyebrows quirked at an indignant angle. “Trying to find you something to wear!”
* * *
Tara wouldn’t relent until I’d done everything she told me to. She convinced me to curl my hair, put on make-up, and wear the shortest dress I owned. I compromised by wearing a light cardigan over top that hid my cleavage, and by doing my make-up as naturally as was possible. Tara, on the other hand, did everything the opposite. Everything about her was loud, bold, and beautiful.
At least we had some fun getting ready. My parents wouldn’t be home until late that night; dad was working overtime on a homicide case at the precinct and mum had meetings all night. There wasn’t much wiggle room in their schedules, but that was fine with me. Tara and I turned the stereo up loud and danced and sang around the house while we got dressed and ready to go out.
I wasn’t much looking forward to the party; I could practically envision how the whole night would go. Tara would branch off within five minutes of arrival and find some boy to flirt with and tease all evening, and I’d be left sitting on a couch somewhere on my own, trying not to get in anyone’s way.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like parties, or going out, but sometimes it was exhausting. The perfect night for me would be staying in, ordering some pizza, and watching a movie. So far my summer hadn’t involved anything like that. With Tara for a best friend, it was always non-stop.
Tara and I walked to our friends houses, rounding them up for the night. Tara had organized everything with them and we caught a ride with Josie Garland’s older brother, who never minded hanging out with high school Juniors. Grant had just recently turned twenty and he’d always been really nice to me in the past. Josie was one of my oldest friends, besides Tara. Her best friend was Katie de Silva, a lithe blonde girl on the hockey team at school who was best known for picking fights on the field. The four of us, and Josie’s brother, arrived at the party in Riverside around nine o’clock.
I had no idea whose house I was at, and I didn’t recognise most of the people inside, but that didn’t faze the other girls at all. Tara pulled me along, shoved a cup of room temperature beer into my hand. We were there for about half an hour before Tara shouted across the room when she spotted someone she knew.
“You’re gonna love this guy,” Tara told me, talking loudly so as to be heard over the music. I didn’t recognise the song, but there were people all around dancing – grinding, really, to the heavy and erratic rhythm of the song.
“Who?” I asked Tara, trying to see who she was waving over. A tall, skinny guy with shaggy black hair soon appeared and grabbed Tara in a hug. She squealed and hugged him back, apparently delighted.
“I was starting to think you weren’t here!” Tara said. “Learn to text back, you dumbass.”
The guy smirked and kissed Tara on the cheek, and I saw the blush instantly creep across her cheeks. She looked at me suddenly and grabbed my arm. “Aimee, this is Brandon. He’s my friend I told you about, the Riversider.”
“Christ, is that all I am to you?” Brandon said with a snort. “Hey, sweetheart. Nice to meet you.” He held his hand out to me and out of polite instinct I shook it. When his hand closed around mine he lifted it and kissed my knuckles. I pulled my hand back in surprise, and he laughed boisterously.
“He’s very affectionate,” Tara explained with a tolerable smile. “Hey, show me around, alright?”
Brandon immediately toted Tara off to another part of the house and I struggled to follow them through the press of the crowd. Eventually I lost sight of them and with a roll of my eyes I changed direction and headed back outside for some air. It was stiflingly hot inside the house. I leaned against the porch railing and scowled. My prediction of the night had come true. My friends had left me behind already.
Raking my hands through the curls of my hair, I pulled apart my hairdo without a second thought. There was a black hairband around my wrist so I grabbed it and gathered my hair into a messy bun. Looking around, I saw that there were some people outside and on the front lawn. There was a group sitting down, talking, and passing around what was probably a joint. Then I saw Grant, standing with a couple guys that might’ve been his age.
I bit my lip, uncertain of what to do. I didn’t really want to go back inside, and Tara wouldn’t notice I wasn’t with her for a while, if she did at all. Honestly, I just wanted to go home.
Hesitantly making my way over to Grant, I hovered around hoping he’d notice me but he was too interested in his friends and what they were saying to realise I was there. Finally I walked right up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked surprised to see me, but he smiled nonetheless.
“Aimee.” Grant said my name with warmth. “What’s up? Did you lose your friends?”
“More like my friends lost me,” I said with a smile. “I, um…” I trailed off momentarily as I looked around at Grant’s friends. They didn’t seem to mind my interruption, but I didn’t exactly feel comfortable. “I was hoping you might drive me home.”
“Home? Already?!” Grant gave a bark of a laugh. “Nah, come on Aimee, the night’s still young.”
I blushed, wishing he’d just agree and take me home. “Um, I’ll ask someone else then…” I turned and was about to leave Grant alone when he reached out to grasp my arm.
“Alright, alright,” he said, as though acquiescing was a huge inconvenience. He gave me a grin, though, to show he didn’t mind all that much. “You don’t mind sharing the car with my friends, do you? We were on our way to another party anyway.”
“It’s fine,” I said, relieved to be getting a ride. Grant let me have the front seat and his friends piled into the back. I was utterly silent as Grant pulled away from the curb. Reaching into my bag, I took out my phone and quickly texted my friends to let them know I was going home. Relaxing a little, I watched the street roll past.
Once we got on the highway Grant started going faster and his friends demanded the radio be turned up. The car was filled with the noise of some dubstep song that made the car doors vibrate.
“Fuck, you’re going so slow man,” one of Grant’s friends exclaimed from the backseat, reaching forward to clap Grant on the shoulder. “Don’t want your little girlfriend thinking you’re a pussy, right? Speed up!”
I shifted nervously in my seat, glancing sideways at Grant but deliberately not meeting his eye. He was grinning and I felt the change in speed as he accelerated. He was going too fast for my own comfort, but he was a confident driver... we’d be fine. His friends laughed and applauded jokingly.
“Sorry about them,” Grant said to me, having to shout over the noise. “They’ve been drinking.” He glanced into the rearview mirror and his expression changed from amused to annoyed. “Guys, what the hell? I told you not to smoke in my car.”
“I’ll wind down the window,” one of his friends said and I twisted around to see what they were doing. One of them had taken out a joint and was lighting it while the other cracked open his window enough to let the cold night air in. It gently tugged at my hair but it wasn’t too bothersome. What really made the situation uncomfortable was the acrid smell of weed that suddenly rose up as Grant’s friends started smoking and sharing the joint with each other.
“You want some?” asked the one who sat directly behind me. He held the joint out to me and I shook my head, turning back to face the front.
I was starting to realise getting a ride from Grant without my friends around was a bad idea. These guys were a lot older than me, and Grant was going faster now. The car was speeding down the quiet highway and when Grant took a corner too fast I gasped and was tossed to the side, smacking my head against the window.
“Sorry,” Grant called, but he laughed anyway.
“Can you slow down?” I asked, my voice shaking. I rubbed my head and tried to keep steady, one hand clutching my seat for support.
“Why, are you scared?” Grant said, smirking, and I opened my mouth to answer but I understood how futile my complaints would be. His friends were being loud and obnoxious in the back seat, and Grant had a look in his eyes like he wanted to impress them by being as loud and obnoxious as them.
“Pull over,” I demanded, as forcefully as I could manage. “Let me out! I want to get out of the car.”
Grant gave me a look like I was getting on his nerves. He didn’t slow down. “Twenty more minutes and you’ll be home, chill out.”
“No, it’s not safe,” I snapped. “Pull over, for fuck’s sake!” I tripped over the swear word, but I felt scared enough that it felt natural to say it, to emphasise my point.
With a groan, Grant roughly pulled the car over into the parking lot of some bar and stopped suddenly, throwing me against my seatbelt. “Go on then,” he said. I don’t think he expected me to actually get out, but I yanked off my seatbelt, snatched up my bag, and clambered out of the car.
Grant’s friends were laughing, smoking, and one of them was opening up a beer can. “You can’t stay here,” Grant said, leaning over to talk out the window. “Get back in the car.”
I glared at him. “Not a chance,” I mumbled, looking around to catch my bearings. The noise from the bar wasn’t so reassuring, but it was brightly lit and it was the only place along this street where I might feel safe. A sign above the door said Dark Horse Bar.
“Whatever,” Grant said, throwing the car into gear and tearing out of the parking lot with a spray of gravel from the tires. I winced, dodging the small stones as they spat out from beneath the wheels. Grant’s car quickly disappeared down the street and I sighed heavily, hiding my face behind my hands for a moment.
A few tears sprang into my eyes but I wiped them away, only then realizing I’d probably smudged my mascara. Growling a few uncharacteristic curses under my breath, I walked up to the door of the bar and pushed it open. The smell of beer, liquor, and cigarette smoke was strong inside but after a quick and fearful survey from the door I could see I might be okay there.
2: Succor