Chapter Text
Cherries and cigarette smoke. The first things I taste when Valerie Dunn approaches me in the corner and slides her tongue into my mouth. What happened to hey, how are you? This is my first thought. My second thought is, holy crap, I’m kissing Valerie Dunn. And my third thought, along with that third taste, is the beer that stains her lips, overtaking the cherry lipgloss she’s currently sharing with me. I don’t even realise that I’m standing here like a statue while she slobbers over my lips until she pulls away frowning, swaying slightly.
“You’re supposed to kiss me back, idiot,” she mumbles, one hand awkwardly grasping my hip, more for support than feeling me up, while her other hand clutches onto the bottle responsible for my Valerie-Dunn-kiss-wake-up-call. Great. Now I share the role of lifeboat with a bottle of VB. “I don’t think I’m supposed to do anything, Valerie, you’re the one who came up to me and started sucking on me like I’m the last nipple in the nursery,” is what I should say. And I know that. I know I should walk away, I know I should tell one of her snarky friends who spend too much time occupied by others' opinions that she needs their salvation, I know I should take advantage of her confused state and replace her bottle with a glass of water and the air snaking up her criminally short skirt with the crowded couch cushions.
But I don’t. Because the hottest girl at school, the queen bee, most likely to succeed based upon looks she’ll probably end up morphing and operating on anyway, has chosen me as the object of her drunken snogging and in my own drunken stupor, that is the coolest thing in the world. So I mumble a half hearted apology and shut my eyes as she presses me against the wall again. It’s one of the most unromantic moments of my relatively unromantic life, practically flattened in a starfish position against the floral wallpaper of Becca Davis’ living room awkwardly as Valerie's hand continues clenching my side, shaking from the effort of holding onto me. All the rumours of how sexy and talented Valerie Dunn is in the bedroom suddenly becomes folklorian hyperbole as she grunts and groans into my lips, her mouth movements more akin to that of someone trying to shove three Hungry Jacks BBQ bacon cheeseburgers down their throat. Oh great, now I’m hungry. Although, the thought of the delectable burgers makes the next five most humiliating moments of my life slightly more bearable.
We’re not too far from the sliding back door which has been left open for the sake of the party, so the distant stench of whatever pungent strain of weed our school's resident dropkicks have snuck in with them makes my stomach turn. It doesn’t help that my taste buds are overwhelmed by the mix of Valerie’s overpriced Charlotte Tilbury lip gloss and whatever other horrific concoctions she’s thrown back with every erect guy and jealous girl throughout the night. I can’t believe how lucky I am to be experiencing such a unique mixture of flavours and scents as I’m tongue downed in the corner of the room with some EDM remix of that moonbeam ice cream song by Benson Boone. I hate Benson Boone.
I don’t even realise my eyes are wide open again until I find myself staring at the world's smallest disco ball that someone’s put up, but I suspect it’s more for irony than light functionality, if the strobe lights blinding those stupid enough to not wear sunglasses inside at night are any indication. It’s not as if I’ve had an abundance of fantastically gratifying sexual experiences against classmates' hideous walls, but I can’t help noting the absurdity of the situation, especially as Valerie pulls away to whisper, “Wanna take this somewhere a little more…Private?” No. I really, really don’t, actually. I tell her as much, which earns me a sluggish blink and manoeuvre that I think is intended to be a turn on her heel and storm away, but is turned into a hesitant 180 and stumble towards any raised surface she can turn to for assistance standing. I return her stunned stare as she staggers off with the grace of a newborn horse, wondering, what the fuck just happened?
I shake my head, resulting in a moment of blurred vision which I blink my way out of before turning and shouldering my way back through the mass of sweaty, intoxicated bodies. I manage to find my other half and we haul ass out of there, stumbling through the guys passed out on the front lawn, setting off to the nearest Hungry Jacks, a quick and easy forty minute stroll away. My no doubt concerning blood alcohol content does very little to numb the pain in my jelly legs as we wobble down the road at the ungodly hour of…10PM. Oh. I have to ask my personal angel, soulmate, best friend who I’m eternally indebted to, Asha, to order my usual when we hobble in, before I race off to the bathroom, fearing for my life as I struggle to yank my jeans down underneath my skirt. When I finally find the strength to pull myself off the toilet and pull my pants back on, I stumble over to the sink, washing my hands and staring at my bedraggled reflection in the cracked, murky mirror. I manage to convince myself that I only look like shit because of the mirror and head out, finding Asha at a table in the corner with our food in a bag on the table, chewing on a fry thoughtfully while scrolling on their phone, their eyes watery and bloodshot.
“How much did you smoke with Orion, holy shit,” I mumble as I sit across from them. “I don’t know, only like four or five bowls.” I shake my head. “Dude, you look higher than God.” They glare at me. “Shut the fuck up, I’m working on cutting back.” I scoff. “Yeah, that seems to be working well for you.” They toss a fry at me which I move to catch in my mouth, resulting in a fry wasted on the floor and a very painful and sudden acquaintanceship between my forehead and the table. It takes me fake crying to garner sympathy and silence Asha’s cackle before they turn back to their fries and scrolling, all previous interest in me completely gone. Tragic. Not that I care for long, my focus turned back to my one true love. The BBQ cheeseburger.
The thing you have to understand is the utter creative mastery behind the BBQ cheeseburger. The delectable combination of barbecue sauce and a Hungry Jacks cheeseburger is one of those unlikely duo’s you never anticipate, like the ballet and hiphop fusion at the 2024 Olympics, only in the form of grease and a missing $3.50 from your bank account. These burgers are perfect for every occasion. Drunk? BBQ cheeseburger. Been madly in love with the most shallow, self centred, egocentric girls you’ll ever have the displeasure of knowing for more years than you care to admit? BBQ cheeseburger. Somehow finding yourself in a rather compromising situation with said girl crush at a major party two weeks before you’re set to start year eleven, and unsure how to feel about it? BBQ cheeseburger. A rather overwhelming and unfortunate combination of the three? Better get four of the fuckers, just for safe measure.
I’ve managed to scarf down three of my precious’s, only one bald head and criminally arched spine away from crawling onto the table and screeching my declaration to the three other people present in the restaurant, seconds away from demolishing my fourth when Asha’s eyebrows practically fly off their head, their scrolling halted by whatever shocking news they’ve discovered. I usually don’t care about whatever drama they’ve discovered, usually akin to some sort of celebrity scandal or cancellation of a Netflix show they’ve never seen, but the pure horror in their eyes piques my interest.
“What’s the haps, cap?” I ask around a mouthful of burger. They look between me and their screen a few times, chewing on their lip, an uneasy look taking over the shocked one. “Cori, did you…Make out with Valerie Dunn about half an hour ago?” I stare at them for a moment, swallowing the bite of burger that tastes more like ash now as it slides down my throat. “No, more like an hour ago,” I tell them weakly, wincing. “Did I not mention that?” They shake their head, their gaze hardening a bit as they hand me their phone. I take the phone with shaking hands, trying my hardest to make my eyes focus on the blurry video before me.
It’s a boomerang, posted by someone whose username I can’t quite make out in the corner of the screen. I can’t swallow past the lump growing in my throat as I watch my eyes close and Valerie's lips press against mine, before pulling back as my eyes open again, over and over and over. The video is poor quality and dimly lit, but there’s no mistaking who the subjects are. Suddenly, the torn up seat beneath me, the sticky table, the filthy windows, the too-bright lights, the stained floor, my best friend across from me, all of it feels lightyears away. Even my own breathing becomes a foreign sound, the dull, quick thumping of my heart fills every inch of me, turning me into a human ticking time bomb. But I don’t explode. I don’t time out, no one is there to cut my red wire or cover me to minimise my damage. Not until I feel Asha slide in beside me and gently take their phone out of my hand. I can tell they don’t know what to do, which makes two of us, and I feel a little less alone.
It’s not the kiss or the video or the fact that by tomorrow morning, my entire school will be whispering once more. No, that I can deal with. It’s the caption that stays with me, tattooed on my eyelids each time I blink. ‘Alcohol makes the hottest chicks desperate.’ “What does that even mean?” Asha mumbles, shutting off their phone and placing it face down on the table, like they’re trying to get it as far away from me as possible. I appreciate their attempt at cheering me up, even as I let out a shaky breath. “You know what it means,” I mumble, lifting my thumb to my lips. Ash smacks my hand away from my mouth. “Don’t do that,” they say softly and I slouch further into my seat. “You suck,” I tell them, to which they respond without missing a beat, “And you swallow. Come on, my dad’s about ten minutes away, let’s go outside and hope the cold will make us seem more sober than we are.”
They heave me off the seat as I continue to wallow, making dramatic wailing sounds as they drag me out. “Why is the world so cruel to me, fire Ash? My ashen prince, my kingdom of ash-” “You know I hate those books,” they tell me through gritted teeth as we sit on the curb outside the Hungry Jacks, basking in the warm, balmy night. “What happened to sobering cold?” I ask them as I retrieve a half crushed cigarette from my pocket. “I’m too high to know what time of year it is,” they say flatly, snatching the cigarette from my hand. “And don’t get into my dads car stinking of cigarettes.” I frown. “How will he know it’s me otherwise?” I insist as their dads grey car pulls into the parking lot and Asha hauls me to my feet.
“Hey, Josh,” I say as I climb into the backseat, Asha sliding in behind me. “Hey, kiddos. You feeling alright?” He asks, turning to look at us as we buckle up, his hand braced on the back of the passenger seat headrest. “Yeah, we’re all right, Dad,” Asha says. He nods, clicking his tongue and turning back around, pulling out of the Hungry Jacks parking lot. “If you guys wanted food so badly, you could’ve called me,” he tells us, a touch of hurt in his voice, making my heart clench a bit. Asha just shrugs. “We needed the fresh air.” I watch Josh look into the rear view mirror and make eye contact with them. “I get that, Ace, but I’d be lying if I said the thought of you guys being out here in the middle of the night, especially when you’ve been drinking, didn’t scare the shit out of me. Promise me you’ll at least send your location next time?” Asha swallows a bit and nods. “Promise,” they say softly, smiling at their dad. “Yeah, sorry, Josh,” I add, smiling sheepishly at him. He lets out a tired, but sincere chuckle. “Don’t sweat it, teens make mistakes, I anticipate them so I can’t get mad.”
The rest of the ride home is pretty quiet, Asha and I not sure what to say and Josh unaware of what exactly has gone down, whistling away contentedly. When we pull up outside my house, I hug Asha goodbye and give Josh a quick peck on the cheek, thanking him for dropping me off, before sneaking inside, careful not to make too much noise as I tiptoe through the house. I make it to my room safely, kicking off my shoes and quickly shedding my jewellery and clothes before crawling into bed. I consciously decide against journeying all the way across the hallway to the bathroom to remove my makeup and hair glitter, leaving it as a problem for future Cori.
Laying in bed, I mentally go over the events of the night. I wonder if I would’ve still gone to that party had I known what would happen. I wonder what Asha thinks of the situation. They seemed pretty quiet on the way home, their usual indication that they’re thinking carefully about something, hesitant to jump to an opinion. Usually, it bodes well for me, but something in my gut tells me not to get ahead of myself just yet. Pulling the covers up over my ears, I squeeze my eyes shut, thinking sleepy thoughts. Sheep, the moon and stars, my bed, more sheep, hoping everything will be okay in the morning. Which it will be. I hope.