Aspen (23 page)

“Thank God you’re home,” she says over her shoulder. “There’s a girl upstairs in your room with way too much energy. She needs a Xanax, pronto. Or a joint.”

“What?” I drop the towel and go upstairs. In my room, Suzy paces the floor, biting her nails. When she sees me, she flings herself into my arms and holds on tight.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she squeals in my ear.

“Do what?” I choke through her strong embrace.

“Disappear. You never came back to physics.” Suzy’s voice is tense and shaky, like she might cry.

“I didn’t feel good, so I bailed. I’m sorry.”

“I texted you like a million times. And you didn’t answer. You need to answer.”

“I lost my phone at the concert.”

Suzy eases back and takes a breath. “Oh.” She sits down on the end of my bed. “I didn’t know that.”

“Are you okay?”

Tears wet Suzy’s eyes. Her hands are shaking. I’ve never seen her like this.

“I can’t lose another friend, Aspen. Not on my watch,” she says. And then Suzy pulls me into a hug and doesn’t let go. I fall into her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say.

When Suzy finally releases me, she says, “We have something else to discuss.”

“What?”

“New Year’s Eve. Tom’s having a party and you’re coming with me.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I don’t care. You’re coming.” Suzy grabs my hand. Her eyes might be the kindest I’ve ever seen. I get sad for a moment that I didn’t know Suzy before this year.

“Okay,” I say. I guess going to another party isn’t
such
a bad idea. It’s my senior year, after all.

Ninny gets me a used bike for Christmas. It’s an orange banana-seat thing with only one gear and rust around the chain. She even gets me a bike lock, though I’m pretty sure anyone desperate enough to steal this bike can have it. I ride it around the block a few times, just to get the wheels moving before it starts to snow.

Ninny and I stay in our pajamas all day long and watch movies. She spends the majority of the day not high, as a Christmas present to me, which I appreciate. When I’ve eaten her entire stash of candy and Ninny’s leg won’t stop tapping on the ground, most likely because she’s jonesing for a joint so badly, I retreat up to my room.

“I’m just going to Uncle Salvador’s for a while,” she calls after me.

“Whatever,” I yell back. The door slams so fast, I think Ninny must be sprinting to her van.

I sit at my desk and turn on my computer. Logging onto Facebook, I pull up Katelyn’s page. And then I click off of it. And then I click back to it. Then I send a message to Kim. Then I go back to Katelyn’s page, then click off of it. Then I check my newsfeed. Then I click back to it. And then I shut my computer down.

I’m a stalker.

Then I roll a charcoal pencil around a sheet of paper until my room gets dark. When a noise in the kitchen catches my attention, I go downstairs, expecting to find Ninny, wandering around with bloodshot eyes. Sure enough, the fridge door is open.

“Munchies?” I say, leaning on the counter.

“Just looking for ice cream.” Ben stands up from behind the door. I practically jump out of my socks, totally thrown by his presence.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for ice cream,” he says again. His words are slurred and his eyes are wobbly. He grabs a container of mint chocolate chip out of the freezer and takes a spoon from the drawer. “Merry Christmas,” he says, and gives me a kiss on the cheek. His lips are icicles and his breath is coated in booze. I rub my hand over the spot on my face. “I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer, so I thought I’d just come over.” Ben stumbles into the living room.

“My phone is broken. Permanently.”

“Right.” He sits on the couch, bouncing a little bit. “I’ve been drinking.” Ben’s droopy eyes travel up my body slowly until they meet mine. “You’re wearing reindeer pajamas.”

“It’s Christmas.”

Ben takes a heaping bite of ice cream. “Where’s Ninny?”

“At Toaster’s.”

Some ice cream drips off Ben’s spoon onto the floor. “Shit. Sorry.” He bends down to wipe it up with his shirt and almost falls over into the coffee table. I grab his waist and hoist him back up onto the couch, giggling at his compromised state.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say.

Red rims his eyes. He looks like he’s been crying. It makes my heart hurt.

“See. That’s what I’m talking about,” Ben says.

“We were talking about something?”

He grabs my charcoal-covered fingers and holds them in front of his face. “You’re messy. You don’t try to hide it.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Ben examines my fingertips, his body wobbling. “I hate Mrs. Ryan.”

My posture gets straight when I hear Katelyn’s mom’s name. “Hate is a strong word.”

“Well, I strongly hate her.” Ben lets go of my hand and slumps back on the couch in a huff.

“Why do you hate her?”

“Because she’s so clean and tidy and . . . clean.” Ben’s eyes hang at half-mast, and anger fills his voice. “She hates me, too, but she’d never admit it. She’d rather pretend to like me.” Ben’s head rocks back.

For a moment, I think Ben has passed out. His eyes stay closed, and his breath falls even. I want to grab his shoulders and shake him awake.

And then Ben sits up on the couch, alert again.

“Why did you come over?” he asks.

“Ben, you’re at my house, remember.”

“I know that.” He taps my nose playfully. “Not now. Before.”

“Why did
you
come over?” I counter.

“Because I had an important question to ask you.”

“What’s the question?”

“Why did you come over?” A grin lifts Ben’s mouth, but then his face falls. “Oh, shit. I’m spinning.”

“Come on.” I pull Ben off the couch and drag him upstairs to my room. Setting him on the bed, I prop up his head with pillows. “Put a foot on the ground, it’ll help the spins,” I say. Ben’s leg flops over the side of the mattress. He spreads his arms out to the side.

“Remember when I laid down in the street with you?” He blinks slowly, like it’s getting harder for his eyes to stay open.

“I do.” I sit down on the end of the bed.

“Will you lie down with me now?”

Ben’s hair is extra messy today, almost like he got caught in a windstorm. Or like he drank a bottle of booze and got caught in a windstorm.

He pats the spot next to him on the bed and I can’t resist. I crawl up next to him. It’s not like we haven’t done this before.

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in tighter, like he’s trying to make our two bodies one. Or like he’s grasping for me, holding onto me in case I disappear. It makes my body heat a hundred degrees warmer. I rest my face against his chest.

“That night was the beginning,” he whispers.

“The beginning of what?”

“The beginning of the end.” He runs his fingers over my forehead, brushing my curls away. I don’t respond, because I don’t know what to say. Instead, I pull the blanket over Ben and me, snuggling down under the covers.

For a long while we don’t say anything. Then Ben’s voice comes through the silence in the room.

“She cried on Christmas every year,” he says, breathing into my ear. “And the fucked up part is that I miss it.”

“Katelyn?” I ask. Ben nods slowly, his eyes closed. “Why did she cry?”

“She was always looking for a way out. And always sad when she couldn’t find it.” His head tilts back on the pillow, finding a more comfortable position.

“A way out of what?” I ask.

“Just so you know,” Ben pulls me closer. “It would be okay if you kissed my eyelids.” And then he falls asleep completely.

“A way out of what?” I repeat to myself. I lie there, listening to his breathing. Squeezing my eyes shut, I press my face into Ben’s shirt. The smell of laundry detergent fills my head. And eventually, everything goes black.

Ben’s leg is hooked over my waist, his arm resting lightly on my shoulder, as I wake up face down on my bed the next morning. I lift my head from the pillow and gaze around the room. Sun pours in my window. The weight of Ben’s body holds me down to the point where I can’t move.

Stuffing my face in the pillow, I blow out a breath. Then, ever so slowly I attempt to scoot out from underneath him. It doesn’t work. Ben’s body curls even more, wrapping around me so we’re in a spoon position, my back resting against his front. He breathes in my ear, his face nestling into my hair. It’s better than any physical contact I’ve ever had with a boy.

I slide, inch by inch, out of the bed. First my legs, so my feet can touch the ground. Then my torso, peeling away from Ben’s. Finally I flop on the floor like a dead fish, then stand up. Ben rolls onto his stomach, overtaking the entire space of the bed and sprawling out like a giant starfish.

I tiptoe through the room and down the hallway to brush my teeth. Running my fingers through my hair, I pull my curls into a messy bun on my head. I’m still dressed in my reindeer pajamas from the night before, so I find a basket of clean clothes in the laundry room and change into grey sweatpants and a tie-dye T-shirt. Then I peek through my door to check on Ben. He’s sitting up in bed, rubbing his temples. I grab a glass of water from the kitchen before going back into the bedroom. He looks up from checking his phone, a nervous smile on his face.

“Hi.” I hand him the drink.

“Hi.” Ben’s voice is deep with fatigue. He looks at me with guilty eyes. “I’m sorry I took over your bed.” He downs the glass of water.

“That’s okay. I did it to you first.” When Ben rubs his temples, I ask “Headache?”

“Life-ache. My dad’s not so happy about my disappearing act last night.” Ben holds up his phone and rolls his eyes. “I better get out of here.”

“He might beat you with his wooden leg.” I say, and Ben laughs.

“Ouch. Even laughing hurts.” He wobbles to his feet and catches himself on the bed.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

Ben squeezes the bridge of his nose. “I broke in to your house. There was ice cream. And then it all goes kind of black.” His face falls. “Did I do something embarrassing?”

“No.” I help Ben to his feet, letting go of my questions and the disappointment along with them.

As I’m walking Ben to the front door, Ninny emerges from her bedroom at just the right moment to catch him leaving. She yawns, arching her back in a stretch. “So this is what happens when I go to Salvador’s. I’ll make sure to leave more often.”

“Classy, mom.”

“Just keeping it real. It’s always good to see you, Benny. You can sleep with Aspen anytime.” She winks and disappears into the kitchen.

“Is it wrong to say I love Ninny?” Ben asks. I swat him in the arm. “Ouch. Life-ache, remember.”

“Do you want a ride or not?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

At the garage, I wheel out my new orange bike. I hand him Ninny’s helmet, which has flowers all over it, and put on my own.

“There’s snow on the ground. Why aren’t we taking your car?”

“You need some fresh air. This’ll be better.” I climb onto the seat and point to the pegs jutting out from the back wheel. “Hop on, Benny.”

Ben hesitates for a second, and then he straps on Ninny’s helmet and climbs onto my bike. I giggle as he holds my shoulders to balance himself.

It takes a running start to get up enough momentum for any kind of speed. Banana-seat bikes aren’t really built for teenagers. More like five-year-old girls with flower baskets strapped to the front handlebars. But as Ben and I wind through the streets of Boulder, the wind in our ears and the snow sloshing around our ankles, it feels right.

Being back in Suzy’s room is weird. Her party wasn’t that long ago, yet it feels like forever. I tried to convince Kim and Cass to come with me tonight, but they decided that after the last party, it would be safer to play video games at Cass’s house while he babysits his little sister so his parents can go out. I’m sure they’ll manage to sneak some liquor from his parents’ cabinet. They might even get drunk enough to stop fighting and start taking their clothes off.

Suzy scuttles around in the bathroom behind the closed door and reappears in her tie-dye T-shirt. It’s beginning to suit her in a rebellious way. Kind of like our friendship. I know Olivia must hate that Suzy wants to be my friend, but she does it anyway.

“Ta-da!” Suzy spins in a circle. Smiling, I want to jump up and hug her for her loyalty. “What?” she says when she notices my goofy grin.

“The tie-dye looks good on you. It’s your color.”

“It still smells like the Crystal Dragon, too.” Suzy take a sniff of the shirt.

As she finishes up in the bathroom, I poke around her room. A dried red rose with a purple and gold ribbon tied around it sits on top of her dresser. I pick it up. It’s the rose from the homecoming crowning celebration. I threw mine in the garbage at Shakedown Street afterward.