Apparently, the final thing I must do to prove to my parents that I’m going to be okay is go out with “my friends” before I leave for college. This doesn’t seem like the time to point out that I am questioning whether I have friends outside of Finn. I’m starting to see how superficial my other relationships have been. It almost makes me wish I hadn’t given Sylvie such a hard time about everything. I suppose it wouldn’t help to reach out and tell her that she might have been right, that maybe I never knew what friendship was until it was taken from me.
But then Kyle texts me that there’s a party in St. Charles tonight, and even though it’s the first time anyone from our class has reached out to me since the funeral, part of me melts a little. Part of me wonders if it would feel normal. It’s not like Finn was at every party with me. Half the time, Finn was off making sure Sylvie wasn’t giving herself alcohol poisoning on a dare anyway.
The way my parents light up when I say there’s a party across the river that a bunch of the team will be at and I figure I’ll stop by and say some goodbyes? That almost makes it worth the effort. If I can fool my parents that I’m okay, maybe I’ll be able to fool myself eventually.
As I drive over the bridge, I think about how whenever we went to St. Charles, Finn would say something about the airport expansion and white flight, and I’d be like, “Yeah, people suck. What are you going to do about it?” If Sylvie was in the car, she would talk to him about it, and I’d zone out or make out with Alexis if she was there. It’s not that what Finn was talking about didn’t seem important, but I figured we were kids. What kind of impact could we make?
I guess I don’t think that way anymore, but I also don’t have anyone to explain that stuff to me.
I could ask Sylvie, but there’s a chance she’s not speaking to me given our last text exchange.
Once I arrive at the address, I recognize the house. I’ve been here before. It had been a small party where everyone else knew each other. Finn, Sylvie, Alexis, and I were only there because an upperclassman from the team knew the host and invited us along with him. For a small party, there was a surprising amount of alcohol. At some point, late in the night, a dude said that the cop who lived next door would be coming home from his shift soon, and wouldn’t it be funny if one of the girls flashed him?
Despite the number of people, including the host, who pointed out the obvious reason this was a bad idea, Sylvie volunteered for the job. It didn’t matter that most people at the house were sober enough to not let the superdrunk girl antagonize the cop, Sylvie and Finn once again argued about whether Finn was trying to control Sylvie by stopping her from doing something stupid. Worse still, they had their argument in the front seat of Finn’s little red car while Alexis and I were squeezed in the back seat and she was mad at me about some mysterious thing.
Whenever they had this fight in front of me, I always wanted to point out that sober Sylvie agreed whatever it was had been a bad idea about 90 percent of the time. I also wanted to tell Finn that he should know better than to force Sylvie to see logic when she was drunk.
Fuck, Finn, just let her sleep it off, I would think. And sometimes I would think, You can’t argue her into being Autumn, dude. But I never said either of those things, and I’m not sure now whether I should have.
So.
At least there won’t be any happy memories plaguing me at this party.
This party is thankfully much bigger than the last one. I can tell from the cars outside. I wonder if the cop still lives next door because it’s pretty crowded on the street and the people in the backyard are not keeping their voices down, even if it’s only nine.
My goal is to have conversations with at least three people whose names my parents have heard me say before, and then I’m going home. Tomorrow, when my parents ask, I’ll say it was great seeing this person and saying goodbye to that guy, and then I’ll say I’m going to my room to pack, and I’ll take a nap.
I hop up the front steps and open the door without knocking, because it’s already that kind of party. I don’t see anyone I know, but the kitchen is at the end of the hall with a line for a keg, and I figure that’s a good place to start.
Right away, I notice Trevor Jones at the end of the line. Perfect.
“Hey,” I say as I approach, careful to stand back so that it’s obvious I’m not trying to cut in line for the keg. Maybe he’s in his own head, but Trevor blanches for a moment.
“Hey, Murphy,” he says.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he says, like I’m a teacher or a cop. “You good?”
“I’m okay,” I say. “Who all is here?”
“You know, the guys and stuff.”
“Right,” I say to this nonanswer. Did Trevor always hate me and I never noticed? “Ricky here?”
“Yeah? Probably?”
The line shifts forward.
“Well, I’ll let you get your drink, and I’ll go say hi to some other people.”
“Cool!” He sounds way too relieved. He faces forward, and I wander off.
Everyone loved Finn. Even the people who Finn didn’t really like loved him because he treated everyone the same. Did people only like me because I was attached to Finn? Was having me around the cost of having Finn there too?
That doesn’t feel right, at least not quite, and I’m not going to let Trevor acting weird ruin my night.
There’s an alcove off the hallway where some girls are gathered, and I see one of them pointing to me and whispering to her friends. Chloe dated Seth from the team for over a year, and they broke up after Finn gave Chloe a ride home one night when Seth refused to leave the party. Nothing happened, obviously. It was an act of kindness, driving her home when her own boyfriend wouldn’t. But it seemed to kill her feelings for Seth. Seth acted like he wanted to blame Finn, but he could never find a way to do it.
That’s the kind of high school memory I want to live in tonight, so even though I have no idea what Chloe was saying about me to her friend, I head over. A few of the girls rush off, but one of her friends stays.
“Heeeeeeeeeeey!” both girls say simultaneously at the same high pitch.
“Hi?” In their short black dresses and matching silvery makeup, they’re suddenly giving off vibes like horror movie twins.
“How are you?” Chloe asks, as her friend—Sara?—nods in tandem to her words.
“Nothing much,” I say, which isn’t the right response, but neither notices. The way they’re looking at me is too intense.
“Yeah?” they say together, both nodding.
“Leaving for school later this week,” I offer.
Thankfully, only Sara cocks her head to the side as they both give me pitying looks.
“Yeah,” I say to the question that they aren’t asking. “Looking forward to it though.”
“Of course,” Chloe says. “It’ll be a fresh start for you.”
Sara nods.
“I don’t need a fresh start,” I say. “It’s not like I killed someone.”
After the words are out of my mouth, I try to turn them into a joke with a laugh, but that makes it worse. Chloe’s and her friend’s faces go through a strobe light sequence of reactions before settling back to pity.
“A change of scenery then?” Chloe asks. Her friend, who I remember is actually named Steph, doesn’t nod this time.
“We heard about the practice,” Steph-not-Sara says.
“The what?”
They wince in unison, and I’m starting to think they practice their creepy twin act in the mirror.
“You know? How you showed up at soccer practice like that?” Chloe touches my arm in a way that I used to think meant a girl was flirting, but now I’m not so sure.
“Yeah, I—” I start, but I don’t want to explain to them why I was there. They haven’t earned that from me. “You know,” I say, “you’re probably right about me needing a change of scenery.”
They nod enthusiastically.
“So, uh, I think I’ll go say hi to some other people.” I’m surprised how their faces fall, but I don’t care. “Nice catching up,” I say as I turn away.
There’s a lot of shouting going on in the next room, which should at least be interesting.
It turns out that’s where most of the team is, Ricky and Jamal and the rest. A couple of new upperclassmen who joined the team from JV are there. Everyone is focused on Bunny and the video game he’s playing.