Quiet settled again. I shifted in my seat. It appears hi is not, in fact, a magic word.
"I'm Amy," I said, holding out a hand.
"Taylor," the girl said, reaching out to shake my hand. The moment our skin touched, my power filled my head with junk. I sifted it absently, then paused as my power showed me the extra lobe in her brain. Or not-lobe. The one that parahumans had. She was —
No. Nope, nope, nope. Not going there. I shoved that little tidbit out of my mind. She was a normal person. No need to complicate matters. Especially when this was so complicated already.
The angle of our handshake was awkward — more for her than me, with the way her elbow knocked against the cushions. I felt inconsiderate. She didn't seem to mind, but we kept the shake short, all the same.
"Nice to meet you," she added.
"Oh," I said, in my infinite wisdom. "Uh, yeah, nice to meet you too." I bit my lip and cast a quick glance around the room, searching and not finding a conversation starter. It was only just occurring to me that `not wanting to be here' wasn't one. That was mistake number... I dunno, twenty-seven, maybe.
Different tactic, then. Ask her about herself. People are supposed to like that. Something about showing interest. "Do you go to Arcadia?" Dammit. Stupid question.
"Yeah," she said, then quieted again.
Mistake number twenty-eight: asking yes-or-no questions. I needed to give her more to work with. I was just opening my mouth when she spoke again:
"It's not as nice as I thought it'd be."
"Arcadia? Uh... what do you mean? Did you transfer in?"
The girl — Taylor — made a face, and as inept as I was, even I could tell I'd already fucked something up. "Yeah, from Winslow," she said. "I don't really want to talk about it."
"Sorry, I didn't — "
"No, it's okay. Just — I mean, if we're going to talk, I'm sure there are better topics than school."
Quiet again. She was probably right. Not that —
"Not that I can think of any," she added with a smile.
I laughed. I couldn't help it. It wasn't even that funny, but laughter wracked me as I curled in on myself. I tried to restrain it with little success. Stopping it completely was far, far beyond me.
Years later, the tremors subsided, and I wiped tears from my eyes. Taylor sat with a little quirked grin on her face, like she was an inch away from laughing herself, though she clearly had better self-control than I did.
"Sorry," I said, then a residual giggle interrupted me. "I didn't mean to upset you, before. I just — "
"I told you, it's okay," Taylor chuckled, following it up with a quiet sigh and a moment of silence. Then, "I was bullied at Winslow. Just a little, nothing... serious. But I always kinda thought that stuff wouldn't happen at Arcadia, you know?"
I frowned. "Has someone — "
"No, no-one's bothered me. But I've seen it happening to other people, and it's just... disappointing."
I quieted. I hadn't seen anything like that, let alone been a target. Not since middle school, at least. But... I was Victoria Dallon's sister, and everyone knew it. Hurting me was a sure-fire way to piss her off. And she could fly and bench-press trucks, so pretty much everyone wanted to stay on her good side.
"Sorry again," I said, feeling a sudden surge of honesty, a desire to reciprocate. My secrets were a little more... damaging, so I didn't have much to share, but... "I'm not very good at this," I found myself saying. "Talking to people, I mean."
Taylor glanced my way and quirked another smile. "Neither am I," she said. "I usually wind up with people who do all the talking for me."
"Exactly!"
Taylor blinked. I did too, realising I'd jumped forward with my exclamation, invading her personal space more than a little bit. Right in her face, really.
I jerked back, reining in my blush just as sharply. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay," Taylor said, brushing rich, curly hair behind an ear. "You just surprised me."
"Still, sorry. So, uh..." I fumbled for something else to say, and jumped on the first thing that came to mind, as vapid as it was. "What do you think of the whole party thing? I don't get it, myself."
"Neither do I." She paused to sigh. "Honestly, I don't even know why I'm here. I wasn't planning on coming. I don't even think I was invited. Tonight was meant to be..." She shook her head and glanced at me. "Do you know who the host is? Because I have no idea. And I've been here for forty minutes."
I chuckled politely. "That's Dean. Dean Stansfield. He's my sister's boyfriend. He probably invited me, but I'm only here because she begged me to come." I gestured down at my body. "This dress is hers. She... coerced me into it. It looks a lot better on her."
"Well, I, uh... I think it looks good on you," Taylor said, then smiled wryly. "Though I'll admit, I don't know much about fashion."
I blushed, like an idiot. She wasn't hitting on me, just giving me a compliment. There was nothing special about that. "Thanks," I said, surprising myself when I realised I actually meant it. For some reason — maybe because she gave the compliment the same way I would have, had our positions been reversed — I trusted Taylor's awkward sincerity. More than I'd trust any compliment from Dean or any of Vicky's friends, or even from Vicky herself. I mean, Vicky's compliments definitely made me feel like blushing more, but that was for different reasons entirely.
"Dean Stansfield, you said? The name sounds familiar, at least. I'm going to assume he's rich."
"Yeah. If your stereotypical rich kid and your stereotypical nice guy had a kid together, that kid would be Dean Stansfield. Don't worry about not having an invite, by the way. I doubt half of these people do." I nodded toward the throng mingling on the dance floor, waiting out the momentary respite between song changes. "It's more of an `invite your friends' kind of thing. Or a `just show up on the doorstep with beer' kind of thing, I guess." What are you talking about, Amy? Shut up.
"Mm." She turned back to watch the dancers as the next song began.
Fuck, I thought. Why can't I do this? Even the nerdiest kids at school can make friends; why can't I?
Then it hit me. A way to engage this girl, and take some of the pressure off me — and her — to keep conversation going with nothing to focus on. Maybe a way to even have a little fun myself. God knows I could use it.
"Hey, Taylor?" I said. She looked at me. "Uh... when I got here, Dean was out front, greeting people. He said they had a bunch of games laid out in the rec room. Like, board games, I think."
She nodded.
"Anyway, I was wondering if you... uh, if you'd want to go have a look with me? It's probably a lot quieter there, too. Less people. We could just..." I floundered, my hands flopping out of the air as I aborted my useless gestures. "...you know, see if there's anything good to play?"
Taylor blinked, but said nothing. Then she smiled, rich and wide. "Sure," she said, standing and patting her jeans off. "That sounds like fun."
Fuck. Yes.
* * *
I bit my lip as Taylor rolled the dice. They seemed to bounce across the board in slow motion, spin on their corners for an eternity. But eventually they came to a stop.
Two sixes.
I threw my cards to the ground and groaned as dramatically as I could manage. Taylor fell onto her back, clutching her stomach as she laughed her ass off.
"How do you do that every time?" I said.
Taylor rolled over, still giggling, and moved her piece to the finish line. One tile ahead of me. She shrugged — a weird movement for someone lying on their stomach. "Pure skill."
I huffed. "You could at least try to be modest."
A grin split her cheeks as she gathered the dice up into her hands. "There's a trick to it. You have to promise them things. For instance, this little guy — " she held up one die between her fingers " — is twenty grand in debt to a real piece-of-work loan shark. And I figured I could pay that off with my winnings from our last game, if he gave me a good roll in exchange."
"Right, right, I understand completely now. The secret to victory is paying everyone else off."
"How dare you?" she said, giving me a scandalised look and patting the dice protectively. "At least call it bribery. It sounds so much classier."
I snorted — by accident, mind you — and stood to stretch. There was a few seconds of silence, but it wasn't awkward anymore. More... companionable.
"You wanna play that one again?" Taylor said. She glanced over to the stack of game boxes, built like a pyramid, with the biggest at the bottom. "Or we could dive into one of those. Preferably not one of the monsters."
"Something new, I think," I said, then sighed in relief as the joints in my back and shoulders popped. "You can pick something out. I need a toilet break." I moved to leave but stopped at the door, giving her a semi-stern look over my shoulder. "Nothing with dice."
Taylor laughed. "Nothing with dice," she agreed, and turned back to the boxes.
* * *
I barely noticed how the next person in line nodded to me as I exited the bathroom; I just started down the hall, zigzagging absentmindedly between the scattered cliques. My mind was focused elsewhere: on Taylor. Because... I was actually enjoying myself. I was having fun. With someone who, until less than two hours ago, I'd never met before in my life.
And best of all, she was having fun too! Because of me! She was enjoying my company in a way very few people ever had.
I was making a friend, all by myself.
An immense sensation of pride bubbled up inside me. A pitiful thing for a seventeen-year-old girl to be proud of, maybe, but this was a big milestone for me. Every last person in my social circle was Victoria's friend, not mine. That seems completely impossible, right? I thought so too, until I realised I was living it. The hospital staff were the sole exception, but the less said about them the better.
I hoped Victoria would be proud of me too, when she found out what I'd accomplished tonight. She'd wanted me to do this, and I had. Oh, I could just imagine how her face would look when I invited my friend to sit with us for lunch. Though Vicky could get pretty over-protective, and I wouldn't want to risk her scaring Taylor away this early, so... maybe I'd better leave the formal introduction for later.
Something materialised in front of me and I stopped short, physically and mentally. The hallway I'd used earlier was blocked by a big group of muscular guys wearing football jerseys. I'd almost walked right into them. No way was I going to push my way through a bunch of gym nuts. I turned and headed the long way round, intending to cut through the second living room.
My eyes swept the room as I walked. I didn't want to embarrass myself by actually running into something. Almost every square inch was furnished with beanbags and comfy-looking chairs and couches. I kept to the edges of the room, away from the game of poker in the center area.
That proved to be a mistake.
I ended up with a direct line of sight to a makeshift alcove in the corner of the room, hidden away from most people's sight. Within was the beanbag my sister was seated upon. Or more accurately, the beanbag Dean was seated upon, with Vicky in his lap. They exchanged sloppy, noisy kisses and appreciative moans. There was an unusual bulge beneath Vicky's shirt — a lump that moved around her chest region, contracting and expanding like it was squeezing something. His hand.
I froze. For whatever cruel twist of fate, I couldn't look away. I wanted to desperately, but I couldn't.
As I watched, Vicky gasped. Then she giggled and curled further into him, doubling down on her kisses. I saw another movement between their bodies. Near her crotch. Beneath her clothes.
Then I realised I couldn't see his other hand.
That broke the spell. I snapped my head around and rushed out of the room. Before, I'd thought I'd throw up if I had to see them doing something intimate again. I was wrong. This felt worse. So much worse. The idea of it was one thing. The reality was another.
I dashed about the house, looking for someplace private before I lost it. A fit of desperation sent me to a linen closet, and I squeezed into the space between the shelves and the door, barely big enough for a person.
Then I pulled the door shut, dropped to my knees, and cried.
* * *
It felt like hours before I emerged, my brain belatedly reminding me that Taylor was waiting for me. I had trouble making myself care. My elation, my pride, my happiness — everything Taylor's company had birthed? It was all gone. Like a candle flame, snuffed out by the cold winds of reality.
But I managed to muster up a dredge of determination. I'd started to build the foundation of a friendship with her tonight, and I couldn't just throw that effort away because I was in love with someone I could never have. Because I was pathetic. I had to go back in there and smile and keep Taylor laughing and enjoying herself. Because if I didn't, she'd have no reason to be my friend. And I needed a friend.
I wasn't convinced I could pull it off. But I was going to try anyway. I had to salvage something from this misguided expedition. Provided she was even still there.
I walked to the kitchen, keeping my head down, and stopped by the sink. I stared into my reflection in the pristine steel basin. My eyes were a little red, but they weren't as bad as I'd expected. All the same, I gave my face a quick wash of water and squared my shoulders. Time to go back.
The bottles on the counter caught my attention as I turned to leave. The rows upon rows of drinks of every variety, most brought by the guests. The two kegs mounted on the dining table. All that alcohol. And so much of it as yet untouched.
I looked around, at the other party-goers. Every person I saw — even the dancers — held a cup or bottle in their hands, sipping from it intermittently. Alcohol was everywhere.
I'd never had any. Not once. Not even when uncle Neil had offered to secret us a few sips of champagne on thanksgiving, years ago, though Victoria and Crystal and Eric had all leapt at the chance. I'd seen what alcohol could do to people. Inside and out. I could fix other people, but not myself, and I had no desire to ruin my liver that way.
But... that kind of damage came from long-term abuse, not one-time affairs. And there had to be a reason so many people partook. I'd always wanted to know why. Apparently it was something nobody could explain properly, even on the boundless expanses of the internet.
Fuck it.
I grabbed the biggest bottle and a pair of cups, then made my way back to the rec room.
Taylor was still there. But a new group of people had showed up and started playing Monopoly in another corner. Well. There went any hope of privacy.
