Free Drain You by M. Beth Bloom Page B

probably beyond edgy. I could detect serious vibes being thrown my way: Do not cause a scene. Do not cause a scene.
    “Morgan’s here to pick me up,” I said, super casual.My mother relaxed visibly at the sound of his name.
    “That’s her little boyfriend,” she explained, and the couples nodded in understanding.
    “Grab a long-sleeve, sweetie,” she said, standing up and guiding the guests out the sliding door to the backyard patio.
    “Be back whenever,” my father said, following her.
    Would it always be this easy?
    “Right…,” I said, suddenly alone.
    I dashed down the stone steps, my mind racing, trying to calculate the odds of James’s whereabouts. I was past the tea lights and nearly to the street before I noticed Libby lying on the hood of her car, parked across the road, in front of our neighbors’ house. I froze. Libby didn’t typically come to my house. And right now I really didn’t have time for her visit. I looked down the long, dark canyon road to my left: Video Journeys. Somewhere, James. And then I looked to my right: Libby, in a nightgown, sprawled across her hood, barely visible under a streetlamp, at eleven on a Sunday night. Damn it.
    “Libby, this better be so good. You better be a pregnant runaway with diabetes right now,” I said, walking toward her. “Drive me to Video Journeys.” I went to the passenger side and opened the door. “Get in.”
    “Why?” she asked, sounding dazed, or drunk. “Why aren’t you there now?”
    “Dumb reasons,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”
    “Then why do you have to go back?” She leaned over on her side, facing away from me, and curled her long legs up under her.
    “Libby, what are you doing here? I’m sure whatever it is we can totally talk about it later. I just have to go meet someone at the video store. Like, right now. So, either take me or don’t, but I gotta go.” Time was not on my side. I pictured James loitering in the Video Journeys parking lot, checking where his watch would be.
    “Whatever, Quinn,” she said. And then, “You know Morgan can wait.” She laughed in a drugged, distant way. “He’ll wait foreeeever for you, you know….”
    “Seriously, dude? Are you on planet Earth?” But when she finally rolled over to face me, I could see that she wasn’t. She was not on planet Earth.
    Libby was white, translucent. I could see the blue veins running along her forehead and under her eyes, more pronounced than usual. She drifted her limbs in a weird pendulum motion, like she was keeping time with an inaudible song. Her wrists were frailer, and the one she’d worn the silver bracelets on was now wrapped in a bulky white bandage. She looked drained, wild-eyed, sick. Her perfectly straight, flat hair was kinked like a bad home perm.
    “Okay. So what’d you take? Stella’s prescriptions?”
    She shook her head. She didn’t blink.
    “All right. So what, you’re stoned? Tripping? Alien invasion? Poltergeist?” I pointed to her nightgown. “Help me out here, Lib.”
    “Let’s just sit here, okay? Let’s just enjoy the night.” She closed her eyes and smiled up at the starless sky. “It’s best at night,” she said, reaching out to hold my hand. Her palm was warm, but her fingers were cold.
    “Come on, you’re scaring me.”
    She laughed a light, empty laugh. Then Libby slid off the hood and started to twirl slowly in the street, humming something foggy and quiet.
    Then it hit me, and I said it out loud: “I dreamed this.”
    “Did you have fun at my party?” Libby asked.
    “No. It sucked.”
    Libby smiled a vacant smile to herself, said nothing.
    “And thanks a lot for protecting me from those guys. I thought they were going to wear my skin over their skin. Cooper especially.”
    “You lived.”
    “Whatever, dude. Not cool.”
    Nothing about this was cool.
    She danced over in my direction, her arms out, eyes still closed. “You know, you used to like hanging out with me. Aren’t you happy to