Free Thin Ice by Anthea Carson

sat on the cement driveway with my back against the white garage, drinking beers with Ziggy .  I watched Paul from a distance.  I had been watching him all night.  It was graduation night.  Graduation for him, Raj, Ziggy, Walter, and the Transistors.  I wasn’t graduating.  I still had a few more years to go.  I wasn’t sure how many, and I didn’t care.
    I had been making a fool of myself in front of Paul .  At one point, I had climbed up a tree to observe the party outside Walter’s house.  Paul and Walt had stood for a while, pointing up at me.  Later Paul told me why.  He said, “Walt was predicting everything you would do.  I used to find you unpredictable and mysterious.  But Walt was telling me exactly what you would do and then you would do it.  It was hysterically funny.”
    I told Ziggy what Paul had said.
    “I don’t find you predictable at all.” Ziggy turned to me, squinting into the setting sun.  He shaded his eyes as if saluting me.  “Candy, now, she’s predictable.”
    “She’s not here .  I couldn’t have predicted that,” I said.
    “ Maybe not.  You know her better than I do.”
    “I got to know her hoping it would help me get Paul back .  I can’t imagine why I thought that would help.”
    “You probably thought you could steal him from her, the way you stole him from Lucy .  But the problem was, you were no longer the new girl.  The shiny, new object.  She was.”
    “Yep, she’s a shiny , new object, that’s for sure.”
    “ If it’s any consolation, you’re far more interesting than she is. I don’t believe he will stay with her any longer than he does any girl.”
    I put my cigarette out on the pavement and stared at the ashes . 
    The rest of the evening was a blur, as were the next few drunken nights after graduation .  My parents decided to send me to my aunt’s in California for most of the summer.  The night before I left, I sat with Krishna’s boyfriend Ames, parked in some parking lot outside some bar, or some party where the music blared.  I felt the beer bottle clink against my teeth.  Suddenly, I had the most sickening feeling.  I didn’t know what was wrong.  I turned to Ames and told him, “I think I’m sick.  I think there’s something wrong with me, like I’m terribly ill.”
    “Really,” Ames said, with curiosity and compassion.  I always liked Ames.  “Do you suppose it’s the alcohol?”
    “No,” I said .  “This isn’t a drunk sick feeling like I have to throw up or anything like that.  This is something else.”
    “Maybe it’s your diet .  Are you eating a lot of meat?”
    Ames always had some weird angle on everything health related, always some theory, but I liked that about him.  I sat and listened to his theory about meat while I stared at the teenagers off for the summer in their cut-off shorts and tank tops.  I leaned my head back against the seat and finished my beer.
    “I think I need to get home .  I’m too sick to be out anymore.  I’m leaving for California in the morning.”
    “Are you flying ?  You shouldn’t fly; it’s terrible for your brainwaves,” he said.
    “No, I’m not flying .  We’re driving.  My parents are driving me there to be with my aunt.  Have I ever told you about my aunt?”
    “No, I don’t think you have,” he said .  “Are you close to her?”
    “I admire her .  She’s a doctor.  She’s a feisty woman,” I said, and smiled at my memories of her.  She always told it like it was. 
    We left in the morning .  I was sick all the way there.  I complained the entire time about how sick I was.  Then we hit the Arizona desert heat and I couldn’t complain anymore.  I lay in the backseat, limp, staring vacantly at the front seat.  My mom put a cold rag on my forehead.  She changed the rag, dipping into an ice bag she had bought from a gas station.
    After what seemed like an eternity in the desert , we finally arrived at my aunt’s house.  I