From What I Remember

“You wa

“Maybe in a little while. I’m starving. What’s there to eat?”

“Oh my God. You have to check it out. They got the sushi chef from Nawazaka. It’s unbelievable. C’mon.”

Stokely takes my hand and drags me toward the other end of the pool. Under a large cabana, a whole sushi station has been set up, replete with glass-enclosed cases of raw fish. It’s insane. A sushi chef makes sashimi and maki, whipping it out as fast as he can. People are downing toro and yellowtail like it’s popcorn. Stokely and I squeeze our way through the crowd and pluck a few rolls.

Susan Miles is standing next to me. She starts to wobble, and then turns and hurls onto the grass. Lovely. Raw fish and excessive vodka don’t go particularly well together. Amy Singer, Susan’s best friend since fourth grade, rushes to her side and holds her hair back as Susan finishes puking her guts out. Several of the waitstaff appear and clean up the mess, even as it’s still happening. Everyone walks around the carnage, not wanting the bloodshed to get in the way of their good time. It’s senior night; there will be plenty of roadkill. Susan just has the distinguished job of being first.

As Stokely and I head out into the yard, Sandy Lin calls out to me.

“Lily, did you find out what dorm you’re in? I just heard I’m in Adams House.”

Sandy Lin got into Stanford early decision, just like me, but the similarities end there.

“Um, the thing is, I’m actually thinking about taking a gap year.” As soon as I say it, I realize my mistake. I should have just kept my mouth shut and dealt with it later.

“Really? What are you going to do?” I can tell by the curdled look on her face that Sandy thinks this is the worst idea she’s ever heard. And I have to agree with her. Why would anyone put off the holy grail of Stanford? Trust me, Sandy, I’m right there with you.

“I’m thinking about traveling to Europe or Asia.”

Stokes is looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. This is the first she’s heard of any of this. First I’ve heard of it too. But I feel like I’ve got to have some kind of story, in light of what happened last night. This isn’t my greatest spin job, but it’s the best I can do on the fly.

“Okay. Well, that sounds…cool,” Sandy says. Not.

Stokely steers me away from Sandy.

“What are you talking about, Lil,” she says. It’s more of a statement than a question. I’m not even sure how I should answer her. I’ve dug myself into this hole and now I’ve got to climb out.

“I don’t know. I’m just not feeling the whole college thing yet. I think a year off would be good for me. Everyone in Europe does it.”

“What are you talking about, Lily?”

“You just said that, Stokes.”

“I know. ’Cause I don’t know what else to say. I mean, this is crazy talk. It’s so not you.”

“It’s not like I’m not going to college or anything. I just want some more life experience.”

“Isn’t it a little late in the game to be deciding this?”

“It could be good for me, you know?”

“Not really.” Stokes can tell I am not kidding, and she looks completely knocked out by the news. For good reason. I’ve just done a one-eighty on her. Then again, life did a one-eighty on me.

Stokely was hell-bent on going to Duke, just like I was hellbent on going to Stanford, and when we both got accepted, by chance on the same day, we burst into tears. Which is not exactly my style, but it was just such a relief, I couldn’t hold it in.

“Come on, Stokes, let’s go down to the beach.” I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Soon, everything will be public and everyone will be gossiping about me. At least for tonight I want to enjoy my fake gap year.

I head down the path toward the ocean. Luca’s parents have more money than my dad used to have—that thought goes down hard. Their house is one of those huge glass boxes that look like a modern art museum. It sits on the bluff above the beach, and everything in it is white. Or at least it used to be, before tonight. Luca’s parents made the mistake of letting him host a graduation party, and now everything is covered in a thin gray film of senior night debauchery. But no worries—they can just throw everything out and redecorate tomorrow.

We walk down the wooden stairs and snake our way to the beach. There’s a bunch of people on the sand, sitting in front of a huge bonfire that two guys continue to feed. More staff. Why couldn’t I be a So

“Yo, yo, Lil and Stokes,” Charlie says as he and Ben Goodman approach us. “What’s up, ladies?”

Their faces are red from either drinking or standing next to the blazing fire or both. Ben clutches a fifth of Jack Daniel’s. He takes a long sip and then passes it to Charlie.

“We just threw Billy Stafford’s clothes in the fire,” Ben tells us. And then he and Charlie high-five.

“Where is Billy?” I ask, not really interested.

“He’s in the ocean,” Ben says. “Guess he’s going to be there for a while.” This cracks Ben and Charlie up.

“Have you heard from Max?” I ask Charlie.

“No. This is messed up. He is seriously missing the dankest party of the year.”

I’m enraged. I have never been this mad at Max. I would be worried except that I know Max, and it is just like him to disappear on me in my time of need. Plus, if anything happened to him, we would have heard something. La Jolla is the smallest of small towns. News travels at the speed of sound.

“Let me have some of that,” I say to Charlie as I grab the bottle of JD from his hand and take a long pull on it. Fuck it. I’m going to get wasted. The whiskey burns my throat, but I force myself to keep drinking. I’ve never been much of a drinker. If ever there was a time to start, now is certainly it. I haven’t eaten all day and I can feel the alcohol taking hold right away. I feel lighter immediately.

Ben and Stokes have gone down to the water to look for Billy. I see Stokes pull her dress off and step into the water. I take a few more sips from the bottle.

“Hey, Charlie, can you match me?” I take a drink and pass him the bottle.

“Aw, Lil, you’re talking to the master here.” He takes two and passes it back.

My turn.

“You okay, Lil?” Charlie may be drunk, but he knows me well enough to know that something is wrong. I don’t normally act like this, drinking straight out of a bottle, matching Charlie, shot for shot. I’m acting like trash. It’s embarrassing. But I guess that’s where I live now. Might as well get used to it.

“I’m good,” I say. “Just pissed at Max.”

“Yeah, he can be an asshole sometimes, you know?”

I’ve never heard Charlie say anything bad about Max before. He’s loyal to a fault. I wonder if that’s just the alcohol talking.

“He sure as shit can,” I say.

Maybe something happened to him. Maybe I’m so caught up in my own stuff, I can’t think straight about Max. Nah, I doubt it. I’m pretty sure he’s just bailed on senior night. Lately, he’s been sort of cold. I can’t help thinking this is about another girl. With Max, everything is usually about sex or squash. Maybe he’s fucking someone on the squash court. Probably Marsha Spittman. Or, better yet, Lacey Garson. That little bitch. She’s wanted to get into Max’s pants for as long as she’s known him. And, come to think of it, I haven’t seen her here.

“Screw him.” And that’s when I take Charlie’s face and pull him to me. I kiss him hard. He’s too drunk to protest. His lips are bitter, like vinegar, and his breath is sour. Charlie’s tongue is in my mouth, forceful, poking, like he’s doing root canal work. It’s not particularly pleasant. Nothing like Max, but I’m here. No way out now.

I take Charlie’s hands that are hanging limply at his side, seemingly looking for direction, and I shove them under my shirt. He fumbles around on my breasts like he’s never been to this place before, like it’s unfamiliar territory. What’s up with that? I thought Charlie was quite the swordsman. Maybe he’s too wasted to know what he’s doing. Or maybe he just can’t do this to his best friend, he’s too good of a person. Not vengeful, petty, or bitter. Like me.