CHAPTER SIX
"Meg Mitchell, Amanda Hanfield, you both made the varsity squad. Congratulations!" The junior varsity cheerleaders clapped. The girls were sitting Indian-style in a semi-circle.
"When do we start?" Amanda asked, smiling practically ear-to-ear.
"Promptly at three-fifteen this afternoon. You'll be fitted for uniforms and you'll get to meet the rest of the squad at that time," said the coach.
"Can you believe it?" Amanda said, as she turned to Meg. "We're actually going to be on varsity!"
Meg was happy, too. "But Beth is going to be our captain, right?"
"Oh, who cares about that?" she said. "We're only sophomores! This is great!" Amanda high-fived a teammate. "Coach?"
"Yes."
"Do we get to cheer with varsity at the pep rally?"
"Yes, you do." Amanda clapped her hands together and squealed.
"I'm so excited!" she exclaimed.
Meg hugged her. But inwardly, she was more nervous than excited. She was an excellent dancer, but her gymnastics were lacking in skill and strength. Plus, Beth was going to be her captain, and she was intimidated by her. She was the type of girl you didn't want to go against-- popular, beautiful, confrontational, and outspoken. If Meg couldn't keep up with the more difficult routines, she was afraid she'd be singled out, and she was the sort of person who preferred to blend in with the crowd, rather than be a spectacle. What's more, Meg had been spending some time recently talking with Beth's boyfriend. It was a wonderful opportunity for her, but she dreaded it the same.
But when time came for practice, Beth was all smiles. "Welcome to the team," she said. "Hope you guys are ready for some hard work."
"We're ready for anything," Amanda said. They were in their gym clothes, ready to start the calisthenics. They had already been fitted for uniforms, and now they were going to warm up. Amanda and Meg stayed side-by-side, and said hello to the other cheerleaders.
They were inside the gymnasium today. It was another rainy day, and the football field was soggy with rainfall. A girl wearing a high ponytail and leg warmers put on a Madonna tape, and soon they were sweating to "Like a Prayer." Halfway through the workout, Beth sidled up to Meg. "I hear you're friends with Mark," she said to Meg, over her shoulder.
Meg nodded, slowly. "We were friends a long time ago," she said.
"He's all hugs, isn't he?"
"What do you mean?"
She laughed a hearty laugh. "What I mean is, he can be a little rude sometimes. It takes him a while to warm up to people."
"You're his girlfriend?"
She nodded. "We met through some mutual friends. Funny thing, he never mentions you. I just happened to notice the two of you talking in the halls yesterday. How did you meet him?"
"He was friends with my brother in elementary school. It's been a long time since I've seen him... we've only been talking for a couple of weeks now."
"Oh, so that was it. He mentioned something about a boy who was killed a long time ago, but he didn't throw in many details. I suppose he was talking about you?"
"That's my brother."
"He never tells me a blessed thing."
"He took me home yesterday. I hope that's alright with you."
She smiled big. "Mark can do whatever he wants to. He's a big boy. I trust him. Meg, right?"
"Yeah." She nodded.
"You're hilarious." Meg was only slightly insulted. "Are you going to the homecoming dance on Saturday?" she asked.
Meg nodded. "I have a date."
"Good! Is it someone I know?"
"Jeff Finch."
"Don't know him. But listen..." she leaned in closer, looking over at Amanda. "I'm having this party after the dance... if you want to come by, you can bring this guy Jeff." She whispered, "Just don't bring Amanda, okay? She can be a loudmouth sometimes, and the guys wouldn't like it if she came."
Meg looked over at Amanda, who was working her hardest at the calisthenics. "Are you sure about that?" asked Meg. "She seems really nice to me. She was the first friend I made here."
Beth wiped a blonde strand of hair from her face. "Seriously, Meg, she's not the sort of person I'd like to be at my house for a number of reasons..."
"Like what?"
She was still whispering. "Are you into booze?"
Meg looked at Beth. "Of course," she managed, even though she'd never had a drop of alcohol to drink in her life, other than communion wine or sips from her parents' drinks.
"Well that's the thing," she said. "Amanda's what we call, a straight-edge. There's going to be some mad liquor at my parents' house that night, and I'd be afraid that that girl would rat on us and spoil the fun if she came. Do you understand what I mean?"
"Sure," she said.
"Great," Beth said. "The party starts at ten. Make sure you have a ride and if you don't, I'm sure I could find someone for you. You don't drive yet, do you?"
"No. I'm still fifteen."
"Catch me after practice for my address and remember, no straight-edges allowed. They're no fun and they suck. We're going to have a blast." Beth nodded to a girl at the front, who was waving for her to come. "Gotta go, Meg. Duty calls. Catch you later."
She smiled and nodded. "Good bye... thanks for the invitation."
"No problem." Meg turned her attention back to the calisthenics, which were almost over. Beth made her way to the head of the crowd, to begin work on the routines. Amanda was looking at Meg questioningly. "What was that all about?"
"Oh, she saw me talking to Mark," she said.
"Was she bitchy about it?" Amanda asked. Meg could see the rivalry already.
"No, she just asked me about it, that's all," she said.
They learned the first of the routines, which were surprisingly easy compared to what Meg thought they'd be. Catching up with the rest of the girls wasn't so difficult after all. At some schools, cheerleading routines were based more on dance, and at other schools, cheerleading routines were based more on gymnastics. Here at Glenwood High, the routines were more dance-oriented. Meg liked that. She'd taken eight years of ballet and was dancing on pointe when she finally decided to quit. Plus, she'd taken five years of jazz dance. Her flexibility and grace were outstanding, and her stamina was good, too.
Amanda was an ex-soccer player, and so she had a lot of strength. Even though she'd never stepped foot in a dance class, she was a good cheerleader, and the moves seemed to come naturally to her.
"Do you want to hang out after practice?" she asked Amanda. She wasn't about to tell her what Beth had said, but she felt guilty about it.
"Sure," she answered.
"Let's hang out at my house," Amanda suggested. Meg agreed. She'd never been there before. Still in her gym clothes, she made a quick trip to the pay phone in the school's stairwell and called her mother.
"Have a good time, honey," she said, and then they hung up.
Amanda's mother was driving a new, gray minivan. Amanda rolled open the back door and a toddler was strapped into the middle seat. He cooed when he saw them.
"What's his name?" Meg asked.
"Andrew," she said.
"Hi, there," Meg said, as she climbed into the backseat, Amanda behind her. He was carrying a rainbow-colored rattle, but he wasn't rattling it.
Amanda's mother and brother both had the exact same color hair that Amanda did-- dirty blonde. Her mother had almost the same hairstyle, as well--straight and coifed, only it was a bit shorter: it fell to her chin. She was an amiable woman, with a smile just as big or bigger than Amanda's.
"Nice to know my daughter's making new friends," she said. They rode swiftly to a neighborhood on the East side of town. Their house was two-story, and made of brick and plywood. It was painted baby blue, with pink trimmings. Mrs. Hanfield grabbed the mail as they walked by the mailbox. "Home sweet home," she said.
Amanda led her straight upstairs. The walls of her room were plastered with magazine cutouts of celebrity men, some wearing shirts, some not wearing shirts. On one wall, she had pinned up two posters-- one of Denzel Washington, and one of River Phoenix. She had her own phone, which was set up beside the bed. She had a canopy over her bed, and both the canopy and her bedspread were trimmed with lace. Dirty clothes and magazines were strewn all along the hardwood floor, and Meg had to weave her way through the mess to get to a place wher she could sit down.
"So tell me," Amanda asked, once they were both sitting on the bed, "do you really like Jeff?"
Meg giggled. "Oh, he's cute," she said.
"You have to like him," she said. "You have a date with him on Saturday night."
"Are you going to the dance?" Meg asked.
"Maybe," Amanda said. "But I don't think so. No one's asked me." They had taken off their shoes and socks and were painting their toenails bright shades of red. "I don't want to go alone and look like a fool, you know?"
"Most people go alone, don't they?"
"Not at this school."
"I'm not even sure if I like Jeff, you know, in that way."
"So why are you going out with him?"
"Oh, I don't know. It's just something to do, I guess."
Amanda studied her painted feet. "I guess I'm not too popular with the boys around here."
"Why do you say that?"
She looked up. "A bunch of boys got together last year, started saying some nasty things about me," she said.
"Like what?"
She concentrated, maybe a little too hard, on touching up her nails. "They said things like, I was a dog-face, I was geeky, fat... about everything wrong with a girl that there can be. Word got around about what they'd said, and one day at school, everybody was laughing at me."
"So what did you do?"
"I tried to ignore it. But one of the boys who had said this, was the same boy I'd had a crush on for about two years... more or less, I was in love with him."
Meg stayed silent.
"It hurt my feelings like Hell," she said. "I didn't have many friends, and suddenly everyone was gossipping about me. I felt like an outcast."
"So did the pain ever get better?"
"I kept it inside. I thought about getting back at the boys who did it, but I never had the courage to do anything. To this day, whenever I think about it, it still hurts. They probably have no idea that what they said about me back then had such a profound impact on me."
"Sometimes guys can be jerks."
Amanda smiled weakly. "Yeah. I guess you're right." She continued painting her nails, and they didn't say another word about it for the entire time that Meg was there.
"Amanda?"
"Yeah."
"Have you ever gotten drunk?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering."
She considered the question. "No. Not so far as I can remember..."
Meg giggled. "But I mean, would you, if someone offered to buy you some drinks?"
Amanda smiled. "Actually, you know what? I think I would."
She ate supper with the Hanfields that night. Lasagna, hot bread, and a fresh tossed salad. Andrew made a mess with his dinner, but was talking up a storm.
"Thanks for letting me stay, Mr and Mrs. Hanfield," she said.
Mrs. Hanfield responded, "You're very welcome. Feel free to come over any time you want, Meg. You've been a delight."
The week went by quickly. Meg's English class was reading MacBeth and Meg curled up every night that week on the sofa in the living room to read portions of it, sometimes two or three times over. She adored Shakespeare.
On Saturday, Meg spent the day preparing herself for the dance. She washed her hair, blow-dried it and curled it, and gave herself a facial in the upstairs bathroom next to her room. She wore makeup, but only for special occasions, and tonight was a special occasion. She brushed on some brownish-red eyeshadow and some matching brownish-red lipstick. She lined her eyes with charcoal liner and colored her lashes with black mascara. Then she filed her fingernails and painted them with clear polish. Her perfume was a scent called Dusk Flowers, and it was a sweet, musky scent.
She changed into the outfit she'd laid aside for herself for the big event-- a black, A-line skirt, and a cream, linen blouse. She rolled up a pair of nylons onto her legs, and slipped into a pair of black, leather flats. She fastened a sterling silver chain around her neck, then fastened a sterling silver bracelet around her left wrist.
She had talked to Jeff a few times during the week, and he had agreed to go to the party with her. But she knew they wouldn't be able to stay long-- she told her mother they'd probably catch a bite to eat after the dance, and would be home around midnight. She didn't tell her about the party, because she knew she wouldn't be allowed to go.
Jeff picked her up in a cab, for he was also fifteen and unable to drive, and as they pulled up to her house, the cabbie tapped on the horn, signaling their arrival.
Meg checked her purse; Beth's address was still there. She crossed the front lawn and went to the waiting cab; the backdoor was open and Jeff was inside. He was wearing black dress pants and a striped button-down shirt, but no blazer. "You look nice," he said, commenting on her outfit.
She waved at him. "Thanks," she said. "So do you." He invited her to join him.
She did, then she closed the door behind her. The cab driver stepped on the gas and they began heading towards the school.
The dance was held in the school's gymnasium. The cover price was five dollars per person, and Jeff paid for the both of them. A d.j. was set up, and the partially darkened gymnasium was filled with incredibly loud music. Meg put her fingers in her ears as they surveyed the scene. A handful of kids were dancing to the heavy beat of the music, while most others were standing around, talking. Jeff went over to the buffet table and retrieved her some cookies and punch. It was six-thirty in the evening, and the dance had just begun. Meg suddenly wondered if she should have come; she didn't know very many people at this school. But she placed the thought out of her mind. She was going to have some fun.
And she did have fun. Jeff danced with her a couple of times to slow songs, and to fast ones, too. He introduced her to some of his friends, who were also there. Amanda, as expected, did not come, but Kate and Laura did. Meg hung out with them for a little bit, in between dances.
When the event was winding down, Meg pulled out the folded piece of paper with Beth's address scrawled on it from her purse, and handed it to Jeff. Like the rest of the night, she had to practically scream in his ear. "I think we should get going, don't you?"
He nodded. He said good-bye to his friends, and then they both left the gymnasium, hot from a full night of dancing.
Meg's first thought, when she saw Beth's house was, This girl is rich. It was a huge house, and beautiful, too. Cars were parked up and down the street, and on the lawn.
Standing on the front porch, Meg became nervous. She had no idea about what to expect from this party--all she knew was that Beth Hammon was throwing it. She'd never been to a high school party before, and certainly not one that was meant for popular kids like Beth. Was she going to stand out in the crowd?
After Jeff rang the doorbell, a cheerleader with black hair and rosy cheeks answered. She was toting a beer can and Meg eyed it, warily. As soon as she saw Meg she said, "I know you." Her body posture was relaxed as she leaned against the frame of the door and took another sip of her beer. She turned to Jeff and said, "Hi, I'm Courtney." She offered her hand, which was moist from the perspiration from the beer can.
"Jeff," he said. They shook hands.
"Well, come on in," she said. "Beth's out back talking with her boyfriend. I can never seem to tear those two apart. It's like they're glued together or something. Just make yourselves at home." She led them inside, then left them standing in the middle of the Hammons' great big foyer. They were still wearing their coats.
Meg grasped Jeff's hand as she took in the details of the room. Beth's living room was twice the size of Meg's. It was furnished with an authentic Italian sofa, glass tables, and a Persian rug over a white wall-to-wall carpet. The lamps were all made of crystal, and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Everything about the place reeked of luxury and richness. To Meg, who came from an upper middle-class home, the concept was somewhat foreign.
Apparently, most of the kids had already arrived, and were lounging around, talking. Practically everyone in the room was holding a drink. Meg became even more nervous as she took note of this. Would they expect her to drink, too? She remembered that she'd told Beth she drank.
The kids were hanging around in clumps, some sitting, some standing. They hovered on and around the luxurious leather sofas, in the halls and just about everywhere else, filling the vast spaces of the interior of the house. Meg guessed that there must have been at least forty kids there that night, partying away.
The music was loud, but not blaring. It had a heavy beat and an interesting rhythm to it--dance music. But no one was dancing.
Meg and Jeff gingerly took off their coats, still standing in the middle of the foyer. "Well, shall we mingle?" Meg asked, draping her coat over her arm.
Jeff nodded slowly. As Meg looked out at the crowd she recognized several of the faces, but they all looked like they were heavily absorbed in their conversations.
Just then, Beth and Mark walked into the room. Meg immediately straightened. She locked her eyes onto Mark as he entered. Beth's arm was hung lazily around him. His long hair was neatly combed and casually curled behind the ears, and his clothing was the same as usual: ripped jeans, dirty t-shirt. They looked like the perfect couple, both of them: both tall, both thin, both handsome. Meg smoothed out the creases in her skirt and lowered her eyes to the floor. She heard Beth's voice saying hello to a number of people. "Hey, you two," Beth said.
Meg lifted her eyes. She clasped Jeff's hand tighter and whisked the hair out of her face. "Hi, Beth." She looked up shyly in Mark's direction. "Hi, Mark."
He bent his head lower as a "hello."
Beth was carrying a glass in her hand which looked like it contained about four shots of liquor. She took a small swig and then said, "Want a drink?"
"Got anything non-alcoholic?" Jeff asked, sounding slightly agitated.
"Gosh, I'm sorry we didn't have any Pepsi-cola for you tonight... although I do think there's some coke in the fridge."
"No thank you," he said.
Meg glanced at Jeff. "Beth, this is Jeff Finch. We went to the dance together."
"Pleasure to meet you," she said, holding out her hand. "Did you have a nice time?"
He nodded. "It was fun. We danced."
"Were there a lot of people there tonight?"
"Some."
Beth glanced at Meg. "Meg? Did you have fun?"
She looked at Mark, who was looking back at her. "I suppose. But I noticed that you weren't there."
"Oh," she said casually, "I was busy getting ready for the party. You know how it goes."
There were a few moments of silence when Meg didn't know what to say. "You've got a really nice home."
"Oh, thank you. It's my parents' place, really. They're out of town for the night, so I basically get to do with it whatever I want. Would you like to see more of it?"
Meg blushed.
"Come on, Meg," Beth said. "I'll show you around." Beth took her hand, tugging her away from Jeff.
She looked behind her shoulder and Jeff waved at her as they left the foyer. "Wanna sip?" Beth asked, offering her some of her drink. Meg eyed it, then shook her head. She was scared of drinking, when it came right down to it--not only of the physical sensations of it, but also of her parents' reactions if they were ever to find out. She looked around, and the party was in full swing. Laughter and chatter filled the rooms. "I'll get you your own, then," Beth said, not asking if Meg wanted it or not. Mark was still attached to her; Beth's two arms were around the both of them. She took both her arms away, careful not to spill her drink, and headed for the bar. Meg and Mark were now alone.
She felt her face flush as again, she didn't know what to say. "You didn't come to the dance," Meg said, once Beth had disappeared down the stairs.
He nodded. "Beth doesn't go for things like that," he answered.
For some reason, she'd expected them to be there, and was surprised when they weren't.
Just then, Beth came back, drinks in hands. "It's a whiskey sour," she said. "I made it myself." Meg held the drink in her hands, and felt the coolness of it against her skin. Without drinking any, she just stared at it for a long time. Beth noticed. "Drink it," she urged.
Everyone else at the party was either holding a beer or an alcoholic beverage. She didn't really want to drink, but she didn't want to be the only one here who wasn't doing it. Around her, chatter and music filled the air. Meg held the cold glass to her lips, and partially closed her eyes. Mark was watching her, and she felt his eyes, his gentle, but scrutinizing, eyes. In fact, both of them were watching her. She very quickly took a small sip, and with surprise and shock almost coughed. Fumes had gone down her windpipe. She smiled through her watery eyes to let them know that she was fine. To prove it to them, she again lifted the glass to her lips. Again, it stung going down. After another, and then a few more sips, she decided it wasn't so bad. She continued drinking the powerful mixture. "It's good," she said, lifting her glass. A little bit bitter, but pretty easy on her throat. Just her luck, and neither of them would notice that she was a novice.
Beth took her by the hand and gave her a short tour through the house. On the upper level there were seven bedrooms, all with plush, white carpeting and luxurious furniture, and on the lower level, there was a huge den with a large-screen television and a wet bar in the next room.
Halfway through the tour, Meg looked down at her drink and noticed that it was all gone. "Let me get you another," said Beth, taking the glass from her hand. Meg was beginning to feel faintly dizzy. Before she could protest, Beth was back with another whiskey sour. "I could get you a beer, instead," she said. "Or something else, if you're into the hard stuff..."
"No, I'm fine," Meg said. She took tiny sips, few and far between this time. Mark disappeared somewhere; and soon Beth decided to wander away to talk with a number of her friends. The music gradually started to seem louder than it was before. And so did the talking; people seemed to be raising their voices higher to fight out the music. Meg talked with a few fellow cheerleaders, trying to wear her brightest smile. She got involved in several conversations, mostly with people she'd been acquainted with before.
More kids arrived. The house seemed to be at its full capacity. A half hour went by, and Meg was relieved when she looked at her watch and saw that it was quarter-till-twelve. She wasn't the best socializer, and she knew it. Talking with kids she barely knew was a tiring exercise for her. It took a minute before she realized that she had no idea where Mark or Beth were. And then it hit her: she'd not seen Jeff since they had first arrived, and Beth had whisked her away to get her a drink and give her a tour of the house.
Quickly, she excused herself from the conversation. Feeling the room sway as she walked, she first looked around the room that she was in, scanning people's faces. Jeff was not in the living room.
She headed for the stairs that led to the basement. Descending them, she passed a couple who were kissing each other passionately.
Once on the lower level, she again scanned people's faces. He was not there, either. She stopped someone who looked like he was alone and asked, "Have you seen Jeff Finch?"
"Who's he?" the guy slurred.
"He's kind of short, with brown hair and brown eyes. Muscular."
The guy shook his head. "Haven't seen him."
Meg went upstairs, then tried the upper level. A bunch of the doors were closed and locked. When she tried one of the doorknobs, it opened quietly. Inside, a boy and a girl were locked in a passionate embrace on the bed, tearing each other's clothes off. Meg felt shocked and embarrassed at seeing this. Quickly, she closed the door.
On the way back down, feeling exasperated, she ran into Beth, nearly knocking her down in the process. "Meg, what's the problem?" she asked. Her eyes were glassy-looking.
"Do you know where Jeff is? I have to get home."
Beth held her arms, steadying her. "Okay, Meg. Just don't panic. We'll find him."
Together, they searched the house. She was relieved when they finally came to someone who said, "I know where he is."
They went outside to the back porch. There, under the moonlight, stood a group of kids she recognized from school standing in a small circle. The group of kids was passing around what looked like a small cigarette to Meg, but the smoke didn't smell like the smoke of a tobacco cigarette. After taking a moment to figure it out, Meg realized that it was drugs. They were passing around a joint. She looked down at her mostly untouched drink and felt uncomfortable as Beth spoke soft words to the group. She was feeling the dizziness within her own head, trying to remain steady on her feet. She was wondering why she had been so adamant about wanting to stay here tonight, but then the reminder came.
Mark was with them. "He went home, Beth," Meg heard.
Meg's heart lurched. "Did he say anything?"
"Just that he didn't want to be around all the drinking."
"Dear God. That's all he said? Did he take a cab?" Mark left the group and he and Beth motioned for Meg to come with them. She was anxious to leave this place, to get away from the drugs.
They entered the house.
Meg started to shake. "How am I going to get home?" she stammered.
"Didn't you come by cab?"
"Yes," Meg said. "But we came together. And I don't have enough money on me to hire a taxi."
Beth and Mark exchanged glances.
"...And besides, if Jeff doesn't bring me home, my parents will get suspicious."
Beth looked worried for a moment. "Okay. Mark, you take Meg home. Meg, you're not going to get in trouble, we promise."
Mark grabbed his keys. Meg took a long, deep breath and then followed Mark outside.
He left? But how could he have done that? Without even saying good-bye? Meg was confused by this news, and the licquor in her system didn't help any to speed up her cognition.
The air was cool and dry again. Meg and Mark walked silently, side-by-side, to his car, which was parked to the front of the house. Meg's slip made swishing noises as she walked, but, she hoped, were only audible to her. When they got to the car, he unlocked the doors, and she climbed into the passenger's seat. "Do you and your friends do this all the time?" Meg asked.
"What, party?" he said.
She nodded, but then realizing they were in the dark, said, "Yeah."
"Beth has a lot of friends... many more than I do. One of them is usually throwing a party every weekend."
That wasn't what she'd meant. "Are you high right now?" She could see him more clearly now; her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.
"Only slightly," he said. "The stuff's not kicked in yet... but it should very soon. Why, do you want some?" He had offered, but somehow Meg sensed that he didn't want to give her any. She'd detected a little bit of sarcasm in his voice.
"No," she said, waving her hand. "We need to get going. My parents would kill me if I don't get home by curfew."
He nodded, then started up the car. The night air was so clear that it looked like millions of stars were visible overhead. Meg rolled down her window and breathed in the fresh night air. "This was the first party I'd ever been to, except for birthday parties when I was a child," Meg said, reaching her hand partways out the window.
He didn't respond to her last comment. Instead he said, "Have you ever had a drink before?"
She wasn't going to lie. "No."
"And I suppose you'd never had a cigarette before, either."
She put her face up to the window and enjoyed the cool breeze. "Never," she said, and closed her eyes.