Some Place Better Than Here

Chapter 27: Smells Like Teen Spirit

27
Smells Like Teen Spirit

==========MARY==========

Ashley gave me a Coors Light from some guy she had to hit on to obtain. I really, truly, did appreciate her soliciting her girly charms for a warm can of beer. The burn of tobacco on my tongue made the warm beer more enjoyable with every sip.

Ashley and Bass Player, who I had since remembered was named Cody, ran off to the woods to hookup.

So, sitting alone like a loser, a few drunk girls came up to me telling me how pretty they'd always thought I was, and asked if I'd take selfies and shots with them. When one of them (I didn't have a clue who any of them were) told me that, "This shit will seriously get you so fucked up," and spun the bottle, presenting the label for me to read—Birthday Cake Vodka—the stupid thought of stupid Danny, and how he was probably celebrating his birthday at home alone with his mom, entered my mind.

I gladly accepted the offer. So, like bitches, we snapped a few selfies, tongues out, duck lips, and all, and then downed that shit. I mean, free alcohol is free alcohol, right? Plus, I needed to forget him. Birthday Cake Vodka tasted as terrible as it sounds, inarguably worse than the warm Coors, but needless to say, after a few shots of that shit, I was drunk.

After parting from my new squad of girlfriends, Simon Jenkins, my ninth-grade ex, spotted me and flagged me over to him. He was ripping bong with a group of people over at a picnic table. We met in a weird one-arm-around-me-and-one-arm-holding-the-bong hug. He offered me a hit (I declined), but then, after realizing the thought had crossed my mind to call a cab and go to Danny's to say happy birthday or something gay, I accepted. My mind cleared out into a blissful smoky haven, and I started laughing my head off.

"That's some cream shit, eh?" Simon smirked, and then wrapped his arm around my legs and started rubbing my thigh. Putting my hands on him, trying to push myself away, I made sure to charm a cigarette out of his front pocket before I left.

I walked back to my picnic table and sat by myself. Holding the cigarette that I whored my upper thigh out to get, I patted down my pockets and checked my purse for a lighter. Remembering that, because of Stupid Danny (in my completely blitzed state of mind, Stupid Danny was all I would refer to him as), I didn't smoke. Telling myself that Stupid Danny had ruined my life, I got up to search for Ashley to use her lighter. Anyone that I saw holding an orange burning ember in front of their face could've sufficed, but I was convinced only Ashley had a lighter. I was sure that Cody came fast anyways.

Wandering, getting dizzy just looking through the crowd, I decided that I wasn't high enough. So, when I smelled the dank aroma of marijuana, I completely forgot about needing Ashley. The source of the scent was easy to find thanks to the nearby circle of guys all passing a joint.

Hmm, that's funny, I thought, That guy with his 2004 styled baggy shorts and Devils jersey looks a lot like Tanner.

And little to my surprise, and much to my disappointment, it was Tanner. Standing loyally by his side were Fat Jordan and Derbs, but there was a chick wrapped under Tanner's arm that I didn't recognize. My first reaction was to feel really sorry for her; she must have had a few screws missing to be with that guy. Did people feel that way about me when I was with him? Probably.

No matter how bad my itch for more weed was, no weed from Tanner was worth it. Telling myself that I was invisible, I avoided being recognized at all costs. I mean, the last time I'd seen the fucker I spat in his face.

As I spun in the opposite direction, back to my solo picnic table, deciding that another lighter would do just fine, I heard Fat Jordan grumble behind me. "Yo, man, is that Mary?"