Mezzanine

| 3 |

"Hey, Carter?" I asked as we walked down Beacon Way. We passed under a streetlight, the yellow hue casting our hazy grey shadows onto the cracked, uneven sidewalk.

"Yeah?" Carter kicked a small stone ahead of us, and it clicked and pinged off the cement. Tree roots beneath the old slabs of concrete had pushed it up in an uneven pattern of tripping hazards, turning the entire sidewalk into a crooked spine running along the street.

"Have you ever gotten drunk before?"

The wind picked up the autumn leaves that had been raked to the edge of a yard and sent them swirling down the street in a miniature tornado. I put my hands into my pockets, tucking my chin down and shielding myself from the harsh breeze.

"No," Carter replied. I'd known what his answer would be before he said it, but it was always a small comfort to know that he never lied about anything, not even something little like this. "You?"

"I used to party a lot...back before I moved here."

Carter was silent for a second. "Why'd you stop?"

I shrugged, kicking the stone he'd been dragging along for the past few blocks and sending it tumbling another couple yards down the sidewalk. "It makes me anxious now."

"You don't strike me as someone to get anxious."

We walked in silence for another minute. My stomach ached and grumbled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it was now quarter to ten. I'd skipped lunch, and after getting home from school, I'd been too distracted working on my painting.

I'd been interested in art since I was a kid, but I'd gotten more into it lately. Once I had an idea or a vision for what I wanted to create, I couldn't get it out of my head. I needed to capture the emotion and translate it to something visual.

Time had gotten away from me, and before I knew it, Carter was sending me text messages asking if we were still on.

When we reached an empty intersection, I paused and slung my drawstring bag off my shoulders. I reached past the bottle of rum I'd brought and pulled out two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches wrapped in foil. "Here, eat this before we get there." I handed one to Carter.

He took it without hesitating, crinkling back the foil and taking a large bite. "Why?" he asked through a mouth full of peanut butter. He wiped purple jelly from his chin. "Wait, did you put drugs in this or something? Not that I'm opposed, but—"

"Come on, be serious." I shoved his shoulder, a grin sneaking across my face. "We may be friends, but you know I'd charge you for that sort of shit."

Carter almost looked disappointed. I could tell from his thoughts that even though the idea made him nervous, he'd sort of been hoping I was hooking him up.

"Look, we're going to have some fun tonight, Carter, but we aren't doing drugs," I said as we crossed the street. "It will just help to have something in your stomach before drinking. Keep you from getting fucked up too quick."

I picked at my sandwich as we continued down Beacon Way, wishing I had a pack of hellhounds that I could toss my crust to. Alas, I wasn't a powerful enough goth yet to summon even a single crow, so I was shit out of luck. I took a bite, sucking up the fact that I had to eat the crust myself.

After another block or two, Carter turned at a dark intersection. A couple hundred yards away, a single streetlight flickered like a bug zapper ready to slaughter a wasp. The rest were completely out, but the stars and crescent moon cast enough light between the wisps of clouds to illuminate the rundown ranch houses lining the sides of the street. Boards covered the windows, and stale, yellow tiles flaked off the roofs like peeling dead skin.