Chapter One
Three weeks before Skinny kicked the bucket, I went to my first highschool party.
He had to convince me to go, obviously. I’d much rather stay home with him than go to a house full of jack-offs I’ve never interacted with prior. I hated everything about them. I hated the loud music–the ear-shattering bass and constant drum beats bouncing off the walls. I hated the food–I can only handle Doritos and strawberry jello shots for so long before I puke, even before any alcohol. I hated the people. To be fair, I hate a lot of things. I’m a hyper-sensitive individual.
I remember where we were. I was sitting in front of the box TV in my basement, spreading my legs out over the shredded leather sofa, high as a kite. We’d been playing Call of Duty: Finest Hour for the entire day at that point, and we’d already gone through three bowls. I was always hesitant about weed, mainly because I was really irritated by the smell. It reminded me of fried skunk, or the roadkill I saw in front of my house everyday. Skinny loved it. Sometimes, he’d just inhale from the empty bong, savoring the dirty stench. He was fucking weird. I loved him anyway.
He was on the phone, laughing and talking loudly about whatever. Skinny had a lot more friends than me, mainly because Skinny was my only real friend. I talked to specific people at school if I needed something from them, or if they needed something from me, but usually Skinny was with me the whole time.
“Naw, man, you can’t say that!” He was howling with laughter over the phone–hooting and hollering like a donkey. I still had no idea who was on the other end. He probably told me but I definitely ignored him. “That’s, like… Man, you’re fucking crazy.”
I looked up from my controller. “Who is it?”
He ignored me. “So, what time tonight?... Wait, right now? Uh… Yeah, I mean, we could come over now… We? Yeah, uh, me and Collin are here. Collin O’Connor. He’s cool, dude. Trust me. He’s, like, the coolest guy I know.” He paused for a moment. “No, yeah, we can be there in like, five minutes. I’ll see you there.”
“Who is it?” I repeated.
He hung up the phone on the receiver and sauntered back over to me, his thin body contorting with every step. “You know Lowell?”
“Nope.”
“We smoked weed with him that one time.”
“Do you know how little that narrows it down?”
“Uh…” He thought for a moment, and then jumped up on the crumby green loveseat at the end of the couch. “Like, this tall,” he gestured in the air, “And he’s kinda got an ugly mug. Looks like a bear, kinda. He’s friends with Thomas Ralphina.”
Thomas Ralphina. He was six-foot-two, nearly two-hundred pounds of muscle, with warm, dark skin and well-manicured curly hair. He reeked of expensive cologne and sweat, and when he walked he commanded dominance, and he had a smile that would earn him a spot in a Colgate commercial.
The only parts of him that weren’t disgustingly perfect were his ears. All of those wrestling matches and concussions from football gave them this strange, pointed, gnarled look, like someone had stretched them from the tips. He blamed it on cauliflower ear, but I’d never seen cauliflower ear stretch your ear like that before. He was probably just saying that to make his deformity a symbol–a symbol of his incredible athletic prowess. I didn’t buy it. He probably just got dropped on the head as a baby. Twice.
Oh, and he was the varsity football captain. I think. I don’t know much about sports. From what I remember, he did usually walk around with a six-foot-something meathead, but the name couldn’t come to mind before now. Lowell.
“So why were you talking to him?”
“Lowell’s my friend, dude. I talk to him all the time.”
“I’ve never heard this dude’s name before.”
“We literally smoked with him. You two shared a bowl.”
“You bring a lot of fruity guys around here,” I said low, pulling my attention back to the game. I was stuck waiting for another match to load, as always due to my house’s shit wifi. “I’ve probably had half the Walten football team in my basement at this point. They all blend together.”
“Lowell was the one who said you had a twink ass.”
“I don’t remember that.” I paused. “I also don’t know what that means.”
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He just invited us over. He’s having a party.” His eyes rolled up slightly. “Well, no, he’s not, but Thomas Ralphina is, and I’m pretty sure they’re best friends, so Lowell invited us.”
“Ah, sweet. When is it?”
“Right now.”
I slowly glanced up at him, the controller still clenched in between my hands. “What?”
“Yeah, right now. We gotta leave right now.”
“Dude, I’m fried. I can’t drive right now.”
“He’s like two blocks over. We can just walk.”
I groaned. Parties. I’d never been to one up until that point. I also didn’t know what really happened at parties, besides drinking and date rape. I gauged from movies and TV that the more alcohol and destruction at a party, the better it was. I’ve heard reviews of a lot of “lame” parties occurring around my school, and it always was because there was no keg, or there were less than fifty people, or that no girls showed up. It was very rare to hear about a truly crazy, amazing party experience.
I thought this over for a moment. There was a lot of risk in going to a party. What if everyone there was lame? What if everyone thought I was weird? What if the police came? What if the house exploded from an unmentioned gas leak that kills all of us in one fell swoop? There were too many variables.
“Can we finish the blunt first?”
“Well, yeah. That’s obvious.”
I nodded and plucked it up from the rolling tray–Skinny’s, the one with Kim Possible smoking a pipe on the front. There was only about a third of the thing left, and my eyes could barely center on it. I brought the filtered end to my lips, taking a long drag, watching the end char and sizzle. It filled the air around me, blocking the screen from view. I barely felt the burn in the back of my throat at that point, but the taste lingered in my mouth. Skinny took it graciously from my grasp.
He puffed out a smoke ring and smiled. “I can’t believe it. I got Collin O’Connor to leave his fuckin’ house.”
“I’m staying, like, ten minutes tops.”
“You don’t want to meet Lowell?” He asked, clearing his throat. “Again?”
“I don’t want to meet anyone, personally.”
“Thomas Ralphina’s parties always have college girls. Come on. I can be your wingman.”
I smirked and gestured back for the blunt. Skinny obliged. “Yeah. Can’t wait to tell my kids where I met their mom–throwing up in the football captain’s bathroom.”
After walking the aforementioned two blocks to Thomas Ralphina’s house, we saw the house ablaze with lights and music, like an oasis at the end of a suburban desert. An oasis that reeked of Axe body spray and Fritos, but an oasis nonetheless. Thomas had a nice place–his parents weren’t rich or anything, but they certainly could decorate a home. It was a creme-colored split-level with a massive garage, a well-manicured lawn, and dozens of bushes out swamping the property. There were also dozens of beer cans, underwear, people, and fireworks shells peppering the lawn, as well as sitting on the steps outside. There had to be about twenty to thirty people on the front lawn alone.
It was only 9PM and I already saw a jabroni puking in the rose bushes.
Skinny and I started walking up the steps, dodging the couples kissing and dickheads laughing, our hands pulled tightly into our sweatshirt pockets. Skinny was saying hello to everyone in sight–he basically knew everyone. I’d seen some of these people around school, but if I said I knew any of their names, I’d be lying.
A guy with frosted tips locked eyes with me. I shivered.
The inside of the house wasn’t much different. Every inch of the space was taken up by somebody, and music was ringing off the walls. I could feel my heartbeat in my head. The carpet was covered in beer-colored stains, underneath the dancing parade of Converse and Nikes. Thomas’ house was very 70s, with dark wood paneling and geometric wall art, but it was very classy despite this. His parents obviously took good care of it, and now it looked like a crack house.
The only spot that had even a bit of space was the living room, where only about 80% of the space was full. That’s where I saw a big, fluffy creature with his arm around a thin, dyed-hair girl.
“Hey, Lowell!” Skinny called over to him, breaking my train of thought. The guy’s bored eyes immediately illuminated, his head whipping around to our location. The girl’s eyes glanced up at us, but she didn’t seem interested.
Lowell rose up from the couch, a toothy smile across his face. “Skinnnnnyyyyy…! What’s goin’ on, man?” He pulled him in for a tight, almost-too-tight hug. He was obviously shit-faced. His eyes drooped towards the ceiling, then to Skinny. And then to me. They lingered on me.
“Oh, y’know. How’s Tracy?”
“She’s good, she’s good. She’s on the couch.”
“I can see that.”
“Who’s this?” Lowell asked, turning his attention away. “Wait, wait, wait… Wait, I got this. I know this.”
“I told you on the phone.”
“I was doing tequila shots with Ralphina. I don’t know shit. I don’t know where the fuck I am.”
“This is Collin O’Connor. You came over that one time. We smoked a bowl and watched Seinfeld for like eight hours.”
His dull eyes widened. “Wait, yeah… Yeah, I remember you. You were the skinny guy.” He looked at both of us. “You’re both skinny guys. You got some high tolerance.”
“And you don’t.”
“Damn right,” Lowell said, exhaling hard. “I’m fucked right now.”
We could tell. “Where’s Thomas? Where’s he?”
“He’s in the backyard helping out with the keg stands.”
I couldn’t help but notice that when Lowell was talking, his girlfriend behind him was staring at me–only me–for the entire time. Tracy Phan, I think her name was. She was a short, fit Vietnamese girl with a short, messy bob, dyed orange and pink, with her dark-colored roots still showing. She had piercings covering every inch of her ears and nose, and she was wearing an outfit that covered maybe 5% of her body. I could smell her peach perfume the entire time.
It’s funny that out of anyone at this party, she was one of the only people I could remember, and she didn’t even speak.
Lowell clapped his massive hands together. “So, what can I get you boys? Tracy’s friends made some girly little cocktail things. Jello shots, or something.”
Skinny made a weird face. “You didn’t put your pubes in it again, did you?”
He laughed, “I don’t think so. Ralphina might’ve.”
“That’s the difference between you and him. He’s not a fucking menace.”
That was another thing I noticed. Lowell only called people by their last names. Not for Skinny, though, but probably because that wasn’t his real name to begin with.
“Collin, go sit down. I’ll be back,” he said, sauntering off to the crowded kitchen. I was left with this bear, and his wife. His bear wife.
The first five seconds were some of the awkwardest moments of my life.
“Your name’s O’Connor, right?” Well, no, but I wasn’t gonna argue that. “You’re in my gym class.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah.” There was a dreadful silence between us. It almost choked me. Then, for whatever reason, he bent down a bit, and stared directly into my face. “Dude, your eyes are so fuckin’ pink right now,” he said, laughing. “You need saline?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” He put one of those massive mitts on my shoulder, and at that moment he stared into my eyes. His hand was way too tight, and he was way too close. I could feel his body heat radiating off of him. Despite his appearance, he didn’t smell that bad. I felt oddly exposed at that moment, with a deep pit in my stomach. “Me and Tracy were gonna roll some joints downstairs with Skinny, so I guess you’re coming too.”
“I guess.”
“You don’t talk a lot, do you?” His hand was still on my shoulder.
“You wanna talk about something?”
He stared at me. I couldn’t quite gather what he was thinking in that moment, but his face had gone slack. He was staring at my face, and then he was staring at my neck. He glanced back at Tracy, who still hadn’t said anything the whole time. “Trace, we’ll be back.” With that, he pulled me along by my shoulder. “You need some saline, bro.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, but it’s pissing me off.”
I was going to object, but then he grabbed me by my T-shirt sleeve and pulled me through the crowds of people. I’m pretty sure I’d knocked over at least three drinks by the time we made it through the ocean of hormonal teens. He was relentless.
He’d pulled me into the bathroom–one right outside the kitchen–and locked the door. It was at that moment that my mind finally adjusted to what was happening, and where I was. I was still fried from earlier, and I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I could barely remember what we were doing.
The 70s-style split-level aesthetic was really showing through. The wallpaper, crisp and pink with tiny flower designs peppered about, was peeling at the corners, its edges tattered with splotches of yellow stains. The floor was a sickly gray tile with several squares missing, cracked and ignored with age. I was staring at the tiles for way too long.
“Dude, Tracy’s been like that the whole fucking night,” Lowell said, splashing water from the sink into his grizzly face. “Such a killjoy. I don’t get it. She gets all dolled up like that and doesn’t talk to anyone but me.”
“Do you want her to talk to other people?”
He glanced up at me like that was the stupidest question I could’ve asked. “I don’t care if she, you know, has girl-talk or whatever with some of the bitches here, but, like… I don’t know.”
“‘I don’t know?’”
“I don’t know. She told me one night, like, after we fucked.” I didn’t need to know that. “Like, she was comparing me to other guys.”
“She’s looking at other people?”
“Something like that. She told me when we were cuddling. She said she liked me, but she said it all weird, and… I don’t know. Like, how am I supposed to feel about that? Do I have to worry that she’s gonna kiss every guy she talks to? Is she gonna leave me for some douchebag later on? I don’t know why she told me that. It really fucked me up.” He kept splashing the water into his eyes, blinking harshly every time. “On the other hand, threesomes are on the table.”
I snorted. “You really think she’d agree to that?”
“She’s probably into other people already,” he said, staring at me, unwavering.
Then, at once, there was a bump in the room.
I turned around. “Is someone else in here?” The curtains in front of the shower were rustling, but Lowell didn’t seem to mind. He was combing through the medicine cabinet, pushing past pill bottles and toothpaste. A pack of dental floss tumbled out into the sink, but he didn’t seem to notice.
At the sound of my voice, the rustling grew rapidly, and suddenly I could hear a hushed profanity from behind the curtain.
“Oh, them? Yeah, I think someone’s fucking in there.”
The guy–a blonde pencil-necked kid with a soul patch–stuck his head out from behind the curtain. “Lowell! Can you give us some fuckin’ privacy in here? We’re naked for fuck’s sake.”
He didn’t turn his attention away from the cabinet. “What? You looking for one more?” He glanced at me. “Or two more. I got my buddy here with me right now.”
He stuck his head out, and this time, he climbed out from the tub, fumbling for a towel to cover his junk. “How’d you even get in here? I locked the door.”
He sneered and ignored him. “I need saline. Does Ralphina have any saline in this house? I’ve been asking him for some for like, three days now.”
“He’s outside, dipshit! Go ask him! We’re fuckin’ naked here!”
“You guys came to a party just to fuck in someone’s bathroom?” He glanced at me and lowered his eyes, smirking. “Perverts, amiright?”
“Lowell. Out. Now. And bring your friend, too.”
He was still ignoring him, and blatantly so. “Damn, O’Connor. We got some Xanax in here. Got some Valium, too. Jesus, this cabinet looks like a fucking Wallgreens phar–”
“Lowell!”
He finally stopped speaking, and his head slowly turned to face the other. His voice turned icy, like all his vibrancy had been sucked out with a vacuum. He spoke slowly, “What?”
The guy was out of breath from scrambling out of the tub. “Can you at least… Can you at least wait outside for a minute? Like, fuck, man, we’re naked in here!”
“I’m not leaving. I need to find saline for my boy here.”
“I really don’t need it,” I tried cutting in, but the other guy cut me off.
“My girl is naked in here! Can you give us some fucking privacy?”
“What’s your name?”
The guy paused. “Why does that matter, jackass? Just leave us alone.”
“So I can tell Ralphina that some skinny-ass faggot is fucking some slut in his bathroom, that’s why.”
The guy raised his eyebrows and stepped forward, only a few inches away from Lowell’s face. I leaned against the door, my eyes dodging around the room. “What’d you just call her? What’d you call her? Say it. Say it again.”
“She’s getting her back blown out at a homecoming party. That makes her a slut.”
“Really? We’re doing this right now?” The guy was screaming at this point. His face was red, the veins on his neck were popping, and I was pretty sure his eyes were about to pop out of his head.
I finally cut in, taking hold of Lowell’s shoulder. I couldn’t take it. I hated yelling. I hated it. He flinched almost instantly, turning his head to look me in my eyes. It was at that moment when, strangely enough, I noticed something different about him. It was subtle, but nonetheless, his dark, scruffy facial hair seemingly grew out, at least by a centimeter or two. And his eyes. His eyes, dark as coal, seemed to stand out against the whites of his eyes. His pupil, and I don’t know if this makes any sense, was a slit. A perfect slit.
At that moment, I backed off.
“I can knock you the fuck out, man. Don’t test me,” the guy said, but he immediately cut himself off. The room was still, unmoving, as if everyone was paralyzed with indescribable fear. I was backed against the locked door–the only exit–with Lowell’s back facing me.
It happened in a flash–almost instantly. I could barely understand what was happening, and when I did, I couldn’t believe it.
Before I knew it, there was no longer a human form in front of me. It looked unreal, like something you’d seen on TV, like a lion in the wild. I’d never be able to conjure it in my own mind.
The first thing to go was his shirt, breaking and snapping at the seams as every inch of him became denser, stronger, and thicker. As the fabric around his shirt vanished, I witnessed the copious amount of hair on his back spread, like a wave in the ocean, across his entire torso. What once was dark hair soon became collected and full, and that was when I realized what it was–fur.
Despite this, the muscles of his back deepened, his shoulder blades and deltoids becoming apparent as his transformation took place. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew something was happening. I could see the edge of a dog-like nose–a snout–and the silhouette of fangs. Sharpened, yellow-ish fangs protruding like knives in a drawer. By the time I realized all of this, he’d grown at least two feet, and towered over the other guy.
Towered over me as well.
The guy shouted out in protest, screaming for something or somebody. He was quickly cut short when Lowell, or whatever beast had overtaken him, swiped one of his burly claws into the guy’s head, at a force that could only be described as a fist-sized car crash. Instantly, the guy fell to the side, hitting the side of his temple on the sink before landing on the floor.
He was out like a light. I could see his eyes roll up to the sky, only once, before shutting completely. His body hit the tiles like a sack of meat.
At that point, Lowell’s furry exterior dissolved, and his muscles contracted. Within only a few seconds, he had reverted back to his human body, now shirtless from tearing his clothes. His back rose and fell. Rose. Then fell again. An ocean current of skin and muscle, rising and falling with each breath.
I finally swallowed the saliva in the back of my mouth.
He turned slowly to face me, and that’s when I noticed it–he was sweating. Sweating bullets. His face was stained with beads of perspiration, his skin radiating with a warm blush. His eyes, however, had reverted back to their dark, puppy-dog-like irises. He was breathing slowly, as if he’d just ran a mile and was trying to catch his breath. That’s when he locked eyes with me.
“Yeah?”
His voice was hoarse, strained and stretched from his sudden… transfiguration. He stared through me, and for a moment it seemed as though he forgot I was even there. He shook his head.
“Whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t care.”
“Okay–”
“And you didn’t see anything.”
“I didn’t!” I put my hands up, as if he was gonna spring at me at any moment.
His eyes lowered, and he gave me a good look, from the bottom of my shoes to the top of my head. He still had that look on his face, that alcoholic stupor, but now it seemed melted out of him, like all that energy he expelled had washed it clean. “Good. That’s good.”
“Did you…” my heart thumped in my chest, “Kill him?”
He stared at me for a long while, with his eyes wide and his face slack. Then he smiled.
“Kill him? I barely tapped him.” He waved it off, dismissive. “Nah. Lemme show you something. Come over here.”
That’s when I acknowledged I was shaking. He noticed this, too.
“I’m not gonna fucking kill you, O’Connor. I’m just gonna explain something to you.”
My back was firmly pressed against the door. “You can’t explain it from where you’re standing?”
That made him smirk. Lowell took a few steps back, now standing in front of the shower, where the curtain was still covering the bathtub. He gestured for me to come closer, and reluctantly I did, with small, careful footsteps–mainly to make sure I didn’t step on the dude currently napping on the floor. When I was next to Lowell, his smirk faded, and he yanked the shower curtain to the side, showing me the girl.
She was completely blacked out and completely shirtless, with her bra and blouse laying haphazardly near the shower drain. Besides this, her jeans were still fastened to her hips with a studded belt.
“I introduce to you, Brendan Foley,” he said, gesturing to the meatbag laying bloody on the floor beside us. “He’s the only guy at our school that actually uses roofies.” He pulled the shower curtain back. “He made a stupid fucking mistake coming here. He knows I’ve wanted him dead for a while. I mean, I can’t do that. I can’t actually kill him. I really wish I could, though.”
“Did he… you know… with her…?”
“I don’t know. Her pants are still on. I saw him bring her in here when you and Skinny came in. She was fuckin’ sloshed.” He shrugged. “And I’m gonna be honest with you–I probably wouldn’t have intervened if I didn’t know the kid, but I knew exactly what was goin’ on. Really fucks up the vibe of the party.”
He noticed me staring at him. Hard.
“What? Still not talking?”
I remained silent. You could hear a pin drop in the room, with the space around me feeling… visceral. Like a movie scene, like a page in a book. I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“What is it?”
“Did you… Are you…?”
He smiled at me again, and I could swear his teeth were sharpened. His smile was intoxicating, like sweet honey and apple cider. “Man, you’re cute. Can’t even put your words together.”
I choked on my words. “The fur, and, like, your eyes and shit.”
It was his turn to stare now, and stare he did. His eyebrows raised, and this time he laughed. “Dude, you’re higher than a kite right now. You really gotta know your limits.” He pointed to the sink. “Come on. I got something nice if you can keep quiet.”
I pointed to the blood-soaked floor. “What about h–”
And that’s when he grasped my shoulder with his hand. Hard.
With his grip on me, I stared up at him, my eyes hazy and itchy from the dryness. I could make out his arched nose, his dark hair, but not much else–not much else besides his striking, cold eyes. Dog-like, canine in shape and color. I’d never seen anything like it. He was like a zoo animal in front of me, one I’d never had the pleasure of seeing before.
Then he glanced at the body, and then at me, and then at the door. A sudden realization had dawned on him, one that left his eyes wide and his grip softening.
“You… You saw it?”
I couldn’t respond. It was like by grabbing my shoulder, he’d suffocated my lungs. His pupils darted across my face, scattering about so fast I couldn’t keep up.
“You know what you saw.” Lowell’s lip twitched, his words emitted through gritted teeth. “You–” He said it firmly, without emotion, without explanation. It was at that moment that we heard the door creak open. Our heads turned. Well, no–my head turned. Lowell’s entire body moved–moved straight towards the door, covering the scene from escaping. “Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, I’m fuckin’ naked in here!”
That’s when I realized it. Right then. His entire outfit was ripped to shreds, and all that remained was–I don’t know, because I kept my eyes somewhere else. Anywhere else. What I could see, and what I didn’t comment on, were three massive gash marks trailing from his shoulder to the center of his chest–deep scars, about an inch or two in width.
I could hear a small voice from the other side as I struggled to catch my breath. “Why the fuck are you naked?!” It was Skinny.
“Got too high, man. Started seeing things.” He let out a fake, tired sigh. “Must’ve been laced or something, man. Jeez. Could barely stand.”
“You got good weed? In Walten, Massachusetts?” Skinny rammed his body weight against the door. “Dude, open the door. You’re full of shit.”
“I am not full of shit.” As he said it, he shot a glance back at me and cocked his head towards the body. Although he was probably three times the size of Skinny, he had to use all his weight against the door to keep him out. He mouthed to me, “In the bath.”
I mouthed back. “What?”
“Put,” he enunciated, “In. The. Bath.” He pointed to the guy’s body on the floor, which still hadn’t moved an inch. My head turned from Lowell to the body and back, but after a few moments of hearing Skinny struggle, I knelt down and grasped the guy’s ankles, pulling him up against the side of the bathtub. The porcelain edge wasn’t forgiving, and I had to stick my fingers under his blood-soaked back to force him up and over, falling into the tub with an unceremonious thud.
The blood splashed back onto my shirt, and I reacted with a, “Shit!” which Lowell quickly shushed. The guy’s eyes rolled up to me, and for a moment I thought he might’ve been awake. Then I realized, his body was moving, with only the slowed rise of his breaths. He was still out cold.
Lowell looked back and saw that in the place of the unconscious body was now a puddle of blood. Deeming that good enough, he leaned back off the door, allowing Skinny to stand in the doorway.
He looked like he’d seen a ghost, but Skinny was so pale anyway that he looked like that all the time. “Shit, dude! What happened? What’s with the blood?”
“Got a nose bleed,” I lied, glancing at the puddle on the floor. “A bad one.”
Skinny pulled his forearm over his eyes. “Okay, why is Lowell butt-fucking-naked?”
“I don’t judge you for your life. Collin was showing me his dick. I was showing him what a real dick looks like.”
My eyes widened and I stepped forward. “Dude–”
“He told me it was three inches. Couldn’t believe it. I needed to see for myself.”
“You can’t fucking say that.”
He whipped his head towards me. “You’re not helping!”
“Stop talking about your dick when I can literally see it in front of me!”
Skinny finally interrupted. “Can someone please explain to me what’s going on?”
Lowell was quiet for a moment. He glanced at me, then at the bloody floor, and then at Skinny. Every gear in his head must’ve been working overtime, as his eyes scanned the room. He settled on, “We did cocaine.”
Skinny stared at both of us, puzzled. “And you didn’t offer me any?”
“We snorted all of it. It’s gone,” I interjected. My legs, without my consent, began walking over to the naked guy near me. He met my eyes and nodded.
“That’s why my pants are off. He did a line off my dick.”
I ignored him. “Skinny, what’s up? What did you need?”
“I was wondering where you guys went.” His eyebrows knitted together. “Are you guys coming out?”
“In what way?”
Skinny and I both ignored him. He was staring at me like he needed an answer, a real answer, and he needed it as soon as possible. It only just dawned on me that we’d probably been in this bathroom for ten, twenty minutes. “Skin, meet me down in the basement. I just need to collect myself.”
“I…” He paused, and then he nodded. “Alright. Whatever.” With that, he closed the door.
It was just me and Lowell again, alone in that room, with two unconscious bodies in the bathtub. We were silent for a moment, and then I remembered that he was still completely naked.
He finally exhaled, turning to face me. There we were, both drenched in sweat and blood, our hearts racing and the bathtub full of unconscious high schoolers. His expression was flushed, his eyes low. “You got a cigarette?”
last updated: november 11 2023
created: february 14 2022