Théodora Armstrong - Clear Skies, No Wind, 100% Visibility

“I was waiting for you.” I sit up cross-legged to make room for her.

“You need to get a life,” she says, hopping up beside me and resting her head on my shoulder.

“I have one,” I say. “How was your summer?”

“Fantastic!” Kate doesn’t mention anything about abandoning me. We pick up as though nothing has changed. She’s in a great mood, better than I’ve ever seen, and it makes me realize how badly I miss her.

“Is he out there?” I ask.

“Yeah, he’s out there,” she says. Her cheeks are pink. Drama turns her on. “I’m not staying in here all night.”

“I know,” I say, bringing my legs to my chest and dropping my head on my knees.

“Fine, a few more minutes, but then we go out there.”

Elgin opens the laundry room door. “What are you doing in here?”

“Now it really is a pity party,” Kate says.

“I want him to disappear,” I say, closing my eyes. I think they both assume I mean Max, but I actually mean Elgin.

“You guys are so bitchy,” he says, sitting on a laundry hamper and pulling a baggie of mushrooms out of his coat pocket. “What’s so bad about Max anyway?”

“There’s nothing bad about him—” I say.

“He’s strange,” Kate says, holding out her hands.

“He dropped acid. He’s so messed up right now he probably doesn’t even know you’re here.” Elgin places a tangle of slug-like mushrooms into Kate’s cupped palms. “I don’t think he even knows he’s here.”

“You could’ve baked us some brownies or something,” Kate says, grabbing the bottle of water Elgin hands to her and swallowing the mushrooms with one big gulp. “Didn’t even taste them.”

I do the same and taste the earth — dirt, dead leaves and the bottoms of everyone’s shoes.

“I did mine already,” Elgin says. “Let’s go.”

“You’ll feel better around lots of people,” Kate says.

“Right,” I say, following them out the door. “Sure I will.”

The living room is packed with kids, but Max is nowhere in sight. There’s still a buzz in the house, though, like a mosquito in a dark bedroom. Rana sees me through all the people and waves me over to the couch where she’s sitting. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, gazing up at me with this expectant look like she’s waiting for me to do a cartwheel. Kate turns away to find someone else to talk to — she doesn’t even pretend to like Rana. I shrug and squeeze onto the couch between her and two kids playing video games, my bum sinking into the crack between the cushions where there are crumbs and loose change.

Lately I’ve been doing more stuff with Rana and somehow she’s come to the conclusion she’s my new best friend, and maybe she is now. Maybe that’s how friendships happen. The couple of times I did leave my parents’ place over the summer, I hung out at Rana’s house against my wishes — I was forced by total boredom. Her house is cold and smells like mildew and her mother always asks us to be quiet, but her Dad owns a sandwich shop, so at least there are always good cold cuts in the fridge. We sit at her kitchen table, whispering and eating deli slices rolled into tubes, and every half hour or so she asks me if I’m having fun and I tell her I’d have more fun if she stopped asking me that. We were eating mint chocolate chip ice cream one afternoon and when her father came home we had to hide our bowls on our knees under the table. The whole place makes me nervous. Rana acts like her house is the most normal home on earth and maybe to her it is. I sat with my bowl of ice cream melting on my knees while Rana’s dad asked me questions about school — what subjects I liked, if I played a musical instrument, if I was interested in sports. When he left, Rana set her bowl on the table and went back to eating as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“What are you guys doing?” Rana says, peering into my eyes and I wonder if I look high even though I’m not feeling anything yet.

“Shrooms.” I look for Kate, but she’s disappeared into the crowd. It’s no fun being high with someone who’s not — all you do is worry the whole time about being too high.

“Can I have some?” Rana asks.

The TV explodes in pulpy blood. “Dead!” one of the kids shouts, fist-pumping and punching his friend in the leg. “Next level!”

“Elgin gave them to me,” I say.

“I’ll find him.” Rana gets up from the couch and weaves through a bunch of kids crammed around the stereo. I sink further between the cushions, watching the guys twist the video controls and grimace with concentration. Their faces are a weird combination of slack and serious, and I can’t tell if they’re stoned or just really into their game. I’m so caught up watching them, I barely notice Elgin slide in beside me on the couch. He has to tap me on the shoulder to ask me if I feel anything yet, and I say no. “Rana was looking for you,” I say.

“Who?” Elgin lights a joint and passes it to me.

“No one,” I say, taking a puff. “Forget it.”

The voices in the room grow louder and I start going sh, shh, shhh , but no one seems to want to listen to me. Elgin looks over at me and starts laughing. “Now do you feel it?” he says, and I say, “Ah!” and let out a whole bunch of phony laughter even though I’m terrified.

“Cunt!” One of the kids has beaten the other and they wrestle on the couch. I move onto the armrest to get out of their way and Elgin disappears into the kitchen, coming back with a beer to finish watching the fight from a safe distance. One kid has the other in a headlock asking, You had enough, pussy, and the other one keeps saying cunt, cunt .

Last week in science class someone wrote whore on my desk in purple pen. There was a large, dripping penis under the word. I tried wiping it off with my hand, but it was permanent. When Max walked into class, he looked at me for the first time in a while. He looked really sad and it made me feel a whole hell of a lot worse. I poured Liquid Paper on the desk, and the teacher sent me to Paul, the school counsellor/drama teacher, who starts his classes with a circle massage. “Why vandalize?” He sat in a chair with his elbows on his desk, his hands cupping his chin, making an exaggerated sad face. It was ridiculous. He looked like a five-year-old. I didn’t even answer him.

“I’m fucked.” Elgin’s in a ball on the couch, rubbing his knees. Someone grabs the joint out of my hand and goes running out onto the porch, saying, “Guys, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Why’d you give away my joint?” Elgin says. He’s stopped giggling.

“Sorry.” I scrunch my eyebrows together and concentrate on him. “Why are you angry at me?”

“Cause you gave away my joint.” He lies back on the couch. “Now there’s nothing to do.”

We sit together for a while without speaking, staring at the blue TV screen, and when I turn to ask Elgin how long mushrooms last, he’s gone and in his place are two kids kissing. I walk around the house looking for Kate, catching glimpses of her, but by the time I get anywhere she’s already gone. I start to worry she’s doing it on purpose, and once I start worrying about Kate, I start worrying about a lot of other things. I think about the dripping penis and STDs. I wonder if Max was the one who told the entire school what we did at the bush party or if it was Kate because she likes to talk. The thought is on the verge of making me sick when I almost knock Kate over in the kitchen. She’s leaning against the wall, shoulder to shoulder in deep conversation with Adrienne. My stomach flops and I catch her by the arm, Adrienne sneering at me as I pull Kate into the hallway. “Are you telling people things?” My body is so relaxed, I’ve lost control of my face. I feel like it’s melting right down the front of my shirt, but then I realize I’m crying. My tear ducts become a problem when I’m messed up. They have a high probability of malfunctioning.