After spending weeks lying in bed due to the injuries that I had gotten after falling through the roof, I was still content on being alone, reading and listening to music. But after going on five weeks of not seeing me, my friends had other ideas. I started to ignore my phone calls and texts, so my friends started to do something rare: actually coming to my house to talk to me. Kyle, not surprisingly, was the first to come over.
"Dude. I'm bored," he said, sitting on the edge of my bed.
"So?" I asked, grabbing a book from the large stack of books that was near my bed. Kyle looked at the pile, and then at the pile that was near my closet.
"The hell is that pile?"
"Finished ones," I said, lighting a cigarette with my free hand (even crippling pain wouldn't stop me from doing this).
"Well, I'm bored. So we should do something!" He said, standing up from my bed, as if to emphasize how serious he was.
"Like what? Last plan you had, I fell through a roof and had barbed wire go through my foot. It'd be pretty hard to top that." I said, starting the book.
"Well, no..." He mumbled. "But Mark has his house to himself for two weeks starting tonight!"
"So?" I asked, only half paying attention.
"So? So we should go, dude!" He said, sitting back down on my bed. I put the book down and stubbed the cigarette out in the overfilled ashtray.
"My back is hurt. Are you expecting me to lie on his couch while you do God-knows-what?"
"Well... if you don't mind," he said. I looked up at him.
"You're serious."
"Yeah."
"Fine," I said, picking up my book and starting to read again.
Shortly after that, Kyle left to get ready, so I pulled myself out of bed and took a quick shower, said 'meh' to shaving, got dressed, grabbed my book and a couple packs of cigarettes, and almost forgot my cell phone due to me not using it at all during my weeks of bed rest. I turned it on to see that I had a staggering amount of text messages, and at least thirty voicemails. I shrugged it off and threw my phone into my pocket and walked outside to see Mark's car waiting for me. The passenger's door flew open, and I heard Mark yell my name.
"Dude! How's the back?" He yelled over the music.
"Hurts," I said to him as I climbed into his car. I looked in the back to see the Stepsister's. They instantly started to giggle at me, so I didn't talk to any of them for the ride to his house.
"So what are the plans for this party?" I asked, lighting up another cigarette.
"Well, we're getting some booze, and we're just gonna live it up!"
Let me explain. Mark is obsessed with the concept of living life as a reckless teenager. I was okay with it, except that he essentially preached this message. To clarify anything: to Mark, living life as a 'reckless teenager' means these things: drinking every chance you get, sleeping with as many people as you can, and doing whatever you felt like. It was something that I got used to, and other people were drawn to Mark. But that was probably because of his ability to always provide alcohol for everyone. This is were me and Mark differ. I don't drink. It's something that I've never really caught the fun of, the whole getting tired, sleeping, then vomiting your stomach up in the morning. It was just something that I wanted to live without. Because of this, I had been called the 'Designated Life Saver', or D.L.S.
"Dude, don't get too out of hand," I said to Mark as we pulled in front of his house. "My back still really hurts, and I don't want to hurt anymore having to make sure that you don't fucking die."
"Okay, I promise that we won't get too out of hand, mommy." He said with a laugh. The Stepsister's started to cackle. I shrugged, walked inside the house, found the best couch in the house and claimed it. I found an ashtray, so I lit up and started to read. All of the people that were coming were starting to trickle in. I knew some of them, but these were all of Mark's friends that he had met through Wendy, his girlfriend. People said hi and went on their merry way, but a few people decided to stick around the couch and bug me.
"Are you reading at a party?" One asked.
"Yes, yes I am." I said, not even looking up from the book.
"Why?"
"Cause I don't drink," I replied, putting the cigarette into the ashtray.
"Then why are you here?" One said, laughing.
"I'm crashing your little party by reading a book. That's why I'm here." I said, putting another cigarette in my mouth.
"What a fuckin' loser," one of them said while laughing.
"I have a fun idea," I said, putting the book on my chest.
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"You go outside, or go get a drink, and I don't mistake you for an ashtray. It's my favorite party game," I said, picking the book back up. Strangely enough, no one else bothered me while I was reading my book.
Later on, I had relocated to the backyard, on the swinging bench near the pool. There was a light that was really close, and it was a good night outside. I had already gone through two packs, so I was attempting to conserve my last pack. I heard someone clear their throat, so I put the book on my chest and looked up. It was the one girl that Kyle had told me he was going to (in his words) nail the night of me falling through.
"Hey," she said, looking at me.
"Hi," I said back. The plan of trying to conserve cigarettes was gone.
"How's your back?" She asked. If this was her being sincere, it was depressing.
"It still hurts. That's why I'm laying here." I said, pointing to the book.
"Well... do you want a drink?" She asked.
"Uhh... A water or something? Something non-alcoholic would be nice," I said.
"You should drink with us!" She said.
"Did Kyle put you up to this?" I asked, getting annoyed at this girl trying to get me drunk.
"Ummm..."
"Go away, please." I picked the book back up and literally ripped open my last pack.
I finished the book about the time they were getting in the pool to skinny dip. Mark walked over to me in his boxers to try one last time to get me to drink and join in the fun.
"C'mon, you could hook up with someone here!"
"I don't want to 'hook up' with anyone! And I don't want to skinny dip!" I was already feeling self conscious, all of the men here were in fantastic shape and tan, and I was skinny and pale.
"You sure? One shot, please? Just one shot." He begged.
"No," I was about ready to hit him. "Now shouldn't you be naked in your pool or something?"
"Fine, be that way." He said as he ran and dived into his pool. I walked into the pool area and sat down in one of the chairs to enjoy one of my last cigarettes for the night. I looked at the Stacey girl walking in the pool, and leaned back, trying to figure out why I was feeling anxious. I started to rack my brain for a possible reason, and closed my eyes, enjoying the cigarette. I was halfway done with it when I remembered a trip to the river that I took with Kyle and the Stepsister's. My irrational fear of large bodies of water kept me out of the water, and the Stacey girl had told me that she was never a really strong swimmer.
I have to say, for a smoker with a bad back, I moved pretty damn fast.
"Hey, get Stacey out of the water!" I yelled. But everyone was too drunk or just ignoring me, thinking that I was just messing with them. I tossed my cigarette onto the ground and did what I had to do. Trying to think of where she would be in the pool, I dived in. My back hurt as badly as it did when I landed on the pile of wood and whatever broke my fall, but I ignored it. In a stroke of extremely good luck for me, I saw right near a wall by the diving board, trying her hardest to stay above water. I got to her by the time she did finally go under, so I was able to grab her arm and pull her up. I told her to grab the diving board, which she did, while I managed to pull myself out of the pool and pull her up. She sat on the diving board, gasping for air, while I was on my back, trying not to cry from how much pain I was in. She managed to gasp out a 'thank you' and moved off of the diving board, and sat next to me.
"Are you okay?" She asked, and this time she actually sounded concerned. I moved my hands from my eyes and patted my soaked jeans. I didn't yank anything out of them before I jumped in, so my wallet, keys, phone and cigarettes were drenched. I didn't say anything, but I attempted to get off of the ground. That resulted in me actually crying out in pain. The most amazing part of this is that despite seeing me jump in, pull a girl out and scream in pain, everyone else seemed to be oblivious.
"Help me into the guest bedroom," I managed to say despite the pain. She helped me up and I limped into the house. As soon as we were in the guest bedroom, I crumpled onto the bed, lying on my stomach, muttering to myself. I heard her walk out and I heard her walk back in, putting a bottle of water on the nightstand.
"Umm... Thanks for saving my life." She said, kissing the part of my forehead she could find and walking out. I muttered a thank you, but it was muffled by the fact my face was in the bed. I ended up falling asleep for a couple of hours until I felt someone shoving me.
"Dude! It's only 12, why are you in bed?" Kyle was asking. He smelled disgusting, like vodka and chlorine mixed into one. I nearly threw up in the bed. I moved my head so I could speak clearly.
"Well, I didn't think you could do it, dude. You have one-upped yourself."
"Huh? What're you talking about?"
"I just fucked up my back. Again. And ruined my last pack of cigarettes. And my cell phone. All because you convinced me to come to this fucking party," I said, moving my head away from him. He wasn't too drunk that he couldn't not tell that I was pissed off at him.
"Shit. Sorry, dude."
"Sorry?! You should be glad I can't move right now, or I'd kick your ass!" I screamed at him.
"I'm just gonna leave, and come back when you've calmed down a bit, okay dude? You sure you don't want a drink? Take that edge off?" He asked. I don't know how I managed it, but I threw something at him before he left the room.
I was able to move in the morning, so I got out of the bed and walked into the bathroom. Mark was lying next to the toilet. He looked up at me.
"Kyle told me about the back. I'm so, so, sorry dude. Things did get a little out of hand, eh?"
"You convinced the skinniest girl here to essentially drink an entire bottle of Jager, then convinced her to go skinny dipping, despite the fact that even when she's sober, she can't swim. Out of hand is an understatement, my friend. Now either close your eyes or leave, cause I gotta pee." With a moan, he rolled to look away while I went to the bathroom. "Anyway. I'm leaving dude, nice to see you."
"See ya," he said before sticking his head in the toilet to vomit. I got outside as soon as my ride was pulling up. Somehow, I had managed to grab a phone and call one of my oldest friends, Jared for an immediate rescue. I got into the passenger's side and thanked him.
"Hey, no problem, bro. You okay?" He asked.
"Back just really hurts," I said.
"You want to crash at my place for a while?" He asked. He had a prescription to Vicodin for his own injuries, and I needed something stronger then Advil.
"Yeah..." I paused. "Can you get me some smokes?"
"Yup," he said, laughing.
"This has been a shitty summer, man." He just shrugged and drove.
On the one, microscopic good part of this was that this was the first time that I met Zoey.
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