CHAPTER FOUR: GOLDEN TICKET
"Let's go, b*tch!"
Stephanie quickly lowers the volume on her phone, but it's too late. We are already trading smiles because of her cousin's crude language. It's been the same routine the past three Friday nights. Stephanie gets the same "hurry up" message from Savannah before heading downstairs to meet up with her and Megan. Stephanie offered me an invitation to the dorm building basement shenanigans the first time around but didn't pressure me when I explained that I'm not into that kind of stuff.
I remain poised on my bed with my laptop on my lap, earbuds in my ears, and a random movie playing on the screen. It's eight o'clock so I'm already in my pajamas, including an oversized tie dye shirt, that is one of the many my sister and I spent two summers ago making, and navy blue and green plaid pajama bottoms. Stephanie, on the other hand, still looks presentable even though she's sporting a messy bun. She's wearing jeans, tan wedges, and a cream-colored knit tank top.
"Good?" Stephanie whirls around from her place in front of her desk. She lightly pokes at the lip gloss she just reapplied in her small circle mirror. I give her a nod. She nods back before swiping up her wristlet. "See you later," she chirps like she always does.
"Have fun!" I chirp back. "Stay safe," I always add because as an older sibling I can't help my mama bear instincts.
"Thanks mom!" Stephanie's tongue pokes out the door along with her head, but it's the smile she always ends the gesture with that lets me know she appreciates my concern.
Once the door clicks behind her, I click resume on my movie and snuggle further down against my pillows.
****
My ears are sore by the time I realize I no longer need my earbuds because I'm alone in the room. There also is only ten minutes left in the movie, but I find myself too busy rubbing my ears to pay attention. I'm also too busy rubbing my ears to realize that the buzzing and music is coming from my phone and not my laptop screen. I lift my laptop and my blankets. The cycle repeats a few times before my phone flies out of my sheets when I stretch them out over my head. I have a missed call from Stephanie by the time I pick my phone back up off the floor. I'm in the middle of typing her a text message when she calls again.
"Hello?"
"Hey, can you hear me?"
"Yes," I say, but refrain from pointing out that I can also hear the beat of the song around her more.
"I'm sorry to bother you. Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me. Thank you." The music is muffled, and I hear the few clomps of Stephanie's footsteps before she sighs. "Sorry, can you still hear me?"
"Yeah, are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's probably nothing, but I was supposed to meet up with this guy, but I haven't seen him yet. So, I started talking to this other guy, and he's not being pushy, but likeâI don't know."
"Is Savannah with you?"
"She's too far gone, if you know what I mean, and the last time I saw her Meg was taking her to the bathroom."
"Where are you?"
"I'm in the stairwell, and I would leave, but . . ."
My right arm folds across my chest while my left hand continues to press the phone to my ear. "You still want to wait for the other guy?"
"Yes, but I alsoâit's probably nothing, but I only had one drink, and I already feel it. Like I know, you've never, but, like, I've done it enough to know that I usually need more than one."
My stomach lurches as if I had the drink, while my brain conjures up the worst.
"I don't know," Stephanie rushes out. "It could be nothing. This guy is just making me nervous. Like, he's not being pushy, yet he keeps looking at me. I don't know. What should I do?"
My stomach lurches again. "Umâ" I try to put myself in her shoes, but that doesn't work because I know if I was in her shoes I'd already be crying. So then, I pretend she's Layla, and it doesn't take long for my mama bear instincts to kick in. "I'll be there in five minutes."
"Are you sure? I'm sorry. It's probably nothing."
"It's fine. Which building are you in?"
"Kings."
"Okay, just give me, like, two minutes."
"Okay," she sounds a little distant. I may be currently pulling my pajama pants off, one leg at a time and with one hand, but I still don't hang up. "Lacie," she chirps again.
"Yeah?" Now I sound a little strained, but it's only because I'm hoping on one foot because my sock decided to get stuck in the mix.
"Thank you," she breathes before ending the call.
I throw my grey sweatshirt on over my tie dye shirt and a pair of dark jeans. My sneakers are thrown into the mix as well as my brown cross body bag. I keep my hair in a high ponytail, but I pull my purple whistle out of bag and slip it over my wrist. I close the door behind me just as I tap on my cellphone flashlight.
I ditch the pathways and jog my way across the grass like the true mama bear I am, but I afraid the real sprint is going to be inside the building. Each dorm building is built three stories high and two rooms deep with the hallway in between. I shouldn't be surprised by the time I trot down the stairs and push my way into the music that the basement parallels a football field. The only difference is this field is packed with people. The washing machines and dryers line the end zone at the opposite end of the room. Two long tables with chairs line the out of bounds, but they are covered with drinks and red solo cups. The rest of the room is cement.
I'm stuck on the outskirts. I'm at the opposite end zone with just a blank cement wall behind me. The room is crowded like the general admissions of a concert hall, but there are just enough pockets to see the social net workings. There's talking, dancing, and chugging, but not enough pockets to spot the pink and blue highlights I'm looking for. The pink and blue highlights that didn't stay on the stairs. She also doesn't seem to be by the makeshift DJ booth one out of the two pairs of washing machines has been turned into with just two light up speakers. I guess I wouldn't wait over their either. The pop beat has already been embedded in my skull from here.
I take a step forward but step back when someone darts in my path. I get two steps into a pocket before getting shoulder bumped. At least the girl mumbles an apology. The guy who bumps into my other shoulder pretends I don't exist. I stand up on my tip toes but fall back when the effort is useless. I'm an average height but throw in a couple varsity sports players and high heels, and suddenly I'm a bungalow amongst a bunch of skyscrapers.
I press Stephanie's contact in my phone before pressing my phone to my ear. I blame my worries for not trying this in the first place. It rings and rings. I press my right hand to my other ear, but she still doesn't pick up. Another bump to my shoulder, and my anger lashes out over my worry. All my emotions are thrown into my glare, but what I'm not expecting is a cartoon shark t-shirt and a double take.
"Peas!" the shout confirms my suspicions, but luckily the tall, lanky guy from the grocery store looks just as surprised. "Hey!" He smiles before his elbow juts out behind him. His elbow slams into a black t-shirt covered back. The breath gets caught in the back of my throat when the guy's head turns, and his green eyes meet mine. There's no hesitation, or double take. His eyes just zoom right in like a magnet. "It's peas!" The lanky guy throws his hands out in my direction, but it's unnecessary. Trent's already twisting his body around.
"Vanilla cake mix," he says.
"Lacie." I decide to rip the band aid off all the food nicknames. "And you're Trent, right?"
"Yes, and this is Zack." Trent flicks his hand out.
It takes an extra second for Zack to pull his cup away from his lips and gulp down what he chugged. He lifts his cup as if making a toast.
"Zachary James Schmidt the third actually . . ." A beat passes before he shrugs and takes another swig from his cup. "I don't know it just felt right. But yeah, Zack's fine."
All three of us continue to stand in our own little bubble. I'm fidgeting, Zack is both bobbing his head to the music in between flicking brown strands of hair out of his eyes, and Trent's standing way too still until he finally stuffs his hands in his front jean pockets and rocks back on his heels.
"So, Iâ" I start just as Trent's lips part.
He rocks forward to ensure I can hear him over the music. "So, I think you're in my philosophy class?"
"On Mondays and Wednesdays?" I ask even though the second we locked eyes my brain made the connection. That's a lie. My heart made the connection. It went boom, splat against my ribcage.
"Yeah, with Professor Collins."
Boom, splat. "Yeah."
Zack crushes his cup between his fingers.
"Lacie!"
I flinch when a hand clasps around my wrist, but I reciprocate the clasp when I see rose gold rings.
"I'm sorry." Stephanie's cheeks are flushed. "I didn't want to look suspicious. I figured I'd be better off in the crowd than by myself."
"It's fine." I clamp my other hand over hers. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, let's get out of here." She goes to step forward and tug me along with her, but Zack steps into our path.
"Wha-oh! What's the rush?"
"Zack, Stephanie. Stephanie, Zack." I quickly motion between them before Stephanie drags us around him.
"Attack," Zack says as he whips around. It would be an alarming phrase if he didn't lift up the sides of his plaid shirt to reveal that the cartoon shark is also paired with the hashtag: #ZACKATTACK. Stephanie bursts into laughter beside me while Zack tugs at Trent's t-shirt sleeve. He not only forces Trent to side-step into his shoulder, but also awkwardly pivot his body around. "And you forgot Trent."
"Trent, Stephanie. Stephanie, Trent." I'm waving my hands around again, but it's as if I just handed Trent the golden ticket to the Willy Wonka Factory. His smile stretches across his entire face, straining his cheekbones, and makes his head appear more like a circle than a square.
The music is still way too loud. I'm being shoved back into another random person pocket while Stephanie begins tugging my arm in the other direction, but even as I take the few stumbling steps back and other people's heads and hair continue to dart across Trent's face, his smile remains.