I was at my high school graduation listening to the salutatorian give an inspiring speech. It was a slap in the face. I was valedictorian. I should have been the one on stage. Instead, I was awash in a sea of indistinguishable underachievers wearing crimson and gold. But that’s Torrance High for you. What the school board wants, the school board gets. Nobody gives a damn who gets hurt in the process.
Kathy Anne Thomas, the salutatorian, rambled. Respect others so you may respect yourself. Undoubtedly a pointed dig at myself. A persistent buzz around my ear broke me away from Kathy's drone and my own brooding thoughts. I blindly swatted at the side of my face until I finally made contact with the culprit; the distraction wasn’t a fly. It was Ben Hartington’s face.
“Psst, psst,” he whispered to try and grab my attention. All he got was a backhand and a dirty look.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, ready to return to my thoughts.
“Psst, psst. Ryan? Earth to Ryan,” he hummed.
“What do you want, Ben?” I growled. It was bad enough I had to endure the speech, but now it was small talk.
“Geez, lighten up,” he chuckled while chewing on his class of ‘98 tassel, “I just figured you didn’t want to add murder to your rap sheet, thought I’d warn you before you made Kathy Anne’s head explode.” I turned my head so fast, I made Linda Blair look like an amateur.
“What did you just say?” I breathed through clenched teeth. Ben just chuckled.
“Relax, kid. Turn down the death ray some, because if looks could kill…”
Kathy Anne had finished her speech. The endless procession of student names and cheers began. After all that had happened in the last three months, I thought of the people who were absent. Brittney came to mind. She’d killed herself shortly after spring break. They said I was responsible.
They could not understand how I missed her. But when years of friendship turn out to be an outright lie, you mourn the dead less. Sometimes I even felt relief, knowing she was in the ground. No more trouble for my family and me. They weren’t here either; we weren’t on speaking terms since the school board’s decision.
“Dad, you said you’d made an arrangement with the school when you forced me to leave early. Prom and graduation as normal, remember?” I was distraught.
“Can you blame them? You called Brittney a slut at school and then she killed herself; at her funeral, you said she hated everyone.”
“I screwed up. Don’t let them take this away from me,” I bawled. My father had always been my savior. He could fix anything. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t fix this.
“Ryan, let it go. In fact, don’t even go.”
“What!”
“Haven’t you had enough? Your attendance will be an unwelcome distraction.”
“I don’t care. I deserve to give my speech.”
“Fine, Ryan. Do what you want. Just know I won’t be there to support you, and neither will your mother.”
“I don’t expect mom, but you have to.”
“Well, I won’t be. There is too much at stake for me to support your careless behavior. I’m asking you for once—listen to reason. Do not go!”
“I can’t not go.”
“I won't watch you make a fool of yourself.”
Principal Dannon called my name, looking astonished. The cheers strangled to a low, unintelligible din; I felt like I’d been standing next to a speaker at a No Doubt concert and my eardrum was on the verge of bursting. I walked across the stage with my head held high. Then the crowd started booing. I made the mistake of turning to face the angry mob and was broken to see it wasn’t just students but faculty and parents, too. I was sinking in the quicksand of voices and couldn't move.
Ben grabbed his diploma, guided me off the stage and out of the building. I laughed briefly as I remembered that he had been the only one to stay behind with me when I got stuck on the monkey bars in the third grade.
“Why did you disappear on me, Ben?” I asked through confused tears. “I mean in high school. After junior high, you disappeared, never to be seen again. Until today that is. Where did you go?”
“Nowhere, I was always there. We were just on different paths, but always in the same place,” he shrugged his shoulders and lit a cigarette.
“Obviously, my path sucked, so let me on yours.”
“I’m not sure you could handle it.”
“Trust me; at this point, I’m sure I can handle anything.”
Ben hesitated.
“Okay. Viper Room, tonight 9 o’clock,” he flicked the butt of his unfinished cigarette at the ground and walked away.
While waiting for Ben under the Viper Room awning, I felt self-conscious. I was dressed like Brittney, going wild in the clothes she had hidden from her parents at my house: a silver-studded black leather mini, a maroon mesh crop top with a hot pink lace bra underneath. Doc Martens completed the look. I could have easily been mistaken for a hooker.
“Hey baby, you waiting for someone?” a voice whispered. I froze. I’d wanted to be Brittney, now I was going to be raped like she claimed.
“Relax, kid. It’s me,” Ben said. “You look hot as shit by the way.”
Something felt wrong.
“I thought the Viper Room was “the place to be”? Where is everyone?”
“People don’t start showing up until 11:30 or midnight. It’s only 9:45. Chill out, they’ll be here.”
“Why are we here now?”
“Wow, you don’t get out much?” He smiled slyly, his eyes revealing danger and charm.
“Why are we here so early?”
“You said you wanted to try following my path, but apparently, you can’t walk the walk.”
“Just answer the damn question, or I’m going home.”
Part of me hoped he wouldn’t answer so that I could save myself from the unknown. However, no such luck. Ben explained his brother, a bartender, would let us in. This way we didn’t need to bother with fake IDs.
A mix of heavy metal and 80’s hair bands blared through the speakers as I melted into a sea foam green leather couch in the VIP section Ben’s brother put us in. Despite several Sidecars, I was still uneasy. I could tell that I was starting to annoy Ben and his friends.
“Ryan, why don’t you loosen up. It’s a party, not a funeral!” he shouted over the music.
“I guess this really isn’t my scene. Maybe I should just go home.”
“Absolutely not. You begged me to come here, and damn it you’re going to have a good time.”
“Look, this place just isn’t my cup of tea…” I started to explain, but Ben was pulled away by some guy with a green Mohawk and a bull nose ring.
I staggered to the DJ to request a song. I couldn’t get Brittney or her song out of my head. I hoped hearing it would finally make her disappear. Just as the opening bars of Skid Row’s “18 and Life” started, Ben reappeared and pulled me to the back of the VIP, which had a small glass table and several chairs surrounding it. He looked at me quizzically, “Did you request this song?”
“Yes,” I responded, mildly embarrassed. “It has been in my head all day. Brittney played it all the time.” I groaned, “I wish I could just forget about her already.” Ben shook his head and laughed.
“I’ve got just the thing to help you forget.” He emptied the contents of a tiny brown envelope onto the table.
“What is that, coke?” I asked.
“Even better. It’s a highball. Guaranteed to make you forget your worries.”
“Didn’t River Phoenix OD from here?” Panic oozed from every syllable.
“He actually died outside the club, but that’s only because he wasn’t doing it right. And unlike him, I always do it right.”
“I don’t know, I’ve never…”
“What is there to know? Take it and let go of your past or sit there being haunted. But remember you asked to be on my path. Nobody forced you into it.”
That’s a lie, I thought. My mother forced me here when she revealed that Brittney and my father had been having sex for years. F**k it. I was tired of being haunted. I needed to let go.
“You’re right. Show me!”
Ben bent over the table, pressed one finger to his nostril and snorted the powder. “Just like that kid. Piece of cake.”
“Ok, my turn. Goodbye ghost!”
“Hells yeah!” he shouted.
As I bent down to do my first line, the words of the song hit me.
“18 and life who’s counting
18 and life to go.”
“Here’s to 18 and life to go,” I mumbled more to myself than to anyone else.
