Friday, October 14th, 2016

In the frozen aisle at the grocery store, I ran into Madison, my coworker from the boat harbor. Madison's long ombre hair had changed from bright turquoise to deep purple and I was surprised to find her wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt on a Friday night. I hadn't seen her since my last day at the harbor, because we weren't exactly outside-of-work-friends and she went to a private school.

"Hey Vanessa!" Her face lit up when she spotted me. "What's up tonight?"

I wished I could come up with something to seem like less of a loser but my mind went blank. I looked at the pint of Ben and Jerry's stinging my palm and back at her and shrugged.

"Ice cream. Probably watching Planet Earth."

"Come over! I'm basically doing the same thing." She scanned the ice cream freezer and grabbed a pint of cherry vanilla.

"I can't go anywhere, I'm grounded."

"Oooo, what did you do?" she asked excitedly.

"I kind of left town the last week of summer and didn't tell anyone where I was going." Madison told me stories at work about her wild weekends that blew my naive little mind, so sharing this information made me feel a tiny bit proud of myself.

"Ohhh yeah, I heard about that. But that was over a month ago! Tell your parents to get over it, I'm sure they did way worse when they were our age. They got away with everything." She grabbed a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips from an endcap display on the way to the checkout.

"Yeah, try to tell them that," I said.

"Okay, I will. I'll talk to them. I'll come over to your house, we'll watch tv and eat ice cream and I'll convince your parents to un-ground you."

The thought of having Madison over to my dad's house, which was likely very country and modest compared to her friends' mansions in fancy suburbs, terrified me. But then again, she seemed completely non-judgmental. And she completely lacked judgment. It might actually be okay.

"I'm grounded, too," she admitted. "But it never lasts that long. A month is ridiculous."

"So, you can't come over then?"

"Oh, I'm Palmer grounded, so I can't leave Palmer this weekend. My parents think I can't get into too much trouble around here, but I'm hoping to prove them wrong."

I hoped she knew that I couldn't help her out with that. I didn't even know how to buy drugs.

~~~~~

Madison seemed like the kind of person who could adapt to anyone, any situation and feel comfortable anywhere. She looked comfortable enough at my house, slouched down in the broken-in sectional with a fleece blanket wrapped around her, ice cream carton in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"Your couch is like a freaking marshmallow. Do people ever get swallowed up by this thing and found days later?"

"Not that I know of. But now that you mention it, this might be where my brother's missing hermit crabs eventually perished years ago."

She sniffed the air. "Hm. Their little bodies must have mummified nicely." The thought of sitting on a crustacean graveyard must have ruined her appetite because she set her ice cream on the end table. "Hey, isn't your Homecoming game tonight?"

"Yep."

"This is probably better." She leaned forward to scratch behind Gonzo's ears. The dogs had honed in on the unsuspecting guest, hoping for snack hand-outs.

"Right? Who has time for football when there's depressing documentaries to watch and ice cream to eat? Carpe diem."

"I'm sorry, but I think staying home and watching shows about the sad future of the planet might be the literal opposite of carpe diem."

Dad and Jackie were laughing as they came in through the side door into the kitchen. My dad tossed his keys onto the counter with a metallic crash and they quieted when they noticed us sitting on the couch. Jackie did that uncomfortable throat-clearing thing that turns into a hum and opened the fridge to put away a container of leftovers.

I greeted them with an apologetic, "Hiiiii."

Dad leaned against the kitchen island and crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought you were staying at your mother's."

"She told me I had to stay here this weekend. She's out of town and said I can't be trusted home alone. Even though I'm an adult." I shot him a sarcastically sweet smile.

"I see," he sighed, as he rubbed his bald head.

Madison stood up and approached Dad and Jackie. "Mr. and Mrs. Brooks, I think it's time to free Vanessa."

"Who's this?" Dad asked me, gesturing toward and simultaneously ignoring Madison.

"This is Madison. We worked together at the harbor."

"It's nice to meet you, Madison," Jackie said. When she stepped under the light I could tell Jackie was wearing more makeup than usual. "I like your hair."

"Oh, thanks! Nice to meet you, too." Madison nervously pulled the ends of her purple hair. "So, I'm afraid that staying home all of the time is taking a toll on her mental health. Did you know that tonight is Palmer's Homecoming game?" My dad frowned. This was not going to convince him. David Brooks gave zero shits about sports. But it would be interesting to watch her try. "Do you know how many Homecoming games Vanessa has left to attend? None. This is it. This is her senior year and she only gets one in her life and it's slipping by." She leaned forward and said quietly, "And it seems like all the documentaries are bringing her down."

Dad's nostrils flared, which meant he was thinking hard or angry or both. Jackie sidled over to touch Dad's elbow and whispered something in his ear. I turned my eyes back to the tv screen.

"You're going to the Homecoming game," Dad announced.

"Huh?" The ice cream on my spoon slipped onto my lap and I scooped it back up and ate it anyway.

"Go to the game. Leave your phone on. Be home by ten. No after parties. Stay with her," he commanded as he gestured at Madison. He grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen from the junk drawer and pushed them in front of Madison. "Madison, can you write your phone number down? In case we can't reach Vanessa on hers."

I could have changed my clothes or put on makeup, but I didn't want to give Dad a chance to change his mind. I threw on a coat, boots and a knit cap and we were out the door. It was funny to think that when we went to football games freshman year, my friends and I would get together hours beforehand to get ready, because we legitimately thought we might be making out with upperclassmen under the bleachers.

Our hair and makeup routines diminished as the years went by, along with our expectations.

"I like your granny coat," Madison said when the floodlight over the garage sensed movement and illuminated the driveway. "Spin."

I did a little twirl and watched the swingy 1960s wool coat flare out around me. I'd found it at a thrift shop; it was rusty orange with big tan buttons and shawl collar and probably wasn't going to be warm enough.

We got in my car and wiggled in our seats to try to warm up as the car started.

"What did you just do?" I asked in disbelief.

"I didn't ask your dad to let you go to the Homecoming game specifically. He had to believe it was his idea. And it was perfect timing. They obviously wanted some time alone. I bet they're sick of you being there." I glanced back at the house and then at Madison who was cupping her hand around her ear. "I bet they've got sexy country music playing already."

"Ew! Also, there is no sexy country music."

"Oh, I'll play you some sexy country music."

Madison plugged in her phone. Her face was pale and ghostly in the blue light from the screen.

"I can't believe you listen to country," I said as I pulled onto the road.

"What do you think I listen to? EDM all day every day? There's a time and place for everything. Right now I'm Palmer grounded and I'm going to a Homecoming game, so it's time for a sexy making-love-in-a truck-on-a-backroad country song."

"Is it? That time? O-kay," I said quietly to myself.

She laughed. "Don't worry, I won't ask you to drive down any back roads. We have a school-sponsored sportsball event to attend!"

Despite the cold, we put the windows down and turned the music up. The air smelled like bonfire smoke and crushed autumn leaves and dew. The moon was nearly full and glowed eerily behind wispy charcoal clouds. Images flashed in my mind from the night I went with Pete to the drive-in, where he parked his truck at the edge of the pines before everything fell apart.

After driving the darkened road to town, the lights over the football field were blinding. As we approached the stadium, the announcer's voice that carried over the marching band and the hum of the crowd said that there were only four minutes until halftime. Madison and I bought watery hot chocolates from the concession stand and watched from the fence. It felt strange to be at a Palmer football game with Madison, instead of Sophie, Laura and Kaitlin, like I was in some alternate version of my life.

The first half ended, the players jogged to the locker rooms, and we ventured into the stands to find seats. We sat on the cold metal bleachers and watched the cheerleaders perform their halftime routine on the track. One of the cheerleaders was thrown high into the air and I held my breath as I watched her twist and turn. As she descended, one of her teammates who was prepared to catch her swatted at a bug while another girl quickly scratched her neck. The flyer came down at the wrong angle and slipped right through their arms. Her head and shoulder hit the track surface at their feet and the formation crumpled around her.

I couldn't look away as I waited for the panic that didn't come. The noise of the crowd and the voices of the cheerleaders faded away and the quiet rang in my ears. There was a vacuum in the atmosphere and then the flyer was back in the air for a moment and standing on her teammates' hands, ready to be thrown again. There was nothing I could change in time to fix what had just happened. Only hope. The second time no one swatted a bug or scratched an itch and she landed safely in their arms and was tipped back onto her feet.

I turned to see the reactions in the crowd and realized that nobody else knew. I was the only one who saw what happened. Or what might have happened. Or what did happen in a different version of that night. Or a different version of those thirty seconds or so.

I was going to be sick. I ran down the stairs, the metal steps clanking under my pounding feet,  past a blur of sparkle and color and murmurs under the bleachers, and to the nearest trash can. A moment later Madison was behind me lightly patting my back. When it was over I looked up and saw the members of the Homecoming court all polished and dressed up in their gowns and suits, watching me with expressions that ranged from concern to amusement to revulsion.

They were gathered to walk across the field with their parents as their accomplishments and goals for the future were announced to the crowd. They were the normal, likeable people. They were not the people who made their own clothes from other people's cast-offs and unapologetically slept through class and projectile vomited at football games. They were people like Eric Anderson, who was walking away from Dr. Navarro and Dr. Anderson and toward me, still in his grass-stained red and gray football uniform.

Madison poked me in the arm to signal that he was coming over and I groaned.

"Hey Skipper," Madison said.

"Hi. Nessie, are you okay?"

"I am fantastic," I said in a raspy voice, "I had this wave of school spirit overcome me and it refused to be contained, so-" I made a puking gesture.

He grinned. "You never turn it off, do you?"

"What?"

"Your sense of humor."

"It's a coping mechanism."

"Vanessa?" Laura's concerned voice carried through the crowd. "What's going on?"

Laura appeared with Sophie and Kaitlin by her side. I saw myself from their perspective: leaning over a trash can with the girl I worked with that summer who shamelessly shared all the details of the parties she attended, complete with various drugs and multiple hookups.

"She puked," Madison reported.

"Are you drunk?" Sophie asked.

"Contagious?" Laura wondered aloud, taking a step back.

I shook my head. Kaitlin offered me the warm paper napkin that was wrapped around her cup of hot chocolate. The cheerleaders finished their routine to the sound of applause and feet thundering against the bleachers over our heads. The announcer invited the Homecoming court onto the field.

"I gotta get out there," Eric said. "Hope you feel better." He patted my shoulder and jogged back toward his parents.

"Skipper?" I asked Madison, wondering where her nickname for Eric came from.

"Oh, he spent all summer on a boat," she explained, "looking for you, if I remember correctly. So I call him Skipper."

I felt like I might be sick again and it only got worse when I saw the stricken look on Sophie's face.

Madison and I sat with Sophie, Laura and Kaitlin for the rest of the game. The elected members of the Homecoming court walked across the field with their parents. I wondered how anyone our age could feel confident enough in their path for the future to have it announced to so many strangers. Engineering, pre-med, pre-law, teaching, business, and on and on. Eric was one of the pre-med kids, not a surprise given that both of his parents were doctors.

Nothing else out of the ordinary happened. The Homecoming king and queen were crowned and the marching band took the field for a Bruno Mars medley. The sloppily constructed pirate ship near the end zone emitted a cannon firing noise and a puff of smoke when the Palmer Pirates beat the Mayville Devils. The football team clustered together at the end of the game and chanted something intelligible as they jumped up and down and I was filled with, I wouldn't say school spirit, but rather the sense that this was a moment that was singular.

Madison and I returned to my dad's house right after the game, as promised.

"Thanks for getting me out tonight. I'm sorry I threw up."

"Don't worry about it. It's not a legendary night if nobody pukes. Hey, if you can get out again, you have to come to my Halloween party the Saturday before Halloween. It's not exactly MY party, it's my parents' but I'm having some people over, too."

I pictured a bunch of moms in witch hats and sweaters drinking white wine, bragging about their kids' academic and athletic endeavors and complaining about their husbands, while the husbands drank beer in a basement surrounded by taxidermied deer heads.

Madison caught a glimpse of my face before quickly explaining, "It's not what you're thinking. My parents are not normal. I promise it'll be interesting."

If Madison's parents were anything like her, maybe she was right. "Okay, I'll try."

"Awesome. The theme is always 'Twenties with a twist', the twist is Halloween, I guess. So like, be a flapper! But also creepy! And they're serious about the theme." Her mouth twisted up in a mischievous smile. "Night, girl."