June

The drinks were served in plastic cups, not of the big, red variety, but of the flimsy white type. Next to the fact that those things were catastrophic for the environment, as Hayley had pointed out, I couldn't hold them at all: the second my hands would tense, I'd be squeezing it to a pulp and the contents would spill all over me. No thanks. I could ask Malik for a straw, of course, but that would once again mean accepting his help, and I didn't think I'd be able to. Luckily, I'd had a considerable amount of wine at home, to calm my nerves, so I was still tipsy enough to survive the night.

I was sitting between Hayley and Sam on a leather couch, watching the other people in the room. My two friends weren't talking to each other again. They'd had a fight in the car about the quickest way to get to Rex Manor, which resulted in us being twenty minutes later than necessary. Underneath, it was only Sam being annoyed at her gushing about another guy. Was I the only one who noticed? I couldn't understand how they could be this clueless. Sam, yeah, okay. Hayley? She should've realized by now.

A few guys from the football team were playing beer pong on the dinner table, shouting some kind of battle cry every time someone had to chug back a cup. I was thankful the music was so loud, or I would've looked like I was trying to sit on a cactus. Right in front of us, two couples were basically in the middle of foreplay, hands where I couldn't see them anymore, making Hayley turn red and look at her feet like they were the most interesting limbs on earth. Malik was splayed out on a chair, surrounded by three girls, all pretending to be drunker than they were, giggling and yelling they were "totally wasted!". Yeah, right, if that guy liked me, he had a funny way of showing it. And to think I could've been home right now, in the company of Scarlett O'Hara and Rhett Butler, a nice cup of tea, some chocolate...

Why had he invited us in the first place if all he was going to say to us was "hey, glad you came, looking good, girls"? Was I supposed to be a form of entertainment if it turned out the party sucked? Was he trying to look like the cool, sensitive guy by including the disabled girl into the popular crowds?

"Hay, please, can't we just go home?"

She had her arms crossed, and now sent me one of the glares I'd taught her myself — this was the first time I regretted it. "No!" she said. "We can only go home after you kissed Malik!"

Great. Thank you for angering her, Sam. "I'm not sure if you've realized, but he's kind of busy at the moment."

"You're not even trying. Go walk by him. Now!"

With a sigh, I got up from the couch, dodging the couples that really should be searching for a room and a condom by now, and headed for the kitchen. It wasn't that I felt like I had to listen to her, no, absolutely not. However, it was a good opportunity to sneak away and find a part of the house that wasn't infested with noisy people. Plus, a regular glass, maybe.

Malik wasn't as rich as the Redstones, though he certainly had nothing to complain about. I could've moved my whole family from New York in here if I wanted. No way he really needed that internship. Our Computer Science teacher had some connections around town, and he'd secured a place for his best student to intern at a considerably successful tech company. It was an immensely great opportunity for someone like me, but Malik had been teasing me all the time, saying he was going to beat me. Seeing this house, and thinking of his football career, I kind of thought I deserved it more; he had money and chances enough. Unfortunately, that also meant the living room was on the large side, and I had to pass a lot of people to get out of there, all whose eyes drifted to my legs if they were still sober enough to spot the difference between disabled and a few too many beers.

Pff, let them stare. They should be jealous of me for having such a great body, even though it might not work like theirs. Rather be this fabulous than be an average nobody who never had to worry about crushing plastic cups. Malik was a fool, really — I would've probably let him kiss me if he'd tried. Hayley was right. No point in waiting for prince charming. Time to stop sulking about not being kissed yet, and just do something about it, if it bothered me that much.

A bottle of vodka was waiting for me on one of the countertops. Perfect. If Hayley was going to make me stay, I needed a lot more booze than the two glasses I'd had at home. I opened up the dishwasher, finding an ideally shaped mug with a picture of Mickey Mouse on it. Placing it in the sink, I took the heavy bottle of vodka and poured myself a drink, some of it spiraling down the drain due to my clumsiness. "Wine is healthy, nena," dad always said, "liquor kills the spirit".

But my spirit couldn't be killed.

Whatever my mother said, whatever Hayley thought of me, whatever Nathan was doing right now, I wasn't weak — I was fucking amazing, and I was going to prove it to the whole damn world, never mind how long it'd take me. If a guy preferred some empty-headed shriek-machine over a girl like me, well alright, that was his loss.

Without hesitation, I lifted the mug to my lips and downed the contents in one go.

"Girl, that ain't look like water."

Malik. Ah. Had he come for me, or did he need something from the kitchen? He was leaning against the fridge, hands in the pockets of his jeans, probably trying to be casual, but failing hard: he could've been posing for a major appliances magazine for all I knew.

"You're lucky I'm drunk, or I'd have flung Mickey Mouse at you," I said. "Didn't you learn anything from the tomato-incident?"

He chuckled, shaking his head at me. "I guess not. So, you and Hayley enjoying the party?"

"Not really, but it's getting better since I located the vodka."

He laughed out full this time, his muscles flexing, drawing my attention. What would it be like to have full command over all your legs and arms, to know you could throw a football and have it land exactly where you wanted, instead of dropping it, losing your balance, and tripping over it, falling flat-faced on the floor? "June, you're some rare thing, I swear," he said, sauntering towards me and grabbing the bottle, holding it up like it was a feather. "Want some more? Party might get phenomenal that way."

"Why the hell not?"

As long as I wouldn't get sick, I could have some more. Knowing Sam, he'd drag me back home if I really got too bad — I didn't think he'd ever had a drop of alcohol. I watched in silence as Malik refilled my mug one-handed, even being able to smile at me while the liquid gushed from the bottle. Pff.

"Show-off," I said, as he pushed the mug in my direction. He snickered as I took another sip. What would Nathan say if he saw me like this? Wouldn't be surprised if he'd cheered me on, telling some story about Lena, about back when he was a little shit of a teenager, just like I was now. I frowned, examining Malik from head to toe. He was still here, still next to me, and I wondered if he expected something from me. "What do you like about parties?"

That seemed to amuse him even more. He shrugged, trying to hold back another smile. "I dunno. It's fun."

"Yeah, but what is the point? Why not sit around, get drunk, and have a good conversation?" This time, he couldn't stop laughing, even slamming his fist into his jeans as he shook — damn, those muscles... "I'm not kidding, I'm serious."

"Yeah, I figured... Well, let's have a good conversation then. I'm always open to new things." He jumped on the counter, effortlessly, sitting down between empty bags of chips and used bowls. With one swoop of his arm, he cleared a place beside him, then gestured for me to come on up too.

If I'd been sober, I would've thought getting up there was impossible.

Good thing was, I was far from sober by now.

Calmly, I selected a large cooking pan from the dishwasher, placed it upside down on the floor, and used it as a sort of step up to the counter. "You gotta help me a bit here, or I'm gonna regret this," I said. He heaved me up by my arms, not as smooth as he'd handled the bottle: I bumped my knee into the counter and crashed into his chest, kind of painfully. The buzz rushing through my body lulled it a bit.

"All these girls throwing themselves at me," he said, as I straightened up, brushing my hair from my face. "Never thought you'd be one of them."

"Yeah, I guess that must get annoying," I said, remembering the string of girls stalking him through the school hallways. "Don't you get tired of it?"

"Nah, it's alright. Some are really cute, so yeah..."

Oh god, he was looking at me. From really really close. And no matter how infuriating it was when he pointed out my mistakes, he was kind of really really handsome, so maybe, even though he wasn't Nathan, it wouldn't be that bad if something happened right now. I mean, Hayley had to have been onto something, right? If I interpreted it correctly, he'd just called me cute. And he was talking to me, to me alone, while he could've been in the living room now, making out with one of those girls, or even more — well, not at the same time, of course...

Fuck this shit. If you want to kiss me, just do it already — I wanted to, wanted to know what it was like. Hayley always said it sucked, but that couldn't be true, because people wouldn't be this obsessed with it if it weren't at least a bit nice. And maybe, maybe I could even fall for him, and I could just get over Nathan already, and... and...

But what if I wasn't any good at it? What if you needed fully functional signals to be able to kiss someone in a panty-dropping manner, like in the movies? Sex I didn't worry about — I had a vagina, after all, and that was practically all a guy needed to enjoy it, but kissing... Did that require coordination? Why hadn't I ever researched this?

Stop doubting yourself, June. You aren't weak — you can do this. That smile could only mean one thing, and he wasn't averting his gaze, waiting for my okay...

Okay.

I leaned in, heart beating in sync with the fast bass tones coming from the living room, and then —

"Whoa! Easy girl!" Malik's eyes widened, shoving me away from him. "Did you think I was into you?"

Oh. Shit. Well, this was embarrassing. If it hadn't been for the vodka, my body would've started ignoring me right then and there. Instead, I just sat there, my thoughts a hazy muddle. "Well... yeah."

Another one of those laughs, and for some reason, it caused a flash of pain to run through me. "You must be really drunk," he said, leaping from the counter. "I'm sorry, June. I like you, you're cool. But just as friends, y'know?"

"Oh. Yeah. Fine. It's just, you did invite me to a party, and you were sitting alone with me, you know." Wow. Never imagined being rejected by a guy you didn't even like that much could hurt like this. Thanks, Hayley. This was going to be really great for my confidence.

Malik scratched his neck absentmindedly, not looking at me. "Yeah, well, you know, you're friends with Hayley, and I kinda like her, so I thought..."

Ouch. Even worse. At least Hayley would be happy... "Right. You could've told me that."

"Yeah, yeah..." He stood there for a while, hands in his pockets, and I wished he'd just leave — this was bad enough, and I was going to need another dose of vodka to be able to return to my friends. Then, he looked up, smiling at me, and for a second, I thought we could move past this, until: "Hey, there's this kid down the street, he's in a wheelchair and all, though still cool. Maybe I can give him your number?"

Alright. So, this was what this was like. I could only stare at him, nails digging into my skin, body tense, mouth seemingly wired shut.

I was cool, for a disabled girl, but not cool enough to make my cerebral palsy not matter. Of course, that meant he could flirt with me all he liked, for the fun of it, or maybe out of charity, because what disabled person would assume a 'normal, cool' person was into them? Didn't I know disabled people were only good enough for other disabled people? Obviously, I was a fool for thinking someone like him could see me that way, even if all the signs were there.

This was the Spin the Bottle game all over again, only now it involved a guy I'd never expected to hurt me like this.

"Go fuck yourself, Malik! That's probably what you prefer anyway."

Self-centered asshole! Shaking with rage, I half hopped, half tumbled from the counter, my ankle ending up in a painful angle as I hit the floor. I didn't listen to what he was saying, because the indignant tone of it made my stomach turn upside down — no, of course, he didn't know what he'd done wrong, he'd never done anything wrong in his whole life, after all, always the star in everything. You'd think he'd realize, being black, realize how being cast aside like this felt like, but no — maybe there were fewer brains in his head than everyone assumed.

The vodka was working: my walking was sloppier than ever, and I bumped into all kinds of people, black and white and in-between, though all with their arms and legs doing what they were supposed to do, and I wanted nothing more than to get out of there, never see them again, and play some actual good music in my own room, dancing for myself, because I was great, and I was worth it, and I was a girl you'd want to kiss — he'd said so, after all, and he didn't lie to me, right?

Hayley appeared in front of me, her eyes wide. "June, where are you going? What happened?"

"Malik is a dick — that's what happened!" My voice was weirdly high, and something was starting to sting, somewhere close to my heart. "You can have him. Apparently, he's into you. Guess you can go on and start making those babies."

Instead of excitedly bouncing up and down, which I'd expected her to do, she shared a look with Sam, who I'd already forgotten was there as well. "Sweetie, what did he do? He didn't — he didn't try to... to touch you, right?"

I laughed, a laugh so loud it echoed through my skull. "No, don't worry. He wouldn't want to touch me with a ten-feet pole. Who wants to do the disabled girl, after all?" I looked around, as if I was waiting for someone to raise their hands. There were so many people... Where had they come from? There hadn't been that many before, right? They were so loud... I lost my balance, stumbling backward. Sam caught me, his fingers digging into my arms. He smelled like cologne. Since when did he wear cologne?

"June, did he get you drunk?" Sam's face was close: his Cheetos-breath caused a wave of nausea to come over me. His eyes were hard, and somehow, they reminded me of Nathan when he was mad.

"I got myself drunk," I said, avoiding his gaze, trying to shoo away the image of his brother with that same raging expression. "It's all me. It's always all me. Sam, it's my fault... It's all my fault... I should've convinced him to stay, and none of this would've happened."

"What is she talking about?"

"I have no idea."

"I think she's really drunk this time, Hayley. She can barely stand."

"Do you think someone like, slipped her something?"

"If they did, I'm going to have to have a talk with that ass. Who does he think he is?"

"Sam, please don't! He's on the football team!"

"Come on, you're not seriously defending that guy, are you?"

"No! I just don't want you to get hurt."

They stared at each other, Sam's grip on me slackening. Oh, for god's sake... not now! Just start arguing again, or something... "Can we go home?" I asked, before I could burst out crying in front of the popular senior crowd, before Malik could spot me like this and would start telling everyone about the stunt I pulled.

Sam and Hayley kept talking to each other about my current state, while I held onto their arms, noting to myself to not try another party until college.

The tears broke free as soon as Sam had fastened my seat belt.