When I was in High school, I'd make plans and jot down what I had hoped my life could look like. Every paragraph was in excruciating detail - palaces of dreams, for somebody like me.

But who was somebody like me?

I sat at a table in my classroom, surrounded by a bunch of familiar faces. I was surrounded but still so dreadfully alone. In every waking moment, I felt an urge I couldn't illustrate for anyone to understand. The feeling was almost beautiful and exciting - but deadly.

"We're going to a waterpark this weekend," fifteen-year-old Avalon spoke to me, "Wanna join?"

I looked up from my notebook, "No, thanks." 

She frowned, then turned her attention back to Stacy.

Stacy said, "Would it be better if we go to a diner?"

"Or the disco?" Danielle perked up as she applied some lipgloss.

"I can't dance," I laughed, "How about a road trip? We could head to the -"

"Yeah, that sounds nice, but maybe next time," Avalon adjusted her school uniform.

I nodded and went back to my scheming.

The classroom was noisy that day, although half of the students were in the cafeteria having lunch.

I couldn't wait to graduate, although I hadn't a clue of what I'd do after. 

"Actually..." I looked at the girls, "Yes, I wanna come with you guys."

"My mom will pick us up at ten. Be ready!" Stacy clapped. 

Danielle and Avalon squealed in excitement as I shut my book. Somebody like me knew how to have a good time despite whatever raging thoughts flooded my mind each day. I could fake it until I made it.

***

I woke up around nine o'clock, still feeling somewhat light-headed. Nadia had returned to the room last night after I had spoken to Anders, and we'd talked until dawn.

Anders. His name caused me to shudder. I wanted to do something wild. But did I want to, with him?

Last night I had made some of my fondest memories. Most of the girls had come back from the pool, and we had gathered in one of the rooms. Brooke, Nadia, Erika, and I had helped move chairs upstairs and shifted the beds to create some sort of a makeshift salon.

I had looked on with intrigue as the other young women talked, shared secrets, and beautified themselves.

"Which polish do you like?" A brunette named Liza had asked Erika.

Erika had kept a casual distance from Brooke and Nadia, but that was easy to ignore since she didn't do the same for me.

"The green one," Erika had replied as she filed her nails over a napkin.

There had been twelve of us in that room, bonding over anything that we could. Evidently, we were outnumbered by the guys.

I had sat near the door, with my knees against my chest. I had always wanted to be a part of something like this - something that made me feel like the missing piece in a puzzle. Any contribution I had made to our conversations wasn't insulted or dismissed, and that had felt so good.

"Everyone has something good about them." Nadia had said to a girl whose hair she was braiding.

"He doesn't have anything good about him! And he expects me to be some sort of Barbie doll!" The girl had folded her arms, and her coffee complexion had filled with anger.

The women in the room had all spoken up at once, trying to pitch in their thoughts.

"Screw his expectations!" Nadia had finally said, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

After a second of silence, a cheerful, collective outburst had sounded. It had felt good to be in a room, knowing for sure that I wasn't the only one who felt the way that I did.

Now, I sat wearing three-quarter jeans and a crop-top at the back of the lobby. I stretched my legs out in front of me and stirred the icy water in my hands with a straw. My hair was out, hanging at my sides in careless strands.

Betty leaned on the bar counter, smoking the thickest cigar I had ever seen. It was quieter than yesterday. It seemed that at night was the only time that the place came alive.

Jacques swung open the front door, and I shot up.

"Jacques?" I said, but he completely ignored me and plopped into a seat on the other side of the room.

Just as I began considering walking over to him, Anders entered in a hurry.

"I can make up for it!" He yelled at Jacques, "Just give me a second!"

Betty and I exchanged glances from across the room, and she bit back a smile.

"I'll leave it up to you guys," she said before disappearing into the back of the bar. A trail of smoke followed behind her.

I left my glass on the table and walked over to the front door. I looked back at Anders and Jacques arguing with each other and stepped outside.

The air was scorching hot, and the sky was cloudless. Cars were parked along the sidewalks, and motorcycles were perched against buildings. There was another, smaller motel across the street and businesses with half-hanging 'open' signs.

Also, there was Brooke.

She sat on the last step of the short stairs in front of the motel. Her back faced me, and her head was resting on the wooden railing.

"Brooke?" I called out to her and got no response.

I knew that that was her, with her sun-kissed skin and long hair. Wood creaked below my feet as I crossed the platform and sat on the step.

Her eyes were closed tight, her lips formed a frown, and she was as still as a statue. Brooke's slender fingers rested in her lap, and her breaths were so discreet that I questioned if she was even breathing at first.

"Brooke?" I repeated.

The door behind us opened again, and Anders rushed down the stairs, his sneakers barely missing my hands.

"How is he, otherwise?" Anders asked Brooke, referring to Jacques.

She didn't respond.

"What happened?" I asked him.

He turned around swiftly and said, "Jacques' in a terrible mood. I may have hidden his jacket, may have not."

Anders paused and trailed his eyes down to Brooke. He looked between both of us one last time before patting her on the shoulder. It was a tiny gesture, but I was sure it meant much more. When he left, I snaked my arm around her. Finally, she came alive.

"It's not the jacket he's mad about," she spoke quietly, "It's his dumb cigarettes."

"He keeps them there?"

"Yeah, and he gets fussy whenever he can't get one," Brooke bit her lower lip, "He argues with me too. He loves his cigs more than he loves me."

I took a deep breath and pulled her into me as she rested her head on my shoulder.

"Don't say that -"

"But it's true!" She gestured, "He'd date one if he could! Plus, all he does is take me for a...a joke."

Her lip wobbled, and she hid her face in her palms.

"...Like everyone does." She muttered.

I paused, "I don't."

"Oh, sure." Her voice broke, "Whoo-hoo, there goes Brooke, the life-of-the-party!"

Her tone was bitter and hurt. I pushed a few of her strands away from her forehead and sighed.

"You're so much more than that," I smiled faintly, "Yes, you're the life of the party, but you're also funny and kind..."

I remembered the night at the pool and how we had danced in the lobby just hours before. Brooke had made everything I'd experienced so far so much better.

"Please don't cry," I begged her.

"You think this is easy?" She flew into a rage, and I noticed the tears streaming down her face, "You think it's so easy, huh? I should just get over it!"

My eyes widened at her anger, but not because I was shocked. It seemed familiar, reminding me of my rage and outbursts whenever I was with my mother or Catherine. There was so much more to it, below the surface.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie, but no! I'm not much more than this! Never been! Not to guys anyway..." She grabbed strands of her hair into her fist.

I watched as her cheeks gleamed with tears, almost looking magical in the sun. I could yell and make my anger match hers like I usually would, but there would be no use.

"Jacques isn't the only guy. He may be irresistible to you, but there's plenty more -"

She sobbed, "That's not the point, dammit!"

"I know." I admitted, lowering my voice.

Finally, Brooke's big eyes met mine for the first time since I'd sat beside her. Her look was fiery, but I didn't train my eyes off of her.

"I know about men! I don't need you lecturing me! They're capable of so much...most I've experienced first hand."

Her eyes darted away from mine. The way that Brooke's hands began to tremble told me not to tread any further.

I thought about the man who had snatched me by the waist as if I belonged to him. I thought of those nights, a million years ago, when I'd sing at taverns and play dumb to get tips, free rides, or sometimes more. Then, too, I thought of my father and how he wasn't any of those things - not callous and not proud. My father's soul had held a thousand secrets, though, and an aching that had overwhelmed him more than either of us had expected.

Brooke and I sat in silence for a while. There wasn't much left to say anyway. I tried to imagine all of the scenarios Brooke might have found herself in. I shuddered.

"Earlier this week at the diner..." I said vaguely, "...There was a guy who...um -"

I shook my head, and Brooke looked up at me.

"Who what?" her voice shook.

I sucked in a breath and told her everything.

"I dunno, it's probably not a big deal to -"

"Of course it is!" she hissed, "...And I'm sorry. Sorry I wasn't there for you. You can always quit, if you like."

I nodded slowly, "I'm sorry, too."

Brooke dragged the heels of her hands along her cheeks and huffed.

"Look, Jacques isn't a bad guy. It's just..." she stared at her feet, "...He'd pick smoking over me any day."

I nodded and wiped some of the newly formed sweat off my forehead.

"Why don't you talk to Odin? He's your -"

"No." She shook her head, "Anyone but him."

I was taken aback for a while.

"Well then. Don't take it too personally, Brooke. Everyone's fighting their demons."

At first, I thought my words had angered her more, but then she softened and nodded.

"Now, that doesn't mean you need to go fight with them..." I quickly added.

A small smile appeared across her face, "What does it mean, then?"

I stopped.

"It means...some people are worth standing on the front lines for," I shrugged, "You just need to decide who."

***

Around my thirteenth birthday, I had promised myself I wouldn't make decisions based on a spur of emotions. That was after I'd yelled so loudly at my mother that my throat went sore for days. Now, I realised that I made decisions based on emotions like I breathed the air - effortlessly.

I sat on the bed in the motel room, gazing at the puddle of water in the centre of the bedside table.

The door clicked open, and Anders walked inside. When he noticed me on the bed, his lips curled into a smile, and I returned a look that I hoped was sexy.

He wore a white vest and old jeans that made him look years older than he should. Anders approached the bed, carelessly rolling a cigarette between his fingers. Then he touched the lit end of it to the puddle on the dresser, and it sizzled.

"So I've been thinking..." he said as he sat on the bed, "About what you said yesterday."

I cleared my throat, "I said many things yesterday...I talk all the time."

He laughed shortly, "Fair enough. What you said about guilty pleasures."

I dipped my head and teased him, "Guilty pleasures...did I say that, or was that you?"

Anders laughed again, this time shaking his head. I gazed at the natural pinkness of his lips and wondered what he thought of mine.

"Well, whoever it was." He dismissed, "Why should we feel guilty? Who decides?"

I said, "I guess we do."

He gave me an impressed look, and I rolled my eyes.

"Anders, I know you didn't bring me in here to talk."

After lunch, Anders had invited me to his motel room, and I hadn't considered many options before I found myself here.

I crawled toward him and stopped when our faces were just inches apart.

"Just do what you came here to do." I half-whispered, allowing my warm breath to play on his lips.

I had jumped out of my skin. I didn't know who I was as I fixed my hands onto Anders' shoulders. He gazed at me first with awe - a look that was soon replaced with crazy lust.

"What, you aren't gonna lock the door?" he asked.

I peered over at the lock, which was already pushed in.

"Stop stalling." I smiled at him.

He lightly traced his hands along my arms and circled his thumbs in my palms. Every idle movement of his and the delicate way he did it sent a chill through my body.

"I don't normally take these risks," his eyes remained glued to my lips, "With you, on the other hand -"

Anders grabbed my waist and threw me onto the bed in one swift movement. I let out a loud shriek, followed by cackling, as he sat on top of me.

My heart fluttered. Of all the moments in my life, this was the one in which I felt the most beautiful. Not on stage, in the diner, or smoking a cigarette but here and now, doing what I shouldn't.

Without another second wasted, we were interrupted. Someone started pounding on the door.

"Anders?" Odin's voice called from the other side.

Anders grimaced slightly, his face hovering over mine, "...Yes?"

"Have you seen Elizabeth? By chance?"

"By chance..." Anders repeated softly, his eyes shifting between mine.

We burst out laughing. Anders' smile was incredible, and the heartiness of his laugh forced his eyes shut.

"She's in here!" Anders said, eventually.

"Prove it!" Odin yelled back, rapping his fist on the old wood.

"I am!" I shouted, between chuckles.

Only silence followed. I tried hard not to picture the baffled expression on Odin's face.

***

I took upon the bold decision to re-dedicate my life. Instead of focusing solely on the world around me, I would focus on the world within me. One that was hesitant yet destined to come out.

Later that evening, everyone attended a campfire held by some of the guys.

"Give us more!" A man named Bud slapped Pancho on his back.

Everyone else gathered around the flames, not careful to hide our amusement as Pancho gave his second-best imitation of Anders.

I leaned into Nadia's side.

The air was a little cold as the sun made its slow descent. A couple of eager stars were already visible in the sky, and whatever trees there were nearby rustled gently with the breeze.

"Here," Nadia passed me a skewer and a brown paper bag.

We created makeshift hot dogs with dry bread and sausages and then passed the bag along.

I noticed Brooke across the fire, with Jacques. Her eyes caught mine, and she blew me a kiss.

"Here." Odin sat beside me and passed me two cans of soda.

I handed one over to Nadia, who started tapping the can with her freshly painted, purple nails.

Anders and Erika were playing some sort of game. Their feet escaped the fire by just a few inches, and I braced myself each time one of them moved too close.

I turned to Odin, who turned to me.

"What?" He smiled.

"Why were you looking for me?" I said, "Earlier on?"

"I was thinking of getting a tattoo here." He held up his forearm.

Odin trailed his finger from his inner wrist to the inner fold of his elbows.

"Jacques could've done it for me." He put his hand down and took a sip of his drink, "...Wanted you to come to witness it. Guess you had other plans."

I scowled a little.

"You aren't actually upset." I whisper-yelled, only for him to hear. 

"Sure, I'm not. I changed my mind, anyway." Odin shrugged, "Just listen...be careful who you hang around."

That wasn't the first time I'd heard that warning from Odin. I nodded and pushed my thoughts away.

Someone brought out a small radio, which blasted music ten times louder than I had expected. Nadia jumped to her feet. Brooke did the same as they began dancing, like if no one else was there. Soon, Erika, Betty, Liza, and a few others joined in. Pancho was the first guy on his feet. His red hair competed for attention with the ferocious flames as he swayed and tried moving his hips like the girls.

Everyone around me began singing. Our voices rose into the evening sky, pleading for attention from anything or anyone nearby who would listen. When Odin stood, he dragged me along with him.

We danced, sang, and laughed like it was no one's business. A song I'd never heard before became my own as the lyrics engraved its place into my heart. I sang to the top of my lungs. Not like before, for money or for men, but for fun and for free. I belonged.

I wanted it to last forever. I wanted, as Odin spun me around and shrieked into my ear, that I could take that moment and bottle it. Every time I felt alone or unaware, I could remember that I was here. I was here.     

And that tonight, I was humming a new tune.

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