Limbo

By: Emily Hammerman

JAMES WORTHINGTON
And then she started crying. Big gloppy tears. I thought she might choke. I put my head
in my palm. Girly Shit. I was not cut out to deal with this right now. That is such a lie. I never
knew how to handle these random outbursts. And then it dawned on me. Why should I have to?
Alright Im done with you, I interrupted. My voice echoed down the empty hall. No
one heard. Not like I wouldve cared if they had.
Her wet eyes bulged. She did some bizarre combination of a hiccup and burp. It was a big
embarrassing gulp. I judged her. D-Done? She squeaked.
I rolled my eyes. Was she deaf? Stupid? In denial? Idiot. I nodded. Her forehead creased.
Clearly confused. It was fucking awkward. I wanted to walk away. I could hear the faint cheering
of my buddies in the gymnasium. Shed be fine here on her own. I didnt leave though. Instead I
touched her shoulder, my arm fully extended and stiff. Look, are you gonna be okay? There.
That sounded compassionate.
She just kept fucking crying. There was all this black shit smeared on her cheeks now.
Streaking down. It reminded me of a clown. A scary clown. The nightmarish kind you dream up
when youre little. Purple on her eyelids. Cherry spread on her crackled lips. A hot ass mess. I
tried not to wince. But it was crazy scary how quickly she could go from bangable to terrifying.
Amy. Stop crying. You have to perform in like ten minutes. The Friday morning pep
rally. Soccer and lacrosse had already rallied the crowd so my part was done. But poms had yet
to shake it for the school.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand. Smear. So much smear. So many colors.
Good God. Shit, she whispered. I cant go on like this.

Here, I said. I handed her my jacket. She smudged the sleeve against her clown face. I
bit my lip. Bleh. You can keep that. Fuck. Shed probably cherish it forever. One more article
of my clothing to add to the closetful shed been harboring. How pathetic. Oh well. She could
have my entire wardrobe if it meant ending our half-baked relationship.
Thanks. She sniffed. And I could hear it. Her inhaling back gobs of snot. So gross. I felt
it in my own throat. I couldnt believe my tongue had ever been wedged down hers.
Alright. I gotta go catch up with the team, I lied.
She draped my jacket over her shoulders. Then she peered up at me. Puppy dog eyes.
Like she expected some heartfelt goodbye. Okay. Talk to you later, I guess?
Yeah, sure. I will never even look at this girl again, I thought. But I nodded, anxiously.
Its been fun.
Then I finally walked away. Down the tiled and sticky high school hallway floors. It felt
so good. Like Id trimmed the fat off of the obese load of girl Id been dragging around. Thank
God I got that over with before the weekend. Wouldve been a real buzz kill to have done it that
night. Now I could fully enjoy my Friday night with the guys. And party a single man. One of
them was throwing a huge rager at his place. And with Amy out of my life, I could score some
other piece of ass on the poms team. Not like our relationship had ever stopped me from doing so
in the past...
JOEY CONNORS
Friday afternoon, I whirled through my front door and slammed it back into the frame.
Poms practice had sucked major cock and as much as our amateur coaches told me to leave it on
the floor, the choreography I just couldnt seem to master had followed me all the way home, a

taunting shadow of negativity. Id already decided the rest of my day was ruined. I let the weight
of my million-pound backpack bang down to the floor and threw my jacket off in some random
direction.
Tornados home, I heard Landon call from the kitchen, his big mouth probably full of
the entire contents of our refrigerator. Who he was calling to I didnt know. He was the only one
there since my dad was home about as frequently as I banged the living daylights out of our
fifteen year-old paperboy...this happens never, by the way. I have standards for Gods sake.
I threw my car keys onto the counter and gave him a smile with as much authenticity as
his last girlfriends tan. Dont you have somewhere to be right now? Like anywhere but my
kitchen.
Ouch. Not feeling hospitable today, Joe?
Am I ever? I slid his plate across the counter to my side and took a bite of the monster
of a sandwich hed thrown together. He didnt react. He picked up an open bag of chips and
began chomping away as I chewed. You here this weekend? Or with your dad?
Dads. Sorry to break your heart, he said snidely.
I raised my eyebrows and nodded, swallowing a bite that definitely contained both
peanut-butter and a chunk of pickle. Delightful. Yeah. Pretty torn up. I think Im gonna go have
a nice cry.
I did have a cry. But it was far from nice. And it had nothing to do with the asshole of a
stepbrother downstairs in my kitchen. I locked the door to the bathroom, peeled the damp
clothing off my sticky skin, and slid into the shower. It had become routine: the End of the Week
Meltdown. I was going going going throughout the week, practicing here and working there.

There was never the opportunity in any one slot of free time for me to notice that I utterly
despised the people in my life. The dramatic girls on the poms team, their superficial, country
club moms, the know-it-all bitch I had for a lab partner, and my dead mother- who was still very
much a part of my world in that her absence was present.
Girls. Women. Ladies. Fucking females. It all caught up to me on the dreaded Friday
afternoon, where I sat slumped against the marble of my moms elaborate shower, back pressed
into the tiled wall, my head in between my knees. I let the steaming water laser the skin on my
back, burning it into this numb relaxation. And Id cry. Not an embarrassing tantrum- but a
release. A release from this heavy world of insincerity and complication. Id do this until the hot
water ran warm, which was always enough time for me to come full circle, realizing I was just as
dramatic as the rest of them. Projection. What a bitch.
JAMES WORTHINGTON
Joey...God. Damn. That night she wore close to nothing. Chick was ruling the party.
Shorts so short the mystery was gone. Some top so tight it was like a second skin. Slut status.
Just the way I liked it.
I sat down on the pool table and stared at her across the drunken chaos of party people.
She was talking to that bro Casey. She was always talking to that bro Casey. I didnt get it. He
dressed like a cowboy. Some Brokeback Mountain shit. Kid was gay. Maybe thats why they
were best friends. Or maybe she was into that southern charm bullshit. This is California,
Partner. Go back to the ranch. I looked down at my salmon-colored polo and considered it. Nah.
Flannel is for faggots.

Either way, I didnt understand why she hadnt talked to me yet. Id showered after
school, so my hair looked fucking suave. Shiny. Smooth. And smelled like lavender. With a hint
of mint. Plus I had some classy shoes on. Lacoste Ordas. Boat shoes let the chicks know Ive got
the hookup. The Sailing Swag.
Ay, Man. You hittin that tonight? My buddy Jeffrey asked, nodding to Joey. She dug a
key into a beer can. Then chugged. Shotgun. Three other dudes chugged next to her. People
chanted. She won, of course. Fucking girl of my dreams.
Tryin to, Bro. But shes all over the place.
Like what? He asked, peering around. No doubt checking out the place. High ceilings.
Big screens. Crib mightve even been sicker than mine.
I took a swig. Like one minute she wants me, the next she ignores me.
Jeffrey nodded. Im tellin you, Man. Bitches be crazy.
No shit, I said.
She know about you and Amy?
Nah, Dude. And I dont want her to.
Jeffrey hit me on the shoulder. Why not? Dude, thats probably why she was all
sketched out. If she knew you guys broke up...?
Shed never talk to me again, I thought. Joey Connors was fucking weird. Different.
Absolutely out of her mind. I knew she liked that cheap thrill. The sneaking around. If she knew
Id dumped Amys ass, shed for sure dump mine. I waved a hand at Jeffrey. Nah, Bro. Trust
me.

Joey looked like she was just about there. A little wobbly, but nice and loose. Chatty and
confident, but relaxed and sexy. That perfect drunk. To where she was definitely interested in me.
Score. I set down my brewski on the edge of the pool table. Jeffrey and I high-fived. I pushed
through the crowd. Joeys eyes found mine. They were definitely feelin it. Winning. I was
fucking strutting to claim my prize. Strutting through the crowd of losers whod just lost to me.
Joey gave me that nod. The one shed been giving me since we started banging. She definitely
hadnt heard yet about Amy.
I reached her at the bar along the wall and placed my hand to her back. Deputy Casey
shot me a dirty look a few people over. I whispered in her ear, Let me take you to the real
party.
She took a shot of Jack. Then she slammed the rest of her beer. Fast. I could smell it on
her breath. Delicious. I wanted to taste it. Savor the inside of her mouth.
Fine, she said. Like it was a decision. Hah. Give me a break.
I grabbed her hand. Tiny and soft. Cold and confident. The sexiest girl at the party
followed my lead upstairs. Willingly. I think its safe to say, I was on my fucking game.
JOEY CONNORS
James Wesley Worthington subtly intertwined our fingers and began leading me down the
hallway. Beer in one hand, his eager clasp in the other, I tried to keep up with his quickening
pace as we brushed past fellow partygoers. It was one of those houses that seemed to go on
forever. Sharp turns. Unnecessary steps. Doors that led to bedrooms off of bedrooms off of
bedrooms. There were corners, crevices, closets; hosting the kind of obscene shenanigans only a
bunch of second semester seniors would participate in. I suspected there was hot-boxing going

on in the pantry, orgies in full swing in the bathrooms, and probably some sort of wrestling
match happening in one of the several guest rooms. The scenarios continued to flow through my
mind as we winded further and further around the house, eventually reaching the foot of a
stairwell. James purposefully began climbing the steps, tugging me through a clump of people
crowded around the banister. Most reeked of pot. Others stunk of vomit. But it all seemed so
distant. Conscious of only the peak of my buzz and some other girls boyfriends hand in mine, I
laughed breathlessly when we finally made it upstairs.
You think anybody noticed? I asked, untucking his white undershirt.
I mean, would you stop if they had?
Not a chance.
He grinned, twisting the knob on the first door we could find. Didnt think so.
The guy was a first class douche bag; emphasis on the high status. Captain of the football
team and starting forward of the lacrosse team. Committed to a full ride to Vanderbilt. Had a
castle of a house. In universal terms: The Golden Boy. The one who attended charity banquets
with Mommy in the evenings and then had a nine a.m. tee time the following morning at the
country club with Pops. He cruised a 1967 Ford Mustang, shopped at J Crew on the weekends,
rocked the Nike mid-calf socks, and draped his Lettermans jacket over the boney and faketanned shoulders of girlfriend Amy Geyer. James was the bro most all other guys despised, the
asshole every girl could not resist, and the idiot jock who I just wanted to bang- because the sex
was empty, his physical everything was gorgeous, and because quite frankly, I didnt have much
else to do. I didnt feel at all guilty for two reasons:

1. It was a mutually shallow affair. In the three weeks wed been hooking up, hed been
consistently treating me with about the same demeanor of gluttony in which a bulimic inhales
a piece of cheesecake and then blows it up in chunks right after.
2. In addition to being all bone and orange tone, Amy Geyer was a barbie-doll bitch.
I somehow managed to lock the door in between our hurried groping and tonguewrestling. His palms found the backs of my thighs and he effortlessly pulled me up to his waist.
Joey, he spoke softly into my mouth. Youre so fucking hot. Ive been waiting for this
all night.
I pulled his head to one side so I could run my tongue along his warm neck, his blond
bristles grittily stimulating. All night, huh? My back found the throne of a bed and he slowly
released his hold, relaxing on top of me. Thats a long time.
Just waiting to get you alone.
Took you a little longer than usual.
He swirled his tongue around my mouth in between words, our usual third party member,
Jack Daniels, clearly making himself present . Didnt wanna be too obvious. But Ive been
eyeing you. He slowly pulled the strap of my tank top down my shoulder and ran his parted lips
across my hot skin. And you look damn good tonight. James moved his way down to my chest,
planting a trail of soft kisses along the edge of my collarbone. Its these things that are killing
me, he whispered, sliding a finger just under the waistline of my cotton shorts.
I bought em the other day. They look good on me?
His trail of kisses continued down my side and crossed over onto my stomach. The soft
graze of his lips halted at my hip bone before he flashed his amber eyes up at me. Theyd look

way better off you. He squeezed nearly my entire inner-thigh with one hand and began undoing
the button of my shorts with the other. I arched my back and held my breath just as the bedroom
door flung open and slammed hard into the wall.
Joe, were leaving! I jumped beneath James, startled by Caseys demanding tone, but
even more by how an establishment that upscale apparently didnt have working locks. The
shadowy figure of my best friend stood planted in the doorway, one arm clutching the top of the
frame, the other anxiously tapping the side.
Youve got to be kidding me, James spat.
I rolled my eyes.
Casey ignored him and quickly looked over his shoulder, and I could suddenly make out
the speedy shuffling of hundreds of Dockers and stilettos against the marbled floor. He looked
me dead in the eyes, trying to communicate a sense of urgency without being the dick he
desperately wanted to be. Theres like five cops at this kids front door. Im serious, lets go.
Just close the door, Dude. Ill make sure she gets home, James continued
condescendingly, still hovering over me.
Casey snorted, amused, and stepped into the room, still paying no attention to the idiot on
top of me. Im not leaving without you, so either you get your shit together...
I pressed my hand onto the side of Jamess head and shoved him aside, too aggravated to
argue. Alright alright Im coming, relax!
Thats it? Come on, Joe, dont let this guy tell you what to do.
To blame my lack of giving a shit on the two tallboys of Corona Id downed less than an
hour ago would be flat out wrong. Truth was, the kid was a walking false advertisement; even on

a good night James Wesley Worthington wasnt worth shit. I stood up and re-buttoned the top of
my shorts, a huge chunk of hair blinding half my face as I did so. Through my one capable eye, I
grimaced obnoxiously at Casey and then made sure to brush past his shoulder as I headed out the
door without so much as a glance behind me.
Eh Joe, you uh- finish the job?
Landon. The last person I wanted to see. He stood in the hallway in a huddle of bros and
one random chick, all snickering, and all apparently unconcerned with the authorities outside. He
held some cheap can of beer in his one hand, while the other adjusted his backwards baseball
hat- a toothy smile spreading mockingly across his lips. I wanted to stab the dimples they formed
in his cheeks.
Fuck off, I responded, pushing past him and his brigade of followers.
They all laughed, clearly amused. Thats not an answer, Girlie.
I turned around and from underneath, smacked the bottom of his beer with my palm,
sending it flying into the air and soaking some kid to his left. Theres my answer, you asshole,
I said, and then motioned to the drenched guy in distress. Now why dont you go suck your
buddys cock? Looks like he needs it.
The circle of boys chorused several damnnns and oh shittttt bros as Landon eyed me,
surprised. But before he could respond, I began the trek down the stairs, Casey soon falling into
step beside me.
LANDON WEST
The phone in my front jean pocket had been vibrating persistently against my leg for
close to ten minutes. I knew who it was and I knew why he was calling. It was nearly two

oclock and I still hadnt walked through his front door. If I hadnt been drunk I probably
wouldve given in and asked Haley to drop me off at his place, obeying the court-ordered
weekend visits he was entitled to. But in my then bold state of mind, I flashed a figurative middle
finger and said fuck the law. As an eighteen year-old, I was entitled to make my own decisions.
So I continued to let my phone ring, because anything my piece of shit father had to say would
guaranteed destroy my buzz.
Your old man, huh? Ryan asked from the backseat of Haleys dads Porsche. I sat
shotgun, frowning at the caller ID on my cell. I guess hed noticed.
Yeah, Dude. Last thing I need right now.
No shit, said Haley. He wouldve killed you had those cops busted us. Youre
welcome, by the way. She looked away from the road briefly to glance at me and then flipped
her hair: an attempt to turn me on, I assumed. It hadnt worked.
Haleys dad was the chief of police in our valley. Shed sweet-talked the shit out of him
over the phone at the party, making him explain to the officers who busted it that we were free to
go. Theyd followed his orders, but not before scowling under bush mustaches and palming their
guns on their belts, as if to remind us who was in charge. Id chuckled inside at their complete
failure at intimidation, palmed my gram of weed baggied inside my jacket pocket, and brushed
past behind Haley, my three boys behind me.
Ryan sat with his elbows on either side of Haleys and my seats, sitting bitch. He laughed.
Shes so right, Bro. Wed have been fucked. Especially since I still got that MIP hangin over my
head...

He went on, and I pretty much tuned out. Drew and Chris joined in on the conversation
from either side of him and it suddenly became less obvious that my mind was other places.
The car had a hum that reeked with high quality: consistent and faint and sort of
futuristic. Like some version of a hovercraft Haley had commandeered from her dads iron
garage. We seemed to float the whole ride home; past the pristine McMansions of suburbia that
all looked the same, and through the dark tree tunnels that consumed the car. They locked all five
of us into this ordinary world where the hot topic of conversation was centered around bud and
booze.
The music playing softly through the speakers came clear and crisp- some new pop song
Id never heard, yet within thirty seconds Id already caught on to the basic chorus. I tuned the
lead singers Disney-esque voice out. I tuned out my friends voices. I rested my chin on my
hand and stared out the window at the cookie cutter neighborhood flashing by. I did this mostly
so I didnt have to meet eyes with Haley, but even more so because I would ten times rather
criticize my town looking out at it, than engage in the shallow talk it had sparked in the porsche.
Whatre you thinking about? Haley asked, interrupting my ignorance.
Im thinking about things I would never even consider telling you, I thought. Things like
how my phone just kept tickling my fingertips with my dads call. I didnt want him here right
now. I didnt want him around ever. I was happy in the home I lived in, and the whole weekend
visit routine was getting stale and painful. If he wasnt verbally bashing on Dr. Connors, he was
physically bashing in my face. Wasnt ranting about cancer, he was lecturing me on smoking. I
clicked ignore for what I hoped was the last time and looked over at Haley, who of course, was
already staring at me.

I dont want you, I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her that two people hooking up a few
times doesnt make them an item, that just because she glossed her lips and fluffed up her blond
hair, I wouldnt magically ask her out. But all that honesty shit was too exhausting for something
I genuinely didnt care about. Not because Haley sucked in bed, or because she wasnt beautiful.
I just didnt have the desire to be close to a girl. Shed figure it out eventually.
You okay? Haley asked over the drunken roars of my buddies in back.
Fine, I answered.
We reached Dr. Connors. Haley parked the car in front of the yard and ran her tongue
over her lips. She looked at me, concerned. Landon. Youd talk to me if you needed to, yeah?
Absolutely not, I thought. Of course, I said. Thanks for the ride. I turned to Ryan,
Drew, and Chris. See you clowns later.
I quietly crept up the stairs of the still house and creaked open my bedroom door. Kicking
off my shoes, I peered around the corner. The light in Joeys room was out, but I assumed she
was on her way home. That girl had way too much ego to ever let the cops bust her drunk, and
nowhere near enough desperation to let James take her home. Shed be home any minute.
My bedroom in Dr. Connors house was my sanctuary. A twin-sized bed, a rickety old
dresser, and a bedside table were basically its only contents. I had the posters of retired athletes
messily taped to the walls, and a few fast food bags scattered here and there. I loved it mainly
because it was mine, and because it was private. No one bothered me- Joey wanted her own
space to self-indulge and be independent equally as much as I did. And Dr. Connors was not
even close to the type of father figure whod express concern for my mental health, whod pester
me about school, or try and control my life. This was all in the best way possible. The mans

house was full of deathly presence: the rare blood disease of his first wife, the cancerous tumor
of my mothers, and the broken and sickly family that he, Joey, and I made up. Depressing as
shit. Which beat the hostile and stimulating environment of my Dads place. There, my life was a
hectic talk show- persistent interviews, unfolding drama, and exactly what I wanted to avoid the
most: real life. But here, it was some documentary on the history channel- gray, numbing, and
absolutely irrelevant. All three of us mostly did our own thing....mostly.
What happened to all my ice cream sandwiches? Joeyd demanded of me one afternoon
as I was watching television.
I hadnt responded. If she was going to play the bitchy stepsister, I justified it acceptable
for me to be the ignorant stepbrother.
Hello? Im fucking talking to you, she continued.
I didnt even have to turn around to know she was rolling her eyes and sitting into her
hip. I kept my eyes glued to the screen and said, What?
Whyd you eat all my ice cream?
I didnt eat all your ice cream, I stated calmly.
Well youre the only other person that lives here, so Im thinking you did, Asshole.
I wasnt sure why the asshole in her sentence was necessary, but it sure was nothing out
of the ordinary. Joey and I did this thing: this thing where we acted like we despised the living
shit out of each other, so we resorted to unprovoked name-calling and the trading of insults,
shallow conversation and a way-too forced distance. We both knew it was nothing personal.
Without ever feeling the need to discuss it, wed naturally come to this mutual understanding that
we were too scarily similar to be living under the same roof. Dead moms. Distant fathers.

Intimacy issues and a permanent negative attitude. It was easier to pretend that we hated each
other than to actually try and dig up some fucked up, emotional connection based on death and
teenage addiction.
Youre dad lives here, I corrected.
My dad is here like two days out of the week.
Still lives here. I heard her aggressively slam the empty ice cream box into the trashcan
as the plot of the show I was watching came to a lull. I wasnt really paying attention anyway, so
it was the perfect time to push her buttons. Besides, I continued, Its probably better the ice
creams gone. You dont need that shit.
You tryin to say something about my weight?
I smirked. Nope. But clearly youre insecure about it if thats what you think Im
saying. I paused, guessing she regretted starting a conversation with me in the first place.
Joey? Hello? This is the part where you call me a douche bag.
Just fucking replace them, okay? And stop picking at my side of the freezer.
Okay, Mom.
I actually hate you, she snapped.
I laughed. The feeling is mutual, Darlin.
What are you watching anyway? She walked closer to the television and entered my
view. Porn?
Its called Game of Thrones.
I looked up at her from my perch on my back. She was wearing black yoga pants and a
gray hoodie, her dark brown hair falling down against it in graceful ringlets, tangled in the

strings of the hood, and framing her face in a gentle way completely opposite of her sour
expression. Would I like it?
I shrugged. I dont know. Come fucking watch and find out yourself.
She had. Shed made me scoot up to a sitting position on the couch so she could sit on the
other end and wed watched in silence for twenty minutes. Then the show ended, and a
commercial for Axe body spray played on the screen.
That is the stupidest ad I think Ive ever seen, she said when it was over.
Yeah, because youre a girl.
No, because a stampede of thousands of half-naked women running across the world to
smell a guy is dumb. And sexist. And Axe doesnt even smell that good.
I chuckled. What, are you a fucking feminist now?
No-
Obviously not, I interrupted. That requires having respect for all women. Including
yourself.
She narrowed her deep eyes at me and smacked my foot, which lingered right next to her
crossed legs. For a second I thought maybe Id actually offended her, but quickly dismissed the
thought. This was Joey. Why do you care what I do? She asked.
I dont.
Clearly you do. You always bring it up.
No. I dont, I stated.
You do.

She was still staring at me. I looked away because it was a million times easier to picture
her an ugly, plump troll if I wasnt looking at her. I just notice is all, I said.
Out of the corner of my eye I watched her look down too, a chunk of hair falling in front
of her face and blocking her expression from my view. Okay.
I felt extremely uneasy in the form of a gurgling and anxious churning going on in my
stomach. It was like this conversation had traveled far from an accusation about eating her ice
cream to an accusation about her and I- as if there was a her and I that even existed. Of course I
noticed her loose behavior and the shitty guys she spread her legs for. But just because I noticed,
didnt mean I cared. Just because I teased her about it didnt make us friends or something
dreadful like that. Going along with the typical structure of our conversations, I defended myself.
I mean its just you and me in this house...I know your shit whether I want to or not.
She tucked her hair behind her ear and half-smiled. It was a half of a smile bigger and
one hundred percent more genuine than any expression shed ever flashed me before.
What? I asked.
She corrected me. Remember? My dad lives here too.
JOEY CONNORS
There wasnt a single light on in my house when I crawled through the doggie door and
flopped onto the kitchen floor. My dad the surgeon was on-call twenty-four seven, so on the few
nights he actually got to sleep at home, I refrained from using the loud and vibrating garage door.
Hed never asked me to, but I felt I owed it to him; although half the time he thought I was
passed out asleep in my bed. The man was hardworking and permanently exhausted- the last

thing he needed to worry about was his only and well-behaved daughter becoming his drunk and
rowdy teenager clanking around his kitchen in the a.m..
Atticus lay sprawled out on his stomach, chin on the floor, everything unmoving but his
eyes on me as I pulled myself through his property. Coming up on twelve years old, the Great
Pyrenees had now been watching me sneak in for a third of his life- always the same routine. But
not once had he given me up to my dad.
Good boy, I whispered, kissing the bridge between his eyes. He thumped his tail.
I crept upstairs on my hands and knees, my shoes still clutched tightly. Almost to my
room, I began undoing the zipper on my top, ready to strip down and collapse under the covers.
Just cant keep your clothes on, huh?
My heart banged against my chest, startled, as I quickly scrambled to re-zip the shirt.
Jesus, Landon. What is your deal? I loudly whispered, peering into his dimly-lit room.
Me? Youre the one crawling around on your hands and knees. Probably not the first
time tonight either...
I squinted angrily at the cocky image of him laying on his bed, arms bent at the elbows,
cradling the back of his head. He still wore that obnoxious hat, now resting forwards and lightly
on the crown of his head. It flattened out a swept-over swoop of dark bangs. Tool. Look, you
got a problem?
No. Pause. But just for future reference the side windows much easier to fit through.
How I beat you home.
I cocked my head at him. Yeah speaking of which, what are you doing here? You said
you were away this weekend...

Just thought Id sacrifice one night to get the inside scoop on your little sexcapade, he
teased.
What. A. Douche Bag. Look, as far as Im concerned, what I do is none of your
business.
He sat up and kicked off his shoes. Youre absolutely right. Whatever grimeball you do
is strictly your business.
Gimme a break. Like you dont have your fair share of gonorrhea on those sheets. I
was not exaggerating. In the five years wed been living together, my stepbrother had probably
locked himself in his room in the accompaniment of somewhere near twenty bimbos- big boobs,
mostly blonde, and all brainless. I slapped a hand on the door frame and sat into my hip, just
waiting to hear him try and challenge that fact. He smiled at me, those same fucking dimples
glaring at me, and then shrugged.
Im a guy. Like that was a reasonable excuse.
So?
So, youre not. But you act like one.
Aha. So this is what they all thought of me: Joey Connors- the empty whore who goes
through boys like packs of gum. She chews them up; a never-lasting flavor that just gets spit out
when theres nothing left. So youre saying you can screw as many girls as you want and its
fine, but if I do...
Im just giving you shit, Joe. Dont get so defensive.
As best I could in the dark, I caught his eye contact and studied his expression. His
flaming blue eyes matched the bright bead embedded into his hemp necklace. They looked

genuine, but in the short conversations wed had over the years, I still didnt trust them. Landon
was the hardest person to get to know. Brief talks, never often, and always shallow. But Id lived
with him long enough to know there was a depth in him he shared with no one, and an
intelligence he masked with stupid humor and rudeness. I wasnt sure why, but I was sure that
these qualities in him were what distanced us- because I had them in me too.
You have fun tonight? I asked, running away from the infuriating topic of high school
hookups.
I watched as he pulled out his pipe from the nightstand drawer and began packing a bowl.
I guess. Same old shit, ya know. You want a hit?
Nah, I said. Opposite addictions. He was the stoner, me an alcoholic. Im going to
sleep. Plug that door or my dadll be pissed.
Hey, he called, as I turned around.
What?
He chuckled. You, uh, finish the job?
Ugh, I snorted and continued the five feet to my bedroom. Bite me.
Id love to, he goaded- the last thing I heard before I closed my door and angrily
chucked my shoes onto the carpet.
Buried underneath layers upon layers of blankets, I rolled into a ball and squeezed my
eyes shut. My bedroom was cold and empty and didnt feel like my own. It hadnt since shed
died on me. Not even once. Because how could anything about this house feel familiar with the
person I was most close to missing from it?

I played over the day in my head; a pretty ordinary day in the life of Joey Connors. Jampacked with alcohol and attitude and avoidance avoidance avoidance. I peered at the clock. It
was 3 a.m., which meant technically Friday was over. I didnt allow myself to cry; the window of
opportunity the Meltdown presented had passed. I tried with everything I had to focus on
something irrelevant, something that numbed any real feeling that seeped through the cracks. I
tried hard, but slipping into unconsciousness, I found it impossible not to torture myself with the
thought that my mother would have never approved.