It's Kind of a Funny Story

Aaron and Nia talked on the couch. I took my thermos of scotch—just to have something in my hand; I didn’t open it—and watched how they moved, swaying toward and away from each other in increments that I doubt they even recognized. They stopped becoming people in my eyes; they morphed right into male and female sex organs on a collision course.

“What’s going on, son?” Ronny asked. Ronny hadn’t gotten his first piece of jewelry yet; he was in like a larval state. “You enjoying yourself?”

I was enjoying everything but Aaron and Nia. And the scotch. I wanted him to think I was enjoying the scotch, at least.

“Do you like this stuff?” I asked, opening my thermos.

“What is it?” He sniffed. “Yeah, dude, that’s hard core. You gotta sip it.”

I put it to my lips. I didn’t even take any in, just let it filter against me and felt how hot it was. It was cutting, evil, and bitter-smelling—

Ronny shoved the thermos at my mouth.

“Sip it!”

“Dude!” I backed off as scotch splashed on my shirt; it felt lighter, slicker, and warmer than water. “You’re such a dick!”

“Pause!” He ran across the room and punched this kid Asen, told him he’d had sex with his mom, and threw a pillow at Aaron and Nia, who were now attached by the lips on the couch.

I wasn’t that mad that it was happening. I was just mad that I’d missed how it happened. I hadn’t seen him lean in, or her; I wanted to know for the future, for some girl who wasn’t as desirable. But now at least I got a show; I got to see how Aaron moved his hands. He put his right hand on her face over and over, gently, while his left slid around her side and gripped the small of her back more firmly. His hands were playing good-cop-bad-cop.

There was still some scotch in the thermos. I drank from it. The taste didn’t bother me since Ronny’s shove.

“I didn’t know you drank, Craig!” a voice was like behind me. Julie, who always wore sweatpants that said Nice Try in an arc on her butt cheeks, clanked a beer against my thermos.

“I don’t, really,” I was like.

“I thought you’d be busy studying. I heard you got into the school. What are you going to do now?”

“Go there.”

“No, I mean with your time.”

I shrugged. “I’ll work hard at school, get good grades, go to a good college, get a good job.”

“It was crazy how much you studied. You always had those cards.”

I looked at the scotch. My esophagus was scorched, but I took more.

“Did you see Aaron and Nia making out? They’re so cute!”

“They’re making out?” I was shocked.

“Yeah, haven’t you seen?”

“I saw them hooking up,” I explained, looking out the kitchen at them. “I didn’t think they were having sex.”

“They’re not!”

“I thought making out was having sex.”

“Jeez, Craig, no. Making out is making out.”

“Is that the same as hooking up?”

“Well, hooking up can mean having sex. You got confused.”

Aaron and Nia were fully occupied now. One of his hands was hidden, exploring magical beige places.

“You should put it on one of your cards.”

“Heh.” I smiled.

Julie took a step toward me. “I really want to make out with somebody right now.”

Oh, cool.”

“I’ve been looking and looking for someone.”

“Um. . .” I eyed her. Her short blond hair framed a face that was a little wide at the bottom, and toothy, and somewhat red all around. I didn’t want to hook up with her or make out with her or whatever. The person I wanted was ten feet away. This would be my first kiss, if she were offering me. Girls loved to say that they wanted to hook up with “someone” when it was anyone but you. Julie tilted her head up, though, with her eyes closed. I looked at her lips, trying to make myself kiss them, but stopped. For my first kiss, I didn’t want to settle. Julie opened her eyes.

“Are you okay, man?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just. . .” Whew. I’m drunk and stoned, Julie. Give me a break.

“It’s okay.” She left the room, and soon after, the party. I had hurt her feelings, I found out later; I didn’t know I had that power.

I wandered over to the laptop that was supplying the music to the stereo. Next to it was Aaron’s father’s record collection, shelved in the bookshelf, of old vinyl records. I suddenly needed some discrete information to put in my brain, to push out what was there, so I pulled a record out.

Led Zeppelin III.

It was big—as big as the laptop—and the cover was a spiral of images: male heads with lots of hair, rainbows, blimps (I guessed those were the Zeppelins), flowers, teeth. The edge of the record stuck out a bit, like a tab on a five-subject notebook, and I grabbed it experimentally. It turned, and when it turned, the whole circle turned inside, and the images that showed through the little holes changed: rainbows into stars, blimps into planes, flowers into dragonflies. It was frickin’ awesome. One of the symbols that popped up looked just like the levels of Q-Bert, one of the best old video games—I didn’t realize Led Zeppelin had invented Q-Bert!