It’d be Good For You

You curl your knuckles around the cardboard of a Coors Banquet sixer wishing simply to be in your room. When your skin grows numb from the cold, you switch the case to the other hand, stuffing your right in the tube pocket of your hoodie. Your phone buzzes against your thigh, so you reach your free hand into your pocket instinctively.

Des: Are you coming?

You: omw now

You slide the screen back into your jeans and blow hot air on your free hand, a pale cloud forming around you. A glowing orange sign halts you at the edge of a four-lane street, and your phone is suddenly back in your grip. You browse through old texts, skimming the longer ones.

Molly: I understand that you feel…
and it’s tiring…
reminds me of when we first met…
honestly makes me uncomfortable…
and I don’t think we should talk anymore.

You scroll further up on the conversation.

Molly: Excited to see you! You better
bring the right shoes this time

You: My shoes are always peak

Someone walks past you, and you realize the crosswalk is counting down. Your phone falls back in your pocket, and you carry on with long strides down the sidewalk. The case of Coors switches between your hands once more.

You gently touch the bridge of your nose as you wait on the porch of a one-story house. The bruising feels tender, and you test how hard you can press without wincing. A dead plant watches you from an orange pot, and the house vibrates with the excitement of young people. Again, your phone buzzes, and it’s open before you can think.

Jade: I have a surprise for you

Your brow furrows and you look at the messages above. The last text was from 12 days ago. The unsealing of rubber interrupts your thoughts.

“Em!” Des shrieks. Her head pokes between the gap of door and frame, and you look down at her round face and distinctive bob with fondness. Her smile flattens, though.

“Oh my god, what happened to your face!” She opens the door further, allowing you to step in. A wave of humidity and beer-breath hits you; the house is filled walled-to-wall with college students armed with drinks. Your ears cringe, and you shake out your limbs as if to free the coldness that has grabbed them.

“It’s stupid,” you say. “I ran into a door — a glass one, I should say.”

“What?”

“I ran into a glass door!” you yell.

“Oh that’s awful,” she’s smiling with her small teeth, but with a hint of pity. “Did anyone see you?”

“No. Thank God.”

She scrunches her face to further her show of sympathy.

You lean in so she can better hear you. “Hey, do you know if Molly’s here?”

Des shakes her head, causing the short curtains of her hair to sway. “I don’t think so. She never responded to my invite.”

“Oh, gotcha.” You try to keep your face as straight as possible, and when you feel there has been a long enough pause, you say: “I brought these,” and hold up the case of Coors.

Her face brightens. “Perfect. I’ll go put them in the fridge. Do you want one?”

“No, I’m not drinking tonight. Last weekend was too much.”

“Ha, is it related to this,” she taps her nose to signify what she means.

“Oh, no,” you laugh, as if the idea hadn’t occurred to you. “Just giving my liver a break.” You hand her the case as you make the joke, and you’re left alone on the welcome mat as she squeezes through the crowd to reach her kitchen. The living room is dim save the music video playing on the TV and chromatic string lights that outline the window. Four people are stuffed onto a couch meant for three, and the rest of the crowd is standing. You look down at everyone’s feet and notice that their shoes are still on, so you save yourself the trouble of untying your own. Not knowing what to do, you check your phone.

Mikey: Apparently there’s a girl here
named Kyle that likes you.

You quickly type: funny

The device slides back in your pocket. In the corner of the room, someone with heavy hair and a hoodie is curled against two purple walls, flicking and retracting a knife. It flicks, retracts. Flicks, retracts. You step towards them only to be shoved by a stumbling body that crashes into the blinds on the porch window. He looks like an athlete, wearing cropped shorts and a shirt that’s too small to fit his arms. He manages to stay on his feet, but the entire crowd watches in anticipation as he regains his senses. You look to your left to see the man that managed to move him, a flannel-wearing tower with a neck-beard and a snap-back that says “I like tits”. The behemoth ushers you aside with the ease of turning a page, then he walks out the door while twirling his keys in one hand.

You join the group of people surrounding the athlete, whose face is grave.

“…can’t let him drive,” you hear him say. “I saw him drink three beers in just the last hour.” He’s making eye contact with a woman taller than him.

“He’s fine. We’re only going two blocks,” she shakes her head. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

The athlete’s eyes go wide. “I’m trying to make sure you’re okay. Don’t. Let. Him. Drive.”

“Let it go,” the group around him says, one at a time. Another gym-goer grabs his shoulder firmly. He closes his mouth in resignation, and the tall woman pulls away from the group and goes out the door.

The athlete peers through the bent blinds, watching the couple step into a lifted pickup parked on the street.

“What happened?” you ask.

“Guy’s a fucking idiot,” he mumbles, then he pushes his way into the crowd.

The window clears of curious eyes, and you’re left looking at the knife-wielder once again. They peer up at you through their mop of hair.

“What’s up?” they ask. The knife does not stop flicking.

You press your back against the front wall and slide down to your butt. “What’s your name?”

“Kieran,” they say. They have the type of face that would have a lot of piercings, but they have none.

“I’m Emmet,” you nod. “Who do you know?” You gesture to the crowd with a flick of your chin.

“I live next door,” they say. “My roommates went downtown, though, so it’s just me.”

They see you eyeing their blade, then they tuck it away.

“Sorry if that’s freaking you out. It’s just a fidget.”

You maintain a calm expression. “You get nervous at parties?”

“Nah, I just don’t like most people.”

You chuckle. “Me neither.”

Then, someone touches your shoulder, just stronger than a brush. Before you can look up, you hear Kieran mutter: “Then what are we doing here?”

You glance up and see a familiar face with thick eyeliner and dark, scarlet lipstick.

“You hiding from me?” Jade teases, then her forehead creases. “Oh my—is your nose okay?”

“Fell off my bike,” you shrug, and Jade laughs, as if falling off your bike is something you do all the time.

You tell Kieran it was nice to meet them, then you let Jade take your hand and drag you to the backyard, where cigarette smoke, marijuana clouds, and hot breath form fog in the air. You step down three concrete steps to the grass, and Jade hovers in the door.

“Wait here,” she grins only with her lips, then she disappears inside, and you feel yourself start to shiver. You scan the small crowd, noting whose face looks most like Molly, then someone wearing pit vipers hands you a red cup and growls: “Hydrate or die-drate” before turning back to his friends. You swirl the cup and smell it — scentless. To your left, a rickety wooden table rests against the side of the house, creaking as people use it to boost themselves up to the roof. Pebbles tumble onto the table as their Converse scrape at the shingles. You take a sip from your cup and drift towards a group of smokers wearing neon fleece.

“What’s up man, what’s your name?” The man sticking his hand out has wide eyes and a thick mustache you know he’s proud of.

“Emmet,” you smile.

“Emme-e-e-t. Sick name. What do you think man?”

You smile with a hint of irony. The rest of the group watches you expectantly, all frizzy hair and dull eyes.

“What do I think? Like in general?”

“Fuck, man. I don’t know. Like what do you think about?”

You squint your eyes, giving it serious thought, then. “I think about other people a lot.”

The smoker takes a hit of his pen and stares. “Wait, like… wait what do you mean?”

“Mostly, like, if they’re okay.” You nod to yourself. “If I’ve done anything to make them upset.”

His confusion turns to a sloppy grin, then he lifts his hand out to his side, and following his lead, you dap him up before he slaps you on the back. “Me too, man, but hey!” He pulls away and points his pen at you. “We’re gonna give that up for tonight, okay Emil—Emmet.”

The smoker frowns as he takes a closer look at your face. “Hey man, what happened to your nose?”

“Emmet!” Jade is peeking her head out the door. “It’s ready.”

You raise your cup to the ring of neon fleece jackets, and they raise their cups in return, then you follow Jade inside.

Your skin tingles as it’s cloaked in humidity again, and your nose adjusts to the wet smell. Jade has your hand again, and she’s dragging you through the mass of bodies. Music pulses in bones you didn’t know you had.

“Hey, do you know if Molly’s coming tonight?”

“What?” Jade shouts. She’s still grinning.

“Don’t worry about it,” you yell back.

She stops outside a bedroom door, then she toggles the handle only for it not to budge.

“Shit,” she mutters, then she bangs her fist on the door.

“We’re busy,” someone giggles from inside.

Her dark lips curl into a frown. “It looks like you’re going to have to wait.” She steals your cup and takes a sip.

“It gives us some time to catch up,” you offer.

She nods, scrunching her face after the sip. “I want to hear more about your nose, but I need a drink first. Do you want something with alcohol?” She pushes your cup back into your chest.

“No thanks. I’m not drinking tonight.”

“Always the Puritan,” she smiles, then she disappears.

You feel your phone buzz.

Mikey: Is Jade finally showing
you the “surprise”

Mikey: She wouldn’t shut up
about it before you got here

Mikey: She REALLYYYYYYYYYY
wants to show you

You exit the conversation, reading an old message from Molly instead.

Molly: Maybe I don’t want you to
help. Maybe I want to figure
this shit out on my own.

You: But I want to help

You scroll to the very bottom.

Molly: I don’t think we should talk any more.

You: I’m worried about you

“I hate it when people are on their phones at parties,” someone says. You look up to see a chiseled face with coffee-colored skin. She has thin lips and thick hair, and the stud in her left nostril sparkles.

“I know. It’s a problem,” you play along, tucking your phone away. You find yourself smiling for some reason.

“What’s your drug of choice?” she continues. “Mine’s Pinterest, believe it or not.”

You laugh, genuinely. “I took you more as a Discord girl.”

Her jaw drops, and she crosses her arms to exaggerate her annoyance. “That might be the meanest thing someone’s ever said to me,” but she’s smiling as she says it.

“I’m just kidding,” you tilt your head a little. “Honestly, you um… you look like you get commissioned to make some sick art. Like graphic design, or… I don’t know.”

“Mm, I’ll take that as a compliment.” She takes a sip of her drink. “You still gotta answer the question, though.”

“imessage,” you admit. “I was just checking on a friend.”

She rolls her eyes. “Great. Now I look like a total asshole.”

You shrug, consider her. “An asshole I want to learn more about.”

She laughs, softly, and for the first time it feels like she’s not completely in control of the interaction. “What’s your name?”

“Emmet.”

She tilts her head. “Do you want to climb on the roof, Emmet?”

You play with your lip, but you’re not conscious of it. “After you tell me your name.”

Kaya goes first, bending her knees before hurling a knee over the gutter and thrusting herself upwards. The table wobbles, then you step up and follow suit. As you launch off the wood, a guttural crack reverberates through the backyard, and after you claw yourself onto the shingles, you look down to see the table on its side with a stump leg, your red cup leaking into the grass. The small crowd in the backyard cheers, and you scratch your head.

“I guess we’re stuck up here,” Kaya says.

“There are worse things,” you smile.

You each sit an inch apart, your forearms hugging your shins.

“My friend thought your name was Kyle,” you say.

She scrunches her brow. “Who’s your friend?”

“Mikey?” It’s an answer and a question.

She shakes her head. “I wonder how he knew me.”

You open your mouth, but you’re distracted by Jade popping out the back door and scanning around, her dark hair swishing around her, her dark lips bright. You’re about to call for her, but she turns back inside. You can find her later.

“So what happened to your nose?” Kaya inquires.

You absently touch it with your index finger. “I was playing basketball, and I caught an elbow. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. There was a lot of blood though,” you chuckle.

“Yikes,” she says, “I was skateboarding for the first time and…”

Her voice joins the drone of the party as you feel your phone vibrate, and you see Molly’s name.

Molly: I want to be alone tonight

You: Okay

You: If you need someone I’m there

“Who are you texting?” Kaya tests.

You blink and tilt your screen away from her, then you slide it in your pocket, hoping the motion appears nonchalant. “Same friend. I’m sorry, could you tell the story again, you said-”

“Emmet!” The voice comes from behind you. Protruding from a sliding window is a freckled face with dark hair and a crooked smile. “Jade is looking for you.” Smoke escapes from his maw with each word.

He turns to Kaya. “Hey, is your name Kyle?”

“Kaya,” she clarifies.

“Shit, my bad Kaya. Em’s a great guy, by the way. He practically worshiped his last girlfriend…” he sniffles, then adds, “but in like a healthy way.”

“Mikey!” you growl.

He lifts his hands as if he’s innocent, his arms still trapped indoors.

“Are you and Jade…” Kaya poses.

You shake your head. “No, no, no. Jade’s just a friend. We know each other from high school.”

“Oh, I see.”

You frown. “I should go find her, though. I’m sorry, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Bending your knees, you pad up to the window and help Mikey jerk it all the way open. One leg at a time, you step inside to a lavender-scented bedroom glowing faintly yellow. Mikey is the only one inside.

“Were you hanging out here by yourself?” you ask.

He shrugs, his freckles dark. “I was feeling a little anxious. Plus I was looking for you.”

“Is it okay, or do you need to leave?”

He exhales a ball of pale air. “Hey, as long as I can make fun of you, I’ll be fine.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m glad I can be your support.”

“Of course. You’re the supportiest.” He opens the door to the bedroom, leading the way downstairs. “So is Jade going to blow you or what?”

You run your hand through your hair. “God, I hope not. Honestly, man, I have no idea. She’s acting kinda weird.”

“Maybe it’d be good for you.”

The voices grow in volume until they peak at the bottom of the stairs, and you’re back in the hubbub once again. You spot Jade in conversation with a girl you don’t recognize, hovering outside the bedroom door.

“I think I would have a panic attack if she tried that,” you yell to Mikey.

He puts a hand on your back and pushes you towards Jade. “What are we going to do with you?”

Just as your eyes meet Jade’s, your phone vibrates.

Molly: I don’t like being alone

“Okay, are you ready?” Jade’s smirk looks childish, innocent.

“I guess so,” you force a smile. “Is it unlocked now?” You push on the handle and the door swings open.

“Emmet! That’s the…”

You expect Jade’s room to be dark and soft, but everything is white and piercing. When you see porcelain, you realize.

“…bathroom,” Jade’s voice drops.

On the edge of the bathtub sits a familiar shape with their sleeve rolled up and a knife gripped in their fingers while they poke at a vein with their pinkie. They quickly pull the sleeve as they feel your gaze, though.

“Kieran, what are you doing?” you ask, voice unsteady.

“I swear I wasn’t going to hurt myself. I was just… being weird.”

Everyone stands still for a second. You don’t know what to do, but your body moves on its own. “Can I have the knife?” you step closer, palm open.

“I don’t even know you,” they frown, shoving their hands in their hoodie.

“Well I… I don’t like seeing people get hurt. Just give me the knife. I’ll give it back.” You don’t understand what you’re saying.

“Fuck off,” they grunt. They bump your shoulder as they push past, but not before tossing the knife in the toilet.

You move to the bowl and drag the knife to the water’s surface using the toilet brush.

“Oh, Emmet, you really don’t have to…”

But the blade is already pinched loosely in your fingers, so you shake it off and place it on the edge of the tub. Jade watches with her hands clasped over her mouth, and you take a seat on the porcelain tub, careful not to sit on the shower curtain.

“You guys are neighbors, right?”

Jade nods, and she finally enters the bathroom, sitting next to you on the tub.

“Are you okay?”

You sigh. “Do you know if someone can give me a ride to Molly’s?”

Her lips part, then they close. “Yeah. I know a group going to Bliss, her house is kind of on the way, right?”

You nod as you stare at the tile floor.

“Emmet, did Molly ever…”

“Once. Before we were together.”

Her hands are folded over her waist, and her eyes stare at the same spot on the floor as yours. You sense that she’s nodding.

“I’ll go find someone in the Bliss group,” she says, and she turns towards the door. People have begun to coalesce outside, peering into the white slice of bathroom.

“Jade,” you call. “I’d love to see the surprise another time. I’m sorry that…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she waves a hand. Her dark lips press together. “It was silly.”

You slip the knife in your back pocket and exit the bathroom, into the noise.

“What happened?” the vultures ask.

You don’t reply, instead scanning the room with your eyes. Kieran is gone.

Someone waves a hand in your face to get your attention, then they lean into your ear.

“You’re coming to Bliss, right?” As close as they are, their voice is still a yell.

You nod, and they grab your forearm, dragging you towards the door. When you escape to the porch, they let go.

“I’m Lox,” they smile. Their hair is dyed a cotton-candy pink, and their eyebrows seem invisible. They’re hopping down the steps towards a dark truck where other people are high-stepping into the rear seats, like children trying to board a train. You follow them, stuffing into the vehicle with utter strangers.

The truck door slams, and your stomach sinks as you look at the driver’s seat. A hulking man in a flannel and a trucker cap struggles to open a bag of chips. You picture all the unique ways the truck can crash. You see it rolling, the people inside rubber dolls. You see it split in half by a tree. You see it crumpled at the floor of a ravine.

“Anyone got a knife?” he asks, facing the back row. His “I like tits” hat retains its charm.

“I do,” you say, squirming so that you make minimal contact with the person in the middle seat and pulling the knife from your back pocket before placing it on the console.

He burps before saying, “Thanks, man.”

“Gunner!” his girlfriend chides. It’s not clear to you which of his many offenses he is being chided for, though.

He chuckles, then he flicks the blade open. Something vibrates on the dashboard, and it catches his attention, stopping him before he can slice the bag. He puts the handle of the knife in his mouth as he reaches for his phone and types out something short. You smile to yourself as your shoulder squishes against Lox.

Gunner guts the chips and places the knife back on the console.

“Keep it,” you say. “I just found it tonight.”

The beast turns to you and smiles, his face distant. “You’re a real one, man.” He sticks his hand out, and you hesitate before taking it in a quick clap. In three quick handfuls, he shovels the dried potato in his mouth and stuffs the bag in the cupholder before grabbing the stick.

“Whew we ‘eaded?” his voice is muffled by the chips.

“Blii-issss,” the two people next to you cheer.

“And could you drop me off on Drew?” you add.

He swallows. “Driss and Blew. Got it.”

The Bliss-goers giggle, and the girlfriend is unresponsive, lost in her phone. Gunner whips the wheel to the left, then the car jerks backwards, and a crunching sound silences every voice in the car.

“Fuck,” Gunner says.

You immediately open the door and jump to the sidewalk. The right corner of the truck splits a sedan’s front bumper in two, with one wheel on the curb. The truck jumps forward, and it teeters on its axles. One of the headlights on the sedan is cracked, and the hood looks like it collided with a pole.

You scratch your head, feeling a strange sense of relief, then you look back to the house, where faces crowd the window and people have begun to file out onto the porch. They sip their drinks and enjoy the spectacle.

In the window, you see Kaya’s face through the blinds, and for a moment, you imagine kissing her, but you cannot feel it. She is a cardboard cutout in your imagination, and you wonder if she is really looking at you in the window. When you stare a little too long, her image leaves the glass.

You stuff your hands in your pockets, then you head North, towards Drew Street. After two blocks, you check the time and your phone, and after shivering and rubbing your biceps, you begin to jog. The street names flash by. Gale. University. Canyon. Fiesta. Drew. Your skin chokes on the cold, but your insides overheat. Your breath tastes like metal, and the air stings your nose. In the final two blocks, you walk, allowing your lungs to ease, then you stare at Molly’s house. It is one story. Yellow. There is a dirt patch on the lawn where pedestrians shortcut the sidewalk.

You think about knocking, but your hands remain glued at your sides. The cold finally reaches your insides; your breath grows steady. You raise your right fist to knock more than once. Or maybe you only think about it. Eventually, the door opens.