A Little Bit of Everything Lost by Stephanie Elliot Page B

to Marnie all night. Marnie liked her instantly, mostly because she hadn’t given Marnie the evil-eye like other girls had, and also because she wasn’t sporting sorority gear.
    “Oh yeah I did. I came home that Thanksgiving and my dad was like, ‘What happened to you?’ I didn’t speak to him the whole time I was home!” Marnie said.
    Joe squeezed her elbow. “You girls want another beer?” The other guys at the table started talking football, and Gena and Marnie both handed Joe their cups. Gena lit up a cigarette, one of those slim Capris, and asked Marnie if she wanted one.
    “No thanks,” Marnie replied.
    Joe rose from his chair, kissed Marnie on the cheek, “B e right back.” Marnie turned back to Gena, who was sharing tales of love and woe, slurring her words, but Marnie didn’t mind; her words were coming out mish-mashy too.
    Joe came back with their beers but didn’t sit back down. Instead, he placed his hand on Marnie’s back. “Do you mind if I go back inside? I just ran into another buddy.”
    “Sure, go ahead. I’m fine,” Marnie said.
    Dave, the guy who referred to Marnie as one of Joe’s ‘babes,’ said, “I’ll take care of her for ya!”
    “Sure he will,” another guy joked. Marnie was enjoying the attention. She thought it might be okay for Joe to feel a little jealous, like she felt when they first arrived. It would maybe bring him back to the table sooner. Marnie drank more as she listened to Dave, the other guy, and Gena talk about some party they were at the weekend before where the cops showed up. The beers were getting to her; she wished there was something to eat; and the music, now Violent Femmes, soaked into her tingly skin. There were only so many times Marnie could listen to the words “Why can’t I get, just one screw” and not want to go home and do exactly that with the person who she most wanted to do it with.
    Marnie could see Joe in the bright kitchen from where she sat. He was animated, his hands flying above his head as he told a story, explained a joke maybe. Those around him laughed. She loved looking at him like this, watching him with his friends, making them laugh. She was happy he invited her, that he wanted her to meet his friends. She imagined he was telling his friends about her, about how he was falling madly into crazy-sexy love with her, and how they wouldn’t be staying long because he needed to take her home and do something crazy-sexy to her. She continued to watch him from the corner of her eye, and laughed when others at the table laughed.
    Someone suggested they play “Thumper.” She remembered this drinking game from high school, and it had seemed so fun then, doing crazy hand motions, trying to get others to mess up, but now, it just seemed stupid. Still, she played, all the while wishing Joe would come take her from this; take her home for some sexy-crazy.
    They started a round of “Have You Ever,” the same game that had led Joe and Marnie into that bedroom the first night. Joe was still inside – Marnie could see him – and she thought she saw the purple bong being passed around the kitchen table, but couldn’t be sure.
    A few others joined them outside, eager to find out what everyone had been up to over the summer. One of the girls, who Marnie was certain had sneered at her earlier, sat down with a brawny football guy. The new girl called football boy Big Oaf, and plunked herself right onto his lap. She drank, not crappy keg beer, but her own six-pack of imported bottles. She drank like a professional, had perfectly plucked eyebrows, naturally blond curly hair, and eyelids that were lined like a movie star. And she would not stop staring at Marnie.
    “Don’t you work at The Bean?” Import Bottle Girl finally asked.
    “Yeah. I do,” Marnie answered.
    “Yeah. I thought so. Their coffee sucks,” Import Bottle Girl said.
    “Sorry you feel that way,” Marnie shot back. Gena tapped Marnie on the knee, a gesture that said for