Melt by Selene Castrovilla

waters, at the boats roped at their docks, bobbing faintly with the current. Up, down, up, down. They made me feel lonely, and I wished I could just go home.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œYou okay?” A male voice behind me asked.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I turned around, faced him—a boy in a black T-shirt and jeans. He had a lanky build and sand-brown hair. “Where’s Joey? You’re … with him, aren’t you?” he asked.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I nodded. “He’s in there somewhere,” I said, motioning to the burgeoning crowd.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œI’m Brian,” he said. “You’re Dorothy, right?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I nodded again. His breath was hard to take. Vodka, I’d guess. I knew what most alcohol smelled like on people, from my parents’ parties.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œSo, you named after Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz ?” Brian asked. His words wobbled.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œNo.” I’d answered the question about a dozen times that evening, and I was too tired to elaborate.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œOh,” he said. There was a pause as he tried to think of what to say next. Inebriation runs contrary to intelligent conversation.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I leaned back against the railing, sighed. Brian found something to say, but I wasn’t listening. I stared at the moon in the distance above him, round and shimmering, beaming lines of light into the tide. Looking to the side of Brian, who slurred on, I watched a lone duck float through a moonbeam.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œWhat the hell you doin’, man?” Joey’s angry voice yanked me back to the bridge. Joey was leaning into Brian, poking his finger into his chest.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œNothing,” Brian said, moving backward. Joey moved with him, practically on him. “I wasn’t doin’ nothing, I swear.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œI seen you over here, talking to Doll.” Joey’s voice was even more sloshed than Brian’s, and he reeked of that horrendous Bacardi 151.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œWho’s Doll?” Brian asked.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œDon’t act like you don’t know who I mean.” Joey gave Brian a shove. “Dorothy. She’s with me .”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œJoey, stop,” I said. I couldn’t fathom these caveman antics. “He was talking to me. So what?” I grabbed at his arm. He shrugged me off, bunched up the front of Brian’s shirt into his fists. Brian had backed up as far as he could. The steel railing pressed into his lower back from behind, while from the front Joey pressed his weight into him.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œShit, man,” Brian sputtered. “I’m sorry, all right?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œNo, it ain’t all right,” Joey barked at him. “It sure as shit ain’t all right.” Despite those angry words, he let go of Brian’s shirt. I thought he was done, that he’d come to his senses. Instead, he clasped into Brian’s neck, hanging Brian halfway over the railing and throttling him.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œOh my god! Stop, Joey,” I screamed. “You’re killing him!” Brian was bright red, gurgling and convulsing. The whole crowd semi-circled around us, watching, but no one did anything to help. “Joey, look at me. I’m begging you ….” He ignored me, continued to choke Brian, who flailed helplessly. “ Joey, look at me .”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â He did it then.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â He let his fingers slip looser, turned my way. His eyes were glossy, wild with rage. I didn’t know this Joey.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œLet go of him,” I said quietly. “Please.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â He looked back at Brian then, with surprise, like he didn’t know how