at me. "Lake Loraine."
***
"Lake Loraine," The words get caught in my throat.
"Do you have a problem with that?" Lil asks.
I can only gape at her. During the day, Lake Loraine is a huge reservoir on the outskirts of Minster. But at night, it becomes a breeding ground for bad decisions. I've heard stories of huge bonfires with psychedelic hippy drugs and sex tents where people trade partners. A boy from the next town over drowned in the reservoir four years ago. It was rumored that he was at one of those parties, but no one would come forward and say it was true.
Worried Lil might say something else about my virgin stink or tight thighs or lack of penis knowledge, I shake my head.
The sky is velvet black with clouds blocking any light from the moon. The perfect night for an illegal party with a bunch of random people in the back woods.
We pull up to the remote side of the reservoir and drive down a barely-there path covered with overgrown grass. The car bumps and shakes, making my stomach even more upset. My parents would kill me if they knew I was here, like, murder in the first degree. Drinking vodka at Sarah's is nothing compared to partying at Lake Loraine. My parents would probably have me automatically tested for an STD if they knew I even touched a cup of beer.
"How did you hear about this?" I ask as Lil parks the car.
"You need to open your ears more. You'd start hearing a lot of things."
I get out of the car without asking another question.
"Follow me," Lil says. I take a breath and straighten out my jeans. I'm a Hart , I remind myself. My amazing social skills allow me to adjust to any situation. Be a leader, Marty , my dad's voice rings in my ears. No one follows a follower .
But how can I be a leader when I've never seen a mushroom or smoked pot? And I have no choice but to follow Lil. At Lake Loraine, I'm blind.
We walk for what feels like a mile in silence. I trip over branches and jump every few feet, terrified that some crazed, hallucinating person is going to jump screaming out of the trees. In my head, I start to sing songs from West Side Story to keep myself calm.
I should have stayed home. I should have curled up in my comfortable pink fleece pajamas with my no-name rabbit and watched Tony and Maria fall in love.
But then what if Tony didn't meet Riff that night of the dance? What if he decided to stay home and watch Leave it to Beaver on TV, or whatever people watched in the 50's? He never would have seen Maria. He never would have fallen in love with her.
And then I hear it. Music. Real music, not the songs in my head. Smooth melodic tones with a heavy bass beat waft through the air; they get louder the closer we walk. I actually like what's being played, and it calms my jitters. It sounds like sunshine bouncing around the black forest.
"Who is this?" I ask.
Lil doesn't miss a beat. "Bob Marley."
I picture his poster on the wall at Vinyl Tap. His dreadlocks and smoked-out eyes. A pothead , my mom would say. But the music is peaceful and fresh. Way clearer than the man in the picture.
"I like it," I say, and bob my head to the beat.
Lil rolls her eyes. "Can you try not to be so green? It's Bob Marley, not an orgasm."
I stop and cross my arms over my chest. "You're the one who invited me in the first place. If you don't like the fact that I've never seen a penis or whatever, I'll just go home." I pretend to turn on my heel, hoping Lil stops me. I don't really want to walk away from the party and Bob Marley and Matt, but Lil needs to lay off.
"Fine, I'm sorry." She groans, and then smiles. "I knew it."
"What's the big deal if I've never seen a guy's thing ?"
"Do you want to see Matt's?"
"I..." I pause. In a way, I do, and in a way, I'm scared to my bone-rattling core. "I don't know yet."
Lil turns without saying anything. We walk into a clearing in the woods and finally find the party. People are everywhere, chatting and dancing and smoking substances I've only read about in
***
"Lake Loraine," The words get caught in my throat.
"Do you have a problem with that?" Lil asks.
I can only gape at her. During the day, Lake Loraine is a huge reservoir on the outskirts of Minster. But at night, it becomes a breeding ground for bad decisions. I've heard stories of huge bonfires with psychedelic hippy drugs and sex tents where people trade partners. A boy from the next town over drowned in the reservoir four years ago. It was rumored that he was at one of those parties, but no one would come forward and say it was true.
Worried Lil might say something else about my virgin stink or tight thighs or lack of penis knowledge, I shake my head.
The sky is velvet black with clouds blocking any light from the moon. The perfect night for an illegal party with a bunch of random people in the back woods.
We pull up to the remote side of the reservoir and drive down a barely-there path covered with overgrown grass. The car bumps and shakes, making my stomach even more upset. My parents would kill me if they knew I was here, like, murder in the first degree. Drinking vodka at Sarah's is nothing compared to partying at Lake Loraine. My parents would probably have me automatically tested for an STD if they knew I even touched a cup of beer.
"How did you hear about this?" I ask as Lil parks the car.
"You need to open your ears more. You'd start hearing a lot of things."
I get out of the car without asking another question.
"Follow me," Lil says. I take a breath and straighten out my jeans. I'm a Hart , I remind myself. My amazing social skills allow me to adjust to any situation. Be a leader, Marty , my dad's voice rings in my ears. No one follows a follower .
But how can I be a leader when I've never seen a mushroom or smoked pot? And I have no choice but to follow Lil. At Lake Loraine, I'm blind.
We walk for what feels like a mile in silence. I trip over branches and jump every few feet, terrified that some crazed, hallucinating person is going to jump screaming out of the trees. In my head, I start to sing songs from West Side Story to keep myself calm.
I should have stayed home. I should have curled up in my comfortable pink fleece pajamas with my no-name rabbit and watched Tony and Maria fall in love.
But then what if Tony didn't meet Riff that night of the dance? What if he decided to stay home and watch Leave it to Beaver on TV, or whatever people watched in the 50's? He never would have seen Maria. He never would have fallen in love with her.
And then I hear it. Music. Real music, not the songs in my head. Smooth melodic tones with a heavy bass beat waft through the air; they get louder the closer we walk. I actually like what's being played, and it calms my jitters. It sounds like sunshine bouncing around the black forest.
"Who is this?" I ask.
Lil doesn't miss a beat. "Bob Marley."
I picture his poster on the wall at Vinyl Tap. His dreadlocks and smoked-out eyes. A pothead , my mom would say. But the music is peaceful and fresh. Way clearer than the man in the picture.
"I like it," I say, and bob my head to the beat.
Lil rolls her eyes. "Can you try not to be so green? It's Bob Marley, not an orgasm."
I stop and cross my arms over my chest. "You're the one who invited me in the first place. If you don't like the fact that I've never seen a penis or whatever, I'll just go home." I pretend to turn on my heel, hoping Lil stops me. I don't really want to walk away from the party and Bob Marley and Matt, but Lil needs to lay off.
"Fine, I'm sorry." She groans, and then smiles. "I knew it."
"What's the big deal if I've never seen a guy's thing ?"
"Do you want to see Matt's?"
"I..." I pause. In a way, I do, and in a way, I'm scared to my bone-rattling core. "I don't know yet."
Lil turns without saying anything. We walk into a clearing in the woods and finally find the party. People are everywhere, chatting and dancing and smoking substances I've only read about in
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