Cola Crotch
Win the district art contest. Get a scholarship to art school. And be bold. Because there’s no way Toby Chan will kiss me if I keep hiding in the shadows. Junior year is going to rock!
I’ve been practicing this pep talk all summer long. Now, as Zel texts me to hurry up for literally the eighteenth time, I take one last look in the mirror. I hope it all comes true.
“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” I yell at the laboratory door that used to be a beautiful enclosed porch in our house. I don’t wait for a reply because I highly doubt they know what day it is, let alone care that I’m going to a party at the Bluffs with Zel. Like most parents in Inman, they know nothing about the Bluffs, nor do they know that all the biggest and best bashes are held there. And lately, Mom and Dad have been hunkered down in their lab much more than usual. I swear I heard a party in there yesterday, a mixture of unfamiliar voices and footsteps. But I haven’t actually seen them to ask about it. So, off I go.
I slip my phone into my dress pocket and scratch Pablo, our gigantic orange-striped tomcat, under the chin before running outside.
Zel sits, tapping her fingers on her steering wheel in an overly dramatic fashion. She pushes her thick espresso-colored ponytail over her shoulder as she leans across the cracked vinyl seat.
“The AC’s broken again,” she announces before starting the engine. I slide into the passenger seat and regret wearing my gray t-shirt dress. It’s impossible to hide the pit stains that will surely blossom. I should have dressed like Zel.
Her full name is Rapunzel, but she’s refused to acknowledge it as long as I’ve known her. That was when I moved in next door to her in sixth grade. Her aversion to princesses and her mom’s obsession with them has grown exponentially over the years. As we celebrate the last day of summer vacation, I bite back a flicker of jealousy at her wardrobe choice. Short jean shorts and a Captain America tank top. It accentuates her boobs that warp the red, white, and blue shield printed across them.
“Kaysee, did you see Tagg’s new TikTok?”
“No,” I reply. Social media is the worst. I hate it. I still use it, but I hate it.
“Why am I not surprised?” Zel tosses her phone in my lap. “Look who’s behind Tagg, by the cooler.”
I tap in Zel’s passcode and the screen comes to life. On it is a short video from the Bluffs with Tagg and his other football goons flexing their muscles for the camera and making faces that are supposed to look tough but really it looks like they’re taking a group dump. “#BullsRULZ #FridayNightLights #IHSfootball4evr” reads the caption. Behind them, a streak of sapphire blue winds through the various greens of different tree leaves as the river by the Bluffs ambles north.
Sliding my fingers over the screen and enlarging the group of people standing behind the possibly defecating meatheads, my heart flutters. There he is, his dark hair drooping into his eyes giving off a sexy nerd vibe. Toby Chan. My heart jumps with joy as my eyes digest every pixel of him.
Zel slaps my shoulder. “Told you he’d be back. Now give me my phone.”
I plug in the aux cord, hit play on Zel’s playlist, and drop her phone into the cup holder. Rolling down my window as far as it’ll go the hot, end-of-summer wind blows my hair in a way that should make me feel free. Really it makes me wonder why I spent so much time curling it and making it look cute when I knew I’d be riding in Zel’s beat-up car with no AC. At least she has a car. And a driver’s license. I hold my hair back with one hand to keep it from being blown in a wild tornado as I turn up the volume.
This is when I feel free. When we sing at the tops of our lungs to the newest stupid love song, all done ironically of course. The wind whips around us distorting our voices as houses in various earth-tone shades zip by. And soon Zel’s car is bouncing across the makeshift road toward the Bluffs.
“I hate this car!” Zel screams as we hit a big rock and bounce so hard we almost smack our heads on the ceiling. “I swear I’ll save up enough money this year and buy a new one.” Zel works at the last remnant of a small town in our corner of suburbia, Burgers & Burritos. Her parents own the restaurant and run it with her grandma, whom everyone lovingly calls Abuelita. She makes milkshakes and takes orders for minimum wage at one of the most popular restaurants in town. Everyone in her family works at Burgers & Burritos in some way. Even though they closed the dining area during the last virus scare, she’s had to take on more shifts this summer because her brother left for college.
“It looks like everyone’s here,” I say as Zel maneuvers her car into a tight place between two giant trucks. The Bluffs and the flat flood plain at their base are speckled with people in bright-colored clothes holding drinks in brightly colored cans.
“Well, duh,” Zel unbuckles and slips out of the car. “Yeah, everyone’s here. After the school shut down in April and prom was canceled, this is the biggest social event in months.” Zel flips her ponytail dramatically and poses. One summer of drama camp two years ago, and she thinks she’s the next Zendaya. “Plus, everyone wants to mingle and find out who’s in daylight school and who’s in twilight school.”
“Daylight and twilight,” I scoff. “What uninspired names. Couldn’t they just make it simple like day school and afternoon school?”
Zel shrugs. “Someone told me they chose the names because the superintendent is a huge fan of the Twilight books and thought it would help her connect with the student population.”
“Vampires?” I full-on laugh at this as I adjust my dress. “Might as well write about teenage angst in Atlantis. No one believes in all that mythical, gothic nonsense anyway.”
Following Zel, I trudge through the rutted mud toward the party at the base of the large rocky bluff. Around us, other socially deprived teens are throwing a football or running past and yelling greetings to Zel. People don’t really notice me. This year I want to change that. I don’t want to be just Zel’s friend, the girl in the shadows. Standing taller I pull my tangled hair into a quick messy bun using the hair tie always on my wrist. This year is going to be different. It’s going to be great.
This party on the other hand is terrible. It’s just jocks peacocking for all the girls who wore clothes so tight and small that they look like trampy sausages.
“Drinks,” Zel commands, taking my arm and steering me toward “Dwayne Johnson.” I wish it was the real guy, all muscled and drop-dead handsome. Instead, it’s just a flat rock where everyone sets the coolers.
Zel shoves a cold can in my hand. I don’t even look at it. My eyes are drawn to Toby. He’s leaning against a tree, his foot casually resting against the trunk. When he laughs, his smile calls to me, just like it did in seventh grade when I helped him with an art project. I lift the can to my lips before I realize I haven’t opened it. I laugh to hide my mistake, but no one’s watching.
Next to me, Zel giggles with Tabitha, another junior girl who’s always a total jerk to me. It’s easy to leave them behind. I wish Zel would give up on trying to be popular. She’s obsessed. When her brother, Heisman, was around he was popular because he passed out free burritos from the restaurant to all his friends, and he had a lot of friends. He only stopped because Abuelita caught him and chased him through the restaurant waving a wooden spoon and cursing him in Spanish. With him gone, Zel has made it her mission to achieve the same level of popularity.
Yeah, it stings to have her flat-out ignore me like I’m a ghost. But it’s not the first time she’s done it, and it probably won’t be the last. I shake my head, my messy bun flopping, and shake off Zel’s drama because I’m not here for her. I have other plans.
I stumble on a stick, nearly dropping the unopened Coke can as I zero in on Toby Chan, hot nerd of my dreams. “Helpless” from Hamilton starts playing on repeat in my mind.
Toby is talking it up with a few other guys from the robotics team. They all wear the typical teen boy outfit of shorts and an ironic t-shirt. Toby is classier, wearing his signature polo shirt in my favorite color, forest green.
The robotics guys all laugh, holding beers. They look awkward as hell. So does Zel. She carries around a giant can of White Claw, but never drinks it. She knows her mom would kill her. These guys grip the cans as though dropping them would set off an explosion.
I sidle up next to one of the nerds, joining the circle. Nodding my head, I smile and try to catch Toby’s eye. I have no idea what they’re talking about, but when the short pimply guy says, “Conductor? I don’t even know her!” I join in laughing. It always feels awkward weaseling my way into conversations.
“Ow, damn it!” I yelp and swat at the mosquito that just started feasting on my arm. Toby and the robotics team stop and stare. Trying to smile cutely, I flip my messy bun making it messier. “Mosquitos. Hungry little blood suckers, they love biting me.” I don’t mean that to come off dripping with sexual angst. But that’s what happens I’m guessing because the robotics guys all turn red and shuffle away. It’s just Toby and me, swatting at more mosquitos. Now, who’s awkward as hell?
“Hey, you wanna take a walk? I think there’s less bugs by the rocks, away from the river,” I suggest trying desperately to hide my, well, my desperation.
“Did you know that it’s only the female mosquitos that bite?” Toby asks as he steps away from the tree. The Jones River rolls peacefully behind us as we cruise toward an outcropping of rocks. When there’s heavy rain and the river rises, the whole area is underwater. My rainbow-flecked Vans stick in the mud as I follow.
“That’s really cool,” I say sounding like an idiot. A drift of his scent reaches my nose, and holy frijoles, he smells amazing. The clean soap and some exotic spice I can’t place infect my brain and add a new level to my intoxication.
“Yeah,” Toby says with a glance and a sip of Red Bull.
“Hey, you don’t drink either?” I say holding up my Coke. “My parents are food scientists and tell me about all the chemicals in here. All I know is that they taste amazing.” I smile and bat my eyelashes trying to draw his attention to my green eyes, my best physical quality.
“My mom won’t let me drink. She says it’ll kill my brain cells and I need them all to get into an Ivy League school like she did.” There is a bitter ring in his tone. And I love it! He’s not a mama’s boy like everyone says. Toby Chan has a rebel flair that is emphasized by the way he flips his charcoal-colored hair out of his eyes. “Kaysee, let’s sit up there. You can tell me about what you did while school was out.”
Clumsily, I climb up the rock after Toby, grateful I wore leggings under my dress. No one needs to see my pink unicorn panties. Because with this crowd, someone would snap a picture and post it on Snapchat or TikTok. There would be a buttload of hate-filled comments so terrible that I’d have to move and change my name. As I attempt to sit next to Toby, I slip and land hard, smacking my Coke on the rock. “Good thing it wasn’t opened,” I laugh trying to hide my perpetual embarrassment.
Toby smirks, which highlights how beautifully his thick, black eyelashes frame his mocha-colored eyes. I can’t tell if he’s fascinated with me or amused like I am when I watch cute kitten videos. Oh, please let it be the cute kitten thing. I return the smile and bite my lip. And then there’s this awkward pause.
He doesn’t say anything. I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. Panic rises. Then I remember something Zel said from her acting class. How when you’re nervous onstage you should do something with your hands. So, I finally pop the top of my Coke.
High fructose corn syrup-laden cola deliciousness explodes over us! The sound of the bursting carbonation and our yelps makes everyone stop and turn. Toby jumps up and wipes at his shorts where most of the soda has splashed. He’s taken a direct hit to the crotch. And everyone is in first grade again, laughing and pointing at Toby yelling that he peed his pants.
“I’m so sorry!” I jump up, shaking beads of soda out of my hair. With the hem of my dress, I frantically dab at Toby’s pants. I want to do anything to make this better. To fix it. Oh my god! I am ruining everything!
“Whoa, Kaysee!” Toby stumbles back. Laughter grows below, and a few cameras flash like lighting over us. His cheeks red and his hands over his crotch, Toby stares at me wide-eyed.
“This was all an accident. I didn’t realize. I must’ve shaken the soda when I tripped.”
“Look,” Toby holds up a hand, fending me off the way Chris Pratt did a pack of dinosaurs. “I’m just gonna—I’m gonna go. Somewhere. Not here.”
As he scampers down the rock racing for his robot team buddies, I gape. It’s only the first day of the new me, the one who doesn’t hide but puts herself out there, and I’ve totally botched it.
“Smooth move, Wax Lips.” Jason, the most annoying football jerk I know, slides down next to me from one of the higher rocks. Pebbles and dirt follow in his wake. He doesn’t notice, but I step away trying to keep the tiny rocks from falling in my shoes.
“Go away,” I say bending over to pick up the soda can. Dirt and a leaf stick to the side. I dump the rest of the soda over the edge of the rock.
“No really, quite entertaining.” Jason chuckles. He folds his arms over his broad, well-formed chest. It’s covered in a crimson and gold Inman Bulls shirt. Like the other jocks, the Inman colors nor the layers of muscles he’s perfected can disguise his dark soul. “I especially like the part where you tried to clean him up. You don’t seem like the kind of girl to go straight for a guy’s junk.”
I turn on Jason hoping that he sees the hatred in my eyes. It’s been building for years. “Go. Away.”
“Oh, come on, Kaysee. You have to admit it was pretty funny.” He’s taunting me with his dark eyes. I stare him down, hands on my hips. What I really want to do is run and jump in the river and ride it to some place far from here. But I’m not that person anymore. I am Kaysee who doesn’t run away and Kaysee who doesn’t hide in the shadows. I am bold.
“Piss off, Jason.” I climb down the rock in search of Zel. As I pass clusters of people they point and laugh. One guy offers me a high five like I’d planned on soaking the boy of my dreams in Coke before unintentionally molesting him with my dress.
“Zel, can we go?” She’s standing with a group of popular girls. They all look the same except in different shades of clothes and makeup. Basically, they each look like a makeup tutorial video, totally fake. And it annoys the shit out of me, the extreme level of their fakeness that Zel can never seem to see. I sigh waiting for her eyes to take in the splatters of Coke covering my dress.
“I’m not ready yet,” she says flashing a grin before turning back to the girls who sneer at me.
I huff and roll my eyes as I trudge back to Zel’s car. I really wish she wasn’t being such a Zel right now. Her car’s unlocked, so I slip in, grateful we left all the windows down. Sounds of laughter and yelling as everyone gets drunker fill the air. I grab Zel’s earbuds, pop them in, and pull up Olivia Rodrigo’s album on my phone. With the sun setting across the field and beyond the river, the light changes and breaks into fiery orange. There’s a tall tree that’s silhouetted perfectly against the streaking clouds. The beauty of it begs to be captured. Peeling my sweaty, sticky self out of Zel’s car, I follow the sunset.
Hiking across the field, Olivia Rodrigo’s angsty voice bounces against my ear drums. The mixture of shadow and light makes me wish I had my real camera, but my phone will have to do. The light's too perfect not to capture. The party at the Bluffs rages behind me as I pick my way through the mud that smells like rotting leaves, so gross it makes my stomach flip. Getting closer, I see a beam of sunlight coming perfectly through a break in the leaves. When I crouch down and angle my phone just right, I capture it.
I wish life was as easy as taking pictures. Just position yourself in the right way and everything is beautiful. But it’s not. Life is full of changes and disappointments, ones you can’t crop out. And sometimes just when you’re in the right place for the perfect picture, a soda can explodes and destroys everything.
I snap a few more shots highlighting the tree in the foreground, then focus on the streaks of sherbet-colored clouds drifting past. When the light has disappeared from the field, I turn back toward the party and the tiki torches and camping lanterns scattered across the bluffs.
“Oh, shit!” I yell and jump as something pulls on my arm. I rip out the earbuds. Olivia’s vocals are replaced by a laugh I know all too well. “Jason, I said to leave me alone.”
“Quit being so jumpy. I just wanted to check on you.” His silhouetted shoulders shrug.
“Why do you care?” I push past him, trying not to lose a shoe in the sticky mud as I head back to Zel’s car.
“Kaysee, really,” Jason is at my side in a few long strides. He moves with a slight limp left over from when his knee got destroyed in a football game last year. “I know you like Toby.”
“You don’t know anything,” I spit, scratching at the blossoming cluster of mosquito bites on my arm.
“You are the world’s worst liar. You were staring at him in biology all last year. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t be chasing that guy. Find someone who likes you for who you are.” I’m instantly mortified and keep walking grateful that he can’t see the flush rising to my cheeks.
“Thanks, for the Ted Talk! Now, leave me alone. Go back and party with your jock buddies.”
“Those guys are idiots,” Jason says with a hint of cynicism.
I stop. “Look. Whatever’s happening between you and your steroid-fueled bromance crew, I don’t care. Stay out of my life and leave me alone.”
“Whatever, Wax Lips,” Jason throws the old insult at me. It doesn’t make sense. It never did. Something about the lip balm I wore in sixth grade. He started calling me “Wax Lips” and laughing every time. It was just the beginning of his reign of terror teasing me every chance he got.
But I’m not in the mood to waste my time on him. After managing to get back to Zel’s car without losing a shoe or falling in the mud, I recline the seat back and start scrolling through TikTok. Zel finally shows up just in time to get home for her 10:30 curfew. As she drives, she blathers on about all the popular girls and what they did this summer and a bunch of stuff I couldn’t care less about. We became friends out of convenience. She lives next door. She was with me through those awkward and horrible years of middle school and hasn’t left. Don’t get me wrong, she’s great and lots of fun when she’s not focused on her social status. But tonight, that’s all she can talk about. Thank god the drive home is short.
***
I can’t sleep. My mind won’t stop replaying my encounter with Toby. I refuse to go online because I’m sure there’ll be at least a dozen pictures or videos of us that have long lists of stupid comments.
I thought tonight was going to be the night. That I was going to finally kiss him. It’s been so long since school closed. These health shutdowns are always a pain. I didn’t mind having to do school from home. It was quiet, but this one lasted too long. Now, we’re finally going back to school in the morning in full masking mode. I’m sure that everyone will follow the rules just as well as they do the ones about not drinking at football games and not making out in the performing arts center.
Downstairs I hear someone, probably my mom and dad. They usually stay up late working on experiments. Having to work from home isn’t a problem for them. They have the lab. They work crazy hours anyway.
Deciding I need a glass of water, I head downstairs for the kitchen. The house is pretty peaceful, but the noises in the kitchen don’t exactly sound like my parents. When I hear a cabinet door slam, the ultimate sin in our house, I know something’s not right. Standing in the middle of the stairs I have two choices. Just check it out, maybe it’s Pablo. Or run for my phone in my room and call the police, which could possibly lead to another embarrassing moment when it’s really just the cat.
As I ponder my choices, Pablo runs past me, up the stairs, and into my room. That’s not a good sign. I slink down the stairs, moving stealthily across the carpet, and leap for the coat rack. After years of living in St. Louis, we still keep a baseball bat near the front door. I tighten my fingers around it as I peer around the corner.
Oh my god! There’s someone in the kitchen, and it’s definitely not my mom or dad. Standing in front of the open fridge, the light silhouetting him, is a skinny guy scanning the contents. He looks like one of the freshman boys with long, gangly arms and legs.
The skinny guy turns and sees me. I watch in fear as the realization reaches his eyes. I lift the bat higher, right at the level of his skull. His eyes widen in panic as he sneers, sharp teeth glinting in the light from the fridge. He runs at me so fast I don’t have time to do anything but scream. I can’t even swing the bat before he’s on top of me and my shoulder’s burning like I’ve been bitten by a shark.
“Doug! No!” Mom screams as the lights snap on assaulting the darkness and my eyes.
That’s when I get a close look at the skinny boy. But he’s not a boy. He’s something very different. His gray eyes gleam with inhumanity. And sharp teeth drip blood down his chin as he hisses over me.
