Tonight We'll Be Throwing a Party

Hearing the words “We’re moving” should be life-shattering for a girl of sixteen. I should be crying and hugging my best friends. I should be giving one last kiss to my hot boyfriend. I should be dramatically waving goodbye as my car peels away from our driveway and disappears out of sight. Instead, those words were familiar and deafening.

“We’re moving,” my dad bellowed, slamming the door as he goes to pack up.

Ah yes, moving time again. As you have probably suspected, moving in the Fitzgerald household is routine. We rarely stay in one place for more than a few months, courtesy of my deadbeat alcoholic father finding trouble wherever we end up. If it weren’t for my mom and little sister, I would have stolen the car and ran away ages ago. Yet I stay, somehow holding on to the notion I can get us out somehow.

“Great idea, dear,” my mom replied to his command, her hands shaking from the shock of his rage.

I hugged my sister Addison, clutching her as we faced another round of swears from our father, barking at us to get ready. At the age of seven she’s already endured a lifetime of pain. I gave him a grimace, and quietly return with Addie to our room to gather all my things. Well, what little things I have. All my clothes and belongings fit into one medium sized trunk. Not that we didn’t have the money for more, it’s just hard keeping up with a lot when you don’t know when you’ll be leaving.

In an hour, we were gone. We deserted our home in northern Idaho, loading everything up in our rusty pickup and heading out without a word. No one asked. No one ever asks where we’re going or if we’ll be back. It seems as when we had stopped caring, others had stopped caring too.

That’s how I ended up in the bland city of Belleville, New Jersey. It was your typical small town, much nicer than our previous place. I liked the scenery and bookstore. I figured I could survive a few months here pretty nicely.

“Knock, knock,” my mother’s sing-song voice sailed through my halfway open door.

“Come in,” I called, placing the last of my folded clothes into the dusty dresser at the corner of my bedroom. If you could even call it that. We leased an ancient apartment, furnished with pieces from the ghost of centuries past.

“How’s it going?” she said in her quiet tone, sitting down on my squeaky bed.

“Alright,” I replied, moving on to hang up my Led Zeppelin poster next to the window. “How is Addie doing?”

“She’s adjusting,” my mom sighed, trying unsuccessfully to grab my full attention.

“You know,” she said after a while. “They’re having this orientation down at the high school for new students, I think it’d be good for you, ”

“I’d rather not,” I told her, pushing the last pin in the wall. I turned around, looking her in the face. Her eyes sunk. Her hair was a mess. She was the portrait of a woman who tried so hard to fix our family’s brokenness but failed on account of her own shattered pieces. I caved into it.

“Fine,” I said quietly, sitting next to her. “When does it start?”

“In an hour,” she replied, standing to leave. “Bye, dear.”

I groaned as she walks out. I hate it when she uses her sad magic on me. Nevertheless, I change into a decent t-shirt and jeans, attempting to comb my unruly curly hair but end up letting it do what it wants.

“Cara!” I hear my mom call at the end of the hour.

“Coming!” I yelled, stomping down our musty staircase.

A few minutes later, I end up dropped off at Clairemont High School, the poster child of all boring institutions across America. I took one look at its dull gray exterior and fading letters and decided I’ll be spending as little time possible in this place.

“Hi!” I am greeted by a spiky-haired large kid out of nowhere as I come up the school’s steps.

I jumped at this sudden attack, widening my large blue eyes even larger.

“Hey there,” I replied after a moment of awkward silence.

“I’m Jaime,” the boy said to me, passing me a name tag and Sharpie.

“Cara,” I said as I write the word on the tag and stick to my shirt. “Thanks.”

With that, I turned from him and entered the building.

“Wait!” he called, coming after me. “I’m supposed to show you where to go.”

“I think I’m good,” I said, gesturing at the arrows everywhere pointing to the obvious cafeteria at the end of the hall.

“I’m lost,” a girl called from behind me. “There aren’t enough arrows.”

Jaime laughed.

“Weren’t my idea,” he said. “Put me out of my job.”

I gave a half smile and turned away from the two of them as they kept talking, making my way to the destination. I was greeted by a firm handshake from the principal and told to sit down in the seats that filled the linoleum-floored space. I sat at the very end of an empty row in the back, avoiding all the chatty freshman at the front of the room. I practically hissed when an acne-faced boy tried to scoot up next to me.

“Nice,” I heard the girl from earlier say as she ended up sitting in the seat he fled. She was tall and blonde, wearing flannel and a blue beanie. I almost gave her a hiss as well, but she seemed nice enough.

“I like your hair,” she leaned over to tell me as the principal stood up at the podium to make his welcome speech.

“Thanks,” I replied, turning my attention to the stage.

“I’m Ellie,” she whispered as the crowd hushed.

“Cara,” I said, introducing myself for the second time today. In my opinion, this was two times too many. I’ve made it a rule to not make friends at the towns I end up in. Friends are the easiest way to destroy yourself. I become close with someone for a while, but then my dad fucks up and it’s time for me to go. Ends up hurting me more than anything. So I’ve decided against it at all costs.

The speech droned on, your usual “It’s going to be a great year.” I don’t understand when teachers say that, I’ll have the year I have thank you. Wait, shit. Did I say that out loud? I turned to my left to see Ellie suppressing a laugh. I did. I had an awful habit of turning my personal thoughts into an auditory statements, usually induced from lack of sleep.

“Sorry,” I muttered, making a mental note to go to bed early tonight.

“Don’t be,” she said. “That was the most interesting thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Must not have been too interesting then,” I replied under my breath.

“Nah,” she told me. “Came in from San Diego yesterday. Not much to do around here. You?”

“Just got here today from Idaho,” I replied.

“Really?” she gave me an eyebrow. “What’s it like there?”

“Wouldn’t know,” I said. “Didn’t stay there for long.”

“Ah, I see,” she said. “One of those drifters, eh?”

“Guess so,” I replied curtly. She didn’t continue.

The principal continued on and on, until finally he gave his closing statements, thank goodness.

“So hey,” said Ellie as we both gave the obligatory round of applause at the end of the speech. “You’re by far the coolest person I’ve met at this dump.”

God, if she’s calling me cool that must be a stretch. I’ve barely said anything to her.

“And Jaime up at the front was telling about this party tonight,” she continued, staying seated as the rest of the crowd gets up to leave. “And I figured hey, since we don’t know anybody, we should go and not know anybody together.”

“I don’t think so,” I said tentatively, I didn’t know how my dad would feel about my coming home late on the first day we moved here. Besides, I’m too worried about what he’d do to Addison or mom.

“Please? I’ll give you a ride.”

“I’m not the partying type,” I told her, getting up to go.

“Cara,” she grabbed my arm. “Think about it? I really want to go.” ‘

“Sure, I’ll think about it,” I said as she proceeded to write her number on her name tag and stick it on me.

“Call if you change your mind,” she told me, walking away.

“I won’t be,” I muttered as she left, balling it up and putting it in my pocket.

I found my mom outside waiting with Addie.

“How was it?”she asked, giving a smile.

“Fine,” I told her. No need for details.

“Great to hear it,” she said. She’s become used to my brief answers by now.

I took Addie’s hand as we walked in silence to the car. We took the short ride home and entered the apartment quietly. Thankfully, dad was watching TV in the other room.

“Dinner in a few,” mom said, rushing to the kitchen.

Dad was always very particular about his dinner. He needed it at 6:30 on the dot, or he explodes. Right now, it was almost six and we were pushing it.

“Need help?” I asked my mom, following her.

“I’m fine,” she said, wiping her brow, searching frantically for something to whip up.

I gave her a sympathetic smile and retreated to my room to listen to some David Bowie.

It was 6:32. I heard yelling.

“What is this?” he slurred as I came down the stairs to see the ruckus.

“Gene, dear,” my mom tried to console, but he threw the plate across the floor.

The meal she worked hard to make lay strewn across the dirty carpet.

“Clean this up,” he said, looking me in the eye.

I’ve had enough of this.

“What did you just say?”

Did I do it again?

“Come here,” my father said angrily, boiling with rage.

“No,” I gritted my teeth, feeling for the crumpled paper in my pocket. “I have a party to get to.”

Notes