Main Entry: ex-per-i-ment
Pronunciation: ik-’sper-&-m&nt
Function: intransitive verb
: to carry out experiments : try out a new procedure, idea, or activity
I. Surface Tension
One of the first real milestones in an American youth’s life is becoming a legal driver. It’s the first time the government starts to give you the respect you’re so certain you deserve. There was a time when Ray’s friends were divided among the drivers and non-drivers. Some of them were old enough, but didn’t have a car, so they drove someone else’s. Others had cars, but weren’t old enough to drive them yet. And then there were the poor bastards who were neither old enough nor lucky enough to have a car. Ray was in this position.
As more of Ray’s friends grew closer to that magic age of legal driving, they began showing up in small groups at his house. This was cool by him, since he was always complaining about how bored he was. Before then, his friends practically had to make appointments with one another’s parents. Now a few of them were experiencing the freedom they thought they so desperately needed.
One particular night Ray was sitting at home, playing with a relatively new addition to the home appliances: the computer. They were so new that the only desk he had was one that had been designed for writing letters, not for keyboards, mouse pads, and monitors. The desk was thin and attractive, with mahogany wood and elegant carvings up and down the corners. The chair was equally refined, with more of a focus on appearance rather than comfort. Ray and the computer contrasted greatly with the delicate appearance of the desk. His clothes were loose-fitting and seemed to flow over his arms and legs, while the desk was solid, with frilly carvings along the edges. Ray was rough around the edges, too, but in a different way. He hadn’t showered that day, and a small cowlick stuck triumphantly out the back of his head. Ray didn’t do frilly.
He struggled with the computer, as his great-grandfather would’ve struggled with a model-T Ford. He was trying to connect with people on what was tentatively being called the World Wide Web, which was more of a novelty than anything. As he was piddling on the computer, discovering the joy of chat rooms and the tedium of waiting for files to download, he heard someone pull into his driveway. He left the computer humming and downloading, and went outside to see who it was.
He met his two old friends, Abe and Skinner, on the way out the front door. Abe smiled as soon as he saw Ray.
“Hey there, friend,” said Abe.
“Abey baby,” said Ray, shaking his hand. He turned to Skinner. “What’s up, Skins?”
“Nada mucho,” Skinner replied, slapping Ray’s open palm. “Abe here drug my lazy butt out of the house.”
“You needed it,” said Abe.
“Probably,” he admitted.
Abe was slim, handsome, and olive-skinned with dark brown hair and friendly eyes. He always wore an expensive cross necklace that his mother had willed to him, and he always made sure it was visible. He stood upright and confident, and was willing to put an arm around anyone. Skinner wore tennis shoes and long white socks, always visible because he preferred jean shorts to full-length jeans. He had an endless collection of black t-shirts which usually had strands of his long, scraggly hair clinging to them. Abe was a little taller than Skinner, who was a little taller than Ray. At that age it was hard to tell where everyone would end up, but it was clear Ray would never be as tall as his two best friends.
“Can you believe this sun?” Abe said, walking back into the sunlight. He held his arms out, closed his eyes, and smiled. “Ahh, I love the heat.”
“Not me, man,” Skinner said. “The sun is the devil.”
Abe dropped his arms and smiled oddly, “The devil is the devil, Skinner.” He looked back up. “The sun is awesome!”
Ray joined Abe in the sun. It was the first sunshine they’d seen in a while. It seemed like spring was eager to get started this year, perhaps a little too eager.
“I’m going to miss the snow,” said Ray.
“Yeah, me too,” Abe admitted, “but the summertime is the best time of year.”
“Oh, yeah,” Skinner said. “Skimpy clothing.”
“Good point,” cooed Ray.
“Hey,” Skinner said with a nod that meant to look behind them.
They turned to see a car pulling into the long gravel driveway to Ray’s house. It was a small, cheap car, but it looked practically brand new. No one recognized it. You never knew who would show up to your house with a new ride. As the little gray car came down the driveway, it kicked up a cloud of beige dust. Fortunately, the wind was carrying it away from them. The car stopped next to Abe’s car, surrounded in a haze of dust. After the cloud had cleared a little, the doors opened up and two boys got out.
“Thomas!” said Skinner.
“Carl!” said Ray to the boy getting out of the driver’s side.
Their friends Carl and Thomas joined the three of them at the entrance to Ray’s house. They all greeted one another, slapping palms, shaking hands, and saying mostly senseless phrases that meant something only to the two guys saying it. Though Carl and Ray had known each other for years, they only started hanging out recently because they were in a couple of the same classes. Carl had thick black hair that he kept trimmed but not short, occasionally brushing it aside with his hand. Thomas was a relatively new friend of Ray’s, having only met him earlier that year. Slightly overweight, he kept his hair cut short, almost a military haircut. For some reason he was fond of polo shirts, cargo pants, and brown leather shoes. Ray rarely saw him dressed differently. Thomas seemed like a really cool guy to Ray. The only thing about him that worried Ray was the fact that he and Abe didn’t get along very well.
“Goddamn I love this weather,” said Thomas, which was why he and Abe didn’t get along well.
“Me too,” Abe responded congenially, which was why Ray liked him so much.
As the five of them were standing outside greeting each other, a third car pulled into the driveway. The bright red, brand new Camaro drove slowly once it hit the driveway, kicking up as little dirt as possible. They were still standing there, joking and talking, when their friends Andro and Ethan got out of the car.
Ethan, the owner of the Camaro, was a good-looking rich kid, with money to spare and the will to spend it. He had blonde hair, shaped by a thirty dollar haircut, and wore nothing but whatever brand was the trendiest at the time. Andro was big for his age, with an awkward but athletic frame. He was a starter on the varsity football team and only a sophomore. He had always been friends with Ray, but there was something imposing about him. Andro could easily have been one of life’s bullies, but fortunately he never was to Ray.
“What’s up, ladies?” asked Andro.
“Not much, sugar,” answered Ray.
The seven of them stood around for a moment, doing what they would call bullshitting. Ray noticed how the attention would shift constantly from one boy to another, and how everyone seemed to perform–almost like an actor–when the attention was on them. He waited for a lull in the conversation before he spoke.
“Hey,” Ray said, “let’s go inside.”
The pack of young boys headed toward the house, with Ray taking up the lead. As he held the door open for his friends, he realized that there were now seven boys at his house, including himself.
“Man,” Ray said, “ten minutes ago I was sitting here all by myself, with nothing to do. And you guys show up all at once.”
“I know, man,” said Skinner. “It’s like a party.”
“Oh, damn!” Ethan suddenly said, “I totally forgot.”
“Forgot what?” asked Abe.
“Hey, Ray,” Ethan said, ignoring Abe’s question. “Is your mom still out of town?”
“Yep,” he replied. “She’ll be coming home late tomorrow.” A small cheer erupted from the rest of the group.
“Kick ass,” said Ethan. “Be right back.” Then he walked out the front door.
The rest of them sat or stood around the living room, chatting mostly about the change in the weather, the football game coming up the next Friday, and other things that motivate young males.
“My ol’ man pisses me off.”
“Who wants to play Super Mario World?”
“I do.”
“Dude, no way,” said Andro. “What makes you think she’s a foreign exchange student?”
“Well, she has this weird accent,” replied Thomas.
“Are you talking about Arianna, that really hot chick in Geometry?” asked Skinner.
“That’s the one,” said Thomas.
“She’s hot,” Skinner said, looking to the other guys.
A moment later, Ethan returned carrying his backpack, obviously loaded with something besides books. He walked right by the guys in the living room and went directly to the adjoining kitchen. With a grin and a jerk of his head, he motioned to Ray and Andro. He stood behind the counter and set the duffel bag on it.
“What’s up?” Ray asked.
Ethan smiled, unzipped the bag and then began to pull out bottle after bottle of hard liquor.
“Hey, alright,” said Ray, grabbing the nearest bottle of clear fluid. Smirnoff Vodka.
“Damn, man,” Andro said. “I didn’t know you was carrying that shit with you. We coulda got into trouble.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t,” Ethan said, setting Ray on edge a little. Ethan was the only guy he knew who dared to be short with Andro. Everyone else was too intimidated. “So, Ray,” said Ethan, cracking open a bottle of yellowy brown liquor, “where are your cups?”
“Right over here,” he said, going to the stack of plastic cups his mother always kept stocked.
The excitement in the kitchen couldn’t have gone unnoticed for long. The clank of bottles was like the call of the wild to the adolescent boys. None of them were even close to the legal age, which only heightened their interest. The other four came into the kitchen to see Ethan filling a row of seven shot glasses with a bottle of vodka.
“I’m glad your family collects these things,” Ethan said.
Ray grabbed the nearest bottle and held it up. He said, “I’m glad your family collects these things!” That earned Ray a laugh.
“Okay!” Ethan yelled. “Who wants shots? Everybody? Great. Here you go. Line up and take your shots.” He sounded like a guy in a carnival. “You there,” Ethan said, pointing to Ray, “where the hell is your drink, young man?” He picked up a shot and set it in front of Ray, spilling a little onto the pristine counter. Then he gave the remaining shots to the other boys, and picked the last one up for himself.
The seven of them stood in an almost-circle, holding their shots in front of them. A couple of them made the mistake of taking a whiff of their shot, and would inevitably have to hide the urge to gag.
“Ugh,” Skinner said, “we’re gonna drink this shit?”
“Don’t be a puss,” said Andro.
“I ain’t,” he responded.
“Okay,” Ethan said loudly, “we need to decide what we’re going to toast to.”
“To vodka!” Skinner exclaimed.
“To school!” said Carl, which made everyone laugh.
“How ‘bout the Cowboys?” Andro said.
“Man,” Ethan said, “I don’t even like the fuckin’ Cowboys.”
“Aw, shit,” said Andro. “That’s just wrong.” After a brief pause Andro then yelled, “To pussy!”
“To pussy!” said Ethan, echoed by most of the group.
As they began to take their shots, Ray mumbled, “Like any of you fags can get pussy.”
Everyone started to laugh, but Andro, already in the process of taking his shot, spewed his all over the kitchen floor, misting a couple of the guys.
“Damn!” Ethan said, “Gimme your shot glass. Now I gotta pour you another.” Ray and Carl were the only two who laughed at that. The shot-taking, which had suddenly taken on a ritualistic tenor, was on hold while everyone stood and giggled.
Andro was smiling, but not laughing. Ray was sure he was embarrassed, so he tried to stop laughing as soon as he could manage. Ethan, the best friend apparent to Andro, was the only one who kept laughing and teasing him.
“Damn, dude!” Ethan said, smiling and holding his shot. “Couldn’t you take that shit? What’s wrong with you, pansy?”
“Pansy!?” Andro said in a tone that made Ray slightly nervous, “Shit, man. I got your pansy right here.” He reached over to one of the bottles, cracked open the lid, and tilted it back. The boys were quiet–except for the giggles–as he chugged several large swallows of tequila. Jose Cuervo.
“Damn, man,” Skinner said, “and none of us have even taken our shots yet.”
“Right,” said Ethan, admiring how easily Andro had walked into his trap. He raised his shot glass, “To the pussy y’all never get!”
A couple of the guys echoed him, and then they all tilted back their heads.
Every one of them fought to pretend like the taste didn’t bother them, and Ray hoped he wasn’t the only one. It was like paint thinner! How did people enjoy that stuff?
“This shit tastes like turpentine,” Thomas said. Apparently Ray wasn’t the only one.
“Yeah,” said Ethan, “but that’s why we love it.”
“I’m gonna go,” Skinner suddenly said.
“Go?” Ray asked. “Go where? You’ve been drinking, man.”
“I’ve only had one shot,” he said. “And besides, I was gonna go get some Coke and stuff to make some drinks.”
“Alright,” said Ray. “But, be careful.”
“Hey, I wanna go,” said Abe.
“I’ve got ten bucks,” said Carl, reaching into his pocket. “Can you pick up some orange juice so we can make screwdrivers?”
“Sounds good,” said Skinner, grabbing the ten.
As the two of them left, Ray announced, “No one leaves once we start getting’ shnockered, so everyone call your mommies.” The response was less than enthusiastic, but it was all he could expect.
Ray and Carl each poured small cups of whiskey over ice and headed outside. The other boys eventually followed, each carrying a red disposable plastic cup of some straight liquor. It was a nice, warm spring day. The ground was damp, mostly because of the melting patches of snow hiding in every shady spot. The sun wasn’t shining fully, but it was definitely heating the air up. It was early evening, and the temperature would only be going down from there. The snow, slowly watering the ground, would have to wait until morning.
Ethan carried a bottle of vodka with a shot glass on top wherever he went, offering to pour one for anyone who’d take it. Ray was surprised to see how many takers Ethan had, including himself. Twice. By the time Abe and Skinner returned from the store, Ray was already starting to feel woozy.
Though no one would admit it, only Ethan and Andro wanted to keep drinking straight liquor after that first shot. The taste was just too much for most of them. The idea of taking shots at this point only seemed like a test of manhood to Ray, and he secretly feared someone making him prove himself. Wasn’t this supposed to be enjoyable? Fortunately, Abe and Skinner brought plenty of non-alcoholic drinks to mix with the liquor Ethan had so graciously provided.
A few minutes later, the seven of them were back in the kitchen. Abe helped Skinner empty out the bag they’d brought in: two three-liter bottles of Dr. Pepper, two of Coke, a gallon of orange juice, and a small carton of milk.
“Milk?” Carl asked Skinner.
“Don’t look at me, man,” Skinner said, thumbing at Abe.
“What?” Abe said, putting the milk into Ray’s refrigerator, “I wanted some milk.”
“Are you not drinking?” Carl asked.
“Yeah, I’ll drink,” Abe responded.
“You better,” said Andro, with a grand smile. “We’re all gettin’ fucked up tonight.”
II. Viscosity
A while later Ray was sitting around with the guys and everyone was definitely beginning to feel a change. The volume level had doubled, and, Ray noticed, some of them were getting a little emotional.
“Man,” said Skinner, “that fuckin’ bitch would never talk to me.”
“Sure she would, Skins,” said Thomas. “Ya just gotta talk to her.”
“Naw, fuck that!” he yelled. “That bitch would never talk to a guy like me. Fuckin’ bitch.”
“Geez, man,” Carl said. “Settle down.”
“Yeah,” Andro said, “there’s lots of crabs in the sea.”
Ray and Carl started laughing.
“Yeah,” said Ray, “that’s the biggest problem. All the crabs!”
“Aw, man,” Thomas said. “I get it.”
“I don’t,” said Andro.
Ray lifted himself up and went to get another drink. He was pouring vodka in his cup when Ethan walked in the kitchen.
“Damn, man,” Ethan said. “Have a little orange juice with your vodka.”
“Thanks for the alcohol, by the way,” Ray said.
“Not a problem,” he replied. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Ray went back into the living room, stopping for a moment to take a sip. He discovered it was hard to walk and drink at the same time. Even harder, considering alcohol was involved.
As he was standing there, he heard Abe ask, “How do you know there isn’t a God?” That caught Ray’s attention.
“I don’t know,” said Thomas. “That’s what I mean. I’m not sayin’ there is, and I’m not sayin’ there isn’t.”
“But,” Abe stammers, “what about the Bible?”
“What about it?”
“You don’t believe it’s real?”
“Of course it’s real. I have one at home, too. I just don’t know if I believe all of it.”
Abe just looked at him incredulously, his bottom lip pressing into his top lip. He was fighting some emotion, though Ray couldn’t tell what exactly.
“Hey,” Andro suddenly said, “who wants to try an’ arm wrestle me?”
“Bring it on,” Ethan said, stumbling past Ray. “I’ll kick your scrawny ass.” A couple of the guys laughed at that. “Screw you guys,” he said. Ethan was almost as tall as Andro, but none of them were as built as Andro.
The two of them laid on their stomachs, propped up by their elbows, and gripped each other’s hands. Thomas assumed the role of referee. He adjusted their grips, moved their elbows, and made sure neither was cheating. After all, this was serious stuff.
Once they were set, Thomas put his hands on theirs and said, “Ready?” After a brief, overly-dramatic pause, he yelled, “Go!” and stood up.
It was a complete and utter defeat, or a valiant victory, depending on how you look at it.
“Yes!” Andro said. “Told you I’d kick your ass!”
“Actually,” Ethan said, getting up, “I said I’d kick your ass.”
“Whatever, dude,” Andro said. “Who’s next?”
“I’ll take you,” said Skinner, getting quickly into position.
“Hell yeah,” Andro said, getting ready.
There wasn’t nearly as much fanfare the second time, which was ironic since it lasted a lot longer and was much more entertaining. The two teenage boys fought with their newly-developed muscles, straining and grunting as they tapped into their inner primate. After a few moments it seemed like Skinner was about to win, but he didn’t have the stamina and Andro slowly pushed his arm back, giving it one last thrust to make it official.
“Whoo!” Andro said, standing up. “Yeah!”
Ray thought about gorillas.
Andro tried to get more guys to challenge him, but only managed to sucker Thomas into it. He didn’t do nearly as well as Skinner, but that didn’t matter. The three who tried, even though they lost, had elevated themselves a little above those who hadn’t. No one said it, but Ray felt it, and he suspected everyone else felt it, too. Andro definitely felt it. He gloated playfully the rest of the night, and even taunted them, offering rematches. He had no takers.
About an hour later, Ray and Ethan were in the kitchen, trying to figure out how much they’d consumed.
“Well,” said Ray, trying to stand still, “we’ve killed the bodle of Coke an’ the oran’ juice. We still have mos’ of this Doctor Pebber lef’.’
“Cool,” said Ethan. “That’ll go great with the vokka.”
“What about a cow?” Carl suddenly asked.
“Cow?” Ethan responded. “What the fuck‘re you talkin’ ‘bout?”
“You said vaca,” Carl said. “That means cow in Spanish.”
“Oh,” Ethan said, giggling drunkenly. He grabbed one of the bottles and held it up. “I meant,” he said, trying his best, “Vokda.”
Ray and Carl start laughing.
“Dammit,” Ethan said. “Vok…vod…vod-ka.”
“Yay!” Ray said, patting him on the back.
“I muzt be more fugged up than I thought,” Ethan said, widening his eyes and shaking his head a little.
“I think we all are,” said Ray, falling into Ethan.
Sometime later, most of them were standing around in Ray’s backyard. The sunlight was beginning to fade, but it was still comfortable outside. Everyone had a cup of something in their hands. And everyone was swaying, some more than others.
“I don’t think I ever had this much to drink in my whole entire life,” said Skinner.
“Have you ever had any alcohol before this?” asked Abe.
“Sure,” he replied. “I mean, I tasted wine at weddings an’ stuff.”
“But ya never been drunk b’fore?” asked Ethan.
“Nope,” Skinner replied.
“I know thiziz the drungist I’ve ever been,” slurred Ethan.
“Me, too,” said Carl.
“Me, three,” added Ray.
Perhaps ten minutes later, most of the guys were still outside, mostly just enjoying the way the world sloshed about them. Carl and Ray were standing next to each other under a large tree.
“You know how the TV shows drunk people?” Ray asked Carl.
“You mean, all loud and mean and stuff?” Carl asked.
“Yeah,” said Ray.
“I couldn’t help but notice,” answered Carl, finishing off the drink he had in his hand. He stumbled a bit as he tilted his head back. “Whoa,” he said. He smiled at Ray.
“Yeah,” Ray said. “Me too.”
Just then, Andro caught their attention. He was standing a few feet away from them with Skinner and Ethan. Andro had an unmistakably pissed off look and was staring at Skinner.
“Man, what the fuck’s wrong with you?” Andro barked.
“Nothing, man,” Skinner said quietly, trying to ignore him. “Leave me alone.”
“Naw, really. What’s wrong with you? You’re acting like a fuckin’ weirdo.”
Skinner just said, “Fuggoff, man.”
“No,” said Andro, and though Ray saw the look in Andro’s face, he couldn’t stop it. Andro said, “You fuck off,” and accented it by shoving Skinner.
Everyone immediately moved in between them. Skinner just kind of stumbled away.
“Hey, man,” Ray said to Andro. “Relax, relax.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “Cut it out.”
Abe pulled Skinner aside, quietly telling him, “Don’t worry about that guy. He’s just drunk. You know.”
Meanwhile, Ray and Ethan took Andro back inside to calm him down.
Once they were inside, Ethan got right in Andro’s face. “Goddamn, Andy,” Ethan barked. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He punctuated the last word by pointing his finger right into Andro’s chest. Ray felt himself sobering up, bracing for the fight he feared was about to erupt in front of him. There was no way he could break those two apart.
But fortunately Andro just stood there, staring back at Ethan. “You’re jus’ actin’ like an’ asshole ‘cause you’re fuggin’ drunk, man,” Ethan continued. “Skinners didn’t do shit to you. Chill the fuggout.”
Ray silently thanked God at that moment. He was glad that Ethan and Andro had the relationship they did. No one else present would be so stupid as to talk to Andro like that, even though it needed to be done. Andro was more than just a bully when he was angry. He was something to be feared.
Fortunately for everyone, Ethan’s little lecture worked, and Andro settled down. In fact, he started to feel downright bad about it, which surprised Ray. The three of them eventually went back outside and Andro went right up to Skinner.
“I’m sorry, bro,” Andro said. “I’m just a little too drunk, an’ shit.” He stuck his hand out, palm casually turned upward. After the briefest pause, Skinner slapped his palm and then they shook hands.
“It’s cool,” said Skinner.
Ray suddenly had the urge to breath. He wondered how long he’d been holding his breath.
He looked over at Carl, who made a face and said, “Let’s go get a drink.”
A bit later, Ray was sitting in his living room. They were scattered around the room and speaking loudly, vying for attention over the blaring stereo. It was an otherwise normal event, but something happened that never had before. Ethan had asked Ray if he liked the shirt he was wearing. Ray had answered, “Yeah, it looks good.”
Immediately after he said it he started to worry that it might be misinterpreted as being homosexual. He looked at the guys to see if any of them would jump on it, as they did after most meaningless slips. After all, saying something “gay” was…well, gay.
And when Ray realized that, he thought about how guys his age (probably all guys) constantly asserted their sexuality to other guys. I mean, you wouldn’t want anyone think you were gay. Then he wondered if maybe it was some way for tough gay guys to meet each other. Weed out the weak and the straight. He wondered how many tough gay guys there were.
One of the things that Ray learned that night was how he began to genuinely dislike certain things about certain friends. Andro was quickly losing respect in Ray’s book, and it wasn’t just the alcohol. Though he was almost always nice to Ray, there was something about his personality that Ray didn’t like. He’d never been able to put his finger on it, but that night it started to become clear.
He wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but he guessed it was right around the time Skinner mentioned a kid at school named Ivel. Andro huffed, and took another drink from his plastic cup.
“Man,” Andro said, “I don’t like Ivel, or whatever his stupid name is. Sometimes I just wanna kick the shit out of that faggot.”
Andro wasn’t referring to the boy’s sexuality, but that wasn’t what bothered Ray. He didn’t like how Andro had said it. It was as though Andro might actually hurt Ivel if he ever had the opportunity. Hate reared its ugly head.
Usually, his group of friends would quietly ignore something hateful, or even echo what is being said. Andro was the leader of the group, though no one said it. Whatever he did was fine, because what’re you going to do, anyway? But, as Ray was grappling with his thoughts about Andro, something strange happened.
Skinner–probably bolstered by the alcohol–said, “Dude, you don’t know if he’s gay.”
“Yeah,” Thomas added. “He’s from Australia, or something.”
“Austria,” Carl corrected.
“Whatever,” said Thomas. “I just mean he ain’t from around here. But I don’t think he’s gay.”
Ray smiled.
“Yeah,” Andro said, “but he acts like a fag. I hate that shit.”
Ray’s smile faded.
“I mean,” Skinner said, “I ain’t gay, ya know? And I wouldn’t want to be…you know…like that. But, lay off, dude.”
“Yeah, Andy,” said Ethan. “Who cares if he’s gay, anyway?” As he said it, he stumbled over to Andro and tried to sit in his lap.
“Get off me!” Andro said, shoving him onto the floor. Ethan started laughing.
“Don’t push me away, sweetie!” Ethan yelled, emphasizing a fake lisp.
“Screw you, dude,” Andro said, going into the kitchen.
“Don’t run away from your feelings!” Ethan yelled from the floor.
Everyone except Andro started laughing. That was the first time the group had stood up to Andro, even if it didn’t seem to work much. He hoped it wasn’t just the alcohol.
A couple of hours passed, and Ray surveyed who was left. Abe had thrown up and fallen asleep on one of the couches. Thomas had disappeared for a while, and when he came back he was weak and pale.
“I yakked,” he said, shuffling off to one of the back rooms. There was a couch back there that he’d slept on before, and Ray assumed that was where he passed out.
There were five boys left, and the drinking had slowed considerably. Sensing this, Andro decided to start a drinking game.
“Dude, I’m drunk enough,” said Skinner.
“So what?” Andro said, going into the kitchen. “If you’re not wasted, the day is!”
“We’re wasted,” said Carl.
“Not enough,” said Andro, who came back with playing cards, shot glasses, and a bottle of Rum. Bacardi. He even set up the playing cards on the table, forming a set of concentric circles, with one card in the very middle. Even after all this, when he asked, “Who wants to go first?” no one reacted.
“Hello?” he said after a moment. “Are you guys really pussies? I thought you were tougher than that.”
“Funk that,” Ray said. “I’ll just puke.”
“No one?” asked Andro, still expecting someone to join him. And still no one reacted. “Fine!” he yelled, “I’ll play by myfuckingself!”
He lifted the first card, and without a word took three deliberate drinks. Probably the three of clubs. He lifted another card, rolled his eyes, and took two more sips. Maybe the two of hearts? He lifted a third card, smiled, and started taking several drinks. I don’t know. The nine of diamonds?
“You’re winning!” Skinner joked.
“That’s right,” Andro said, wiping his mouth with back of his hand. “You can’t win if you don’t play.”
He lifted another card and tilted the cup back, finishing it off. He stood up–bouncing off the wall as he did–and went into the kitchen. Ray and the other guys just looked at each other and laughed.
“Fuggof,” Andro said from the kitchen. “At leaz I know howda pardy!”
“Is that what that’s called?” Ray asked the other guys, checking his sarcasm. They all laughed, except Andro, of course.
Andro came back into the living room with another cup, and continued to play by himself. The guys just watched and goaded him, enjoying their newfound freedom to ridicule the leader of their little group. Once he finished the cup, he sat there for a moment, gathering enough control to stand up. He appeared to stare blankly at the wall.
“You okay, man?” Ray asked.
“Yeah, fuck!” Andro said. “I’m doin’ great!”
He abruptly passed out, falling onto his back. He splashed onto the floor with his arms sprawling out beside him.
That was it. The four other boys broke down into uncontrolled laughter. Andro just laid there like a dead body, except for the snoring.
Ray got up, still giggling, and checked on him. “Well, he’s alive.”
“That’s good to know,” said Carl.
Ray got a blanket from the hallway, moved Andro’s arms closer to his side, and covered him with the blanket.
“Well, he did win,” said Ethan, which made everyone laugh.
“Yeah,” said Ray. “He always was a winner.”
By two or three in the morning, Carl, Ethan, Ray, and Skinner were still awake and drinking, but slowly. Ethan had finally had enough. He wasn’t drinking, except with the smallest of sips, and even those were separated by several minutes. But even that didn’t stop him from reminding people to keep drinking. They had turned the stereo down, and were talking rather than yelling.
“You know what?” Skinner said. “I just remembered that my horoscope said this would happen.”
“What would happen?” Ray asked.
“This party,” he answered. “It said I would enjoy the company of others soon.”
“Oh, Skinner,” Carl suddenly added. “Of course you were going to enjoy the company of others soon. You have no choice but to be around people. You might as well enjoy their company.”
“Huh?” Skinner asked.
“I can’t believe you believe that crap,” Carl said.
“What crap?” Skinner asked.
“That crap,” Carl answered. “Astrology.”
“Dude, it’s not crap.”
“Yes, it is,” Carl said. “How do the positions of the planets affect your life? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Ray almost defended Skinner. How much had Carl had to drink? He seemed to be treating Skinner a little unfairly. After all, Ray had read his horoscope before, and it had surprised him how accurate it had been.
“Whatever, man,” Skinner said. “You’d be surprised how right it is.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Carl said. “I’ve read horoscopes before. They’d fit anyone’s life. It’s just random, over-generalized crap, and we fool ourselves into seeing something that isn’t really there. It’s like God,” he hesitated, looking over at Abe, still passed out. “Nevermind.”
“No,” Ray said, “what’s like God?”
“Nothing,” Carl answered. “I don’t want to piss anybody off.”
“You’re not gonna piss me off,” said Ray. “I wanna know what you were gonna say.”
“Nothing,” Carl repeated. “I don’t even know what I was going to say.”
Ray didn’t buy it, but he accepted it. He realized that he shouldn’t press the issue just then for some reason, but it opened a whole new avenue between them. He wasn’t sure what Carl believed in, but he knew that it wasn’t what Abe did. Ray stored the questions away for later when he could ask Carl about these things in private.
Ray realized there had been a tense silence for several moments, and he decided to change the subject.
“Did you see what Autumn Keeper was wearing on Friday?” Ray asked.
“You talkin’ about that tight black shirt that showed her stomach?” Skinner asked.
“Yeah,” Ray replied.
“Hell yes I did,” answered Skinner.
“I did,” mumbled Ethan.
“That kind of thing should be illegal,” said Carl.
“Amen, brother,” said Ray.
“Why is it Autumn could get away with it,” Skinner said, “but girls like Tanya Richards can’t?”
“Tanya isn’t a hottie like Autumn,” answered Ray.
“No, seriously,” said Skinner.
“No,” said Ray, “seriously. Even our perverted principal won’t send her ass home as long as it’s wiggling down his hallway.”
“That’s gross, dude,” said Skinner.
“It’s sad,” said Carl.
“Sad but troooo,” sang Ray.
Then Skinner asked, “If you could have one girl from school, who would it be?”
Ethan, without moving, said, “All of ‘em.” The guys laughed at that. Seeing Ethan so drunk was quite a sight. This guy was usually bouncing off the walls, and now he sat half-conscious on the couch, like he was reading an invisible book.
Carl’s answer wasn’t really one. He mentioned the most wanted girl in school, an untouchable. She was the kind of girl that probably considered it inter-species dating to be seen with a high school guy. It was obvious that Carl would never get with this girl, but no one said anything. Sensing this, and fearing that they might think he was delusional, Carl added, “But, this is supposed to be our fantasy girl, right?”
When it was Skinner’s turn, he gave the answer that everyone expected: a girl named Zoë. It was no secret that he had always had a thing for her. In fact, Ray figured the reason Skinner started this whole fantasy girl thing was so he could remind everyone about Zoë. The thing about Skinner and Zoë is that they probably had a chance. In a way, that didn’t count, because part of what made a fantasy girl was the fact that you couldn’t have her.
“What about you, Ray?” Skinner asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“Bullshit,” Skinner said. “Of course you do. Everyone has a favorite.”
Ray had been trying to decide whether he should tell them about his crush. He was perhaps breaking the rules too because it was a girl that might actually be in his grasp. But, he figured it was just wishful thinking, so he considered that fair.
“America,” Ray eventually said.
“America Manas?” asked Carl.
“Yeah,” replied Ray.
“Huh,” said Skinner. “Yeah, she’s cool.”
“You know I have geography with her, right?” asked Carl.
“Yeah,” said Ray, acting a little nervous. “Why?”
“I’ll hook you two up,” he replied.
“What? No!” said Ray. “Don’t, man. I’ve had a thing for her for so long, I wouldn’t act like a normal person if we ever spoke.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Skinner.
“No one knew it,” said Ray, which was true. What wasn’t true, however, was Ray not wanting Carl to tell her about his interest. He set them up for it, knowing that Carl had class with her and talked to her all the time. He hoped that Carl would talk to her about him anyway, without knowing that Ray wanted him to do it. That way no one could ever accuse Ray of dropping hints. It had to seem more sincere than your average plea, or it would be even less likely to work.
With their fantasy girls on their minds, the conversation naturally turned to sex. But it didn’t stop there. Ethan eventually passed out, and all that remained were Carl, Ray, and Skinner. They talked about almost every sexual encounter they had, though they had very few notes to compare. At one point Skinner admitted that he masturbated, and Carl quickly assured him that he did, too. Playing along, Ray felt compelled to admit that he had, too. And he wasn’t lying; he had never admitted such a thing to anyone. Ever.
But Skinner and Carl were joking about it, totally comfortable with it. It was one of the strangest situations Ray had ever found himself in. It would have felt like a setup if it wasn’t with two of his closest friends. Until that moment, talking about masturbation was as taboo as it came, if you’ll pardon the pun. Not even your friends were supposed to do it. Ray never forgot about a the kid named Trey Stockton who got caught by his so-called friends. That rumor made it all over the school. It lasted for years and only lost its scandal once everyone discovered masturbation for themselves.
The three of them were engrossed in their conversation, admitting how often they did it and who they fantasized about. The rules had suddenly changed, and Ray was mesmerized by the idea. Only an hour before, if someone had asked him if he ever masturbated, he would’ve denied it vehemently. Now he was freely admitting it and talking openly about it. He realized that it was only scandalous if it you thought it was, and it didn’t bother Carl or Skinner. Suddenly, it didn’t bother Ray, either. He knew it was probably the first time any of them had expressed their true feelings, raw and unfiltered.
The alcohol greased their social gears and allowed them to have a new kind of conversation, one with added honesty and reduced bullshit. It was the first time many of them felt comfortable enough to talk about religion, sex, and everything else that was already beginning to flood their lives. It was a special night for all of them, but particularly Ray. He was exposed to a new side of his friends, and never forgot the change he felt.
Ray had truly connected with Carl, and their friendship was practically solidified that night. The three of them talked until they were too drunk to continue, and one-by-one they fell asleep. By 2:40 the next morning, the house was splash with plastic cups and teenage boys, passed out on couches, chairs, and the floor. Ray slept comfortably in his bed.