“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, but stop shutting us out. Let us be there for you.”
I gulped, keeping the waterworks at bay.
“Just say yes to coming over. We’ll hang out, watch some TV. We can always crank call Mrs. Fielding…”
I laughed. We’d been doing that for years. “Okay.”
“Good. It will be fun. You’ll see. But I do have one condition,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“No makeovers, and you’re not allowed in my closet.”
I smiled. “I think you’re set in that department.”
“I’m really glad you’re coming. See you tonight.”
“Thanks, Mich.” I meant it.
After supper, my mom drove me to Michelle’s. She patted my arm and told me to have a good time.
Within an hour, I found myself laughing and surprisingly relaxed. Michelle somehow coaxed remnants of my former self out of hiding and relief spread at being out of my house and my self-imposed prison.
A knock on her bedroom door revealed Roger’s head a moment later. “Giggle, giggle, giggle. That’s all I hear coming from this room.”
“What do you want?” Michelle asked warily.
“I thought I would be nice and ask if you two wanted to come to The Point, even if you are juveniles.”
Before I could object, she answered. “We’re in.”
I panicked, not sure I was ready for any kind of outing.
“Just don’t be a pain in my ass, and don’t embarrass me either.” Typical Roger.
“Jeez, alright. Don’t be so uptight!” After he left, she touched my shoulder. “Stop worrying. This will be fun.”
We freshened up and climbed in Roger’s car. He careened through the curves of Skyline Boulevard at top speed, making me grip the car door and brace myself so I didn’t slide all over the seat. Roger took the road winding into Joaquin Miller Park and pulled into Sequoia Point. Nicknamed “The Point,” it had become a notorious hangout for anyone wanting to drink and carouse until the cops showed up to clear out the place, which they did regularly.
It was packed, typical for ten o’clock on a Saturday night. Roger parked the car, warning us not to “do anything stupid.”
“Hey pretty ladies,” called out a brown-haired hunk as we walked past.
We giggled.
“Michelle!” someone hollered, and we turned.
“Bradley!” I followed her over to a group of guys as she explained he was an old family friend. Introductions were made, and we stood awkwardly while the two caught up.
Someone handed us beers, and I popped the tab and took a few gulps, uneasy about being in a strange place with strange people. I wished we were back at Michelle’s. I drained the can and was tossed another one. Despite my disdain for beer, a little buzz might take the edge off. As I finished the second one, my tension eased.
“Whoa there, girl,” said one of Bradley’s friends. “Anna, right?”
I nodded.
“David,” he reminded me. “You’re going to town on those beers.”
I shrugged. “They’re going down easy tonight.”
David stood about my height and wore navy cords. He had a friendly face with warm brown eyes. He reached into his pant’s pocket and pulled out some cigarettes. He flicked the pack, retrieving one with his lips, then offered me one. “You go to Skyline?”
I fished out a smoke. “Tenth grade. Lucky me.”
David flicked his lighter a few times. It ignited on the fourth attempt, and I took a drag to light my cigarette.
“Mean ol’ Mr. Wentworth still there?” He hunched over and lit his own, exhaling away from me.
“I think so. I don’t have him.” I popped open my third beer and took another swallow of foamy, bitter liquid.
“Be glad. He was a real jerk. We TPed his car once. We must have used fifty rolls on that masterpiece.”
I laughed. “Sounds like he deserved it.”
“Don’t you want to ask where I go to school?”
I paused, raising my eyebrows. “So, David, tell me, where do you go to school?”
“Hayward State.”
A college boy. He didn’t look that old. “Or Hayweird, as we like to say.”
He smiled.
“Figured out what you want to be when you grow up yet?”
David shrugged. “Maybe an engineer. Or an artist. Hell, I might just cure cancer someday.”
I glanced at Michelle, still immersed in conversation with Bradley and a few other guys. I scanned the view—the main attraction at The Point. From my vantage high up in the Oakland hills, I could see the smattering of homes stretched out toward the bay. At night, the array of lights made the landscape appear bedazzled with little diamonds.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It never gets old.”
For the first time in months, I conversed with ease. The more I drank, the more relaxed I became. David and I talked for an hour, covering family dynamics, the freedom of college vs. imprisonment at high school, and what we thought our future held in twenty years. Alec and I had never even spoken like this. Why I trusted this stranger baffled me. No undercurrents of fear or threat reared their ugly heads, just a strange sense of liberation.
I swayed and David caught me, steadying me with one arm. “You alright?”
I giggled. “Donald, I have never been better.”
“David,” he corrected.
“Oops! Sorry. How about another beer, Dave?”
“I think maybe you’ve had enough. You downed a six-pack.”
“It’s okay. I promise.” I held up three fingers like we used to do in Girl Scouts for our pledge. It dawned on me he was kind of cute. And sweet.
“You sure are pretty. Are you really only a sophomore?”
I stumbled and let out a loud laugh. “Yup, I am.”
David led me over to a giant rock, and we sat down. I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes.
