Friday Evening
In the middle of my Freshman year, my mom offered Sara to come live with us. She allowed Sara’s twin brother to live with us too right before the start of their senior year. Andrew left the day he graduated while Sara stuck around for a year before leaving for university.
Sara Mera’s the closest I’ve gotten to ever having a sibling. My mother took her in when Sara’s was at her lowest and helped her be able to stand on her own feet. Sara still struggles with clinical depression, but because of my mom, she’s much better now. I don’t know anyone stronger than my foster sister.
And now she’s back home for the summer.
Sara’s practicing on her acoustic guitar when I sit on her bed. A gift from my mom and a hobby that soothes Sara’s soul. She’s gotten considerably more proficient at it since I last heard her play.
What she plays always reflects her mood. Today is somber. Sara misses her girlfriend. Sara finishes the quiet song and begins to put the instrument in its case.
“Are you going to play Freyja some big romantic song when you see her?”
“Maybe,” Sara giggles. “Should I? I should definitely be romantic. Agh, but that’ll be so cheesy and gay.”
“But you are gay.”
“You know what I mean,” Sara laughs. “I’m not really good at that stuff.”
“You don’t have to be. It’s the thought that counts.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Sara puts away the case in her closet and then sits next to me. “Never thought you would give me good advice.”
“I’m not a kid anymore, Sara.”
“No. No, you’re not,” she smiles. “Where are you going tonight that has you all dressed up?”
I look down at my outfit Sara’s pointing at. It sticks out from what I usually wear. I don’t think Sara has ever seen me wear a jersey and cargo pants before. “The concert?” I point to the artist’s name printed on the shirt.
“With who? Is it a date?”
“It’s Yuele and no. We don’t see each other that way,” I answer annoyingly. We had this conversation before.
“And no invite?”
“University is supposed to make you smarter, not dumber. I invited you this morning. You said no.”
“Oh. Oops,” Sara takes another look. “Wait, isn’t there some big party going on tonight? Aren’t you going?”
“I’m not going.”
“Oh, that’s good. You really are just like Elizabeth. I don’t ever have to worry about you.”
“You too, huh?”
“That wasn’t an insult,” Sara raises an eyebrow at me, eyeing my outfit, “but weird of you to get ready so early.”
“I was going to hang out with Yuele before the show. Something came up and he’s unavailable for a bit. I got ready for nothing. So now I have time to kill.”
“Perfect, we’re watching a movie then. A comedy this time, I promise,” Sara assures me that I don’t have to see some heavy drama with her.
Mom used movies to get Sara to open up to us. It quickly became Sara’s passion and now goes to school to study film. I used to watch movies with my mom and Sara until the only thing they would watch were heavy oscar nominated dramas. I can only watch so many in a row before it burns me out.
The only TV in the house is in the living room. I let Sara go downstairs first while I’m in my room and get everything ready for the night. Out of all the movies I think she’ll put on, Ted 2 wasn’t on the list. We watched the first one before she moved out and I remember she didn’t find it that funny.
The comedy is Sara’s style but despite it, she laughs more than I expect. Some of her laughter gets loud enough to make me think about the time her twin brother lived with us. Our house was always loud when he was around. I sort of miss Andrew.
“There’s more Family Guy in this one,” Sara comments towards the second half of the
e movie.
“Well, they’re made by the same guy.”
Sara adjusts herself deeper into the couch towards me. “Yeah, no, I know that. I’m just saying. Seth has a weird obsession with making references only a few people would recognize. He’s making much more here and I already caught him reusing some of Family Guy’s stuff.”
“Like what?”
“The scene and song that was just playing. It’s a homage to Plain Trains and Automobiles. I’m pretty sure he did the same thing in one of the Star Wars episodes. He also doesn’t know how to make aerial transition shots without a jazz musical number.”
“Doesn’t he just like music from the 30’s? He makes pretty good jazz.”
Sara has a rule to not speak during any film we watch so we can be fully immersed in it. Because Sara is the one who broke it first, it gives me free rein to share my thoughts without her getting annoyed.
“Who just has a weed farm in the middle of nowhere?” I comment on the current scene. “And how is their car not ruined?”
Sara ignores me but moves closer to me and rests her head on my shoulder. We’re not related and only known each other for four years, but she’s not anything less than my big sister. She was a friend first then a roommate. A sister is something I never had, but she now fulfills that role.
“God, Amanda Seyfried is so pretty,” Sara sighs once the actress starts playing the guitar.
“It’ll be real funny if this is the song you play for Freyja. She doesn’t watch these types of movies right, I bet she won’t notice.”
“No, she won’t,” Sara giggles. “I wonder what’s the original from?”
Another rule is no phones. Sara breaks it again while searching for the song. I guess it’s okay to not be fully invested. The movie isn’t some masterpiece that demands undivided attention.
“Holy shit, Seth made it just for the movie. I didn’t know he was built like that.”
“I told you he makes jazz.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I saw him live like two months ago.”
“Shut up, no you didn’t.”
“I didn’t plan to, it kind of just happened. I wasn’t exactly paying attention to who was going to perform.”
“What were doing at a jazz concert?”
“Maybe I just like jazz.”
“Do you?”
“Maybe,” I shrug with a small smirk.
Sara looks at me a bit bewildered. Out of everything she knows about me, I bet she wasn’t expecting to learn this. I’m not even sure if I do like jazz or not. I think I’ve just gotten used to hearing it all the time from where I’m at most Saturdays nights.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to go to a Comic Con one day?” Sara speaks again during the climax of the movie. “Isn’t there one in Seattle? We should go.”
“It already passed.”
“Oh, when was it?”
“April.”
“Did you go?”
I shake my head, “I didn’t really have anyone to go with.”
“We’ll go next year then. I can take a few days off, I don’t mind.”
“You’re not just saying that as just an idea, right? Like you bringing it up just to forget about it when it’s time to make plans?”
Sara laughs. “What are you talking about? I mean it. I know how much you always wanted to go.”
Mom agreed to take me four years ago but that was before Sara began to live with us. Money has always been tight, but with Sara around, my mom could no longer afford to take me. Mom lost any free time she did have just to make ends meet.
I gave up the idea of ever going after that.
I leave the house once the movie’s over.
When I don’t have access to my mom’s car, I have a backup plan. Andrew always borrowed the car across the street back when they used to live in their house. Their neighbor is never home and keeps an old Toyota parked in the driveway. Andrew used it as his own. He mentioned it once in passing that the key is magnetically kept under the frame above the tire.
This is how I get around now.
Remembering that small detail enabled me to start using it last summer. The car always sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking down but I make sure to maintain it so it never does. It’s the only way I could go to Seattle whenever I want.
Tonight is one of those nights.
The final day of school is over and I couldn’t be more relieved. I’ve been feeling disconnected from everyone the entire week. Usually I would look forward to whatever is going on for that night, but I haven’t had that drive. As such, I made zero appearances to the final stretch of parties that happened.
There’s one tonight to celebrate the end of high school. It’s supposed to be a prelude to mine, a warm up. I know it’s going to be fun and I was going to go, but I was given another option instead. A concert, but not just a concert, the type that I always wanted to go to since I discovered them.
Yuele is already waiting in front of his apartment building in downtown Seattle when I pull up next to him. The half-Japanese boy is a bit over a year younger than me and I always have to be the one to drive because of it. We’re seeing one of his favorite artists tonight. We stick together despite our different tastes. It’s not my particular cup of tea but Yuele’s taste in genres has been growing on me, just as mine have been growing on him. It’s rare for us to go to a show that plays the genres we both like.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Tonight is a dubstep rave.
Andrew took me to my first one, years ago and I fell in love with it. None of my current friends like the same music I prefer or have the wrong ideas about raves to ever go with me. I used to sparsely go to them alone just to scratch my itch until I met Yuele. Since then, we always go to them together. It doesn’t matter if the venue is legal or in the underground, he’s my little rave buddy. Come to think about it, it’s been almost exactly a year since we met.
Yuele is a little odd but handsome and tall as hell. I’m often mistaken for his girlfriend. We both think it’s funny that it happens.
I don’t like to dress provocatively like most of the girls do at raves. I don’t judge any girl who does. They all look super cute and hot for me to not want to dress like them. It's not because I don’t have the confidence, I’m nothing but. It isn’t because I’m afraid of getting sexually assaulted either. Raves aren’t like that, contrary to popular belief. The culture is friendly and welcoming and anyone who goes for the wrong reasons learns the hard way. I don’t dress in fishnets, short tops, bottoms, skirts, or bodysuits simply because I don’t find it comfortable. That’s the only reason.
Yuele doesn’t dress any differently from his usual streetwear. It’s always some combination of binary black and white. His black hair is always in a ponytail that escapes out of the hole from the back of the hat he always has on. He’s the only guy I know who wears make-up and his mascara always completes his all-black and white theme. He might be better at blending foundation more than I am. It’s easier to describe him as the poster boy for a Google search on what an E-boy looks like.
“You didn’t forget my molly, did you?” He asks when I park near the venue.
“I never forget,” I remind him and hand him over the drugs. “Venmo me when you can. It was only 30 so don’t worry about it too much.”
“Cool,” he says, licking his finger and dipping it inside the tiny ziplock bag then sticks it inside his mouth.
I do the same but with my own molly which I have crushed into a fine powder inside a folded bill. “Did you bring your water bag?” I ask him after I wash down the bitter taste with my water bottle.
“It’s in the back seat.”
“When did it get there?” I look back to find our only free source of water for the night.
“I threw it back there when you picked me up. What did you think it was?”
“Oh. I’m dumb,” I laugh with him. I can’t believe I didn’t notice that was what he threw back there.
“Are you doing another three-day bender again? Didn’t you do one last week and the one before that?”
“Last week wasn’t as bad as the week before,” I giggle. “That one was rough. I don’t want to get minced this weekend.”
“Rough? You looked like a walking corpse on Sunday compared to how I saw you Friday. Did you even bother to sleep?”
“Nope,” I accentuate the p by smacking my lips together.
“You’re fucking crazy, Grace.”
“Is that judgment I hear? Twice now?” I sarcastically ask. “I thought we didn’t do that to each other?”
“It’s more of an observation than judging.”
“Then can I make an observation?”
“And that is?”
“I’m not the only one with a few screws loose in this car,” I laugh.
“Fair, fair. Are you ready?”
“Am I ever not?”
We step out of the car and out the parking lot after paying and make our way to stand in line to get inside the building. The music’s bass goes through the walls and vibrates them, getting me properly excited for the night. The show is for all ages but a wristband is needed for anyone over 21. Yuele doesn’t get one. I do. My fake I.D. hasn’t failed me once yet.
As usual, we arrived too late to get a good spot on the floor. But as always, being squished together with everyone in the crowd isn’t our style. We like to hang out in the back where we aren’t shoulder-to-shoulder. As we get comfortable in the area we find, I leave to buy a few drinks at the bar and Yuele splits off to fill the water bag at the fountain. I give Yuele one of the three seltzers I buy and tuck the other inside his bag when we reconverge.
I don’t know any of the openers before the headliner. They’re playing slower and groovier dubstep and it's hard to get into it, unlike how Yuele does. I don’t like the music but I have found the harsher, more aggressive, and more chaotic subgenre to be more enjoyable, which is what the headliner plays and I’m excited to finally listen to them live.
What I enjoy the most about raves is that it’s one of the few things I do for me. Nobody forced me to like them. Even if I don’t like who’s always playing, it’s still fun to be here.
There’s maybe like five people that know I go to them. Nobody else knows that I have it in me, that it’s something I enjoy. It’s an outlet where I recover my energy. I’m just another face amongst the sea of faces here. There isn’t anyone who cares that I’m Grace Ciotta.
I was 14 the first time I did anything other than weed. It was molly.
It’s not addictive or dangerous with proper use and care. It’s by far the best high to enjoy. The come-up is my favorite part, what I’m getting right now; the warm energy strands of a ball slowly traveling out of my stomach and all over my body.
It ascends me to a metaphorical higher plane of existence.
Two girls in front of us take turns glancing back at us, specifically at Yuele. I act like I don’t notice while my eyes are wandering around in bliss. Yuele too busy headbanging to the bass to notice. One of the girls eyes him up and down, but that’s nothing new to me. I’ve seen him get hit on plenty of times but he never reciprocates even though Yuele can get anyone he likes. I have seen guys have better success in getting Yuele’s attention. With all that, he still complains that he can’t pull.
I’m unable to hold myself from smirking when my eyes meet when I catch them glancing longer than usual.
Is it wrong to admit that I sort of enjoy how the girls are looking at me? It’s obvious they want to approach him but they think I’m standing in their way. It’s ugly, I know, but having girls be jealous of me makes me happy. It’s even better if it’s a stranger. It makes me feel powerful.
And for a moment, I’m reminded that all my hard work paid off.
I don’t have to feel any less.
I head to the bathroom a few minutes before the headliner starts. I don’t have to pee, I just need a place to do a few bumps of cocaine. I have no issue doing it out in the open, but I don’t want Yuele to know that I do it. He’s never tried it and I don’t want to influence him to start. He doesn’t even know I do it. He’s too young.
Like I’m one to talk and not a hypocrite. I started when I was 15 with Liz and Tina. While everyone does it out in the open, us three are held to higher standards, better ones. We’re not like everyone else. I’m not like everyone else. I can’t be corrupted into doing those kinds of recreational drugs like the rest of the town.
This is what everyone believes.
Secret is, I’m a little drug head behind closed doors. I like pills, crystals and powders. There was never anything to corrupt since I always have been since the start.
Sara caught me with coke once. It’s the drug she was addicted to. Sara was the living example of how it can mess you up. She made me promise her to never do it again.
Oops.
I get back right when the main set starts. The girls who were eyeing my friend are no longer in front of him. They’re walking deeper into the crowd.
“They didn’t take it well?” I ask even though I already have the context clues.
“I’m getting real sick of being hit on every other show we go to. Why can’t I be more like you?”
“What does that mean?”
“Look at you. What guy has the balls to approach you?”
“You did.”
“Yeah, but I’m the exception,” he snickers. “I always thought it never happens to guys.”
The main act begins their intro.
“Well if it bothers you that much just come–”
“Eh, I’m more comfortable like this,” Yuele cuts me off. He says something else but the cheers of the crowd makes that part inaudible and I only hear the end of it, “-it was hard enough.”
I take a moment to piece together the missing information. “But I’m glad you did. I think that makes you pretty cool. Thanks for telling me.”
Yuele scoffs, “God, I wish I was attracted to you. You’re perfect for me,” he smirks but I know he’s joking.
“Keep it in your pants,” I giggle right before the drop of the first song makes everything else inaudible.
Yuele continues his smirk and proceeds to headbang to the heavier dubstep I like. It’s now where I’m able to get into the groove of things and it's amplified by the molly finally peaking. It’s harder to lose myself to this type of music but I find a way eventually.
Elvlvlie is how the artist's name is spelled and I have no idea how to pronounce it. Yuele just calls them Elevelie. They’re a new artist but no one knows who it is. The mystery is part of the fun along with them doing sets differently than everyone else. Whoever it is, they DJ in secret inside an LED box on the stage.
And whoever it is, they know how to make me move like I listen to the genre every day.
My trance is where it just becomes me and only me. Nothing outside the little area I’m moving around in matters. There is no outside world and responsibilities to worry about while I’m there.
It’s just me and the music.
This time, there’s something different in the air, but I can't quite figure out what it is. I’m not a believer in fate but it’s like I’m meant to be here. The music is loud, angry and harsh. It reflects on everyone’s dancing, but for me, there’s sadness. A great sadness and I can’t hear where it’s coming from besides the empty DJ booth. However this angry sadness isn’t making me sad, it’s what is putting me into the trance of euphoria.
Yuele took me to a punk show one day and although I didn’t like it, I enjoyed the moshpits. Dubstep raves do a similar thing. This is the only time when we move towards the center of the floor where we partake. A pit opens up during the middle of the set and everyone waits until the drop to run at and shove on each other.
Behemoths of shirtless guys are unmovable when I try to shove them during the moshpit. They push me harder than I can handle, almost falling but I catch myself. It wouldn’t be a big deal if I did. Everyone here looks out for each other.
Mosh Pits are too chaotic to keep track of anything else going on. I’m pushed into another girl and we apologize to each other when an accessory on her bracelets gets caught on my shirt’s collar. She tries to say something else to me but I’m shoved away to hear her. I almost fell but was caught by one of the shirtless guys.
The mosh stops for a moment and opens up again so everything can run into each other for the second drop of the song. This time, two guys get in the center with one bracing himself. The other moves back to the crowd and then runs in, drop-kicking the guy as soon as the bass drops. The moshpit starts again with cheers.
I lose track of Yuele when it’s over. I get stuck in the middle of the crowd and struggle to move back to my area. It’s not easy when every guy here is over six feet and can’t see where I’m going. Luckily, Yuele is already back at our spot when I get there.
“You’re bleeding,” I wipe a drop of blood coming out of his bottom lip while he puts his hat back on.
“I got elbowed,” he laughs. “Here, let me fix your hair.”
I wipe away more of his bleeding lip with my finger while he messes with my hair. Yuele looks down and bursts into a short laugh.
“What?”
“Look down.”
My shirt’s ripped open, exposing part of my chest. It doesn’t take me a second to figure out how and when. It’s not embarrassing either, I wasn’t dumb enough to not wear a bra.
“Oh well,” I shrug as I button up my jersey to cover myself up. “That’s my reward for being a trooper.”
“How embarrassing.”
“Hey. Now that’s judgmental.”
“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes in the middle of his laughter.
Yuele lets me borrow one of his shirts when we go back up to his apartment building. He takes off his jacket while I take off the ruined tee.
“Did your tits get bigger?” He asks and not averting his gaze..
“I hope not.”
Yuele takes his oversized shirt off and reveals the tank top he’s wearing underneath. The layers of clothes he wears do a good job of masking how skinning he is. I watch him change into another oversized shirt just as he did to me.
“Do you have to stare?”
“You were staring at me first.”
“I glanced,” Yuele rolls his eyes. “It’s not like it’s the first time seeing a pair of tits.”
I roll my eyes back at him.
Yuele and I aren’t as close as we should be. It’s my fault. I don’t ever share anything about myself even though he does. He seems to not mind. We’re only friends because I’m not judgemental. I pride myself that I’m not. The only reason why I don’t hang out with him on a daily basis is because he lives so far away, but that’s just an excuse I’ve been telling myself.
He’s a cool person and deserves to be more than someone to go with me to raves. It bothers me how it’s taken me this long to figure out how comfortable I am around him. It’s like we’ve been lifelong friends.
“Can I borrow some shorts or something?”
“Why?”
“I’m not going to fall asleep in pants, dude.”
“Wait, you’re staying the night? I thought you were just gonna chill for a bit.”
I shake my head, “Did you see all the cops out tonight? I’m still rolling tits. I’m not going to risk it,” I lie. I have no problem driving on MDMA. “You have stuff to take off my makeup, right? Contacts too?”
Yuele sighs, tossing me a pair of shorts. “In the bathroom. Might as well get ready for bed if you’re staying then.”
“We don’t have to sleep just yet,” I tell him after I change into them.
“Didn’t you ask for this?” he says as he unties his ponytail and lets it hang to his shoulders. Yuele then takes off the shirt he just put on and the tank top under it.
“You’re not-”
“I am, it’s how I go to sleep,” he cuts me off and changes into the same type of shorts he gave me. “You’re sleeping on the ground if you joke about it.”
“That’s a fair deal,” my joyful smile scares him off to the bathroom. “This is the second time, right?”
“First time willingly,” Yuele says over the bathroom sink.
I join him. “You trust me that much?”
“You haven’t given me a reason not to. You’re not like the rest.”
“I guess I shouldn’t keep secrets from you then.”
“Here,” Yuele hands me everything I need to wipe my face clean. “I don’t mind if you don’t share. You don’t have to prove that you aren’t.”
“Doesn’t feel that way sometimes,” I nervously laugh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m a fraud.”
“How so?”
“Remember those girls from earlier? I like how jealous they looked.”
“How does that make you a fraud?”
I grab the wipes and start rubbing them on my face. “What better way to find out during our first sleepover?”
I talk about how I keep people who see me as a tool at a distance, but isn’t that what I’ve done to get where I’m at? I talked to the right person, said the right thing, acted the correct way all just to get popular. The more useful someone was, the more attention I gave them. I like the attention. Now I try my hardest to pretend I never was that type of girl.
With Yuele, I don’t care about any of that.