Fall Out Girl by L. Duarte Page A

all.” He pulled me against his chest. We both panted, our breath mingling. “Try to deny we have chemistry.”
    I looked up at him. My fingers traced his lips. “You had your chance to fuck me last night.” My voice was glacially cold. “And just so you know: It won’t happen again . So get ready to wallow in regret.”
    I jerked my arm free and marched away without looking back.
    In a haze, I made it back to the car and drove home. My heart was pounding in my ears. What was happening with me? Caleb stirred unbidden emotions that were much deeper than I first thought.
    The twilight had always made me feel melancholic as if I was missing something vital. But as I drove, and I watched the light of the day dim, sadness gripped my heart in a vice.
    My phone vibrated in my pocket, but ignoring it; I got out of the car. With the intention of eating a bowl of cereal, I entered through the back door. As usual, on Saturdays Aunt Lace hosted parties. The typical guests, about ten of them, were Aunt Laces’ high school friends. They each brought a handful of hallucinogen and a six-pack of cheap beer. As hostess, she provided food, which consisted of fries, potato chips, and salsa, which I generously provided with the weekly groceries. It was always the same routine, loud music, blinds down, and the vile stench of stale beer, grease, pot, and cigarettes.
    Three guys sat on the kitchen table, hovering over a crack pipe.
    Jerry, AKA Pill Popper, looked up and flashed his gaped yellow teeth at me. “Hey, Luna, just in time. We’re about to try some new shit. Better than ecstasy. You in? My treat.” Jerry was one year older than I was though he looked forty. We hooked up a couple years back when his teeth were whiter, and his fingernails rims were clean. At that time, he was a sweet and shy geek. After a few dates, I realized he was after my merchandise and booted him. To my dismay, and total mortification, he ended up befriending Aunt Lace and her gang.
    I smiled back. “Not today, Jerry.” Or in this lifetime.
    He shrugged his scrawny shoulders. “Whatever. Your loss,” he said, chugging his beer.
    Aunt Lace, entering the kitchen, said, “Princess Luna is too good for the likes of us.” She sat on Jerry’s lap and stared at me with contempt and loathing.
    I skipped the bowl of cereal, mumbled a “gotta go,” and stomped out. Jake’s room was empty, so I retreated to my lair.
    I wish I knew where Jake was. Lately, we spent very little time together. I understood he was growing up, dating, and naturally, that put a wedge between us. But I was concerned about him. He seemed withdrawn and at times, he appeared to resent me.
    After shuffling my iPod in search of a good song, I found Sweet Death Agony by Tarry Francis and put it on repeat. It would help me block what was happening on the other side of the door while I wrote a paper that was due on Monday.
    Oh, the joy of William Shakespeare. Seriously, the dude died long before I breathed my first breath, and there I was, on Saturday night, dissecting his words. My assignment was to write a five-hundred-word paper on a quote from the famous writer. I didn’t get the point, but I needed the grade. Since Dad’s death, I wasn’t into reading, especially Shakespeare. Too tragic!
    The project had been a nightmare until I hit gold. I found a passage in Macbeth that I could work with. And surprisingly, I related to the quote so much that I did understand all the fuss about the man. The only way to describe it is as if this ancient stranger had turned a concoction of words into something that perfectly described all of my feelings at once. It was a powerful magic that Shakespeare weaved.
    “Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” My words filled the room as I read the passage.
    Need I say more? This