This Song Will Save Your Life by Leila Sales

the oven. (He had.) I’d already put on my shoes and was standing by the front door, so when Steve saw me, I had to immediately pretend that I was double-checking to make sure the door was locked. (It was.)
    By the time everyone was tucked away in bed, it was twelve thirty, and I was fighting to keep my eyes open. I thought about not going out at all. But that wasn’t really an option.
    At the last moment before I left the house, I went up to the attic and pulled my unicorn boots out of the garbage bag where they had lived since September. I knew that I wasn’t supposed to wear them. But I needed a little bit of magic tonight.
    When I arrived at Start, Mel was standing outside, as usual.
    “Hi,” I said brightly.
    He frowned and looked me up and down, and I felt my heart sink. Was he going to ask again for my ID?
    But all Mel said was, “Elise, honey. Did we or did we not already discuss fixing up and looking sharp?”
    I tugged my hair elastic out of my ponytail and shook my hair out so it fell into tangled waves down my shoulders. “Better?” I asked.
    Mel rolled his eyes. “Here we put in all this effort to provide you with a life-changing experience, week after week, and you can’t even put in the effort to change out of your Old Navy henley shirt? Come on. Meet me halfway.”
    I kicked my foot out so that he could see it under the door light. “Unicorns?” I said.
    Mel nodded slowly. “You look like a five-year-old, but at least you’re trying.” He opened the door for me.
    “How’s it going tonight, by the way?” I asked, in what was meant to be a friendly way.
    Mel rolled his eyes. “It’s a shitshow.”
    I saw what Mel meant as soon as I found Vicky, hovering near the bar. “Thank God you’re here,” she said, grabbing both my arms.
    “I know.” I laughed. “I feel the same way.”
    “No, I mean, I need you.”
    “That,” I said, “is amazing to me.” I looked around. “Where’s Pippa?”
    “Where do you think Pippa is?” Vicky asked.
    “Uh, I have no idea. With Char?”
    “Char!” Vicky hooted like this was the most ridiculous idea ever. “Please. Pippa is there.” She jerked her thumb to point across the room, and when the lights flashed, I could see Pippa’s tiny figure crumpled on a bench against the wall.
    “Is she asleep?” I asked.
    “That would be fantastic,” Vicky replied. “If Pippa were asleep in the corner of Start, that would honestly be ideal. I dream of that day.”
    “Vicky—” I began.
    “She’s drunk,” Vicky snapped. “She passed out.”
    “Oh.” I looked across the room again. I guess that made more sense; Pippa’s half-upright position didn’t seem to be that comfortable for sleeping.
    I didn’t know much about drunk people. Neither Mom nor Steve drank at all. Dad usually had a six-pack of beer in the fridge, and some nights he’d have one when he got home from work, but some nights he wouldn’t. I knew that kids at my school went to parties and got drunk and sometimes passed out, because Chava and Sally talked about this a lot. But obviously I had never seen that behavior in action, since no one had ever invited me to a party.
    “Shouldn’t you take her home?” I ventured.
    “Absolutely.” Vicky adjusted her big feathered earrings. “A good friend would unquestionably take Pippa home right now. Actually, a good friend would have taken her home an hour ago, and would have held back her hair as she puked, and would have made her drink a big glass of water, and would have tucked her into bed, and would have sent an e-mail to her prof to explain why she won’t be in class tomorrow.”
    “But you’re not doing that,” I ventured.
    “Correct. Because, Elise, do you see that guy there at the bar? The one who’s paying for his drinks?”
    I followed her gaze to see a guy who looked to be in his thirties, wearing a button-down shirt and big sunglasses. He was holding a soda can in one hand and a pink drink in the other.
    “He is a