Skeletons in the Closet

Scene 1: Chrystie Street

Leo Rylin

"You want another beer?" Jordan asked, opening one for himself.

"Nah I'm not trying to drink much."

"Isn't this your pregame?"

"I don't know," I shrugged and sighed. "I'm here so Elle has a good time."

She's giggling and chatting with a vampire, zombie cheerleader, and Jeff Spicoli.

Most of my friends are off doing something else, partying at houses that you can trash. I'm lucky Jordan's even here. Elle invited Angela, I think, so he didn't have a choice.

Elle and Angela get along. It's funny because Angela doesn't like anyone, but I know Elle likes her because of that. She doesn't have to worry about her getting too close to people Elle wouldn't want her close with.

"If you're still around after the parties and shit, a few of us are just gonna chill at my place."

"Sounds good...I might have a thing to go to, though. I don't know how late I'll be."

"A thing?"

I didn't tell anyone. And I think the fact that I'm keeping so much to myself means I'm doing something I probably shouldn't.

"Heather...invited me to a party."

He nodded and took a swig of his beer. "Elle know?"

"Nah..." I said, uneasily. "I shouldn't go, huh?"

"What do you think?"

"She'd be mad if I did go but...it's a party, it's not like me and Heather are gonna be alone. And I just wanna be cool with her, you know? I can't be if I'm like...avoiding her and stuff."

Jordan chuckled and shook his head. "Elle's gonna kick your ass."

Yeah, I thought about that...

"You don't deal with this?"

"Try not to. I don't talk to any ex-girlfriends but the girl who works the counter at the coffee place down the street is kinda hot for me, and Angela would rather walk another 10 minutes than go in there."

I smirked. "Heather's friend liked you." Jordan's eyebrows scrunched in confusion: "Lisa."

He smiled, arrogantly. "I got a class with her."

"I'm telling Angela."

And he knows I'm joking but doesn't laugh as much as he would if he wasn't thinking about something.

"I don't think you should go."

"Why not?"

"You know why, and I know you know."

Elle's arm draped across my chest and she looked over to smile at me.

"We can leave now if you're ready."

"Okay."

"Let me just say goodbye," she said, running off as soon as I nodded.

I went over to the coat rack and grabbed hers while she was talking to her friends. I never took my jacket off because it hides the ascot I had to wear in order to look like this guy. I let her get her pictures and then I covered up as much as possible.

"We can take the 7 to Quinn's," she said, handing me her bag so she can bundle up.

"I don't know, I'm kinda tired..."

Her mouth fell open. "We haven't even made it anywhere."

"We have stuff to do tomorrow, right? And we won't be up before the fucking sun. Don't act like we didn't have school today."

"So, you want to go home?" Elle crossed her arms. "It's Friday, and it's Halloween."

"The best stuff is going down tomorrow, I'd put money on it."

"Fine. We'll skip the party."

"Don't skip it because then you're gonna be pissed at me later."

"No, I won't."

"You say that and suddenly I'm getting the silent treatment."

"If you don't feel like going then whatever. I can't make you, but we made these plans so long ago and I don't get why you'd wait until we're about to leave to back out of them," she argued.

"Okay, then let's go."

"No, now you're going to be pissed."

"You already are, so what difference does it make?

"Know what? I don't want you to come," she huffed and opened the door.

I step in front before she can exit. "I'm not letting you walk there by yourself."

"You have no problem making me do everything else by myself."

"It's one party."

"No, it isn't. You always do this. You're a part-time boyfriend."

"I told you I'm still adjusting to working."

"You were blowing me off before you got a job. You've been different since school started."

"Because of school, Elle,"

"I don't do this to you."

No...you don't.

I stare down at the ground and sigh before locking eyes with her again.

"If it means that much to you, I'll go. I'm not trying to fight over something this stupid."

"I'll know you don't really wanna be there. Just go home."

"You want to sneak me in when you get back?"

She sucked her teeth. "Get real."

"Not to hook up. Just to be with you since you don't think I'm around enough."

"I'll know you don't really wanna be there."

I let out another heavy breath. "If you keep making me feel bad, I'm just going to follow you to Quinn's place and I know you don't want me there anymore."

Elle playfully rolled her eyes before leaning over to kiss me. "Tomorrow?" She asked, softly.

"I swear. I'll drink coffee if I have to."

"Okay. I'll leave with them." She gestured toward her friends. "Call me."

Scene 2: Chester High

Zach Teeling

Charlie's social life relies on school events. I could've gone to something more...cool, but I'm tired of being..."cool."

I turn 16 in a couple weeks and all I want to do is blow out the candles and wish I was a kid again.

We went trick-or-treating.

He said I could borrow one of his costumes, but he only had superheroes. Instead, I used some expired face paint to make me into a skeleton.

"See, I told you people would come here," Charlie said, excitedly.

It's no one popular. Just the D&D fanatics, the honor roll students—the comic book club.

This is good. No one is gonna fist bump me for bad reasons or ask me when my next party is or talk to me about girls in ways I don't enjoy.

"I'm going to have so many cavities," Charlie announced, his eyes scanning over the tables full of sweets and buckets of fun size candy.

"We should stash some of this to take back to your house."

"Steal it?"

"It's free." I nudged him as I walked toward the table that's only guarded by a student, but he stayed behind like a wimp.

We wouldn't need to hide away junk food if we were staying at my place. He's not allowed sugar after dinner.

Charlie has parents that are present and caring...which is great for everything except doing the things teenagers like to try at least once. Like...drinking and smoking and partying and the kind of baseball you play off the field.

But I'm staying out of my apartment as much as possible now. I have a teeny crush on Evan and I need to kill it because we're done for good and he's my roommate. I don't know what it is about him that my brain just eats up but I wish it'd get tired already.

So I'll just avoid him until he seems like all my least favorite things. Cherry flavored medicine, cottage cheese, steamed broccoli, Vanilla Ice, math.

It's simple.

Besides, I don't want to hear about it. His dates...his phone calls...what he's doing right now at Karlie's house "helping her babysit her little sister." He left dressed as a pirate because Karlie is a princess and they thought a couple's kidnapping costume was funny, I guess

"You're not supposed to take that much," Sarah said as I shoveled candy into whatever could hold it.

I looked around at the handful of kids here. "Who else is going to eat it?"

She shrugged and stopped caring when I stuffed my pockets full.

"I like your paint."

"Thanks..." I replied cautiously like I was waiting for the punchline. When it never came, I furrowed my eyebrows at her. "Why are you here?"

"I got in trouble."

For bullying, I'm assuming.

"What you did to Karlie really sucked. She didn't hook up with your boyfriend."

"I know."

"Then why-"

"Because she liked him before they kissed. Literally when they were talking she was telling him how she liked him last year. He's a two-timing liar but she wanted to steal him."

"I don't think she wanted to steal him..."

Her eyes narrowed. "She obviously wanted him to dump me first but he's an idiot. She's just mad the whole school thinks she's a slut now. Any guy, any bathroom." Sarah evilly pursed her lips, proud of her contribution to teenage depression.

"Well, she got a boyfriend out of it so she's fine," I mumbled.

"Who?"

"Evan Andrews."

"I thought he was gay."

"He likes girls too."

She scoffed in disgust. "Karlie?"

"It's kinda messed up...because he used to date...Annette, and Karlie was her friend."

"Like Karlie would care."

"But you're not supposed to do that to your friend. You're supposed to ask first, right? In case they don't want you to..."

Sarah nodded. "Girl code."

"Or just being a good friend," I suggested. "I mean—even if you aren't sure how you feel about someone, your friend can't just take them."

"No, it's bitchy."

"It's bitchy!"

"It's slutty."

"Yeah, slutty!"

"If Annette cares, she'll probably do something about it. I would not mess with her," Sarah said with a cautious expression.

Why do people mess with me? I can be scary. I can be mean. I don't break girl code.

...Any bathroom, right?

"Can I borrow that marker?" I pointed to the red one next to the paper jack-o-lanterns.

Once she handed it to me, I turned to find where Charlie was standing.

"Did you get candy?" He asked.

"Yeah, here." I emptied most of it into his nervous hands. "I've gotta pee."

The door to the last stall is covered in writing and engravings. It's infamous. The janitor doesn't even try to clean it anymore.

Karlie's name was written in pencil, so I erased it until only a smudge was left. They should've used a marker. I will.

Karlie Chlamydia

Did another guy at the party on Madison street. Bathroom slut.

Scene 3: Frank's Auto-shop

Danny Cole

Matt let me know what happened before Leo did.  These two—kids fighting over a girl.

He's avoiding parties because he doesn't know which one Leo and Elle are going to be at.

"I feel like I should take you to a haunted house or something."

"Why?"

"You love Halloween and you're sitting here doing nothing." Hanging with these guys is a regular Tuesday for him.

He shrugged. "Not in the mood to do anything."

"Bullshit. You wanted to be Krueger."

He looked down, disappointed in his stretched shirt and jeans.

"Is that blood on your jacket?" Frankie pointed at me.

"It's not mine. My dad sliced open his fucking hand the other day and I had to drive him to urgent care to get stitched up."

"Wasted?" Matt raised an eyebrow.

"No shit."

"Didn't you used to try to water down his bottles?"

"Yeah, that pissed him off." They laughed and looked at me as some kind of menace or rebel. But I see myself at 14 and no one cracked a smile when he was screaming at me.

"Remember when he tried to fight you and you pushed him so hard his head made a hole in the wall?"

I laugh— as much as I can at something I can't find the humor in. People always expect me to laugh. These assholes, the rest of my family I barely see because they don't like my dad. Everyone makes dumb fucking jokes about it like it's not my life and I'm supposed to not care that my dad is fucked up and I have no one looking out for me.

They think I should laugh.

"When I left out the house today, he was practically drooling on the floor. He probably put a hole in the wall himself by now."

"He probably put a hole in himself," Frankie joked.

"Yeah...probably."

My aunt thinks he wants to die. She said it when I was 12, and I cried, I don't know why.

I heard that after you do something for a while— you have to do a shit ton more of it to get the same feeling.

He has to drink the entire bottle and buy another one a few hours later.

I wonder if I'd still need more than two pills.

"Got anything besides bud?"

"I might have some tabs," Ned answered.

"Call Jordan." Matt nodded toward the phone stand. "He said he wanted to come by anyway."

"Alright."

I'll just buy a few from him. I took all the cash off my dad, so I might as well.

They go back to talking and laughing, smoking cigarettes, and letting beer cans hit the ground. I grab the phone and only dial half the number before my finger freezes.

And everyone at the wellness center thought I should spend less time being rehabilitated. I'm cured. Not sick, not addicted, not weak.

There's another phone in Frankie's dad's office—and a door so these nosy jerkoffs can't hear what I need to say.

I go in quietly and take a seat by the phone. I lose a bit more of myself every time I do something the old me wouldn't. The pieces just get replaced by pathetic versions I don't recognize in the mirror.

"Hello?" He answered. In group, he introduced himself as Mick who likes to shoot heroin, and I scoffed at how his name is probably Malcolm but he didn't think that sounded hard enough.

"Yeah...uh...this is Danny."

"Danny who?"

"Danny from group."

"Oh. You're the kid who's not an addict," he replied. "Change your mind about that?"

"Look I'm feeling like shit right now and I kinda think I might do something I'll regret."

"Why?"

"What, you want me to say that I'm an addict?"

"No, I want you to tell me why you feel like shit."

"I don't know. It's been a bad day. My dad always makes me wanna throw myself off the Manhattan."

"He's tough on you?"

"Not sober enough to be tough on me."

"Drugs?"

"Alcohol." I scoffed. "Ruined my life, huh? Shrink says I was predisposed."

"Forget the predisposition shit. Seeing your parent like that—all messed up and not giving a damn about what that does to you...that can make you want to use. It's depressing and it pisses you off, why wouldn't you want something to make you feel good instead?"

"I had a girlfriend who did that for me. Whenever my dad made me want to fucking stab myself, I'd go to her. I think it's part of the reason she ended it. I was too much and not enough." And I'll never let myself forget that I lost Val.

"Something tells me you blame yourself for everything bad that happens. A building can catch on fire in the Bronx and you're looking at yourself with a lighter in Manhattan."

"No, but I can own up to my shit."

"Good, but you're only responsible for your actions. You a people pleaser?"

"No...maybe...I don't know."

"Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"Get to a meeting. And I'll see you tomorrow morning. Breakfast on me."

Scene 4: The Helmsley Hotel

Leo Rylin

I'm a dick.

I did enough with Elle tonight, I dressed up and made my hair all weird. She should be happy. I just needed time to drop by Heather's party so she wouldn't feel bad. This is the best we've been since we broke up. My being here is accepting the fresh start we have.

Even with what they say about old habits.

"Butterfly?" I said in amusement at her costume.

"Fairy," she tried to correct me.

"You're a butterfly."

"Shut up." She eyes me and tilts her head. "What are you supposed to be?"

I sighed. "Fred." Thank God I took off the ascot before I got here.

"Was she Daphne?" I nodded. "Cute."

"Yeah..." I shifted my focus, searching for something to change the subject. "I'm late, huh?"

"Is this not enough people for you?"

"Judging by your birthday party, I'm assuming there were a lot more."

"I am the hottest ticket in town."

"I bet."

She led me into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything?"

"Like?"

She held up two bottles of liquor. "Vodka? Tequila?"

I recognize that vodka from the end-of-the-year party I hung outside of. The last night when Heather and I...

My hand grabbed the tequila instead. I've always hated this stuff, and when I feel it burning holes in my esophagus, I remember why. "Jesus," I complained and cringed at the taste.

"Oh, you're trying to make a few mistakes tonight." A girl dressed as Little Red smiled next to me, setting her sights on the dangerous liquid. "Don't slow down on my account."

"Help yourself." I hand her the bottle.

"I will," she said, deviously.

I glanced at Heather and saw her gazing at us amusedly. The girl eyed me up, using all she has to flirt with me without even talking—tits, direct eye contact, and getting closer by the second.

"Sheena, he isn't unattached," Heather said after she'd seen enough.

"No? What a shame," she replied, smirking at me still as she walked away with the tequila.

"Oh, look at that. The invitation is still open," Heather teased.

"What did you do? Change the rules?"

"What rules?"

"No central/burnout relations."

"We're in costume. How would she know? You can be whoever you want to. Tonight you're rich."

"And you're telling me these aren't butterfly wings?" My fingers grazed over them.

"They're not. I have the receipt in a purse somewhere. When I find it one day, I'll show you."

"Yeah, right." I back away toward where her favorite purse is perched on the counter. These high society types are too trusting. I know people who lift stuff from them all the time "This purse?" I asked her.

"Could be. I don't remember. I bought this ages ago," she said, sounding as nonchalant as possible.

"Oh, I bet." I bring it over to her and open it up. I want there to be a receipt or an order slip or anything so she can tell me why she wanted to be a butterfly of all things on the night you can be whatever you want. Her words. "...Heather."

"...what?"

No receipt but..."Diet pills?" I hold the loose pills in my hand, "You're not on these are you?"

"No. They were given to me." I slip them into my pocket and close her purse. "Give them back."

"No."

She huffed. "Why?"

"I don't want you taking them."

"What I do is none of your business."

I scoffed. "Go ahead and think that."

She started to scowl but gave up fast. "Fine."

"Why'd you have them?"

"I wanted to feel...something."

"Don't take speed for that. You want drugs, I'll get you weed."

"Still a dealer, I see."

"I didn't say I'd charge you."

"Give me your cigarettes," she said, sternly with her hand out. "Go on."

I rolled my eyes but took them out of my pocket and placed them in her palm. Money down the drain. Cigarettes in the garbage. "Are we squared?"

"When will you get me drugs?"

"When you don't ask like that." I chuckled and shook my head. "Go wait in your room. You sound like a cop."

But I can't say I wouldn't love to see you stoned. Perfect little Heather completely burned out.

People who sell at parties are usually already known by the main users.

I ask the guy filling a pipe with ground-up hash where he got the product, and he points me right in the direction of the wealthy prick who deals for fun and not for money.

Rich kids normally pass out pills and lines. Weed isn't a big enough shock to their systems.

I'd rather never smoke again than give you dicks a cent. As soon as he turned to point out who was selling, I slid the rest of his bag off the table. Buy more, asshole.

Heather's waiting patiently on her bed when I come into her room.

I show her the little bag of weed and she gasps.

"Who-"

"There's always somebody at a party. Especially rich people parties since you're hypocrites. It would have been even easier to get coke."

"Do not do cocaine."

"I won't. That's rich people shit. You don't do cocaine."

"I won't."

"Okay, speed freak," I teased and she playfully pushed me. I got down on the floor so I wouldn't make a mess in her bed...not that I haven't before....but not this kind of mess. "And don't ever do this with someone you can't trust. Who knows what they'll put in it, okay?"

"Okay."

She sits in front of me and watches as if I'm teaching a seminar. "I keep papers in my wallet. I'll roll you one." Something I never thought I'd say to Heather. To think—we kinda broke up over this stuff and now we're on her bedroom floor about to smoke a joint. "Should I be worried that you even want to do this?"

"First time for everything."

"Out of character for you."

"You were out of character for me. That didn't stop me then, why should it now?"

"Alright." I lick the paper and close the joint before digging out my lighter.

"That is how you seal it? And then you share with everyone?" Heather said with wide, concerned eyes.

"You can use water but-" I shrugged. "What's the point? We've shared more than this."

"The point is I know what you like to do with your mouth."

"Yeah, well I haven't done that recently, so relax."

"Recently," she says with an eye roll.

"I haven't. And you know I could ask you the same thing."

Heather takes the joint from me. "Too late." She sets it between her lips and smirks. Only a camera could make this better. I burn the end and watch as she breathes in. It's so funny seeing her in this situation. I love being your bad influence. She coughs a bit and puts her hand on her chest. "Why does it burn?"

"It's smoke." I take a drag to show her how it's done.

"Why are you so good at it?"

"Experience." I hand it back as I exhaled a cloud of sativa. "Won't your parents ask about the smell?"

"I'll blame the party. They won't care since we hardly live here anymore."

"Fucking California." I shook my head. "You'll do this all the time then."

"I doubt it." She takes the tiniest amounts into her lungs. "I don't think I'll be comfortable with anyone other than you."

And I don't know how to respond to that. But I like that she said it.

"You can stop when you feel something," I told her. "Whatever you were trying to feel popping pills."

"Joy," she laughed to herself, "pleasure...I don't know. The first couple weeks of school were awful."

"I'm sorry...if I made it any worse."

"You made it so much worse," she said while smiling, "but I forgive you."

"High yet?"

Heather nodded, "This feels like being drunk."

"A little. It doesn't go to my head as much."

"It goes to mine."

"You feel okay?"

"Mhm," she replied...and laid her dazed head on my lap.

My heart beats a little faster.

I wouldn't let her do this if I hadn't smoked her out....Elle would go nuts if she knew what was happening right now. But it's just Heather...

Her eyes aren't red or struggling to stay open. We look at each other for a while before she turns away giggling.

"What?" I asked in amusement.

"Nothing..." she draws out. "...I am a butterfly."

"I know."

"I saw it and I couldn't resist...but I don't want you to think it's weird."

"I don't," I reply and she covers her face to hide the mild embarrassment. "I swear, I like it," I laugh at her shyness.

"Me too. They're pretty...butterflies."

"Yeah," I nodded, gazing down at where she was laying on me. "I'm not supposed to be your friend."

"You're not," Heather responded. "I don't like you."

"Feeling's mutual."

Her jaw drops in offense and I laugh while shaking my head.

"You're so high."

"Mm," she voiced in agreement. "What happens next?"

"You'll get hungry...then sleepy, and I'm gonna stay here until your party's over to make sure no one fucks with you."

"You can kick them out."

"What do you tell centrals when you want them to leave? Something tells me they're not afraid of the cops."

"Cut the music off and turn on the lights."

"I'm gonna play Closing Time and open the door."

She gasped and sat up. "I have it! I bought the whole album for one song."

"Not the only one anybody knows?"

"No." She glared, "I'd make you a mix but you'd give it back."

"Some fucking nerve, Heather."

"I kept your tape."

"It wasn't for you."

"Too bad. I have all our music."

Our.

"Want me to put some on?"

"So you can laugh through Blister in the Sun?"

"I was only laughing because we were kissing. It's a good song in other situations. I'll put in your mix, then," I offered.

"You don't have to. We won't be kissing," she said, and it wasn't until now that I realized how close our faces are.

"No..." I replied, watching her eyes shift to my lips while we talk like this. She's high... "I'll get the CD." And maybe open the doors to her balcony. We clearly need some air in here.

"Fred and Daphne..." She took in my appearance. "That's so dumb."

I laughed but didn't disagree. "What would you want me to be?"

"You can be a butterfly, too."