Awake

The feverish temperature of the room made Sage sweat profusely as she stumbled and shoved her way through the crowds of indistinct faces. Her eyelids felt heavy and her shoulders sagged. She exhaustedly collapsed onto the couch. It was the most uncomfortable thing Sage had ever had the misfortune of laying on. It was less comfortable than standing and less relaxing than an afternoon with the dentist. No wonder it was still pristine, who'd want to sit in it anyway? At least, she thought, it was hers to inhabit for the night. She stared motionlessly at the ceiling. The pounding music began sinking away and she observed the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

Her few moments of solitare were disturbed when Harvard sat by her feet at the end of the couch. He smiled and laughed breathily, snuggling his way up to her face and kissing her neck. They were Harvard's kisses, but they were a bit wetter, sloppier. She giggled playfully, eyes still closed and licked her lips. “You tired, baby girl?” He asked, speaking softly. “Joshua’s got some snow in the back, if you like.”

Her eyes opened, she could see him from her peripheral vision and she nodded. She sat up and joked, “I’m fucked up, man.” She leaned into his chest, laughing and mumbling incoherently. “I love you.”

“You’re cute.” Harvard replied.

She’d been smoking weed earlier during the party, sometime around two, but in her experience, cocaine had the right buzz, right hit to really get her awake, and Joshua was her friend, why turn down the offer? There was of course, the sinking warmth and vague guilt in her chest every morning after a hit or two. Her old friends, specifically Alec and Peach, were great at making her feel guilty for having a good time, she often told herself. But the highs and the sex and the smoking were all just part of youth. They were probably just late bloomers.

Using a bit of assistance from Harvard, she hoisted herself up to her feet. A wave of nausea washed over her body and a shiver crawled up her skin. She would have stepped on her mother's grave for a shot of vodka right then and there. Sage leaned on Harvard’s shoulder, whispering meaningless nothings until they both reached the end of the hall. Harvard knocked at the door and opened it. He wasn’t asking for permission to come in, he was declaring his entrance.

The room was considerably small, with large brown blankets for curtains and a pile of white sheets for a pillow. Sage sat down on the bed. The room smelled like cat piss, which did nothing to help her headache, but she decided that commenting on it would be rude so instead she just waved and participated in small talk.

Joshua used his credit card to carefully align the rows of white powder. The frizzy haired boy did this meticulously, as though his life depended on it and Sage watched patiently. “My mom used to use coke.”

She spoke nonchalantly, trying to fit in with the crowd. “My aunt told me she snorted it off of a guys dick in college once.” And burst out laughing.

“Yeah. That happens a lot more often than you probably think it does.” Retorted Joshua.

Harvard scoffed and playfully hit the side of his friend’s head. “Man, shut the fuck up. When are you gonna be done with that anyway? Shit, we just have to snort it.”

“Here. Take it. It’s the best shit you’ll find from here to Miami.” He said proudly. Joshua turned around and looked at Sage. He motioned towards the table in front of his bed with his head, frizzy hair bouncing. “Come on, pretty girl. The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, or so I’ve heard.”

“Puh-lease. I’m nothing like my mom.”

Sage’s heels clicked on the tile floor and she crouched next to the table. From her back pocket, she pulled out a one dollar bill and rolled it into a thin cylinder. Reality slowly faded into a vague white dream that cascaded down her spine. All the stars aligned as she was swept away by the crystallized sugar. The bright electricity shocked her body and she was soon in the epithet of truth sinking into delusion, hanging from precipice the in between. Sage swiped her index finger under her nose.

Excitement and confidence stung her body like a million bees.The illusions of glitter of strobe, gratuitous gaiety, platitudes and sanctimonious guile overcame her.

Her head still hurt, the music was still pounding and her nose was running. But she was awake.