Peer Pressure

Having spent little time with anyone under thirty, I had no idea peer pressure was a real thing in this world. I thought it was some made-up idea authors stuck in their books to create conflict. Imaginary, like Narnia or Disney World. It turns out, there's a lot of truth to the concept.

Friday hit. I ignored my homework and sat at the edge of my fountain. I needed a sign. Something that could make the waiter's story add up. Alas, I encountered no drug addicts, no cartels, and no topic for my paper. I shook my head and went home.

✎✎✎

My watch blared at me, the navy blue pointing towards three small digits.

Two fifty-eight.

Two fifty-eight!? I grabbed my jacket and shoved it over my neck. Julia wasn't in the driveway. I shook my head—it was Friday. We had therapy. We always had therapy on Friday. Before I could think about it, I grabbed the home phone and called Ed.

We pulled up to Delcoph High School two minutes later. I swear Ed is a wizard.

"Where's your friend, anyway?" he asked.

I shrugged.

He faced the front of the vehicle. "Odd."

"Uh-huh."

I unsnapped my buckle and scanned the front of Decolph High School. People. Teens everywhere. No shootings, no firemen, no police lights. Maybe she forgot.

I glanced over my shoulder. "Thanks, Ed."

"Hey. No problem." His voice held an odd twitch. I turned to close the door, but Ed stopped me. "Ben, are you sure everything's okay?"

A shiver itched down me, so subtle it could have been my imagination.

"Yeah," I assured him, or something like that. "See you later."

I shoved the door closed and paced towards the school. My veins were on fire.

I took the usual route. Straight down the hall, through the back staircase to the third floor, dodging the dreaded eye-contact as I attempted to make myself look human. (No. Let's face it, I never look human.)

Everyone behaved as normal. Those occasional stares would find me in their overpriced hallway. I would turn my eyes to their feet. After a lifetime of hallways, I wrapped my hand around Dr. White's door handle and turned the knob.

Snap.

The overwhelming force sent me crumpling against a locker. Stupid, stubborn lock. With strain built up in my neck, I fisted the handle and jerked it. My biceps became elastic bands, burning with enragement, and my legs cramped beneath me. It refused to budge.

Stupid door.

I crouched over. No feet inside my wacky experimenter's classroom. But students still crowded my surroundings, and I couldn't see the end of the hallway.

My heart raced. I sat on the floor.

I had to stop acting like an earthworm. Nothing but racing feet and dirty shoes down here. But, if I got up, I would have to face the fact that I was here for therapy, and no one else was. I had no idea where to go, who to talk to, or what to do. Maybe I could break in, or find Austin, or—

"Ben?"

Five fingers materialized in front of my face. My pulse dropped. Julia White. I grabbed her hand as if it were my lifeline and let her yank me to my feet.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

I opened my mouth, but her eyes were far away from mine. I followed her gaze.

There were four other girls. Two blondes: one a curly sue and the other straight as a board. And a shorty who, I swear to you, looked like a tiny, female, African American version of Austin, complete with the glasses and a pixie cut.

I'd be lying if I said I remembered those three, though.

I only saw the girl who was at my eye level, the first female I'd ever met who I could make eye contact with without having to crane my neck down. Her hair looked as if someone had filled a blow-dryer with bubblegum and set it at the highest level. Holy Pink Frizz.

Julia broke my staring contest with the girl's hair. "Ben?"

"Huh?"

"You didn't answer me. What are you doing here?"

I slipped my hand from her grip and tried to focus on her hair instead. You know, to be polite.

"It's a weekday," I said.

"So?"

"We have therapy."

Julia rubbed the crevices of her eyes. "Ben, it's Friday."

"And?"

Her tone was a knife slitting the hairs on my neck. "And my dad's gone for a conference, so therapy's canceled today."

"Oh."

"We talked about this yesterday!"

"Oh."

"I sent you a reminder."

I scratched my head.

"Remember, the note?"

Oh. I thought that sticky note was some sort of "keep smiling and be happy" pamphlet. I threw it away moments after it was placed in my hand. As for the announcement, I'm a visual learner. Meaning one thing: I don't have to listen.

Pinkie spoke like a cartoon movie princess. "Julia, who's this?"

Julia recovered from the reminder of how stupid I am. She cleared her throat, but it still sounded like there was a hatchet hacking away in there. "Ben, this is Valerie, Paige, Brooke, and Leah. Valerie, Page, Brooke, and Leah? This is Ben."

Here's what I learned. Valerie: pink hair. Leah: Black, tiny, female Austin. Brooke: blonde frizzy hair. Paige: long straight hair, wearing a baseball cap, younger than Brooke. Brooke and Paige are sisters.

I forgot most of them. Except that Valerie is Pinkie.

"This is Ben?" Valerie smiled, revealing white pearls for teeth.

Instead of answering, Julia's eyebrows spread across her forehead as she stared at her feet. One fidgeted with the other.

An odd twinge drowned my chest. It was a nasty, venomous poison, a snake bite drowning right through my soul and back again. Was I turning green? These friends were so irritating I tasted blood. I wanted to smack the feeling away. Julia was acting weird. I blamed these girls, but there was something else.

What's the word I'm looking for? When you feel like your friend has lots of other fancy, rich friends who secretly want to strangle you? I felt like a child wanting someone else's toy.

Great, I sound like a freaking idiot.

Why was that Valerie Pinks-a-lot staring at me? I looked at the rest of them, hoping to rid the sour pickle and onion taste from my mouth. Paige's head hung towards her phone; I couldn't see her face beneath the baseball cap. Brooke played with a blonde curl. Leah straightened her glasses to magnify the night-brown eyes. Julia curled her lips into her mouth and stared at the lockers.

I know there's a lot of names and faces getting thrown at you right now. I'm truly, sincerely, not sorry about that. How do you think I felt?

Seriously, tell me. I don't know.

"Well." Pinkie extended her arm towards me. "Nice to meet you, Ben. I'm Valerie."

I stared at her fingers, manicured with puppy faces and sparkles. After a while, she dropped her hand and twirled at a pink strand. I hope she hadn't been waiting for me to shake it or anything. That's a weird thing to desire from someone you've just met. Yeah, let's make physical contact with our hands.

Brooke coughed. (Blonde, frizzy hair.) "So, Julia, are we on for this weekend then?"

Julia rattled her head. "Um, yeah. We'll meet you at Valerie's."

"Coolio," Paige said. "I'll text Joey. I doubt he'll turn this down because he's like the only black guy in the school and probably can't wait to get all over Leah. And we all know if he goes-"

"So will Alexander," Brooke finished.

The sisters were interesting. They were talking to the group, but their eyes never left the small, technological devices in their hands. Cellphones must have a built-in hypnotizer or something.

Glad I never bothered to take mine out of the box.

Leah pushed her glasses up her nose. She straightened her spine, her hands in wadded fists. "Paige? Listen. Very. Carefully. If you say one more thing about us hooking up, I am going to pull the tissues out of your bra, shove them down your throat, and choke you with them."

"Right." Paige rolled her eyes. "Let's bounce, Brooke. See you guys tomorrow."

Then she was gone.

POOF.

Leah's eyes trailed the little blonde. "No offense, Brooke, but your sister's a little-"

"LET'S GO!" Paige roared down the hall.

Brooke mouthed something and scampered off. Leah made a strangling motion with her fingers before jerking away. I wonder where she went. I thought that way led to the bathrooms.

My mouth opened in an attempt to make the world normal again. "Um, so what are you…doing tomorrow, anyway?"

I'd asked Julia. I got an answer from Valerie: "They're doing a Spring Fest down in Pelham Bay Park, so we figured we'd go on a little road trip and check it out. And my parents are lending the RV."

"It's honestly not that big of a deal." Julia's hands were spastic. "I'm just staying at Valerie's while Dad's away, so we thought it would be fun."

Valerie grinned. "It turns out no one around here has a life, so it became a group thing."

My fingers slipped into my pockets. Julia made that face I've learned to recognize—when her eyes get darker. She was ready to be done with the whole verbal communication thing. But Valerie had other ideas.

A very different idea.

"You know," Pinkie said. "You'd be welcome to come too if you want. We've got plenty of room."

Julia turned pale.

I hate carnivals. But this rotten apple feeling wouldn't go away. Julia looked like she wanted to tie me up and put me in a storage closet until my late thirties. Adrenaline scampered through my fingertips, begging me to agree to this and make Julia redder.

Then again, I REALLY hate carnivals. Kids scream and touch everything in sight with snotty fingers. Bathrooms wreak, have no toilet paper, and tip over. Teenagers put their arms up and die on the big drops of roller coasters. You run out of money by noon.

Valerie bounced her curls, watching me as if I were the most fascinating person on the planet.

These were normal people. Out of my league. They expected me to say no. I expected me to say no. I would say no. I would spend my Saturday in my room reading books backward and listening to Canadian punk-rock bands until my ears bled.

"Sure," I said. My eyes glued onto Julia. "I'd love to come."