Arrogance: Volume One of Ebb & Flow

My phone chimes, a message from the groupchat. “Looks like we can’t finish the movie.”

“Ugghhh. But I’m so cozy,” she whined.

“Up, up, up. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

I yank the covers off her and slowly pull her off the bed. She begrudgingly follows me downstairs and outside. “Do you mind if we take your car? It’s the only one big enough for the five of us.”

“Not at all, are you stuck being DD again?”

“It’s not ‘stuck’ if I choose not to drink. You know I'm not too fond of the taste of it. I’m happy as long as you and the others have fun.”

Early on in high school, I decided I wouldn’t drink. Everything I’ve seen about alcohol and its effects made me realize it wouldn’t be good. Given my peculiarities, there’s no way of telling how it would affect me. What if I mouthed off and ruined all my hard work?

Jean-Luc, Marcus, and Aubrey are leaning against my truck, waiting for us. My friends are always dressed like they’re all going to different places. Aubrey’s hair is up in a ponytail, and wearing some kind of streetwear fashion I don’t understand. Lots of belts and buckles, and the fabric is both tight and billowy. Jean-Luc wears black dress pants and a blue button-down dress shirt, while Marcus looks like a typical jock. Complete with a letterman jacket. Marcus’ unwillingness to relinquish his past glory is almost cute. He still has the jacket despite the fact he’ll never compete again. We exchange our pleasantries and greetings and hop into Maria’s SUV.

“Look what I brought,” Aubrey said, pulling a bottle from her bag.

“Ayye is that Dicerno? How’d you get a hold of that?” Marcus asked.

“My parents got it a couple of months ago. I’ve been ‘borrowing’ it for weeks now, figured I should share with you guys.”

“Hey! Put that away until we get there. The last thing we need is to get pulled over by a cop and not even make it to Jake’s.” I yelled.

“Okay, daaaaad. We’ll wait to pregame until we get there,” Aubrey replied.

“Fuck you, Aubrey.” I laughed. Tonight I would be upbeat and cheerful. It would hopefully be my last outing with any of my classmates. The final memory they’d have of Eryk Blakely. Because after this school year ends, I’m immediately moving to Quinstin to start fresh. They’ll understand; I’m a driven, dedicated student. It’s obvious I’d try and get an early start to my university career.

The ride to Jake’s house is a long one. His family home is out in the wilderness, a mansion that’s been in the family for generations. A 7,500-square-foot complex complete with an indoor and outdoor pool. Only one road goes out to the Deckler abode, and it doesn’t have a single streetlight, just beautiful pine trees on either side for miles. Jean-Luc and Marcus argue over college basketball players while Maria and Aubrey discuss the party. I roll the window down and let the rushing wind drown them out. The quiet stillness accompanies the fading May sun in a way only nature can provide.

Thirty minutes pass quickly, the drive ending as we pull into Jake’s driveway. The sounds of the party drown out the crunch of pinecones beneath the slowing tires of the SUV. There are at least thirty cars parked, and the party is in full swing. I pull into an open spot, narrowly avoiding hitting some drunk idiot.

“GET OUT OF THE WAY, FRESHIE!” Marcus bellows from the back.

“Typical freshman, you have to pace yourself at a Deckler rager,” said Aubrey.

“Yeah, or you end up like fucking Jean-Luc. Crossfaded, pissing all over yourself in a bush while carolers sing holiday songs.”

“Fuck off, Marcus. It was my first high school party, okay. I learned my lesson about mixing psychedelics, and I’m never touching that shit again,” Jean-Luc responded.

That night was quite a trip. Seeing the effects that the drugs had on Jean-Luc was fascinating. Seeing your baser urges exposed to the world and losing control of yourself to instinct is almost poetic. I’d considered trying drugs, but like alcohol, there’s no way to tell what would happen. Better safe than sorry, my father always says.

“Babe, babe, hello? Earth to Eryk.”

Maria is waving her hand in front of me, and my friends are staring. I got lost in my thoughts again. It’s hard not to when you’re stuck playing out an uninteresting role.

“Hah, sorry. Ignore me and let loose. I am but your humble guardian angel, keeping you all safe tonight,” I said dryly.

That’s all it took for Aubrey to break out the Dicerno, and everybody takes turns drinking. The pregame has begun, with the three quickly working through the remaining half of a bottle. Maria doesn’t partake, probably waiting until we enter to start drinking. She prefers the more “complex spirits” like bourbon and brandy—a classy lady who enjoys the taste more than the feeling of getting drunk. Focusing back on the present as we walk up to the mansion. Booming EDM music is blaring from speakers as tall as me located all over the place. We walk through the front door, and teenagers are everywhere, drinking and grinding to the beat.

We step onto the chiseled marble floor; ahead of us sit collapsible tables with kegs on them—thirty-foot ceilings with golden chandeliers hanging from them, and a grand staircase leading to the second floor. The man of the hour is at the top with a red solo cup in each hand. Jake Deckler, the hometown hero and walking trope, has wealthy parents, is captain of the football team, dating the cheer squad leader, and is a massive piece of shit. Jake Deckler used to live in Marcus’ shadow, the second-string quarterback who just wasn’t good enough. Part of me wonders if Jake caused Marcus’ accident, there are a couple of rumors about Jake’s alleged cruelty. Reports of bullying that his parents paid to cover up. Not my problem, nor is it my place to judge. He'll most likely drink himself to death before he reaches thirty.

Marcus goes over to greet his buddies on the football team, dishing out handshakes and fistbumps. Jean-Luc and Aubrey head to the kegs, leaving me with Maria attached to my hip. We walk past the keg tables and to the second floor. I hear voices coming from nearby. Maria pulls me along to investigate, and we find about twenty people. A long L-shaped red couch sits against the wall. Two sets of drunk freshmen are sloppily making out on it. Their hands clumsily roam in disgusting acts of public affection. Two tables are on the left with red solo cups set up in neat triangles; beer pong is a party tradition old as time. Two teams of what I assume are sophomores, based on their looks. The game’s pretty intense, and both sides are focused.

Nameless faces dot the rest of the area, kids I’ve seen before but know nothing about. Each has a story where I don’t even occur as a background character. To them, I am the nameless one, a nobody. As my vision sweeps, I see someone I do recognize; Melanie Paelsi—an attractive girl with paler features and an excellent bone structure. I feel Maria’s arm tighten around mine as soon as Melanie smiles at me.

“Why is that bitch smiling at you?” Maria said with a forced smile.

“Relax, she’s just being friendly. We’re at a party, so have some fun.”

“Friendly? She’s practically drooling. Does she not know we’re dating? I don’t see how since we’ve been together for two years and are very public with our love. Maybe she needs a reminder.” Maria said before french kissing me.

I slightly open my left eye and see Melanie scowling, her face bright red in frustration. Maria can be pretty daring when I’m involved. It takes guts for a girl as shy as her to pull off a move like that—a brilliantly-executed maneuver and decidedly mean. I pull away from her kiss and lead her to an open sofa. She sits on my lap and shoots a dirty look at Melanie. My girlfriend can be incredibly spiteful, and I won’t be surprised if she does something to escalate this. I whisper reassurances and sweet words to try and calm her mood. I close my eyes, rubbing her back until I fall into a dissociative rhythm to the thumping bass.

She’s patient and knows parties aren’t my choice for a good time. I’m unsure how long we sit together, but I believe in rewarding good behavior, so I ask her if she wants to raid Jake’s dad’s collection.

Her eyes light up, and we sneak away toward the primary kitchen. Primary, as in there’s a second one. The one we walk through is the size of the entire first floor of my house; the rich sure have it nice. I thought I had it good, but this place makes my home look paltry by comparison. We walk through the room, past punch bowls full of jungle juice and people at different levels of intoxication. Memorization has always been a strong suit of mine, helping me keep track of the various idiosyncrasies that the people in my life have. A left, a right, and two more turns take us to an old wooden door. It doesn’t fit the same style as the rest of the house, leading to the wine cellar. I read once that we still use wood because it handles the humidity and cool temperature better than other materials. Walking down the steps, I’m in awe of how much this must have cost.

I called it a wine cellar, but there’s plenty of other alcohol down here—bourbon and scotch by the barrel alongside foreign liqueurs whose names I can’t pronounce. In the center is a glass cabinet lit up to show off the bottles inside.

“And there, my dear Maria, is the good stuff.”

“You sure know how to treat a girl,” Maria replied.

She walks to the cabinet and opens it, looking at the different bottles. She settles on a glass decanter with dragons carved into it. The alcohol inside is a rich gold color that looks like fossilized amber. The thing is worth tens of thousands of dollars. She pulls the stopper off and takes a sip. Her eyes go wide; it must taste good.

“How is it?” I asked.

“It’s incredible, unlike anything I’ve ever tasted: sweet, smooth, and the right kind of burn. I can’t believe you remembered where this was,” Maria said.

“What can I say? You know I have a great memory.”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between never forgetting anyone's birthdays and memorizing our classmate’s house layout. I love you, Eryk, but that’s weird.”

She’s looking at me strangely. I’ve made a stupid mistake. She’s right, knowing Jake’s house layout would be weird. In retrospect, looking up the floorplans of the house to find the wine cellar might’ve been a step too far. I thought I should give her a pleasant happy memory for when we break up in a few months. Like my father, Maria has helped me in ways they don’t even know. She has given me firsthand experience in imitating love and compassion and satisfying a partner emotionally. If it ends tonight due to a miscalculation, so be it. How to play this off?

“Heh, everyone has their quirks-” I’m cut off as the floor above us shakes.

“What was that?” Maria asked.

“I don’t know, and it can’t be an earthquake. They don’t happen on the east coast.”

Screams ring out from above, and my body starts moving up the stairs toward the noise.

“Eryk, Eryk, where are you going?” Maria yelled to me.

I open the door, and the screams are so much louder. I check my phone, and we haven’t even been here an hour. What could have happened? I retrace my steps through the house as I get closer to whatever is happening. Something is compelling me to discover the cause of the commotion, urging me onward as I run to the source. I slow down to a walk as I turn the last corner to the foyer. Carnage awaits me, pools of blood and charred corpses on the floor. Flaming holes in the walls and chunks of marble are missing from the floor. The front entrance looks melted shut, the two doors welded together.

Marcus and the other popular kids are off to the side, kneeling on the ground. Cheerleaders sob uncontrollably, lying against their friends’ lifeless bodies. Five people are in the middle of the room: Jake Deckler, his girlfriend Hellen Zhao, Kyle Thompson, and Hunter Fields. Across from them is someone in a black tracksuit, wearing a helmet shaped like a demon’s face. It has curved tusks and horns with glowing red eyes.