memento mori

01: rager teenager

LIV

The first time I saw her, she was smoking a cigarette and staring up at the sky.

There weren't any stars out, I don't think. Maybe only the brightest ones and a few planes. Light pollution blurred the rest. That didn't matter— she still looked so enthralled.

We would have been seventeen then, too young to drink in our own significance. Still, I think I recognized the significance glowing in her.

It was New Years Eve, at a house party. Nearly every surface was sticky with alcohol stolen from parents and snuck in under oversized jackets, and the air was thick with smoke. Still, she went outside to smoke her cigarette as if that made any difference.

I considered going up to her, considered what I would say if I worked up the nerve. But I didn't; the world continued to spin and she didn't acknowledge my existence there at all.

The next time our paths crossed, they brought us right together. If I didn't know better, I'd say that was fate at play.

It was another party, just a group of kids celebrating the death of another week. What can I say, it seems we were crazy teens. What could you expect? She had parents she felt the need to disappoint just to remind them she existed, and I had parents who were so supportive of me they even went so far as to encourage me to spend nights out at parties.

So there we were, both rushing through the same set of crowded, cramped hallways. At some point, my arm brushed up against someone else's sweat and I felt like crying.

It didn't take long for me, in typical fashion, to lose focus entirely and trip on my own foot. I send myself sprawling directly into a person, because of course someone would have to be there. Stumbling, I mutter an awkward 'sorry' and feel myself turn deep red.

She didn't make any motions to get away from me though, so I look up and met her eyes. She seems so unfazed I almost let out a sob of relief, and that's when I realize who it is. It was her. It was the same girl who, just a few parties ago, had smoked outside as a courtesy no else cared to provide.

My heart slams against my ribs, like a bird in a cage wishing for nothing else but to be set free.

"Have I seen you around before?" Her lips curve up into a half-smirk half-smile, eyes never leaving mine as she goes along.

I don't know whether she was asking if she knew me, or if she was asking if I was new around here. She could have even been asking both, but the meaning went over my head.

"I don't know. Maybe at a party or two."

It was uncommon, actually talking to a person at a party. With the volume of the music, it seemed easier to just skip to the making out part without having to yell to be understood. But this felt different, because two sentences had already been spoken and there was no implication of any advances to be made. I was glad for that, since I hadn't had the urge to kiss anyone in forever. I never understood kissing strangers without talking first anyways.

"I'm Opal!" She yelled, tucking a strand of colored hair behind her ear.

"Liv," I reply. For a second I'm afraid I was too quiet because her stare seems utterly blank, but then she smiles so brightly her teeth shine.

"It's nice to meet you, Liv. I hope to see you around." I want to see you again, I think she means. My heart falls to my feet as I watch her walk away, hoping she'll look back and cursing myself when she doesn't.

The world spins on still, just like it always seems to do, and once more my existence fades to unworthy of any acknowledgement. That was always my least favorite teenager feeling, the sinking in your chest that doesn't go away.