You'll Just Know

Chapter 13

I surprised myself by going to the party. I found that, despite my fears, I was actually looking forward to it. What better place to launch a new social life?

Ernie Johnson’s house was a small, one-story stucco with (I swear I’m not making this up) pink flamingoes in the front lawn. It was a home that looked more suited for the California coast than Devon, Indiana.

            I found the place partly by using the rough sketch of a map that Wendy had sent to me through Josh, and partly by following the deep rumble of bass from some monster stereo that was shaking the ground from almost a block away.

            It was almost 9:30. Summer twilight streaked the sky with pastel colors and the scalding pavement was just starting to cool down. I saw the house at the end of the street, gridlocked by forty or so cars. The front door was open and the clatter of party sounds spilled out into the evening. The windows rattled to the stereo’s beat and the whole house seemed to sway to its rhythm.

Not for the first time since I’d set out walking from my house, my stomach tittered nervously and my basic survival instincts were screaming Go Back!

This was really crazy, I knew. How much fun could I have at a stranger’s party with people I’d never met before? Where’s the fun in that? Sounds to me more like social torture. Still, though, another part of my mind urged me on. I would be starting a new high school on Monday and I wouldn’t know anyone there (except Wendy). I was going to have to meet some people sometime, and a party really did seem like the ideal place to do it. Still, though, I was so nervous!

I approached the open front door, set myself into my best social posture (a sort of gut-in, straight shouldered, aloof, laid-back stance) and prepared my opening line for whoever I first stumbled upon: “Hey, I’m Casey McKenna. Just moved in from Jersey. Nice little town you’ve got here…”

The smell of beer and cigarette smoke met me even before I reached the door. The music got considerably louder and I could make out individual voices now. The high, loud laugh of a girl. Drunken, off-key singing. The sensations poured out over me, and although I had walked all the way across town and had made it all the way up to the door, my nerves suddenly overwhelmed me. Yup. Never mind. No sirree, this was not for me. Thanks anyway. Have a nice night…

Then, suddenly, there was a guy sliding across the linoleum floor just inside the front door. He was howling, his head thrown back, skidding to a stop on his knees directly in front of me. I stood there, stuck between coming and going, and watched him stupidly.

            He snapped his head up and looked at me, cutting his howl short. He examined me, still on his knees, from under the brim of a red baseball cap that was pulled low over his eyes. “Do I know you?” he asked, suddenly staring at me intently.

            I fumbled. “Ah… no… I, um, just… hey! I’m Casey Mc--”

            He startled me by suddenly jumping into a standing position. Upright in front of me, he was nearly a half-foot taller than me, with a thin, athletic build. He extended his hand in an exaggerated military snap. “Pleased to meetcha Casey Mac! Name’s Ernie Johnson!”

            I shook his hand absently, still sort of dazed, as he continued talking.

            “The toilet’s clogged, so if you gotta piss, there’s a garden out back, just don’t drain the weasel on my mom’s roses and if you go further back into the woods, don’t spray anyone who’s making out.” He flashed a quick smile, then winked at me. “Have a beer!” he said as he slapped a cold bottle into my hand, then disappeared into the house again, howling at the top of his lungs until the noise of the party swallowed him up.