Watch Me Disappear

idea at all. “Maybe we should come pick you up,” she says.
    “Mom, seriously, it’ll be fine. A few of the girls live around here. Someone will drop me off,” I say.
    She thinks it over and concludes that she should consult Patty. I wonder what, if anything, Maura has told her mother about the plans for the evening. I suspect all Mrs. Morgan knows is that Maura is going out and will not be home until Sunday.
    Over dinner that night my mother gives me the verdict. “You can go,” she says, “but you be home by 11:00, no excuses.” I know Missy won’t mind getting me home for curfew. Success! I am going out to a drinking party in the woods, and my parents are none the wiser.
     
    *          *          *
     
    At 7:30, Maura, Katherine, Jessica, and I climb into Maura’s car. Maura blasts the music, and the three of them sing along for most of the ride. It’s after eight when we pull into John’s long gravel driveway. It winds up a hill to the house. I can see why people like it. The house is so far off the road that you can park loads of cars and no one driving by will even know they’re all there. We are arriving fashionably late; there are already almost a dozen cars. I wonder what John’s parents will say when they see tire marks all over the lawn, but that’s John’s problem.
    Katherine produces a flashlight and Jessica opens her bag to reveal two bottles of Boone’s.
    “You’ve never had it?” she asks when I ask what it is. “I’ll give you a taste when we get up there.”
    “It’s gross,” Maura says. She holds up her Nalgene bottle, which appears to be full of some red juice. “This is the stuff,” she says. “Cranberry and vodka.”
    “Do you have to bring your own?” I ask.
    “I never take my chances with the shit they have,” Maura says. “You might luck out and get something good, or you might be drinking mystery punch.”
    “Did you bring something, too?” I ask Katherine.
    She shakes her head.
    “Katherine’s afraid of getting a beer belly,” Jessica says, laughing. “She prefers—”
    “Shut up!” Katherine says, interrupting her. “Can we go?”
    We walk around the back of the house and up a path through the yard into the trees. It’s a short but steep hike to the clearing where the party is underway. Maura was right about the view. The party is scattered across an outcropping and you can see clear across the valley, the lights from all the towns, the sunset on a lake in the distance. It’s beautiful. Way better than what I always pictured as the typical high school drinking party locations: Someone’s dirty garage or damp basement.
    A couple of guys are lingering around the fire, occasionally throwing things into it that cause loud pops or turn the flames strange colors. I scan the crowd for any sign of Missy, but I don’t see her.
    “Hey, there,” someone says, walking up to me. In the dim light it takes me a moment to realize it’s Paul. “Know me this time?” he asks.
    “Hey,” I say.
    “I don’t see a drink in your hand,” he says, extending a beer toward me.
    I can’t exactly turn it down; I’m at a drinking party. I take it, and seeing he’s holding up his beer to toast, I tap my can to his and take a sip. It’s disgusting, and I try not to grimace, but I fail, and Paul laughs.
    “Have you said hello to our kind host?” he asks.
    I shake my head.
    “I think he’ll be very interested to know you’re here,” Paul says, putting an arm around my shoulder and steering me toward the fire.
    John is holding a beer and roasting a marshmallow. He does seem particularly interested in talking to me, firing off one question after another and shamelessly looking me up and down. I guess I’m fresh meat. I wish Missy would get here already. Then everyone can ogle her instead. Besides, it took a while to get here, which means we’re going to have to leave pretty early for me to make curfew. Thankfully someone else comes over and demands John’s attention so I’m able to slip away. There’s a circle of kids sitting around listening to someone play guitar, and I find a place to sit just on the edge of their circle. No one seems to notice me. I’m still holding the same warm beer, and it occurs to me that I can hold that same can all night and probably nobody will notice. They’ll think I’ve been knocking them back, just like everyone else. I feel comforted by the thought. I am startled when the kid next to me nudges my