The farm is half an hour outside of town. Far enough that we won’t disturb anybody, but also far enough that we need cars to get there.
Sinéad of all people is the one picking us up. At 19:00 on the dot, she pulls Drew’s driveway in an absolute tank of a white truck. She has all windows rolled down and is blasting Taylor Swift at what has to be full volume.
I’ve been waiting for half an hour. I tried to get work done on an assignment earlier, but couldn’t focus, so instead I spent most of the day bugging Penny with all my worries and fears about tonight. She took it graciously.
But for the last thirty minutes, I couldn’t even really chat. I took a shower and sat on the porch roof to let my hair dry, staring down the street. I don’t even know why I’m so nervous. It shouldn’t even matter. None of them are gonna remember me in half a year’s time. They’ll be busy getting jobs, studying at university, doing anything but thinking of the weird kid from school who once showed up to a party.
Without waiting to see whether she noticed me, I jump to my feet and climb back in through my window. A few seconds later, I’m out the front door, simultaneously with Drew.
“Ladies!” Sinéad announces, turning down the music. “The party bus is here!”
I stop dead in my tracks. Somehow, I just can’t continue walking. Maybe it’s the fact that Sinéad called me a ‘lady’, maybe it’s the way she said it. Suddenly, I very much do not want to go to the party. Drew has a slightly worried look in his eyes, but Sinéad is the first to speak.
“I would’ve taken the Volkswagen, but my Mum took it, so I had to take Dad’s car. I promise I’m not as much of a bitch as this suggests.” She laughs at her own joke.
Drew is still watching me, so I give myself a shove and get in the back of the car. The moment we’re both sitting in the car, she shifts into reverse and starts to pull back out onto the street.
“So, Max, looking forward to your first party? This is your first party, right?” She glances back at me, propping herself against the passenger seat to see behind the car.
“Yeah, I’m… yeah.” I break eye contact first, staring down at my knotted fingers in my lap.
“Definitely picked the right time to get into it,” she laughs, shifting gears and speeding down the street. “Today will be a blast. I’ve heard everybody will be there.”
“What does ‘everybody’ entail?” Drew asks, anticipating the question that anxiously floats to the forefront of my mind.
Sinéad waves her hand through the air. “Our year, mostly. Plus some friends from above or below? Justin put out the announcement that there’s a huge stack of hay by the barn, so everybody’s coming, of course.”
What great news! Literally everybody will be there to witness my social ineptitude.
I manage to go the rest of the drive without saying a single word. Drew does a great job distracting Sinéad by striking up a conversation about two friends of theirs who are eternally in love but are too shy to ask each other out, so they’re going to matchmake them. For the duration of the drive, I cease to exist to them, which leaves me to marinade in my anxiety.
As we pull up to the farm, the dirt road outside is already lined with cars of all colors and shapes. Easily thirty of them, overall. And even from out here, the music is already audible. I’m really sorry for whoever owns this place, if they were stupid enough to stick around for the night.
The farmhouse looks old in an inviting way. It’s one of those classic red-lacquered wooden buildings with white windows, except, even from afar, the red looks a little dirty, and upon getting closer, I see that the paint has started to flake off in places.
The heat is oppressive out here, away from the trees and the like where Drew and I live. Cicadas chirp in the high grass to either side of the road. Ahead of me, Sinéad puts an arm around Drew as they walk, throwing him off balance for a few steps. I wonder if I should tell him later, or whether he has realized already and is simply not interested. I doubt either possibility. Drew is hilariously oblivious sometimes. He still hasn’t noticed why I stay away from our classmates so rigorously. He hasn’t even hazarded a guess that I might be different. And sure, I love him for it, but his track record of noticing things is not very good.
I’m not sure if it’s my place to tell him. That should be Sinéad’s responsibility, right?
The farm yard smells of timber baking in the sun, hay, and horses. But the party doesn’t take place there. Instead of stopping, we walk past the large porch and the stables, and towards the large field of grass. There, on the other side of the field, the barn stands, surrounded by groups of kids in varying sizes, sprawled in lawn chairs and picnic blankets, coolers dispersed between them. To the side of the barn there’s a stack of hay, easily nine feet tall, and as I watch, a boy appears on top of the barn roof, tears off his shirt with a victorious howl and does a front flip right into the hay.
My stomach clenches as I watch him fall. The drop has got to be at least twenty feet, but the moment the boy has disappeared into the hay, he jumps right up again, screaming as onlookers cheer.
Drew turns to grin at me. “Does that look fun to you?”
“It looks suicidal,” I say pointedly.
“It’s not dangerous at all, actually,” he assures me. “More than enough hay to cushion the fall. We’ve done this a hundred times before.”
“Yeah, and now everybody’s drunk out of their minds. What’re you gonna do if somebody misses the hay?”
I realize too late that I’m being distinctly unfun. My face flushes as my fingers tighten around the picnic blanket I’m carrying for Sinéad.
“Never mind,” I add, before he can reply. “Not like it’s any of my business.”
Drew has this tension in his gaze, like he wants to say something more, but then he just turns back around and says something short to Sinéad. It irks me that my immediate thought is that he apologized for me.
People seem to have been waiting for us. Well, for Sinéad and Drew, anyway. A whole group of people comes flocking over as they see us approach. People take the coolers Drew had been carrying, hug them hello and wave at me.
I’m already sweaty, I realize, as I hand Sinéad’s picnic blanket back to her, awkwardly looking around for something to do. What is it people do at these parties? Talk? Drink? Neither seems particularly appealing to me right now.
I’ve never been drunk before. I tried beer once, when Dad allowed me a taste test last year, because I’m ‘going to be drinking way before it’s legal anyway’. I didn’t like it. I don’t like the smell or the taste it left in the back of my mouth, and at the time I didn’t like the buzz it left in my mind, either.
“Yo, Max!”
I cringe at the sound of Jacy’s voice, but force myself to face him anyway.
“Here,” he says, offering me a red solo cup filled to three-quarters with what looks like coke, “your first drink of the night!”
His teeth sparkle in the sunlight and I take the cup, inspecting it suspiciously. “What is this?”
“Coke-vodka!” he announces proudly. “Drew said you didn’t like beer, so I thought maybe you’d like this better.”
Great. Thanks to Drew, the first drink I’m offered is hard alcohol.
I force myself to take a sip anyway. The liquid is refreshingly cool, and the alcoholic sting is barely noticeable past the taste of Coca-Cola.
“Thanks, by the way, for the notes,” he says as I drink, without waiting for my verdict. “I had a look through them, and they’re really good.”
I knew as much, of course, but it’s nice to get validation like this from a person like Jacy. Although I know I shouldn’t care, I can’t help the little smile that snuck onto my lips and now refuses to fuck off.
“Glad I could help.”
With his own cup, Jacy points at the barn. “You gonna jump?”
“Have you jumped?”
He puffs out his chest. “Five times today. Honestly, it’s so much fun. Like, obviously, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna, no pressure and all that stuff, but I can only recommend it.”
As if on queue, Drew appears next to me. “I can recommend it as well,” he says cheekily.
I give him a look. “I’m not gonna jump off the fucking barn.”
He gives me puppy eyes. “At least look at it. We can go up and if you don’t like it, you can go down again.”
“Yeah, and once we’re up, you’ll peer pressure me to jump.”
He hesitates. His gaze is locked with mine, and I know he’s trying to tell me something. “It would make me happy,” he says very slowly. Deliberately.
My shoulders slump. I’m doing this for him, aren’t I? And all the people before me survived it as well, even drunk. Surely, I’ll be fine?
“I’ll look at it,” I say, giving him a pointed look.
Drew smiles in a way that clearly shows he has won.
The boys are so eager to lead me up the ladder, I have to break into a jog every few steps to keep up with them. They’re both so much taller than me.
Jacy is the first to climb up the ladder. When he arrives at the top, he steadies the top rung as I follow and even helps me from the ladder onto the roof. I don’t know what I expected, but the roof is surprisingly sturdy.
There are several people lounging on the roof in loungers they must’ve somehow carried up here. Lots of boys with sunglasses but without shirts, and ample beer.
I follow Jacy to the edge. From up here, the jump looks even further. Just the thought of taking that leap makes my stomach flutter nervously.
“What’re you thinking?” Jacy asks from beside me. He’s got that smile on again, but for some reason, this time I’m sure he’s not about to make fun of me. I don’t get it, it doesn’t make any sense at all, but I am.
Drew is standing off to the side, watching me carefully. I don’t know what it is exactly. Maybe the way the light catches in his eyes and falls upon his slightly tanned skin — it makes him seem younger than he is. Reminds me of the boy he used to be.
And just that thought is enough to make me tense my lips and nod, taking a few steps back from the ledge. “I’m gonna do it.”
Without further ado, Jacy raises his hands to his lips to form a cone and yells, “LISTEN UP EVERYBODY! WE’VE GOT A FIRST TIME JUMPER OVER HERE!”
I’m vaguely aware that I should be mad at him for gathering the crowd. I’m not here to be visible. I’m here to do Drew a favor, and that’s it. But at the same time, a different thought goes through my head.
They don’t know me. This is my chance to show them that I can be more than the quiet kid.
So when the crowd gathers below, chanting my name, I raise both fists and scream. And then, before I can think better of it, I take two decisive steps toward the ledge and jump.
Time slows down as I drop. Wind rushes past me and I feel myself grow heavier and heavier. The stack of hay barrels closer and closer, and I tense myself against the impact. Then, before I know it, I’ve sunk into the hay. I lose my balance and roll sideways, but before I can even try to get back to my feet, hands are pulling me out of the hay, hoisting me easily back up, clapping me on the shoulder.
Everybody is looking at me, I realize, looking around. Everybody’s looking at me and they’re all grinning and laughing, but not about me. They’re happy for me.
My heart is beating out of my chest with adrenaline, and my hands are strangely shaky. This can’t be the alcohol kicking in already, can it?
Next to me, Drew lands with cat-like grace in the hay, easily climbing down before he gives me a clap on the back as well.
“How’d you like your initiation?” he asks, and I can’t help but notice the gleeful satisfaction in his voice.
I bite back the grin. “It was okay.”
The right corner of his mouth quirks. “Are you glad I convinced you?”
“Oh, shut up!” I exclaim, hitting him playfully in the shoulder. “You’re such a dick sometimes, you know?”
I jump three more times. By the time I land in the hay for the third time, the alcohol hits, and it feels like I arrive with a slight delay, mistiming the landing, and I completely flop over, which I take as a sign to let it rest for the day. But that doesn’t mean that I spend the rest of the time twiddling my thumbs. I’m invited to participate in numerous drinking games. Drunk soccer is an absolute blast, especially when I manage to score a goal and people actually cheer.
I suspect it’s the alcohol — the reason why I grin broadly and cheer alongside them for every point, the reason why I run until I feel sick with exhaustion and slump into the grass with a deep sigh. By that point, the sun has already gone down, but the sky is still light, a pale yellow lining the horizon to the west, slowly fading into a gentle blue. It gets a little more relaxed after that. People start a campfire, sit around it, and make stick bread with dough the farmer boy prepared. They trade stories about meaningless encounters, universities they got into and jobs they are going to apply for over the summer. I don’t talk, but I listen, and it feels nice to imagine that they’d listen if I did have something to say.
We leave way past midnight. Sinéad is still completely sober, because apparently she regularly drives people back. Embarrassingly, I’m significantly more drunk than Drew.
He notices as we gather our things and I have to pause to keep my balance as I lean down to pick up the cooler.
“Did you have fun?” he asks, amusement dancing in his voice.
I give him a look, which is betrayed by the grin on my lips. “It was okay.”
He smirks. There’s no way I’ll manage to lie to him about this. Throughout the evening, he kept checking up on me and sat with me for a little, too, but he didn’t have to keep me from feeling lonely tonight.
“I’m glad,” he chuckles.
We’re about to leave when Jacy jumps up not far from us. He’s not leaving yet. He and many others set up tents around the barn so they’ll be able to stay overnight. I kind of wish I could stay with them, sitting around the fire until the early hours of dawn, but I can already feel my eyelids drooping.
“Max!” he says in an unnecessarily loud voice. Around the fire, conversations halt as everybody turns to see what’s going on.
“Y’know, I’ve been meaning to say. I’m sorry for being such a dick in middle school. You’re really cool, you know that?”
He’s even more drunk than me, but I believe that he means it. I would love to say that I react with appropriate grace, but I don’t. My face goes impossibly hot, and I can’t meet his eyes anymore. It feels like he’s undoing everything that happened over the evening: all the fun I’ve had, the drinking games, soccer, jumping off the bar, the community around the campfire — he’s reminding everybody who I really am. The person he used to bully.
“No—” I croak and have to clear my voice before speaking further. “No worries. Water under the bridge and such.” It’s a miserable reaction, but Drew is delighted as we walk towards the car.
“See?” he insists in spite of my clear discomfort. “I didn’t even have to tell him anything! He did it on his own!”