left behind. One scar for each Anderson brother. Preston with his devilish good looks, a stare that melted my panties off my hips, and lips that set my soul on fire. Hudson with his hot-as-sin physique, eyes that opened mine like curtains being ripped off a window, and passion that manifested itself in lust. I gave myself to them—my innocence—my everything. Then when I needed them most, they didn’t reach out to grab me. They pushed me headfirst into oblivion with nothing to cling onto.
They were the best excuse I had to avoid Andalusia for the rest of my life, and now my heart is going to bleed because those memories are as sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel.
* * *
Five years ago
I knew what people said behind my back. They called me a whore—called me a slut. I simply didn’t care enough to correct them. What good would it have done? They liked spreading rumors, and I was a good source of entertainment. They could make me the butt of their jokes if they wanted to. It wasn’t like a gave a damn about fitting in with the crowd. Melanie was my only friend, and that was good enough for me. I already had my future mapped out. As soon as I graduated from high school, I was going to take every penny I managed to save over the years and buy a car that would get me to California. If the car didn’t make it, then I would just buy a bus ticket. I had a scholarship waiting on me in California—I just had to get there. A fresh start was the only thing that could save me because I was going to go crazy if I didn’t get out of Andalusia.
“You’re looking a little pale today.” Melanie sat down next to me in Economics class. “You really need to let me give you a makeover.”
“I’m fine.” I shook my head back and forth.
“People are going to start saying you’re a vampire next.” She sighed and opened her textbook. “I can’t believe we still have class this close to graduation. It’s not like we’re going to learn anything that’s on the final at this point.”
“Yeah…” I nodded aimlessly.
My makeup was partially a defense mechanism. It also reflected the darkness that resonated deep in my soul. I had been bounced around so much in the foster system that I gave up hope of ever feeling an emotional attachment to another human being. Melanie was the exception, but part of that was because we had been best friends since a family in her neighborhood fostered me. We always seemed to pick up where we left off, no matter how much time we spent apart. Despite my own turmoil, I was glad to be back at Andalusia High School, because that meant I got to graduate with my best friend. That was one simple piece of happiness that I was going to allow myself. I might even smile.
“Oh, you have to go with me to the graduation party.” Melanie leaned across the aisle and didn’t seem to care that the teacher was trying to get started.
“Are you out of your mind?” My eyes bulged, and I quickly waved her off. “You want me to go—hang out with the people that call me a whore?”
“It’s just one night. Preston Anderson will be there.” She winked at me.
“Yes, and he’ll probably be so drunk that he’ll throw up on me if I am in his vicinity.” I rolled my eyes. “He might even make that his goal.”
“You never know. Wild things happen at those parties…” She giggled but immediately put on a serious face when the teacher stared her down.
Yeah, let me just hop right on that slut train and ride it straight out of Andalusia. Give me a freaking break.
Preston Anderson was my one guilty pleasure—probably because it was safe to crush on the high school quarterback since there was no chance in hell, he would ever look at me. I didn’t know why a casual glance when I walked by him in the hallway made my throat tighten up. I certainly didn’t know why his smile made me warm and tingly, even when it wasn’t meant for me. It wasn’t a new crush. I used to live next door to him in one of the many foster homes that gave me a bed for a few months before they sent me away. I spent a summer hanging out with his brother, Hudson, and I guess we were friends—but Preston was the one that I dreamed about all summer long. Then I ended up with a new family, at a new school, and it was a few years before I saw either of them again.
* * *
The graduation party
Melanie pleaded with me to go to the party with her, and when that didn’t work, she resorted to guilt. I gave her the ammunition when I finally came clean about my scholarship and my plans to move to California after graduation. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to my best friend. I made her two promises—I would go to the graduation party with her, and I would be at her side when she had the beach wedding of her dreams. The first one I had to keep. I wasn’t even sure we would still be friends by the time she met someone and got engaged. At least I wouldn’t have to come back to Andalusia when she got married. There weren’t any beaches for miles. My first promise took me to the one place I didn’t want to be, the den of high school inequity, except everyone was drunk instead of wandering aimlessly through the halls gossiping about everything.
At least I seem to be invisible here. Nobody has called me a slut since I walked in the door, but the night is still young.
I kept expecting one of the cheerleaders to look at me and point out the fact I dared to come to a party. If they didn’t do it, I was sure one of the jocks would. The atmosphere was just—different. Maybe it was the high leftover from graduation or the copious amount of alcohol being consumed, but a few people actually talked to me. All they said was ‘hey’ or ‘what’s up’ but that was more positive interaction than I normally had. I decided to get brave, have a cup of beer from the keg, and wandering to the fray of people on the back porch. I wanted a cigarette anyway, and it didn’t seem like anyone was smoking in the house. Apparently, there were some lines that even the worst of humanity didn’t cross. I walked out on the back porch and as soon as I had the cigarette pressed between my lips, someone sparked a lighter and pushed it towards me.
“Thank you.” I mumbled against the cigarette butt and dipped the tip into the flame.
“You’re um—Eliza, right?” A tall guy with hazel eyes and dusty-brown hair tilted his head as he lit my cigarette.
“Yeah.” I nodded and looked up at him.
“I’m Chuck. We have Sociology together.” He grinned and took a drag off his cigarette.
“Ah yes, you’re the one always trying to sleep on your book bag.” I chuckled under my breath and exhaled a stream of smoke.
Was I have a conversation with someone? A random stranger that didn’t even lift his head to look at me when I walked by his desk every single morning was suddenly chatting me up like I was an old friend? I felt like I had stepped into the Twilight Zone. Chuck cracked a few jokes, asked where I was going to college, and eventually excused himself to rejoin the party inside. I started to wonder if maybe I should have tried to go to a party before graduation because the atmosphere was definitely different than high school. I walked back inside and looked around the house where the party was being held. I didn’t even know who lived there, but it was a huge house. Every picture on the wall told the story of a happy family, one with so many kids that I wasn’t sure which one was my classmate.
I wonder if I would have lived in a place like this if my parents survived the car accident?
Despite not being picked on or harassed, I wasn’t a big fan of crowds, and the number of people seemed to grow as the night went on. Melanie was talking to some guy that I recognized from the football team, but I didn’t remember his name. I decided not to interrupt their conversation and instead just looked around the lavish home. I never allowed myself to think about the future once I got out of Andalusia. I would obviously start over in California, but then what? Would I get married? Have kids? Did I even want those things after living my own miserable life? The thought of leaving someone behind to fend for themselves if something happened to me was terrifying. I walked upstairs and heard a few noises as I passed by the bedrooms with closed doors. Some of my classmates were having a night to remember—and there would probably be a few regrets