Vodka

 Joey Conrad was a bastard. Every time I tried to imagine a world where I was proud to be his friend, I could feel my feet losing balance: once grounded in reality, now on the verge of giving out. Mom always said he was a good kid. He would be the positive influence I needed--the one I could never find at West High. He was an East kid. East kids were good. East kids were proper. What a fucking wet dream.
 Joseph got good grades. Joseph was his parents' favorite. Joseph kept his room straight. Joseph had a modest girlfriend.
 Joey snorted lines before class. Joey was an only child. Joey had a cleaning lady. Sarah never got in trouble because she blew the principal.
 Mom and Mrs. Conrad met at the book club in the basement of the Baptist church. They talked about their sons. Mom learned to talk about hers less. She went every Thursday. I drank cheap vodka in the living room with my boyfriend. We watched 'Milk' and talked shit about everything.
 There was an angel on our tree that Christmas instead of a star.

 

 Joey did my Calculus homework for brownie points, so we spent a lot of time together. His face was only stubbly when he had fucked Sarah the night before. He slept in late on those days. I thought it looked cute. Hugging was part of our secret handshake. We stopped doing that once he found out. Then he only did my Calculus homework for drug money.
 Rodney was my boyfriend. He was ugly. He had acne on his back. He was allergic to my dog, but he still came over because his parents didn't allow guests. He got in trouble for touching my dick at the school library. I was in love with him.
 
 Joey's father died of cancer that year. His funeral was held at the Baptist church. Mom made me speak. She said it was only respectful; that Joseph was like a brother to me. That a speech from another fatherless teenager would mean something to everyone.  
 I did it. Mom had hoped it would make me look good. I wore a dress to the service. They made me leave after I talked. Mom stayed there.

 

 Rodney and I eloped after graduation. We swore our future adopted child would never be a West High burnout, or an East High snob. Rodney got a factory job; I bartended. We drank slightly more expensive vodka. Joey wrote me letters. He went to University on a full ride scholarship. He started school single. Sarah was a prostitute now.
 I dreamed about our handshake. I dreamed about unpaid tutoring. I dreamed about the Christmas star. Joey Conrad wasn't a bastard. He was raised that way, and every Thursday, I was one step closer to being raised that way, too. I just knew when to leave.

 

 I never got to meet Mr. Conrad. In my dreams, I told him I wanted to fuck his son. He gave me his blessing.

 

 I dreamed about Thursdays.

 

 I burned all the books.