August 18, 2000
The humid summer air clung to Darcy Johnson's skin as she perched on the edge of her sun-bleached, floral bedspread. Not for the first time, she wished her house had central air conditioning. Sunlight, thick with dust motes, slanted through the blinds of her cramped bedroom's single window, illuminating stacks of fashion magazines and discarded makeup. A dog-eared notebook, its spiral binding threatening to spring apart, lay tossed carelessly on her bed. "What is this?" she asked, casting a quick glance at her best friend.
"It's poetry, dummy. Just read it." Caroline Martin, tall, slender, and all sharp angles, buzzed with an infectious, almost manic energy. She pushed the notebook towards her.
Darcy flipped the cover back. Her gaze flickered over the handwritten script, her nose wrinkling. "Your vampire fixation," she muttered, rolling her eyes so hard she felt a slight strain. "It's just… weird, Carrie."
"Vampires are cool,” Carrie fired back, twirling one long brown lock of hair around her finger. “Besides, they stay young forever." She stretched her legs out in front of her, pointing her toes as she considered the color of the nail polish she'd chosen. Her eyes, a startling shade of light blue, gleamed with conviction as she looked back over at her friend. "Why would anyone want to grow old?"
"Because it beats the alternative," Darcy replied acerbically.
"You are such a downer sometimes, Darcy. How you ever made cheerleader...."
Darcy snatched the notebook, shoving it back towards Carrie. "Ha. Ha. Here's your book."
"No. Don't give it to me. I want you to add your own poem and then hand it on."
Darcy stared at her, nonplussed. "You must be joking." The absurdity of the request hung in the air, as she stared at Carrie in disbelief.
"Oh, come on! Someday we'll all want to look back on this time of our lives, and this will beat the hell out of some stupid yearbook."
A familiar resignation settled over Darcy. Arguing was futile. Caroline Martin was an unstoppable force, a hurricane in a sundress. She dropped the notebook back on her bed. "Did you bring the stuff?"
Carrie smiled lazily in reply. "Have I ever failed you yet?" she demanded, as she rummaged in her overstuffed purse.
"Are we going to the lake again tonight?"
"No. We're going to the roller rink," Carrie said, tone heavy with sarcasm. "Of course we're going to the lake. We only have two more weeks 'til school starts. I plan to party hearty, as the Children of the 80's used to say."
Darcy snorted softly, the sound barely audible above the distant drone of a lawnmower. "Carrie, it wouldn't matter if school was in session or not. You party all the time."
"True," Carrie chirped, her cheerfulness almost jarring. She placed a small, dark glass vial on the bedside table. "Where's the mirror?"
"Top drawer." Darcy pointed a thumb towards her cluttered dresser. "Under my socks."
"Anyway, you'll never guess who's gonna be there tonight."
"Not Tad!" Darcy didn't bother hiding her lack of enthusiasm.
"Yep! He doesn't leave for school until next Saturday."
"And I guess you two have plans?"
Carrie's smile widened to a broad smirk. "Well, let's just say you probably won't see much of me tonight. He's bringing his van." She carefully tapped the vial against the polished surface of the mirror, a delicate clink echoing in the room. "Here you go, girlfriend. You first."
The humid summer air clung to Darcy Johnson's skin as she perched on the edge of her sun-bleached, floral bedspread. Not for the first time, she wished her house had central air conditioning. Sunlight, thick with dust motes, slanted through the blinds of her cramped bedroom's single window, illuminating stacks of fashion magazines and discarded makeup. A dog-eared notebook, its spiral binding threatening to spring apart, lay tossed carelessly on her bed. "What is this?" she asked, casting a quick glance at her best friend.
"It's poetry, dummy. Just read it." Caroline Martin, tall, slender, and all sharp angles, buzzed with an infectious, almost manic energy. She pushed the notebook towards her.
Darcy flipped the cover back. Her gaze flickered over the handwritten script, her nose wrinkling. "Your vampire fixation," she muttered, rolling her eyes so hard she felt a slight strain. "It's just… weird, Carrie."
"Vampires are cool,” Carrie fired back, twirling one long brown lock of hair around her finger. “Besides, they stay young forever." She stretched her legs out in front of her, pointing her toes as she considered the color of the nail polish she'd chosen. Her eyes, a startling shade of light blue, gleamed with conviction as she looked back over at her friend. "Why would anyone want to grow old?"
"Because it beats the alternative," Darcy replied acerbically.
"You are such a downer sometimes, Darcy. How you ever made cheerleader...."
Darcy snatched the notebook, shoving it back towards Carrie. "Ha. Ha. Here's your book."
"No. Don't give it to me. I want you to add your own poem and then hand it on."
Darcy stared at her, nonplussed. "You must be joking." The absurdity of the request hung in the air, as she stared at Carrie in disbelief.
"Oh, come on! Someday we'll all want to look back on this time of our lives, and this will beat the hell out of some stupid yearbook."
A familiar resignation settled over Darcy. Arguing was futile. Caroline Martin was an unstoppable force, a hurricane in a sundress. She dropped the notebook back on her bed. "Did you bring the stuff?"
Carrie smiled lazily in reply. "Have I ever failed you yet?" she demanded, as she rummaged in her overstuffed purse.
"Are we going to the lake again tonight?"
"No. We're going to the roller rink," Carrie said, tone heavy with sarcasm. "Of course we're going to the lake. We only have two more weeks 'til school starts. I plan to party hearty, as the Children of the 80's used to say."
Darcy snorted softly, the sound barely audible above the distant drone of a lawnmower. "Carrie, it wouldn't matter if school was in session or not. You party all the time."
"True," Carrie chirped, her cheerfulness almost jarring. She placed a small, dark glass vial on the bedside table. "Where's the mirror?"
"Top drawer." Darcy pointed a thumb towards her cluttered dresser. "Under my socks."
"Anyway, you'll never guess who's gonna be there tonight."
"Not Tad!" Darcy didn't bother hiding her lack of enthusiasm.
"Yep! He doesn't leave for school until next Saturday."
"And I guess you two have plans?"
Carrie's smile widened to a broad smirk. "Well, let's just say you probably won't see much of me tonight. He's bringing his van." She carefully tapped the vial against the polished surface of the mirror, a delicate clink echoing in the room. "Here you go, girlfriend. You first."