As I stepped away from the pool and onto the infinite tiled balcony that surrounded the house, someone wearing a green glowstick around his neck offered me a drink. It was swirled in two different neon colors, seeming at once like something I wanted to put in my mouth and something nature didn’t mean for me to ingest.
I shook my head. Once, my brother had said that alcohol made you someone else — I definitely didn’t want that. What if the someone else was worse than what I already was? And another time, my friend Mackenzie had said it just made you more of who you already were.
The world didn’t need that.
I trailed my fingers along the metal balcony as I walked.
The lights inside the house were off and everyone in the house wore glowsticks or Christmas lights or other half costumes that luminesced. I didn’t want to go in, but it was undoubtedly where Sierra would be. She was such a child. Everything here, really, was like a child’s fantasy world brought to life, made concrete.
But this was just a bunch of grown-ups in dress-up and so much pointless glitter.
I just hated —
Why couldn’t this glitter rub off on me?
Hands on my arm. It was Sierra. She’d found me, after all.
She looked alien with glow-in-thedark eyelashes and phosphorescing dots drawn down her nose and cheekbones. Her hair was braided through with fiber optics. She wasn’t a woman; she was an installation. All of her friends were similarly glow-inthedark. Sierra grabbed my arm. “Treasure! I was hoping you would come. Get a drink, get a boy, get a dream, everything’s lovely!” Her pupils were black and dazzling with two little reflections of neon pink and green. She air-kissed my cheek.
In response, I parted my lips and blinked, my lashes lingering on my cheek. I’d done that expression in the mirror before, lots. You could do it ever so much slower than you thought you should, and it only made you look more cynical.
Sierra was delighted. She introduced me to her friends and plucked at my dress, her hand right on my breast, and then she threw her head back so we could all see how she had the longest neck.
She said, “Here, you need some —”
From somewhere, she produced more of the glow-in-thedark makeup.
“Close,” she ordered.
I closed my eyes. I felt her swipe my eyelids, my lips.
“Open.” Sierra smiled toothily at me. “Now you’re one of us.”
That would never be true.
“Go,” Sierra told me, waving her hand. “Play. Then come back and tell me all the tales of the fabulous places you have been!”
“Right,” I replied. “Off to play right now. Ta.”
It wasn’t that I had been dismissed, but I felt dismissed.
Sierra really did think I was going to flit off with my newly fluorescent face and meet her cool friends. This was a party of children, and children loved other children.
Maybe I didn’t even know how this was done.
I made my way through a dark living room (a pale sofa was smeared gently with glow-in-thedark paint) to a dark kitchen (the counter was spattered with luminescence) and then a dark somewhere else (no glowing besides a glass coffee table imperfectly reflecting my face). The music was coming from everywhere. The air smelled like oranges and pretzels and neon pink.
As I wandered slowly through conversations between people who had just met, I thought about how L.A. was a place to not be alone. Every place was a place to not be alone, but L.A. was a city that gloried in connections, that eased them and facilitated them. It was a city that made it more obvious how goddamn impossible it was for you to make connections if you couldn’t make them in L.A. This was a place for smiling at strangers and holding hands and kissing strangers, and if you weren’t doing those things it was because you did not smile and you did not hold hands and you did not kiss. The strangers part was irrelevant.
How long had I been here?
“Isabel!”
It was Mark, Sierra’s Mark. He was in a group of guys that all kind of looked like him, pretty and harmless and tan and cheerful. They were visible because they stood beside a wall of windows. Behind them, the ground sloped off and L.A. moved restlessly.
“You guys aren’t glowing in the dark,” I said.
“We’re bright enough,” Mark replied. His friends laughed. I didn’t. “You want a drink?”
“Something not glowing?” I asked. “Does plain water exist in this place?”
“Water!” said one of his friends. His goatee was immaculate.
“Here? That’s not kosher, man.”
“I think it is probably the only kosher thing here,” I replied testily. “Do you actually know anything about Jewish people?”
“I’m circumcised,” he replied. “That’s Jewish, right? Oh, wait, Jesus, are you Jewish?”
I looked at him. I did the slow blink. I parted my lips. He watched. I said, “I thought you were getting me some water.”
He scrambled off to find it. Mark laughed in admiration.
“Well done.”
I narrowed my eyes in acknowledgment. Really, the secret was to say pretty much nothing at all, and when you did open your mouth, say something awful. Then they all did what you wanted.
Mark hurried to fill the silence. “Grubb here and I were just talking about, like, this guy who landed a fighter jet after the wing had fallen off. Apparently, it fell, like, right off and he landed it anyway.”
Grubb said, slow as lava, “Isn’t that the craziest thing you’ve ever heard?”
I said, “Crazy.”
Mark touched his neck and his chin, but he was looking at my neck and my chin. “Where is Lars with your drink? He’s taking forever.”
“Just as well. I wouldn’t trust him with anything someone else poured anyway,” I said. I didn’t look away from Mark’s eyes. It wasn’t that I wanted to flirt with him, or that I wanted him, I just wanted to see what I could do. “Might have glowworms in it.”
Mark’s teeth grazed his bottom lip as if he were thinking about the water, but I didn’t think it was a beverage he was imagining. My heart beat a little faster with the power of it. It was a tease, but what could it hurt? I just wanted to know. I wanted to know that if I wanted someone else, could I get him, and how much effort would it take? Was it as easy as just being there, saying nothing, letting them imagine who you really were?
I shook my head. Once, my brother had said that alcohol made you someone else — I definitely didn’t want that. What if the someone else was worse than what I already was? And another time, my friend Mackenzie had said it just made you more of who you already were.
The world didn’t need that.
I trailed my fingers along the metal balcony as I walked.
The lights inside the house were off and everyone in the house wore glowsticks or Christmas lights or other half costumes that luminesced. I didn’t want to go in, but it was undoubtedly where Sierra would be. She was such a child. Everything here, really, was like a child’s fantasy world brought to life, made concrete.
But this was just a bunch of grown-ups in dress-up and so much pointless glitter.
I just hated —
Why couldn’t this glitter rub off on me?
Hands on my arm. It was Sierra. She’d found me, after all.
She looked alien with glow-in-thedark eyelashes and phosphorescing dots drawn down her nose and cheekbones. Her hair was braided through with fiber optics. She wasn’t a woman; she was an installation. All of her friends were similarly glow-inthedark. Sierra grabbed my arm. “Treasure! I was hoping you would come. Get a drink, get a boy, get a dream, everything’s lovely!” Her pupils were black and dazzling with two little reflections of neon pink and green. She air-kissed my cheek.
In response, I parted my lips and blinked, my lashes lingering on my cheek. I’d done that expression in the mirror before, lots. You could do it ever so much slower than you thought you should, and it only made you look more cynical.
Sierra was delighted. She introduced me to her friends and plucked at my dress, her hand right on my breast, and then she threw her head back so we could all see how she had the longest neck.
She said, “Here, you need some —”
From somewhere, she produced more of the glow-in-thedark makeup.
“Close,” she ordered.
I closed my eyes. I felt her swipe my eyelids, my lips.
“Open.” Sierra smiled toothily at me. “Now you’re one of us.”
That would never be true.
“Go,” Sierra told me, waving her hand. “Play. Then come back and tell me all the tales of the fabulous places you have been!”
“Right,” I replied. “Off to play right now. Ta.”
It wasn’t that I had been dismissed, but I felt dismissed.
Sierra really did think I was going to flit off with my newly fluorescent face and meet her cool friends. This was a party of children, and children loved other children.
Maybe I didn’t even know how this was done.
I made my way through a dark living room (a pale sofa was smeared gently with glow-in-thedark paint) to a dark kitchen (the counter was spattered with luminescence) and then a dark somewhere else (no glowing besides a glass coffee table imperfectly reflecting my face). The music was coming from everywhere. The air smelled like oranges and pretzels and neon pink.
As I wandered slowly through conversations between people who had just met, I thought about how L.A. was a place to not be alone. Every place was a place to not be alone, but L.A. was a city that gloried in connections, that eased them and facilitated them. It was a city that made it more obvious how goddamn impossible it was for you to make connections if you couldn’t make them in L.A. This was a place for smiling at strangers and holding hands and kissing strangers, and if you weren’t doing those things it was because you did not smile and you did not hold hands and you did not kiss. The strangers part was irrelevant.
How long had I been here?
“Isabel!”
It was Mark, Sierra’s Mark. He was in a group of guys that all kind of looked like him, pretty and harmless and tan and cheerful. They were visible because they stood beside a wall of windows. Behind them, the ground sloped off and L.A. moved restlessly.
“You guys aren’t glowing in the dark,” I said.
“We’re bright enough,” Mark replied. His friends laughed. I didn’t. “You want a drink?”
“Something not glowing?” I asked. “Does plain water exist in this place?”
“Water!” said one of his friends. His goatee was immaculate.
“Here? That’s not kosher, man.”
“I think it is probably the only kosher thing here,” I replied testily. “Do you actually know anything about Jewish people?”
“I’m circumcised,” he replied. “That’s Jewish, right? Oh, wait, Jesus, are you Jewish?”
I looked at him. I did the slow blink. I parted my lips. He watched. I said, “I thought you were getting me some water.”
He scrambled off to find it. Mark laughed in admiration.
“Well done.”
I narrowed my eyes in acknowledgment. Really, the secret was to say pretty much nothing at all, and when you did open your mouth, say something awful. Then they all did what you wanted.
Mark hurried to fill the silence. “Grubb here and I were just talking about, like, this guy who landed a fighter jet after the wing had fallen off. Apparently, it fell, like, right off and he landed it anyway.”
Grubb said, slow as lava, “Isn’t that the craziest thing you’ve ever heard?”
I said, “Crazy.”
Mark touched his neck and his chin, but he was looking at my neck and my chin. “Where is Lars with your drink? He’s taking forever.”
“Just as well. I wouldn’t trust him with anything someone else poured anyway,” I said. I didn’t look away from Mark’s eyes. It wasn’t that I wanted to flirt with him, or that I wanted him, I just wanted to see what I could do. “Might have glowworms in it.”
Mark’s teeth grazed his bottom lip as if he were thinking about the water, but I didn’t think it was a beverage he was imagining. My heart beat a little faster with the power of it. It was a tease, but what could it hurt? I just wanted to know. I wanted to know that if I wanted someone else, could I get him, and how much effort would it take? Was it as easy as just being there, saying nothing, letting them imagine who you really were?
