Hotel

Pick a song that represents summer for you. Use the song as the title of your piece, and to inspire either a poem or a short story/micro fiction about summer. Feel free to use some of the song's lyrics in your piece as well, and add a link to the song so we can hear it too.

To get more details about this Summer Writing Challenge Extravaganza, click the link below.

Now onto the song driven summer adventure. Warning: mentions of underage drinking. Kids don't drink until you're 21 and DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE.

I grasp the ivy covered lattice crawling up to my second story window, feeling the familiar pieces of fading white wood biting at my palms.

Joey, my best friend, aggravatedly paces back and forth, wearing down Dad's perfect turf. His face is scrunched up like he's frustrated, but I know he's just stressed out. He always get stressed out while he watches out for my parents, making sure they don't catch us in the 'criminally offensive' act.

Getting caught by my parents would be a huge pain in the butt. There would be some drawn out speech about how I am supposed to the good one of the bunch and how could I have done this to them. Possibly a lot of Mom's sobs and tears to inspire a sense of regret into the guilty parties.

Yeah, yeah. I'm the quote-on-quote good kid of the house. It's not like I have much competition there; I only have an older brother, the troublemaker who still lives at home. But I'm the kid who gets the high marks in school, does all her chores without have to begged to do, never gets in trouble, or sneaks out for the hottest summer bash of the year.

Okay, scratch that last one.

What? Don't tell me the good kids you know don't ever rebel and party where you live? If you think they don't, you aren't hanging with the right kids.

My feet touch the ground in the usual anticlimactic way; nice and gentle. The practiced landing is more about not messing up Dad's treasured lawn, then it is about not being heard. Speaking of.

"Joey, stop pacing! Dad will have your hide," I whisper fiercely.

Like robbers under the cover of darkness, we make our way to Joey's graduation gift - a dark blue Jeep. The sight of it causes me to pause for a moment. We graduated. This is our last summer, our last big party together before we all go our separate ways.

Joey is going across the country to chase his dream of becoming a professional artist and photographer at Yale, while I'm studying literature and creative writing at the American University of Paris. For the first time in our lives, we are not going to be in the same town or state. Heh, we are not even going to be in the same country.

3,553 miles. That's how far apart we are going to be. Add the expensive round trip across the Atlantic, our crazy schedules, and the six hour time difference, we'll barely have time to say hello most days.

My stomach twists into a small knot; I am suddenly not looking forward to this party anymore.

Joey notices my pensive mood. "'Drea, you alright?"

I fake one of my prize winning smirks. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be? We're about party!"

***

I keep a lot of secrets to myself

My parents think I'm honest, not like everyone else

Like they could catch me in a lie, they say they're able to tell

But I'm partying with my friends at some random hotel

***

The ride to the party is filled with a comfortable silence, plenty of time for me to dwell on the end of this particular chapter of my life. It sounds dramatic, I know, but I can't help but think about what my brother said one time. Tommy had come home from work, some sort of construction job. I was excited for my 17th birthday which was in three weeks and was babbling on about the upcoming senior year.

"You better enjoy it. Senior year is your last year of being free. Then your friends will disappear and forget all about you."

I responded with some jab about them being crappy friends and the real ones will stay in touch.

Tommy only gave a sad smile, one radiating pity. That is when I knew he was serious, my brother is not one for pity. "That what I thought too. But no one really stays in touch with their high school buddies. That chapter's over and its time to adult."

The Jeep crawls to a stop behind a varied row of vehicles parked nearby the temporarily unabandoned Winslow Hotel. The music is turned up to an earthquake inducing level; I can feel the bass vibrating through my body as I step down from the Jeep.

A high pitched and slurred "Andrea!!!" fills the air. Two girls run, or more stumble, toward me and Joey. Rosie Stanton and Bessie Andrews, or who Joey dubs the Pink Elephants.

Have you ever watched Dumbo? Oh, it is such a great movie. I won't spoil too much, but there's a scene where the baby elephant and the little mouse drink this liquid thinking it's water. Really it was alcohol, or maybe water spiked with alcohol. Whatever the case, they drank enough to the point they started hallucinating pink elephants dancing around.

That's Rosie and Bessie in a nutshell. Except for the accidental intoxication; their drunkenness is completely consensual.

Rosie gives me a teary and sticky hug, while Bessie attempts to flirt with Joey as she always does. "Hiya Joeyyy. That's some purty Jeeep."

I peel Rosie off of me and gently shove her toward Bessie, hoping to save Joey from potential second hand tipsiness. Rosie doesn't seem to care much about the change in victimology as she nuzzles up against Bessie like a sleepy puppy seeking its mother's warmth.

"Girls, we would love to chat, but honestly, we don't care much for alcohol, be it from the bottle or your pores." Joey and I tip toe backwards, creating a chasm of distance from the Pink Elephants. "Bye, bye now."

The words are barely out of my mouth before us sober ones turn on our heels and run for the hotel, leaving the pair of glazed-eye girls behind.

I wish it was just easy to run away from the thunderous cloud over my head, dumping thought after thought of losing my friends. Of having to grow up and do all the adult things. Of not having Joey around. How am I going to get through college in another country without Joey? How am I going through the rest of my life without him?

The thunderstorm over my head is impairing enough that I smash into Joey at the 'secret entrance' into the party; an employee's door that someone busted the lock on a few years ago.

Once we straighten our ourselves, Joey gives me a look like he can see the scary thoughts sinking its teeth into my brain. "You sure you're okay?"

I choke on the "yes" that barely comes out of my mouth.

"Okay, we're not doing this." Joey walks away from the door, heading back for what I can only assume is his Jeep.

"W-what? Where are you going?" He doesn't answer, leaving me to chase after him.

***

And we're driving a little fast, P.C.H. wastin' my gas

Eating pasta in the back, spilling our minds out

Wish our secrets farewell

They stay in this random hotel

***

The trip to our favorite Italian restaurant and back to the hotel is almost as quiet as the initial trip. The only topic of conversation is what we are ordering at the restaurant. Unlike the first trip though, the peaceful tranquility is nonexistent; the silence has the same vibe as an upcoming interrogation. I can't tell what Joey is thinking and I don't know if I want to know.

Joey grabs our orders and a blanket from the back of the Jeep, and heads back to the hotel. But instead of heading inside to the party, he creeps behind the back, barely batting an eye at the spiderwebs decorating the building like it's Halloween.

We reach a tattered wire gate at the edge of the building, creating a boundary around what I think used to be the pool. Joey finds a hole in the fence and pulls me through. I'm sure in the hotel's heyday it was a sight to see; I could imagine the big concrete hole in the ground full of chlorine tainted water and squealing children. The parents laughing amongst each other or screaming at their six year old to stop peeing in the pool. What I would give for that again. It would mean I still had time before things changed so much.

The unfurling blanket in my line of vision brings me back to reality. Joey places it on the ground and starts opening up the takeout containers. The intertwining scent of chicken alfredo and lasagna permeate the air, causing my stomach to grumble. So for a moment, I block myself from worries about the future and dig in.

After ten minutes of chewing and lip-smacking, Joey puts down his creamy alfredo and wipes his mouth. "I thought about staying."

I spit out my lasagna. "What the hockey sticks?!" Yeah, this good kid doesn't cuss, even though my best friend is about to make the craziest mistake of his life. Get over it.

To say Joey is great would be an insult and understatement. He's sickeningly gifted; his eyes and hands are literal moneymakers. Joey has won contests upon contests for his artwork and photography since we were in second grade. And call me selfish, but all I can see is the impending chasm between us growing.

"I'm safe here. I won't have start over across the country. The only downside I could find is it was farther away from you."

I laugh. I laugh like a hysterical psych patient and a pig had a baby while Joey patiently stares at me. "I-I-I'm sorry," I wipe away imaginary tears, "it's just, I don't sound selfish anymore."

He smiles sadly. "I care about you a lot, Andrea. You're my constant and I'm scared of starting my next chapter without you."

A wave of relief comes over me. Joey feels the same way I do. We are two sides of the same coin. Joey has always been better about talking about his feelings, while at the same time not wearing them. I'm the opposite.

"Tommy said something a while ago about friends not keeping in touch." I know I don't need to say anything else.

"Tommy needs better friends."

"That's what I said."

Joey sneaks a bite of my lasagna, which I plan on getting him back for later. "We'll stay in touch. It'll be easier since I'm still going to Yale."

I guess my face screamed disbelief because Joey sternly orders, "stop it. We aren't Tommy and his loser friends."

There is a pause, and then a sort of pitful, "you promise?"

"Yes."

I give him a stare, trying to read his mind to see if he was serious. "Don't screw me over. I need all the help I can get," I motion in what think might be the direction of Paris, France, "over there."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

***

We spend the rest of the party outside, trading the few unknown secrets between us, our fears, and our food. As we leave what we have deemed as our Concrete Secret, I whisper a subconscious goodbye, thankful I had somewhere I could leave my burden there.

I don't what will happen with Joey and me. Wishing about knowing our future won't do me any good, so, I'll will just wait and hope.

Besides, we will always have tonight and this random (abandoned) hotel party to look back on.

***

Hotel by Claire Rosinkranz

***

As Oneg in The Artic says, let's spread the lovin' like butter on BBQ styled grilled corn. (Actually, he says 'on hot dinner buns,' but in the spirit of summer)

* Judey Kalchik, I challenge you to the Ice Bucket, oops, I mean the Summer Writing Challenge!