The Nobody People by Bob Proehl (manga ereader TXT) 📕

“It’s amazing that with this ability to put the whammy on someone you’re still a virgin,” says Carrie.

“I am not a virgin,” Waylon says.

Miquel mouths Yes, he is. Carrie and Bryce stifle laughs.

Alcohol is easy to acquire. Thirty-four final-years, thirty-four methods for getting booze, ranging from felonious to unethical. Waylon’s deep-seeded a clerk at the bodega on 59th with the idea that he’s thirty-two, and she never ID’s him anymore. He and Miquel and Bryce chip in on four magnums of red wine, waving Carrie’s money away.

Carrie puts her earbuds in but doesn’t put any music on. It’s a lesser form of invisibility, a way to eavesdrop in plain sight. Bryce hangs off one of the subway straps on the Q train. A young black kid, sitting in his mother’s lap, stares at him, jaw open. Not in fear but in wonder. His mother notices and pulls him tighter, but the boy squirms loose. On shaky legs, he approaches Bryce.

“Mister,” he says. Bryce looks down at him. The boy stammers.

“Dennis,” chides his mother, pulling at the back of the boy’s jacket.

Bryce holds his hand out to the kid, palm down. “Go ahead, kid.” The boy rubs the back of Bryce’s hand. His eyes, impossibly, get even wider.

“You’re so cool,” says the boy. His mother yanks him back into her embrace, whispering harsh words in his ear.

“You’re so cool,” Waylon says, rolling his eyes.

“A grown man asked to touch me, I’d knock him out,” Bryce says.

Waylon smiles at him with a tenderness Carrie finds surprising. “No, you wouldn’t,” he says. Bryce looks down, embarrassed.

At the Beverley Road stop, Hayden Cohen steps on to the train and holds out their arms, Christlike, waiting for applause.

“Holy shit, I thought you had a show,” says Carrie.

“I had an opening gig,” Hayden says, giving Carrie a hug. “Played a short set and left Jonathan to pack up the gear. I wouldn’t miss this.”

“How did you find us?” Carrie asks.

“I can always find you,” Hayden says. Miquel laughts into his fist.

“You knew?” Carrie says.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Miquel says.

“We’re all thrilled you could grace us with your presence,” says Waylon. “Did you bring booze?”

“I brought drugs, child, because we are adults now,” Hayden says.

Hayden tucks in between Carrie and Miquel for warmth.

“How was the show?” Bryce asks.

“Boring as fuck,” says Hayden. “We’re the flavor of the fucking month. I want them to be afraid of me, but they’re not. We’ve got labels calling, can you believe it? They want to put our songs in Gap ads and shit. I wanted it to be dangerous for a while. It’s over before we had the chance to be scary.”

At its last stop, the Q spits them into a tile-lined tunnel, a cavern in ceramic. All the shops are shuttered for the night, the last remaining people loading onto the inbound train, abandoning this place, ceding it to Carrie and the final-years. They walk down the tunnel, out into the freezing night.

Carrie has no idea what they’re supposed to do now that they’re here, and neither does anyone else. But they’ve done it, all of them. Even though Eli Herrington is still pissed at Nolan Emerson for stealing his essay topic in ethics class two years back and Michele Summers started sleeping with Vince Cole before he and Rufina Dahl had technically broken it off. Even though Ruby Wallace has literally not left academy grounds since the day she started there, skipping every field trip, avoiding classes that ventured off site, even watching the Public Day parade from her dorm window, they’re all here, on a beach in the middle of February. Drunk. Together.

Crowded in the shadow of the Ferris wheel, Carrie is halfway through her big bottle of red, and the pills Hayden gave her shift in her stomach like a cat searching for a perfect napping spot. Miquel makes them all feel warm, an effect he warns them won’t ward off hypothermia. Carrie uses it as an excuse to cuddle in under his arm as a source of actual heat.

“I’m glad Hayden made it,” Miquel says. “It would have been wrong without them here. Incomplete.”

“You thinking of how things might have been?” Carrie asks.

Miquel laughs. “We kissed one time!”

“You made out,” says Carrie.

“Hayden’s too glamorous for me,” Miquel says.

“I’m not glamorous?” Carrie turns to see his face. He’s got a big shit-eating grin. His face softens, and he stoops to speak into her ear.

“It’s tough to be around Hayden,” he says. “They hurt a lot. I don’t think it even registers as hurting anymore, but it’s there. Spikes.”

“What’s being around me like?” Carrie asks.

“Like a heartbeat,” Miquel says. He gives her a squeeze, bringing her back into the moment.

“Light it up!” Hayden yells at Nolan. He’s been standing at the base of the Ferris wheel for what feels like an hour, passing test sparks between his hands.

“It’s a hundred years old,” he calls back. “I don’t want to kill it.”

“By the time you’re done, I’ll be a hundred years old,” Bryce yells.

“And I’ll want to kill you,” Waylon adds. This cracks the two of them up, and Bryce throws an arm around Waylon. To Carrie’s surprise, Waylon doesn’t move away but pulls in closer to Bryce. She can’t help thinking of Bryce in tree-related terms. His branch around Waylon, Waylon leaning against Bryce’s trunk.

“You’ve got this,” Miquel shouts. Carrie gets colder as Miquel pushes confidence toward Nolan. He can push only one thing at a time. He holds Carrie closer to compensate.

“All right,” Nolan shouts. “On three.”

“Fucking do it!” Ruby screams. She never drinks, but someone fixed her something that tastes like Tang. Everyone laughs about this new uninhibited Ruby. Not cruelly. Happy that finally, in these last few days together, Ruby is one of them. Their laughter becomes applause, becomes a chant of fucking do it fucking do it.

“One two three!” Nolan shouts. He slams his hands onto the mechanism like a mad Amadeus at the piano and