Should we still wait for Morgan?

Four of them sat around each other in a circle on the stained carpet in Blake's room. There were stains from years ago; an orange crayon melted into the polyester carpet hairs on a summer day, when the heat and boredom made it too hard to focus on anything other than the orange paraffin wax, dripping under the heat of the lighter onto the floor, a cum stain from the September month he first became aware of this fourth bodily expulsion, vomit when he was already aware of vomit.

They had been waiting since eight o'clock, the same time they met every Friday. No one was ever late, you weren't allowed to be late, because if you were one member got to write whatever they wanted on your forehead with a Grog squeezer. They knew they weren't allowed to do this to a girl, that's why they didn't want her join, she'd get away with anything. Wouldn't follow the rules if she didn't want to.

She's probably not even going to come.

Marcus had his entire torso out the window, smoking a cigarette. His voice sounded even farther away, getting carried by the rain.

He really wish she'd come. He was the one who had to convince everyone else that they should let a girl into their club. He said she was more like a boy than a girl but no one believed him, because they had never met her, and all he had was a picture from some stupid birthday his mom had thrown for herself a few years ago. She didn't look the way she did now, didn't have the siren red colour she'd died her hair now, didn't have the b cups that seemed to have their own intentions, wanting to be seen, or maybe that was just the shirts she bought a size too small.

He had stopped at the convenience store on the way to school this morning, had skipped lunch for four days so he could use his lunch money to buy the disposable camera that was now in his backpack. He looked at the bag slouched by the door, just to make sure it was still there. He had to contain his urge to run over and stick his head inside, to touch the camera, feel the squareness in his palms. He had thought about this Friday since last Sunday when Morgan and her mom had come over for dinner. He had accidently let it slip that he was part of the Under Armour club. Well maybe not accidently but that's what he had to tell the guys. He had spent that entire evening staring down at his dinner plate, trying to find a way to bring it up to her. The camera was so he could take a picture of her tonight, to remember the day she joined, to have something to look at when he thought about her at night, because it was really hard to remember what her face looked like, imagine her naked on his bedroom floor, and touch himself at the same time.

Blake!

He heard his mother yelling from downstairs.

Honey, Morgan's here!

They all looked at each other.

Fuck!

Marcus hit the back of his head against the window frame, trying to get back in so he wouldn't miss her entrance.

Someone knocked quietly at the door. Marcus squeezed himself between Corey and Vijay so he could be facing her when she walked in. For the first time, Blake realized that she'd probably fall for Marcus, Marcus wasn't scared of anything and smoked cigarettes. He thought Morgan would like a guy like that, a guy who'd get into fights for her and win, someone who didn't feel faint at the thought of kissing her and the sight of blood.

None of them said anything, none of them moved, they all just sat staring at Blake and then the door and then Blake again and then the door.

He angled his body around and reached for the doorknob without getting up, he was afraid to stand, his legs felt like they'd give in to her, sending him to his knees at her feet.

She pushed open the door and walked in, pulling her hood off her head. She was wet, little globes of water reflecting the ceiling light off her shirt, her face damp, her cheeks pink from cold.

Hey guys.

She unzipped her sweatshirt, there they were.

Hi Blake.

He looked away, fingering the orange stain on the carpet to his left.

This is Morgan, he said to the floor.

She flung her hoodie on the floor beside Blake. It smelled like her, White Musk. He had seen it in her bag once when she had gone to the bathroom, stolen it while she was peeing, or looking at her perfect face, or putting on lipstick, or adjusting her b cups, or making secret phone calls, whichever. He glanced up at his dresser, there it was beside his deodorant, and fuck, the picture of them at his mother's stupid party. He looked up at her but saw his wall instead, she was already sitting between him and Corey. She was also staring at the clear perfume bottle but he had lost the little nerve he had in his first attempt at looking at her and didn't notice.

He looked around at everyone in the circle except her, they were all staring at her chest, or shirt, a Bon Jovi jersey that said Slippery When Wet.

Every week a different member was responsible for bringing something they could get fucked up on, either from their older brother or their parents cabinet, every parent had a cabinet. They couldn't be afraid of the repercussions, it was part of being a club member.

It was Vijay's turn. He had a water bottle, the kind with the dented straw and accompanying plastic straw cap that you got at fairs, in front of him. He passed it to Morgan.

Here.

She took the lid off, instead of the cap, and took a gulp. They were impressed.

Wait, I brought something.

She picked up the damp sweatshirt off the ground, flipping it over to find the pocket. He felt a sudden emptiness without its moist, heavy fabric on his hand.

Oh shit.

She was staring at a damp joint, limp from the weight of the rain drops.

Sorry.

She held it up a little higher in the air.

Marcus smiled his smile, the smile he flashed at all the girls when they were drunk at some house party, the one that always made them stumble over to him. He should have known, known that Marcus was going to get her.

Don't worry, it'll be dry by the time we leave.

She smiled back at him, relieved. Why hadn't he smiled and said, it'll be dry by the time we leave, and put his hand on hers, now only millimeters away -- mostly because he kept sliding his hand closer to hers without anyone noticing.

It'll probably dry faster if we put it on the radiator.

A stroke of genius, until she passed the bottle to Marcus and not him, even though their pinky fingers were now touching. She pushed the joint in Blake's direction, now it only meant that he was the one that had to get up and put it on the radiator, not that he had won this round.

He yanked the bottle from Marcus' hand when he stood up, but cooly, like no one could mess with him, because it was his room, their headquarters. This was his way of saying, don't fucking think about it, without saying anything.

He put the joint on the radiator, swigging from the cup simultaneously, trying to reenact cool. He walked back and gave it to Corey, it was his turn, but that's not why he gave it to him, he wanted so badly for her to reach up for it, wanted to get her a little drunk but now they were playing a game, or he was with her.