I remember it in bits and pieces. I remember the rooms made hazy by cigarette smoke and too many bodies. The streamers that hung from the staircase and the plastic tablecloth that covered the drink table were the only signs that this was a planned gathering and not a random coming together of rebelling youth. I was quickly abandoned by my so-called friends in favor of vodka cut with coke and guys who cut corners. I was an island suddenly swept into a new sea unaware of all the surrounding sharks. A shark glided up to me, his white teeth flashing. His russet skin reeked of perspiration probably due to the impromptu dance floor, which on any other day would've simply been Keith Cassidy's living room. The shark asked me if I was having fun. I said no and that was when he smelled the blood. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag filled with white and led me out into the open sea.

Why was it that when people describe getting high they said it felt like they were floating? To me it felt like getting smashed into a million pieces. I was not floating, if anything I was sinking, sinking into a puddle that reeked of cheap booze and Crank. My nostrils burned as I scaled the wall, then only thing keeping me from falling over or fainting completely. Spots flooded my vision like galaxies just out of reach, red, blue and black. The hall was lined with people, their faces fused together but not with their significant others. But I knew their significant others were probably with someone else's tethered by spit and stupidity. I knew the day after, they would lie to themselves, to their lovers, and out of guilt the other would be obligated to pretend to believe.

Shark followed me out the bedroom after I had burned my nostrils on his product. He said I needed someone to look out for me. I agreed. We walked up the stairs that seemed to stretch on forever but we made it. I collapsed on the landing, gulping air into my lungs and thinking I shouldn't be this out of breath. He smiled, asked if I wanted more as the bass of whatever rave music that was playing downstairs vibrated in my eardrums.

"There's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you paid for," He'd said.

The bass got louder and matched the rhythm of my pounding head. A popular rap song was playing with quick tempo and dirty lyrics. Shark asked if I was thirsty and went back downstairs before I could reply. My head spun and I felt like puking. I stood up unsteadily and scaled the wall again and made my way downstairs. The party was still in full swing as teens gyrated against each other and yelled out randomly. A few boys were smoking cigarettes in a corner and two girls were making out on the couch as drunken guys sloppily cheered them on. I looked around for Shark. I couldn't ask anyone where he was since I didn't know his name. I stumbled into the kitchen. Shark was there, rifling around in Keith's fridge. I cleared my throat. Shark turned and flashed me a smile. His teeth were bright white. He passed me a Sprite and I gulped it down thirstily. He chuckled smugly but I ignored him.

"What's your name?" Shark asked me.

"Carter," I said. My name wasn't Carter. My name was Rebecca.

"Well Carter, I'm Derek."

I just nodded. I liked Shark better. I didn't want real names. I wanted imaginary. I took my drink and left Shark in the kitchen. My head was still foggy as I collapsed on the couch. The girls weren't there kissing anymore and I thought maybe I could fall asleep. But the music was too loud and my stomach grumbled. I was really hungry. Things around me seemed to be happening in slow motion. Images were dull but still bright like overcast days when the sun still shines through. I could barely focus on things as they happened. I swore my name was being called from somewhere but I couldn't tell where the voice was coming from. I nursed my sprite and looked around for some food or anyone I knew. The room was dimmed making it hard to see. I spotted Cara making out with her boyfriend Brad and Lindsey was smoking cigarettes like a guy. I don't know why this was funny to me but it was.

"Having fun?" Shark asked. I had already forgotten his real name.

"Well I was," I said. He pretended to look offended. I wasn't amused. More people joined us on the couch and he scooted closer to me. He still reeked of sweat but also Axe body spray. It was suffocating. My fingers itched to push him away but before I could he began asking me questions. He asked about my age, the school I went to, if my friends were here. My brain couldn't piece together what he was saying. He words were puzzle pieces that were never meant to fit together. I wondered how he could be so…sober. He had inhaled as much white as I had. So I asked. He chuckled again.

"I'm used to it," He boasted proudly. I looked at him then. His eyes were green and bloodshot. His jet-black hair looked greasy. He had dirt under his fingernails and I swear he was twitching slightly. He hadn't struck me as a junkie then but looking back on it now, I think he was. He asked if I wanted to dance.

The dance floor was even more packed than before. There were virtually no breaks between songs so our bodies were constantly in motion. We were like tightly packed cells, all moving, and yelling, and dancing. Even though it all seemed so random, we couldn't be more in sync. Strobe lights erupted from somewhere unseen, casting shadows across our faces. The tempo matched the beating of my heart and my hair was matted to my forehead from sweat. I licked my lips. They tasted like coarse salt. I felt amazing. I felt infinite. People were panting and singing to the music and when they became too tired to dance they jumped up and down. I smiled at complete strangers and they smiled back all the same. They understood the feeling. The feeling of being afraid to crash but still willing to jump, they understood it. I would've stayed in that moment forever if I could. I would've danced some more, maybe even tried to answer Shark's questions. Or at least remember his name. But my phone vibrated in my jeans pocket. I extracted myself from the throngs of vibrating bodies. It was a text from Cara. She was asking where I was. I looked around. I had to stand on tiptoes to see over the crowd. She was in the corner with Lindsey who wasn't smoking anymore. Without saying goodbye to Shark, I slowly made my way over to them.

"There you are," Cara said. She sounded relieved but exasperated at the same time.

"Where have you been?" Lindsey asked, "It's been over two hours." I shrugged, glanced at the dance floor, then back at them.

"Well it looks like you had fun," Cara said loudly. The music had gotten louder.

I grinned then. It was a stupid, mischievous grin that kids wear when they get away with something. I brushed my sweaty bangs from my face and looked again. Shark was grinding against some black girl with ebony hair and red streaks.

"There's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you paid for." My voice was drowned out by all the activity. But it hadn't been for anyone to hear.

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