{"id":1527,"date":"2023-09-25T02:10:38","date_gmt":"2023-09-25T02:10:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/teenage-pyscho\/"},"modified":"2023-09-25T02:10:38","modified_gmt":"2023-09-25T02:10:38","slug":"teenage-pyscho","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/teenage-pyscho\/","title":{"rendered":"Teenage Pyscho"},"content":{"rendered":"

There\u2019s a party at Cole Tabb\u2019s house tonight. After playing some madden and hitting the gym with Chris Boddie I have dinner with Jason Brivenysky, Brock Stout and Nick Simmons and we hop into the car Brock ubered and take it to Tabb\u2019s party. I\u2019m wearing a plain white t-shirt from uniqlo, white air force ones, and a black sweater from nike. A black leather wallet from bosca nappa carries thirty dollars cash in the side pocket of my carhartt jeans. Instead of my usual apple watch, I\u2019ve borrowed my father\u2019s seiko diver for the night.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Nine o\u2019clock. I wander aimlessly around the hallways of Tabb\u2019s house, bored, sipping a mixture of red bull and vodka from a red solo cup, chewing on some gum, vaguely searching for Chris Boddie. Instead of finding him I bump into Kelly by the kitchen. She\u2019s wearing black flare leggings, a tight long sleeve orange crop top, and white air force ones. She looks really good. The speakers in the living room play Transportin\u2019 by Kodak Black.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t talk to Katy Demers. She wants you.\u201d She says, smiling at Alexis Cuchran\u2019s phone, which is most likely videotaping.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOkay. You look good.\u201d I say, touching her neck. I run my finger up over her chin until it reaches her bottom lip.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not joking.\u201d She looks across the room and waves to Katy Demers, who\u2019s talking to Kendall Murray in the hall. I follow her gaze. Katy\u2019s wearing jeans and an oversized sweater. She waves back to us. I flash her a thumbs up.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m leaving.\u201d I say, finishing my drink. I place the cup on the kitchen counter.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are you going?\u201d She asks, grabbing onto me as I push through the crowd.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m just going.\u201d I respond, lifting her hand off my arm.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut where?\u201d She pleads. \u201cDetails please.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy are you so concerned?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m concerned because I want to know.\u201d She says. \u201cYou aren\u2019t going to talk to Katy, are you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, of course not. I\u2019m just going.\u201d I lie, pushing her away from me. She finally stops following me and I ditch her by the stairs.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The speakers go silent for a moment and again resume their barrage of noise, this time taking the form of Pinata by City Girls. I find myself outside, on the back porch. I start scanning the area for girls. Instead, Josh Lauderback daps me up and tells me to be at his party next week. I pat him on the shoulder and reassure him that I\u2019ll be there. He smiles and leans against the railing.<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m in the process of sharing a beer with Josh when Katy Demer approaches us. She says something about having gotten me a drink and I smile at her. Katy sets my cup on the railing and stands beside me. Josh Lauderback finishes the beer, throwing the empty glass bottle into the pitch black yard. He reminds me of his party, daps me up, and leaves me and Katy alone on the porch. She smiles and leans in for a kiss.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Midnight. Chris Boddie and I are sharing a backseat with two blonde girls, both cheerleaders for our rival high school. Melissa is wearing a pair of black nike pros and a revealing white halter top. The other girl is wearing black leggings and a blue crop top. The stereo plays at an absurd volume, making all conversation impossible.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou can drop me off at York and 7th.\u201d I shout at Grant Boehm, who\u2019s driving. He nods at me in the rearview mirror.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I step out of the car after Melissa. She\u2019s hotter than the cheerleader Boddie got but her tits are a little smaller. We walk down 7th. It\u2019s only three blocks to her place and she unlocks the back door for me to sneak in with her. Up in her room, I begin undressing, starting with my shoes. She sits on her bed and watches me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy ex, from the game last week, he couldn\u2019t figure out what I was doing talking to you at the party tonight.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m not really listening but while pulling my shirt off I manage a response. \u201cOh, really? How come?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe said\u2026\u201d She laughs. \u201cHe said you gave him bad vibes.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I sigh and flex my right arm in her mirror. \u201cThat\u2019s\u2026 too bad.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I feel her eyes on me so I glance over at her for a moment. She shrugs, not moving her eyes from my body, and casually admits. \u201cHe used to beat me up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I strike a different pose, flexing my chest.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou think I\u2019m dumb, don\u2019t you?\u201d She asks, still staring at my body. She must be really really drunk.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I say, trying to stop a smirk from forming on my face. \u201cI really don\u2019t.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou do. I can tell.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI think you are\u2026\u201d She looks at me with anticipation as my voice trails off. \u201c I think you are totally brilliant and smart and charming.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s nice.\u201d She says, kicking her shoes off. \u201cYou\u2019re nice. I like you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d I take my pants off and fold them neatly, placing them on the floor near the foot of her bed. I pause and look at her as she pulls her shoes off.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She looks up at me standing there, in just my Calvin Klein boxer briefs.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m at a loss. The air is thickening around me and I start to asphyxiate. Choking, I manage to say something. \u201cDoes my hair look okay?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d She shrugs. \u201cSure.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Half past one. Melissa and I are lying on opposite sides of the bed. A condom lies on her nightstand, tied and freshly used. I text my mother, notifying her that I\u2019m spending the night at Katy\u2019s house. I place my phone down beside the condom. I stagger out of the bed and start to dress. Once my pants are on, I reach across the bed and touch her shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI think I should go.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She opens her eyes and scratches her neck. \u201cOkay, sure. I didn\u2019t want to get too involved anyways.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI think something bad is about to happen.\u201d I find my shirt on the floor and pull it over my head.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI understand.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think you do.\u201d I say, picking up my shoes. I stare at her eyes and quietly creep out into the hall.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

There\u2019s a party at Cole Tabb\u2019s house tonight. After playing some madden and hitting the gym with Chris Boddie I have dinner with Jason Brivenysky, Brock Stout and Nick Simmons and we hop into the car Brock ubered and take it to Tabb\u2019s party. I\u2019m wearing a plain white t-shirt from uniqlo, white air force … [DO NOT CLICK]<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":1526,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"entry","1":"post","2":"publish","3":"author-anonymous","4":"post-1527","6":"format-standard","7":"has-post-thumbnail","8":"category-slush"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1527","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1527"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1527\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1528,"href":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1527\/revisions\/1528"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1526"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1527"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1527"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lampbylit.com\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1527"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}