Down With the Shine Read Online Free Page B

Gordon does not like to look like a fool. Gently, I reach down to take the jar of moonshine from her, but she jerks it away and slowly straightens to face me. Her watering eyes have made her mascara run in streaks down her cheeks. I am tempted to apologize, to minimize the damage I’ve already done. I think about how right my uncles were—the stars in the sky are not to be reached for, but to remind us how small we truly are.
    But then Michaela Gordon clinks her jar against the one I’m still holding. “Look out liver, here it comes,” she says, her lips tilting into a sly smile.
    Grinning, I bring the jar up and take my second deep swallow. And this time—the crowd cheers.
    It is perhaps the best moment of my life. I am at the biggest party of the year and I am owning it.
    Bow down, bitches.

BEST
    A fter that, things get blurry. Every time a new group of partygoers pushes its way into the kitchen for a taste of the moonshine, I go through the whole routine. Wish. Toast. First sip.
    It’s a lot of first sips. I lose count after a while.
    Even people who make a point of letting me know my place in the universe at least once a week get in line, make a wish, and drink with me. Some of them high-five me when they finish, like we’re suddenly best pals.
    In between I keep asking for, “Water. I need to drink water so I don’t get drunk.” Someone presses a glass of it into my hand, and I drain it in a few long swallows.
    Then there is dancing. Another thing I hate that suddenly feels good. Larry and I thrash and spin and sing along, not caring that we’re getting most of the lyrics wrong.
    Next thing I know, I’m lecturing a group of freshmen who were lucky enough to make the official list of invitees about the brilliance of my uncles’ moonshine. It’s my uncles’ sales pitch, which I’ve heard a million times.
    “Making moonshine has been in our family for generations and everyone who knows about it agrees it’s the best moonshine around, taking top honors in the three essential moonshine tests.” I try to hold up three fingers, but can’t quite manage it and settle for all five. “One. Most likely to make a man fight someone he loves for no good reason.” I point in the direction of the screaming couple in the next room. “Check.”
    The freshmen look impressed.
    “Two. Most likely to lead to bad life decisions while under its influence.” This time I have to scan the room for a moment, mostly because it is spinning around me. Finally, I locate Arnold Tuney kissing Blake Graham. Arnold is out of the closet. He is the cool girl’s token gay. Blake is a guy who has been dating the same girl for three years and routinely refers to people, places, and things he does not like as “gay.” This time the freshmen don’t need me to point, they have followed my gaze and are staring in open-mouthed shock.
    “Check. Wow, Arnie could really do better.” I shake my head, lose track of what I was talking about, and haveto be reminded why I’m holding my hand up in the air.
    “Right,” I say. “Finally—and most important of all—it’s likely to make you so goddamn drunk you don’t even care about the other two.” I don’t have to point to any particular person for this. The whole party is insane. People are puking everywhere and then turning around to get more beer. They are too drunk to know better. Michaela’s house may never be the same. It gives me a certain satisfaction. Maybe the freshmen feel it too, because they all look back at me and say, “Check.”
    By the time I open the final jar of moonshine, I feel certain that my whole life has changed. The crowd cheers me as a hero. We are all best friends, drinking from the communal jar of love. For the last few sips they even pick me up and place me on the dining room table.
    Raising the jar of moonshine above my head, a gigantic grin on my face, I know I look like an idiot, but somehow I can’t stop smiling. The world isn’t the horrible place