Club Cherry

If she walked through the door, she would no longer be a teenager.

OK, she would be. A glass door leading into a humid roller rink wouldn’t suddenly age anyone, not physically anyway, not by more than a few seconds, but Shauna was pretty convinced that the entryway in front of her was a portal to adulthood.

Her outfit had been planned for weeks, a smiley face turquoise tube top and ripped, light-wash jeans with red-and-white stripes racing down each side. This was the night she doused herself in Gap Dream body spray and slipped her older sister Becky’s tattoo choker around her neck. This was the moment she had been waiting for since eighth grade started.

This was Teen Night at Club Cherry. 

As soon as they got to the club, Shauna’s best friends, Jenny and Jane, bounced through the door, self-assured as any two girls who had turned 14 with three sophomore soccer players’ numbers in their backpacks would be. Shauna was still 13, four months shy of Teen Night’s 14-18 policy, but as far as she knew, no one carded at the doors of Club Cherry. What would she show them anyway, her Thomas Jefferson Middle School ID?  

What she would do, she decided six days ago, was walk right onto the dance floor with her head held high as “Barbie Girl” blasted on the speakers and her lip gloss gleamed under the club’s ceiling of unevenly placed disco balls. If they weren’t playing “Barbie Girl”? Then she would sing Aqua songs in her head. It didn’t matter because she was doing this and everything was going to be perfect.

By day, the Cherry Lane Roller Rink was like every other suburban skate complex: worn-down carpets butting up to a cement-walled, slick wooden rink, faded neon paint clinging to the walls, sugary slushies and greasy French fries served next to the counter where kids borrowed skates, or rollerblades if you could balance like a normal person, which Shauna could not. Jenny and Jane owned matching rollerblades, dark gray with bright pink-and-turquoise triangles and swirls and purple wheels. Shauna borrowed Jane’s pair exactly once. While attempting to skate in a straight line to the end of Jane’s block, she shook in a sort-of forward direction for seven seconds, then fell down. She scraped both her knees and her right elbow and Jane laughed and Shauna immediately vowed to never rollerblade again. 

There were no roller skates or rollerblades or any other wheeled objects for Shauna to make a fool of herself with tonight, because on weekends, the complex transformed into Club Cherry, a teen nightclub frequented by every eighth grader and high schooler within a 10-mile radius. Becky had been a regular at Club Cherry, which meant Shauna wasn’t allowed to go near the place. But then three weeks ago, Becky didn’t close her bedroom door all the way, and Shauna snuck peaks at her sister lying on the floor, her feet propped up against her bed. Becky was twirling the cord of her hamburger phone around her hand, and she wouldn’t stop whining to one of her friends, complaining that the club was so over because the only people who showed up anymore were losers who didn’t have fake IDs and wouldn’t go into the city to the real clubs. Or eighth graders.

With no sister there to publicly question her existence, Shauna felt free for the first time to step onto the hallowed floor of Club Cherry. She looked around the parking lot to make sure no one was paying attention to her, which of course they weren’t, and squished her forehead against the front door. It was cloudy inside from fog machines and cheap cologne, but she spotted Jenny’s outline talking to a couple of short freshman guys from their neighborhood. Jenny and Jane walked with the confidence of girls who knew every inch of Victoria’s Secret by heart. Shauna was better acquainted with Wet Seal’s layout. This also explained why she was the only one currently wearing pants, which for the evening housed her school ID, her and Jenny’s lip glosses, two quarters, and the number to a taxi company, in case it was too dark or scary to walk back home later.

Shauna squeezed her arms against her sides to keep her tube top from slipping down and stared at the neon sign hanging above the front entrance. Only the “Cherry” part blinked red with a sad hum, like it was biding its time before fading into oblivion.

The door swung open and Shauna jumped back to avoid getting smacked in the face.

“Get your ass in here!” Jane yelped.

Jenny edged around Jane and bounced into the parking lot. She grabbed Shauna by the elbow, nearly tipping her over. 

“There are 10th graders inside,” Jenny whispered.

Before she left the house, Shauna ditched her Adidas Superstars in favor of her sister’s matte, maroon Doc Martens. These boots were made for ass kicking and melting into the cement, either of which would’ve come in handy as Jane left the safety of the door frame to fix Shauna. It felt like Jane was staring into her soul, but Shauna was pretty sure her soul consisted of nothing but Teen Beat and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so there wasn’t much to see.

“Chill,” Jane said, brushing a hair off her Shauna’s shoulder. “You definitely look 14. Maybe even 15.”

Shauna doubted that. Maybe a deep breath would help. That’s what people always said, right? And what better time than the present to test that sage advice out. Shauna sucked a shallow breath in through her nose and exhaled hard enough to scare Puff the Magic Dragon. She linked her hands through her friends’ arms and flashed her best fake smile.

“Let’s do this,” Shauna declared.

As soon as the air conditioning hit them, Jane and Jenny shook their arms free, waved to the bouncer, and bolted for the dance floor. Shauna stood in place, praying the bouncer believed she was 14. Blinking the room into recognition, she spotted a manager in his office to her right, chewing on a pencil as he smirked at two blonde girls sitting on the other side of his desk. The bouncer kicked the bottom of his stool, keeping the beat to Ace of Base’s “Beautiful Life.” Straight ahead, Jenny twirled her hair and Jane bit her lip as the short dudes from before held their hands out towards them like acne-scarred Frankensteins. To Shauna’s left, three boys fought over the Bart controller on The Simpsons arcade machine, and a group of giggling girls in ringer tees, patchwork flares, and Puma sneakers sat next to them on the skating checkout desk, kicking away any underclassman who skirted their territory en route to the bathroom. 

Shauna squinted her eyes, aiming her gaze at the redhead in the group. She recognized the cherry-covered baby tee the girl was wearing, and the cobalt Pumas attached to the blonde next to her, with soles covered in heart doodles, had definitely been strewn across her family’s entryway last week. Those were her sister’s friends, and in the center of the iron-on patches and denim and hairspray was her sister Becky, an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth. 

Shauna beelined for the rink just as Becky titled her head towards the door. She hopped off the counter and her pack followed her outside, obedient as always.

Becky was supposed to be at the movies tonight and she claimed to hate this place and she definitely, definitely didn’t smoke. Shauna’s eyes darted around the dance floor, hunting for Jenny and Jane. They had moved on from the Frankensteins to a couple of soccer players whose numbers they didn’t have. They were like ninjas, if ninjas only had eyes for hot, older boys to make out with. Stomping towards her friends, Shauna wondered if she too could become a boy-catching ninja.

She screeched to a stop behind the guys and tapped them on the shoulders. “Super sorry, but I need to borrow these two,” Shauna said, grabbing Jenny and Jane’s hands and dragging them towards the exit.

“What the hell, Shauna!” Jane squeaked.

“Yeah, they were cute! Like, really cute!” Jenny added.

“I promise they will still be cute in, like, two minutes, but we’ve gotta go outside,” Shauna said.

“Are there cuter boys outside?” Jenny asked.

Shauna twirled around to face her friends. “Jenny! Becky is here and she has a cigarette and it’s freaking me out and I need you to not be like—” Shauna flailed her arms around. “—this.”

Jane looked shocked and amused. She patted Shauna on the head. “A cigarette, eh?”

Shauna pushed Jane’s hand away. “Yes. So, let’s go.”

“Let’s,” Jane said, stepping in front of Shauna to lead the way. Jenny quickened her stride to catch up with Jane.

At the edge of the parking lot, a row of coupes was lined up along the gravel, pointed towards the narrow row of trees that separated the property from an old folk’s home. Becky commanded the group, leaning against a white Mustang, cracking jokes at the expense of everyone still inside the rink. Shauna tip-toed towards them as best as she could in clunky boots, getting a few feet away before yelling her sister’s name. Becky’s eyes opened wide like an anime cartoon. Her cigarette fell out of her mouth and into a shallow puddle.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Becky grumbled, picking up her wet Marlboro Light. She clenched her mouth, trying to shake the cigarette dry. Jane and Jenny flanked Shauna, eagerly eyeing the soaked butt. 

Becky slowly lifted her head, one eyebrow raising as she laser focused on her little sister. “You’re not supposed to be here, Shauna!”

“And you’re not supposed to be smoking, Becky!” Shauna yelled back.

“I’m not,” Becky said, whipping out a fresh Marlboro and lighting it. Shauna had never seen an episode of The Twilight Zone, but she was pretty sure she was in one. That or she was about to become an after school special. Maybe Jennifer Love Hewitt would play her. That was something to look forward to when she was grounded for the next six months, because there was no way Becky wasn’t getting to their mom first. She wasn’t sure exactly what she had done wrong, but she knew it was something.

“You want one?” Becky’s redheaded friend asked, flashing three cigarettes in front of the eighth graders.

“She doesn’t,” Becky answered.

“We do!” Jenny grabbed two cigs before Becky could say no again. Jane scrounged through her minuscule purse to find the pale pink lighter she could finally use on something other than incense. 

Shauna plucked the last one from the offering hand. Her very first cigarette. Health class VHS tapes filled with images of disgusting lungs and tracheotomies flashed through her mind. Jenny and Jane coughed and giggled with the older girls as Shauna rolled her cigarette back and forth across the palm of her hand, her fingers burning in anticipation.

Becky blew smoke out of the side of her mouth like the coolest girl Shauna had ever seen, which she was, despite fiery eyes wishing they could bore a hole through the center of Shauna’s skull. A lighter appeared in front of Shauna, softening her features with a yellow glow, and her grandpa’s image flashed through her mind.

Shauna and Becky’s grandfather smoked a pack a day. He coughed after every third sentence and his sweaters smelled like mothballs caught in a campfire. Becky never smelled like burnt mothballs. She smelled like Baby Soft and cherry Lipsmackers.

Becky cracked her neck from side to side. Jenny and Jane hadn’t hesitated like this. Orange embers glowed at the end of their glittery lips. 

Jane snapped at Shauna and waved her lighter.

“Now what?” Shauna asked.

“Stick the cigarette in your mouth and breathe in,” Jane said. Becky’s friend nodded behind her.

Shauna looked at Becky and inhaled. Before she could wonder if she was supposed to hold her breath or exhale quickly, Shauna doubled over, coughing her way to what she assumed was a quick, early death. Becky took the cigarette from her hand.

“You guys go inside. I need to talk to Shauna,” Becky told her friends. “Take Jenny and Jane with you.” 

Rather than protest, Jane flicked her mostly full cigarette onto the gravel, suffocating the lit end with her chunky platform heel, just as she watched Becky do. She straightened out her faux leather skirt before pulling Shauna’s top up a centimeter. Jane nodded, admiring her work before she and Jenny tailed Becky’s friends into the club.

Becky pulled Shauna by the belt loop towards the last car in the row, mostly hidden from plain view by rock piles from the demolished building across the lot. She stepped back and looked her sister up and down, taking in every item Shauna had stolen from her room.

“Why are you here, Shauna?” Becky asked.

“It’s Teen Night!” Shauna said. She was feeling a little dizzy, but a good kind of dizzy, the kind she imagined was just like being blissfully high.

“This place is lame. You shouldn’t be here,” Becky said.

“But you come here. Why can’t I?” Shauna asked.

“You’re too good for Club Cherry.”

“You calling me a snob?”

“No, I’m calling you smart,” Becky said, scoping the parking lot. Spotting a trash can two cars down, she tossed her whole cigarette pack in gracefully, like a seamless foul shot, then cracked Shauna’s cigarette in half and let it join its brothers. Shauna’s lips parted in confusion.

“I won’t tell Mom if you don’t,” Becky said, wiping her hands on her thighs.

“Tell her what? I didn’t do anything wrong!” Shauna said.

“Doubt that’s how Mom’ll see it. Look, I’m gonna grab my friends and go to the diner. I’ll be home by midnight. Watch Jenny and Jane, OK?”

“Seriously, what did I do wrong? You were the one smoking first!”

Becky leaned in and gave her sister a hug. Shauna’s arms stayed at her sides. “I’ll see ya at home. And if you get any dirt on my boots, I’ll kill you.”

“This isn’t fair, Becky!” Shauna yelled at her sister’s back. Becky threw up a middle finger and swaggered through Club Cherry’s doors with a confidence that didn’t come from the two of them growing up under the same roof.

Shauna walked over to the garbage can and peered down. Becky’s Marlboro Lights seemed to be glowing. She reached in and snatched the pack, squishing it down in her back pocket, safely next to her school ID and the taxi company’s number. Aqua seeped through the windows, the bass getting louder and louder as she got closer to the entrance.

There was no need to hesitate this time, not really. Shauna had already stepped through the front door once. She had made her way to the dance floor, granted without actually dancing or even smiling at a single boy. She even managed to keep Becky’s boots spotless, despite the parking lot dust and the drinks and the sweat splashing all around her.

Shauna reapplied her lip gloss, or maybe she swiped on Jenny’s; they all tasted like imitation vanilla bathed in glitter. She took in the neon sign once more, buzzing like the inside of her head, and cracked open the door. 

She nodded at Becky and Becky ignored her and she slid next to Jenny and Jane, whiffs of smoke hitting her nose as she whipped her head around, her throat burning as she tried to scream along to “Barbie Girl.”

Emily Krauser is an MFA candidate at the University of North Carolina Wilmington and an entertainment and craft beer journalist. Her non-fiction pieces have appeared on ETonline, HuffPost, Bust, VinePair, and more. A Jersey girl through and through, she currently resides in Delaware.