IN MY MOM’S CAR on the way home from school after production night, I close my eyes, collapsing into the cool leather of the seat. After napping in Nurse Sharp’s office, I returned to class and even managed to supervise four hours of production on the newspaper until I finally decided I was exhausted and useless. Miraculously, in that time, I finished the year-in-review story. Leaving Erin in charge, I decided I would regroup by heading home, resting my eyes for a few hours, and then starting the revisions the story desperately needs.
When I got in the car, Mom looked me over, no doubt observing my disheveled hair and red eyes. “I won’t ask,” she said. For once, I was grateful for her laissez-faire parenting.
I think I nodded off in the ten minutes it took to drive home, only waking up to the sound of the garage door. Heading into the kitchen for a water, I hear the noise of the TV. I close my eyes ruefully. Just my luck. As I pass through the living room, I find Jamie, Ted, and Mara watching Easy A. The volume is egregious. I’m exhausted, but I’m not exhausted enough to sleep while Emma Stone’s voice blares up from downstairs.
I pause close to the TV. “Hey, could you guys turn it down?”
Jamie, legs crossed on the long section of the sofa, looks up. “Hi, Alison. Yeah, sure.” She reaches for the remote and lowers the volume. When I turn to trudge toward the kitchen, Ted calls out.
“Wait, Alison, watch with us.” He’s propped his bare feet up on the coffee table, and I notice his soles are suspiciously filthy. I have no difficulty imagining the Henley he’s wearing hasn’t been washed in days. There’s a rip in one knee of his black jeans, a carabiner on one belt loop from which his keys dangle.
I shake my head. “I’m going to bed.”
“Whaaaaaat?” Ted draws out the word playfully. Jamie and Mara glance up, questioning, and I regret not coming up with a more normal explanation for not dropping everything to watch Easy A. “Come on,” Ted says. “It’s like seven!”
“This is backwards,” Mara says, laughing. “We’re the adults, and we’re literally pressuring a teenager to stay up late.”
Ted throws a piece of popcorn into Mara’s curls. “Dude, we’re not adults.”
I’m halfway out of the room when I stop. His words hit me with a flicker of inspiration, which unfurls into an idea. Adrenaline rushes into me, and I’m wide awake. I return to the living room, where I face Jamie and her friends.
“Hey,” I say, “could I interview you for a story?”