Kenzie answers the door as some sort of slutty feline.
She stands with her hand on her hip for a second, her long tail extending from her skintight leopard-print leotard. The fuzzy ears on her head wiggle as she shakes her head and finger in unison at Piper.
“Uh-uh. No way. Drama cast and crew only, and you made it crystal clear that you want nothing to do with us.”
“She’s with me,” I say, stronger than I feel.
Kenzie looks me up and down.
“What is on your face?”
I try to stand straighter despite the rising desire to run after Cora’s car and go home, where girls dressed as sexy cats with razor-sharp claws can’t get me.
“My costume.”
Piper jumps in.
“She’s from a little musical you may have heard of called The Phantom of the Opera.”
Kenzie folds her arms, her painted black cat nose turned up, watching me struggle to maneuver Piper’s chair up the doorstep. With an audible huff, she scurries down the hall into the family room to sit on the lap of the massive football player who knocked Asad down in earth science and clearly violates Kenzie’s drama-kids-only rule. He’s dressed like a puppy, which makes zero sense, because there are no dogs in Cats.
Asad waves to us as he makes his way from the kitchen into the foyer.
“Piper, you look amazing, as always,” he says. “And, Ava, ho-ly crap. Hands down the best Phantom costume I’ve ever seen.”
“Hamilton, I presume?” I say, motioning toward his bright blue topcoat, complete with shiny brass buttons and a white ruffly scarf-type thing around his neck. He’s even drawn on a mustache and goatee.
“At your service!” he says, raising his Solo cup into the air.
Asad pushes Piper’s wheelchair with his free hand, guiding us into the kitchen, where people in various stages of costume commitment stand around drinking out of red cups. Guys dressed as French revolutionaries, girls with bouffant Hairspray hairdos, and six other guys dressed exactly like Asad and a few more with blue-striped polo shirts and arm casts masquerading as Evan Hansen.
It’s like a Broadway dressing room exploded.
The red sparkle of a pair of shoes on a miniskirted Dorothy reminds me that I still need to return the good-luck pair to the closet before Kenzie finds yet another reason to hate me.
Asad hands Piper and me each a cup, instructing us to only drink out of the large white cooler and not the orange one, unless we want a “little something extra.”
“Which we do not,” Piper says, pointing to the spokes of her wheelchair. “As I am already a rolling public service announcement on underage drinking.”
Asad dances with some equally rhythm-deficient crew people while Piper and I stand by the wall, nursing our drinks, trying to look completely occupied by our liquid consumption.
“Are we doing it? Are we normal teenagers yet?” I ask.
Piper laughs.
“Let’s see…standing awkwardly against a wall at a party. We’re on our way!”
In the middle of the room, Asad gyrates in a dance move that can only be described as a robot undergoing an exorcism. He doesn’t seem to notice or care about the girls next to me laughing at him. He jerks and twitches until his grand finale lands him on his knees on the floor, hands up toward the ceiling.
He reaches out to me. I shake my head.
“I don’t think so.”
Piper hands me her cup.
“Why not. It is a party, after all.”
Asad wheels her out into the middle of the room, where he continues his gyrations and Piper does a hind jive from her seat. She squeals like a kid when Asad whips her chair in a circle.
Sage makes her way toward me, also dressed in skintight jungle spandex with cat ears.
“Ava. That is the best costume.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I figure why not use my natural talents, right?”
“You’ve got my vote!” She holds her cup to me in celebration but lowers it as Piper rolls next to us. Sage’s eyes—and smile—shift to the floor.
“Hey, Pipe,” she says. “How are you?”
Piper cuts her off, raising her hand between them.
“Careful. You’re under strict Kenzie surveillance.” She nods over to the other room, where Kenzie watches us from her perch atop her puppy/boyfriend.
Sage shakes her head.
“It’s not like that. Maybe you guys can still work this out.”
“No thanks,” Piper says. “Life’s much better out of that particular shadow. You should try it. You’d be amazed at how little you care about what she thinks once you get a mind of your own.”
Piper grabs both my hands, spinning us into the middle of the room and away from Sage. I hold tight to her, knowing if I let go I’ll slink back toward the wall.
“So, is he here?” Piper asks.
“Who?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Ava Lee. The drama boy.”
I shake my head, still not ready to tell Piper it’s Asad, or even admit it out loud at all.
“Don’t see him.”
When the song stops, Asad beckons us into the hallway to tell us that I’m in the lead by a long shot in costume votes.
“And guess what. The costume prize is two Wicked tickets!” Excitement lights up his eyes. “As you know, Wicked was one of the most influential plays of my young life.”
“Who talks like that?” Piper asks. “Seriously, were you born a fifty-year-old man-child or is this something you’ve fine-tuned over the years?”
Asad laughs.
“Life’s full of mysteries, Piper. Like how someone so beautiful can be so cruel.”
A group of Lion King lionesses squeeze past us in the hallway.
Asad whispers, “Okay, you didn’t hear it from me. Act surprised!”
A gong sounds from the living room, prompting a migration. I move with the wave, telling myself to ignore the excitement welling in my chest. It’s just a silly contest.
On the fireplace ledge, Kenzie holds a glass bowl filled with pieces of paper and two Wicked tickets. Asad shoots me a thumbs-up.
“Okay, everybody. As you all know, the costume contest is judged by your peers.” She shakes the bowl. “We’ve tallied all these votes and the winner is—” Kenzie nudges her puppy, who perks up and does a drumroll on the coffee table.
“Riley Jones!”
The room erupts into applause as a girl in a brightly colored toucan costume stands to shake her tail feathers. Asad holds up his hands in disbelief. I sink against the wall.
It doesn’t matter, I tell myself.
I turn to tell Piper the same thing, but she’s already halfway through the crowd, pumping her wheels toward Kenzie. I want to yell at her to let it go, but the red in her cheeks tells me the Piper ship has already sailed.
“Liar!” she yells.
“Excuse me?” Kenzie answers demurely, adjusting her kitty ears. “Last time I checked, you quit the drama club.”
“Kenzie, don’t play with me. I know Ava won.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Asad told us.”
Her head snaps toward Asad, who appears to be trying as hard as I am to melt into the drywall. Kenzie narrows her eyes at him and then turns back to Piper.
“Ava was disqualified.”
“Why?”
Kenzie toys with her long black tail, letting it slide between her fingers.
“Because it’s a costume contest. She already looks like that.”
A low murmur passes through the crowd as everyone in the room turns to look at me. I shrink as far back as I can, the normal in tonight’s normal high school party fading fast. I inch behind the drinks table, feeling like I might choke on the suddenly thick air.
“Are you really going to take out our problems on her? Are you that selfish?” Piper is seething.
Kenzie’s face flashes red as she drops her tail.
“I’m selfish? You’re the one using her to get back at me because you think I ruined your life.”
“You did!” Piper yells back.
Kenzie scoffs. “Sure. Blame me for everything. Convenient how you always forget who was supposed to be driving that night. Why didn’t you, again? Oh yeah, you were too much of a drunken coward.”
In one move, Piper reaches up and grabs the votes bowl from Kenzie, who yanks back on it hard, pulling Piper forward in her chair. Kenzie gives it one more strong tug, lifting Piper up like she’s sitting on a spring, and onto the carpet. The bowl flies out of both their hands, shattering on the stone fireplace.
The low back of Piper’s dress reveals her entire phoenix as she lies motionless on the floor. I want to help her, but I have become one with the wall. Asad has managed to break free, though, and reaches for Piper.
“I’m fine!” she screams. “Leave me alone!”
He lifts her anyway, placing her back in her chair. Kenzie steps toward her, but Asad wedges himself between them, pushing Kenzie back by her shoulders.
“Get off me!” she yells at the same moment her boyfriend’s fist lands on Asad’s chin, sending him reeling backward. Asad stands in the middle of the room, rubbing his face, the confusion in his eyes quickly changing to anger as he charges back toward the boy, fists swinging.
I swear the football boy laughs as he half throws, half pushes Asad off him, sending him slightly airborne across the room, directly into the card table holding the drink coolers. I watch him spiral toward them—and me—like I’m watching a slow-motion movie scene where each person’s head turns, mouth agape, as the moment of impact nears.
You just know it ends badly.
Asad’s body hits the table, tipping it and the coolers over. They fall, liquid sloshing, then flying in freeze-framed droplets through the air.
Toward me.