“Wow,” I whisper as Dr. Watts drives up the tree-lined driveway to Mackenzie’s house. It’s right by the hospital and sits back off the road, a towering home that looks like it could be right out of Gone with the Wind or something. A home so fancy that it has a name: Chesswood Manor.
I’m squished in the backseat of the minivan between the window and Kimi. As the skating party died down, I realized that the BFF sleepover included more than just the New Girls when I saw Sarah, Laura, and Kimi waiting at the front door with their sleeping bags and totes. And now I’m in the very back, Kimi turned away from me to face Sarah, constantly elbowing me as she complains nonstop about how Sarah’s boyfriend was looking at other girls at the party. Mackenzie, Mark, and Laura are squished in the seat in front of us, loaded down with gifts and balloons, while Dr. Watts drives and Mrs. Watts goes through the pics on her digital camera.
“Home sweet home,” Mackenzie’s dad announces, putting the minivan in park. We climb out one by one, and I stretch outside on their cobblestone driveway. My momma would love this place.
“Just take your things straight down to the basement, girls,” Mrs. Watts directs us as we enter their chandeliered and wood-floored foyer. To my left is a formal living room, complete with a baby grand piano and velvet settee, which I have previously seen only in the movies. To my right is the formal dining room, with a china buffet and a long oak table, the polish gleaming under yet another chandelier.
I lug my sleeping bag and backpack down the stairs in front of us alongside the rest of the girls, but I’m dying to know what’s upstairs and to see the rest of the house. Their kitchen is probably like one out of a restaurant or something. I bet they have a pool.
Yet all thoughts of the upstairs are banished when I see the basement. It’s completely finished, decked out from floor to ceiling with pictures of Mackenzie and Mark. I look around and see a small gym, a pool table, a Ping-Pong table, a foosball table, a gigantic flat-screen TV, and a huge wraparound couch. The basement is teenager heaven. It’s also pretty much the size of my whole house.
“This is awesome,” I say to Mackenzie, setting my things down in a corner.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” She shrugs. “I liked our house in Minnesota better, but this is good ’cause Dad’s so close to the hospital. We get to see him a lot more.”
I wonder what kind of doctor he is. Probably a surgeon, like on TV. In fact, he’s kind of handsome, in an older-guy, McDreamy sort of way.
“He’s a heart specialist,” Mackenzie says, as if reading my mind. I nod casually, making a mental note to block all telepathic vibes I may be sending into the universe. It would be pretty creepy if she knew I think her dad’s sort of hot.
“Ericka, help me move this,” Mackenzie orders, snapping me out of my thoughts. I walk over to the Ping-Pong table and help her fold it up and push it against the wall. Then we push a recliner and reading table out of the way as well.
“What are y’all doing?” Sarah asks from the sectional, the noise we’re making apparently pulling her away from the constant texting she’s involved in on her iPhone.
“Making room to tumble!” Mackenzie exclaims, and then she does an impromptu aerial, right there, without warning.
Everybody screams and runs over to Mackenzie. Sarah and Laura are already pulling their hair back into ponytails and Kimi searches her bag for an elastic headband. Before I know it, they are taking turns doing tumbling passes down the lush carpet of the basement alley Mackenzie has created. I am in awe of them, and feel super self-conscious.
“Not too high,” Mackenzie warns Sarah, who must have springs attached to her heels. “I basically just want to help Ericka.”
All four of them look at me, and then collectively light up. It dawns on me that I am their project. And then it dawns on me that I’m okay with that.
“Okay, so you need to get the back handspring down,” Laura says, planting herself across from Mackenzie. “Stand in front of us.”
I do as I’m told. At first, I feel pretty scared. Call me crazy, but something about throwing myself blindly backward seems not so smart. I can’t see where I’m going, and it’s hard to fearlessly toss my entire weight back. Then Kimi, in all of her bossiness, takes control of the situation and basically threatens my life if I don’t do it. I don’t want to look bad in front of these girls; plus, I tell myself, I’ll be one step closer to accomplishing the ten goals of Project Ericka.
Deep breath drawn, prayers said, I lean back over their arms… and voilà! I do a back flip! (A very slow back flip—kind of like a back bend over Mackenzie’s and Laura’s arms where I get stuck, leaving Kimi and Sarah to grab my calves and heave me over—but a back flip nonetheless!)
We spend an hour working on tumbling, and then we cheer. Mackenzie and Sarah teach the rest of us some of their Boys’ Varsity cheers, since that’s what we all aspire to. I find the motions and chants easy, but the jumps and splits impossible. I see a trampoline out back and think how cool it’d be to have one of those. I could practice my jumps on that thing all the time.
Worn out, we all grab bottles of Gatorade from the fully stocked downstairs fridge. I crash on the oversized ottoman, which is the perfect size for me, and the other girls sprawl out on the couch. I feel like part of the group, one of the girls, a friend. I push my sweaty bangs back off my forehead and sigh, content. Mackenzie cracks the back patio door to let the September breeze cool us down.
“Are we gonna eat soon?” Kimi asks.
I lean up and look over at her, stunned to see that she’s standing there in her bra, rubbing lotion on her arms. Her boobs are enormous—they really are. And now I’ve seen them… well, the top halves, anyway. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I think I feel my own nipples sink back into my chest—which sucks, because lately they’ve really been making some headway.
“Yeah, let’s order pizza. Is that okay?” Mackenzie asks. We all nod in agreement and I hope to God that Mark doesn’t come downstairs. If he sees Kimi the Exhibitionist, he’ll forget I exist. Not that I have a crush on him or anything, but it was nice to be noticed. When Mackenzie picks up the phone to call in our order, I grab my pajamas and go change in the downstairs bathroom, wary of getting involved in any group nakedness.
Now, maybe it’s just me, but I feel that when going to bed alone, as most freshman girls do, one need not worry about what one wears. Yet, as I come out of the bathroom and carry my party clothes back over to my bag, I notice everyone else changing into actual pajamas and/or nightgowns, ranging from flirty to sexy. Kimi’s wearing a lace-trimmed zebra tee with matching boy shorts, Sarah’s wearing polka-dot satin pajamas, Mackenzie’s pulling a cute cotton sleep shirt over her head, and Laura is in flannel pants and a tank top with a built-in bra. Meanwhile, I have on an oversized University of Kentucky basketball T-shirt and sweatpants. Compared to the other girls, I look like a small boy.
As I berate myself for not scanning Seventeen for sleepover wear, I walk over to the couch area and plop myself down next to Laura, who’s uncoiling the headphones to her iPod. Mackenzie is flipping through this month’s OK!, and I make a note to get my hands on that magazine before the night is over. Sarah is back to texting on her iPhone, and Kimi has moved from lotion application to painting her toenails. The way she has her leg hiked up, her knee pushes against her chest so that one of her C-cups is thrust out into the spotlight. It is seriously hard not to gawk, so I ask Laura to show me her favorite playlist.
“Oh, definitely this one,” she says enthusiastically, passing me one of her earbuds. “I call it Make-Out Jams, and it’s awesome.”
Make-out jams?
“Ooh, what’s on yours?” Kimi asks, her black bob flicking up out of her face and her dark eyes sparkling at the mention of male groping.
“You know, kind of a variety, ’cause you never really know the guy’s taste. So, like, Mariah Carey’s ‘Touch My Body’—”
“Love that song,” Sarah pipes up without missing a beat as her thumbs fly across her phone’s screen.
“ ‘Sex on Fire,’ by Kings of Leon.”
“Now that’s a jam for when it’s really getting hot and heavy,” Kimi interrupts knowingly. She secures the cap of her nail polish and stretches out her short but toned legs, admiring her handiwork.
“And Dave Matthews’s ‘Crash Into Me,’ even though it’s a total oldie.” Laura looks at me and sort of winces, as if she’s embarrassed.
I nod and feel like I have to say something. “But it’s a classic,” I manage, all sorts of false confidence. Make-out jams? Seriously? I wouldn’t care what I was listening to. I’d just be stoked about making out.
“My guilty pleasure is John Mayer’s ‘Your Body Is a Wonderland,’ ” Mackenzie confesses. “I mean, whenever I’m thinking about a boy I like or something, I put that song on.”
“It’s on here,” Laura says, thumbing through her playlist, and almost immediately I hear it in my right ear.
“What boys do you like?” Sarah asks pointedly, looking up from her iPhone for the first time in half an hour. She pulled her bangs back with a bobby pin when she washed her face earlier and I can’t help but think how much prettier she looks without all that stringy hair in her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Mackenzie says, curling her legs up under her on the couch and majorly blushing. She’s obviously embarrassed, and obviously lying. We all oooooh and suddenly the room is abuzz with boy talk. I love it.
“Come on, Mackenzie,” I goad her, feeling mischievous. “Who do you like?”
“Nobody!” she squeals, putting her hands up over her face. Laura and I laugh and clap, and Kimi reaches over to swat Mackenzie’s legs with her magazine.
“Seriously,” Sarah says, all business. “You’re new, so I’m sure you’ve been checking out the guys. And you, too, Ericka. I mean, there are a lot more boys at Preston County than there were at Saint Pat’s.”
“Yeah, did you ever make out with any of the Saint Pat boys?” Laura asks me, her round face flushed with excitement. “ ’Cause I think Trevor Barker is sort of cute.”
My eyes go big and my smile gets a little goofy. I liked this game better when it was all about Mackenzie. I mean, yeah, I have a major crush on Wolf, but I don’t know if I want to announce it to the world, especially since these girls have all seen what a jerk he’s been to me. I would look so stupid. And as far as my experience with the boys at my old school, holding hands with Mike O’Conner at the sixth-grade ice cream social probably doesn’t count for much.
“Oh!” Kimi interjects. “You all tell us who you like, and we’ll tell you if we’ve hooked up with them already. Or who else has. Or if they’re, like, a good kisser or whatever.”
The three of them look back and forth between my face and Mackenzie’s, waiting for some good gossip. I take a sudden interest in the loops of Mackenzie’s plush shag carpet and she seems suddenly preoccupied with an imaginary hangnail. This is obviously not going the way Sarah had hoped, and she sighs dramatically.
“Okay, fine. You don’t have to say your main crush. Let’s just do a top five. Like, for me, I’m obviously in love with Jimmy, and I don’t like anybody else.”
Kimi snorts and Sarah shoots her a nasty look before she continues. “However, if you put a gun to my head and made me name five boys, I’d say Jimmy first—’cause we’re totally exclusive no matter what some people might think—and then I’d go with four other seniors: Ben Roth, Joey Beach, Greg Grammer, and… um… oh, Brad Jones.”
She says all this flippantly, as if it’s no big deal. As if telling four other girls, two of whom she just met this month, that she likes four other guys besides her boyfriend is no big deal. I’m in awe.
“Okay, now you, Ericka,” she says, turning her gaze my way.
I gulp, not really feeling the gushy girl bonding I was expecting tonight. I’m fourteen, the same age as these girls, but I’ve never been kissed, so I definitely don’t have a playlist of make-out jams, and I’ve never really had a boyfriend. Of course, that’s the last thing I want to admit. I’m sure the Fabulous Four, as Luke calls them, will find my lack of experience more pitiful than fabulous.
I shrug. “I don’t really like anybody,” I lie, feeling my cheeks flame red.
“Oh, come on!” Sarah says, exasperated. “It’s not a big deal, Ericka. Like, okay, if you ask Kimi, she could name at least fifteen off the top of her head! And she’s probably been felt up by half of them already.”
“Soooo jealous,” Kimi spits under her breath.
“So just name a few guys, Ericka. It’s easy.” Sarah looks at me and waits. All of them look at me and wait. Finally she blows air through her lips and rolls her eyes. “Ericka, it’s top secret. Like, we’ll pinky swear and all that. Nobody tells who’s on your boys list. Girl code.”
“Pizza’s here!” Mark calls down the stairway. I jump at the sound of his voice, hoping he hasn’t heard any of this. He couldn’t have come at a better time, though, and judging by how fast Mackenzie springs off the couch, she couldn’t agree more.
“Coming!” she yells, bounding over to the stairs.
“Like Mark,” Sarah states simply.
Mackenzie stops cold and jerks her head over toward us. I avert my gaze. Awkward. All so very awkward.
“Whatever,” Sarah says, almost challenging Mackenzie. “It’s obvious he’s totally into her, and she’s your friend, right? So who cares?” Her phone beeps and, showing how serious she really is about all this, she shoves it in between the couch cushions without checking her message and keeps her eyes on Mackenzie.
“Yeah. Who cares?” Mackenzie finally says, looking over at me and shrugging before disappearing up the stairs.
I watch her go and kind of feel like she cares; but Mark is really nice, really cute, and, apparently, “totally into” me. And as quiet as Sarah usually is, she’s obviously unrelenting about boy talk, so I cave just to get her off my back.
“Okay,” I say timidly. “Well, then, Mark Watts.”
“You two were soooo cute couples’ skating earlier,” Laura chimes in, bobbing her head ferociously.
“Good, who else?” demands our resident boy-talk interrogator, Sarah. Kimi and Laura are both grinning from ear to ear, eager to learn more of my juicy secret desires.
I take a deep breath. Just four more to go. The name David Wolfenbaker is going off like fireworks in my head, making my heart beat extra fast and causing me to sweat a little. He’s the only guy I really, really like, but if he knew, if anybody were to tell him, I would absolutely die.
“I don’t know that many guys yet,” I stall.
“Well, I think you like Wolf,” Kimi says, her eyes sparkling.
And there it is. Out there. Because although I didn’t confirm it with my mouth, they all oooooh at the same time, which means that burning sensation I feel in my cheeks, ears, and neck has indeed given me away. So I nod, and then I do the only thing I can think to do, which is rush through this torture and save myself. “Okay, so Mark, and Wolf, and his older brother, too, and I guess that guy you said, Joey Beach, or whatever.”
“And?” Kimi asks.
I don’t want to blow it with this top five game, but I’m drawing a real blank and feel like I could break out into hives at any second. The only other boy I can really think of is Luke, and I mean, he’s cute, but he’s like my brother. Right?
“Ericka, just say somebody,” Laura says, getting antsy.
Right. That’s the other thing about Luke: Laura likes him.
“That guy who’s always hanging around with your boyfriend at the lockers,” I say quickly, looking at Sarah. “I mean, he’s not exactly my number one, but he’ll do.”
The girls all giggle at that, and Kimi pipes up, “Well, he may not be Orlando Bloom, but he’s really quite talented with his tongue… and creative, too.”
Everyone cracks up, and Sarah hits her with a throw pillow. I feel like I can finally breathe. Mackenzie comes back downstairs and I start to relax a little again. I don’t know why that was so stressful for me, but I guess it’s like this: I already feel out of place around these girls. I mean, Sarah and Mackenzie are super rich. Laura is cute, and Kimi is both cute and experienced. I totally want to fit in, but it’s like I’m three steps behind.
Mackenzie puts the pizzas on the coffee table, and they smell delicious. I’m famished. I grab a Coke from her fridge while the other girls huddle around the pies. Then I make my way over and snatch a paper plate, which is when I see the selection: mushroom-pepperoni and supreme. And I’m allergic to mushrooms.
“I’m glad you guys weren’t picky,” Mackenzie says, biting into a slice. “That was the easiest pizza ordering I’ve ever done. All my friends back home were always like, ‘half this, half that, no this, light on that, sauce on the side, etc.’ So high maintenance!”
The last thing I want is any more attention on me, so I grab a lesser-of-two-evils slice with pepperoni, take a seat at the far end of the couch, and start picking off the mushrooms as stealthily as possible.
“I’ll go next,” Laura says. “It’s probably kind of obvious, but I really like Luke Foster.”
She pauses and I realize that she’s looking right at me. I’ve just taken a huge bite and don’t really get what she’s looking at, so I shrug and give her a greasy thumbs-up. She smiles super big, looking totally relieved. “Okay, so my top five goes Luke Foster, Trevor Barker, Wolf, Tommy Parks, and Keith Miles.”
I can’t believe she paused, all worried like, because of Luke—Luke!—when the real reason I’m about to choke on my pizza is because she likes Wolf, too!
“So I’m picking five guys I haven’t made out with before based entirely on looks and not because I actually want to go out with them, okay?” Kimi says, glancing over at Sarah as if she’s about to do something wrong. “Jimmy is really cute.” Sarah narrows her eyes, and Kimi rushes on, “But I don’t like him like that; I’m just saying. Then Wolf, Trevor, Mark, and Matt Wright.”
Wolf?
“I thought you weren’t dating freshmen,” Sarah says, calling her out. “And you said Wolf’s a pig.”
“Wolf is a pig,” Kimi says, eyeing Sarah evilly, “but we can’t all date the sleazeball quarterback, and I like to keep my options open.”
“That ‘sleazeball quarterback’ was your first pick.”
“Based only on looks.”
“Whatever.” Sarah seethes and looks at Mackenzie. “Go.”
The tension is obviously back, and not just between Sarah and Kimi. So far almost everybody has Wolf in their top five. I’m dying.
Mackenzie takes a deep breath, looks around at all of us nervously, and then screams, “Wolf, Wolf, Wolf, Wolf, Wolf!” hiding her face with a couch pillow and kicking her legs in the air.
I feel my jaw fall open and my eyes bug out, and I make absolutely no effort to hide the surprise and terror splashed all over my face. My Best Friend Forever likes my True Love Always!
“Oh, brother, I’m glad these things are secret, or he’d never get his jersey over his big head,” Sarah grumbles.
Everyone laughs and then Kimi goes into a long tirade about how much better a thong is versus all other styles of underwear, but I tune her out completely. I don’t know if it was all the birthday cake, the tumbling session right after, or a rogue mushroom from the pizza, but I cover my mouth and run to the bathroom, vomiting a little in my hand before I make it.
Getting picked up early from Mackenzie’s is the worst. I feel like such a little kid, waiting upstairs at the kitchen counter with Mrs. Watts. The other girls were concerned, but pretty grossed out as well. When I came out of the bathroom, my lips were a little swollen and I smelled like puke. They all said their good-byes downstairs after I called my mom, and I can still hear them laughing and squealing from up here.
“You sure you don’t want some more Sprite?” Mrs. Watts asks.
“No, ma’am,” I respond, holding washcloth-wrapped ice to my swollen lips.
“Careful with all those manners,” Mark says, coming in for a glass of milk. “You’re going to get me in trouble around here.”
Mrs. Watts chuckles and wrings my shirt dry in the kitchen sink. She was really great with the whole “vomit-gate” episode, giving me an old cheer shirt of Mackenzie’s and rinsing out my own.
“I’m going to throw this in the dryer until your mother comes,” she says and disappears around the corner. How can she be so jolly about cleaning up my puke?
Mark stays put by the fridge, nervously tapping on his glass and looking out the window over the kitchen sink. I stay perched on a tall kitchen stool, searching for something to say, looking at the breakfast nook windows over his shoulder. It’s pitch dark outside and the lights are bright in here, so we’re both basically just looking at our own reflections.
“You going home?” he finally asks.
“Yeah,” I say, my heavy sigh and drooped shoulders speaking volumes.
“That sucks,” he says.
I nod in agreement. It does suck. Finally getting invited to a cool slumber party, where the most popular girls in our class want to help me with my cheers and talk to me about boys, is awesome. Getting sick in my hand in front of those very same girls and calling my momma in the middle of the night is anti-awesome.
“You want a tour before you go?” he asks, finally looking at me.
I sit up straight and meet his gaze. “I’d love one,” I say, standing up and moving around to his side of the counter, keeping my Angelina-times-ten lips as covered as possible.
“Just try not to throw up on anything, okay?” he teases.
I punch him in the arm and giggle.
He leads me from the kitchen to the breakfast nook and toward their spacious den/movie room, where Dr. Watts is watching the Discovery Channel in surround sound. We wind through the ground floor and I feel like I’m a princess inside a gorgeous castle. If I lived here, I wouldn’t take any of it for granted. Mark indicates that I should go up the stairs first, which makes me keenly aware of my butt placement in relation to his eye line. We walk down a long hallway, lined with guest room and bathroom doors. He shows me Mackenzie’s room, which is massive, with a huge canopy bed and cheerleading trophies on wraparound shelves. Her dresser is covered with pictures of her old friends from Minnesota, and she actually has a walk-in closet… with enough clothes to fill it. His parents’ room is off-limits but has beautiful French doors.
At the door of his own bedroom, he touches the knob and leans in close to me. Like me, he has tiny freckles on his nose. I hold my breath and hope to God that I don’t smell like barf.
“I’m not supposed to have girls up here,” he says, blushing and looking confused as to whether or not he’s breaking a rule. I blush, too.
But the doorbell rings and saves him from any possible punishment.
And I want to kill my mother.