“Ooh?” Mickey asked. “Is that your name?”
“Keep making entrances like that and you can call me whatever you want,” Kelli said. “Won’t this kid’s parents be upset that you drove a scooter into his house and set fire to the rug?”
The freshman, whose name was Adam, leaned Mickey’s scooter against the wall. Then he threw beer on the flames until the fire went out and the rug began to smolder.
“Thanks,” Mickey said, and nodded approvingly. An odor came up from it, something resembling burnt peanut-butter cookies.
“Nah, they won’t care,” he said. “Patch’s parents are my dad and mom’s oldest friends. They buy all my dad’s art and stuff …”
Mickey looked down at the damage he’d done. He wasn’t tall, and he was a little squat, like his father, Ricardo Pardo, the famous sculptor. He was wearing a green jumpsuit and black motorcycle boots. There were goggles and a whole bunch of Carnevale beads around his neck. A friend of his mom’s had bleached his black hair blond, and now it had grown out all spiky, so his skull looked like it had sprouted match heads.
“Actually, yeah,” Mickey said. “They might be annoyed. Have you seen Philippa?”
“I don’t keep track of girls,” Kelli said. “I came here with Jonathan.” She followed Mickey as he made his way down to the kitchen. On his way, Mickey stopped for a second in front of David.
“You good?” Mickey asked, and tried to pull David’s hood off. David slapped Mickey’s hand.
“I can’t find Amanda,” David said.
“I’ll take care of it,” Mickey said. And that made David feel a little better, even though he knew Mickey would probably forget his promise in the next few minutes.
Meanwhile, other kids came up the steps and into the house, so what had been only twenty people was quickly becoming forty. They all carefully stepped around Mickey’s stinking Vespa.
“Well, Ooh. Where did Jonathan find you?” Mickey asked. He slapped hands with guys and kissed girls on cheeks as they moved along, but he didn’t try to lose Kelli for two simple reasons that floated through his mind: 1) she was a friend of Jonathan’s, and 2) he could overlook certain aspects of her, like her ugly pink sweater, and feel the heat-seeking center of her, which was easy, because she was gripping his hand.
“We’re cousins,” Kelli said. “But he brought me here and ditched me the moment we walked in the door. Now I have no idea where he went. But that’s okay, ’cause I’ve got you now.”
“What’d you do to David Grobart?”
“Who’s that?” Kelli asked.
“Damn,” Mickey said. “I need to work with my man on how to make a better first impression.”
“The hooded ballplayer? He’s just like the kids back home.”
Mickey didn’t bother to ask where that was. He snagged a couple of del Sols from someone’s six-pack on the counter and began drinking them. Kelli took one for herself.
“Listen, Ooh. I’m going to the roof for a sec. I can see my girlfriend Philippa’s house from there and I want to try and figure out if I can like climb over there or something, since her parents are having a dinner party and I can’t just go through the front door. So I’m thinking I’m going to go rooftop to rooftop. You want to come?”
“Sure,” Kelli said. “You want to get some rope?”
“Nah, I won’t need it,” Mickey said. And he turned and raced up the stairs. On the way, he knocked up against a girl with big dark eyes and black hair in a ponytail. A cool girl. Liza Komansky. Liza was with Jane Hamilton, whom she always took to parties. Jane was a wispy blond girl, tall, quiet, and widely known to be gay.
“Hey, Mickey, seen Jonathan?” Liza asked.
“Nah,” Mickey said. “But this is his cousin, Ooh.”
“Cousin It?” Liza said, and raised an eyebrow. Mickey saw Kelli slow down as she heard this.
“Ooh,” Mickey said, and ran up the stairs.
Kelli stopped on the stairs to shake hands with Liza and Jane. The two girls gave Kelli the once-over. Liza was wearing black Gucci boots, a black Marc Jacobs knee-length skirt, and a matching black silk turtleneck. Jane was wearing blue jeans, engineer’s boots, and a wifebeater T.
“I’m Kelli,” Kelli said. “I think Jonathan went upstairs, but I can’t find him.” Kelli kept staring at Liza. Liza stared back. “Hey,” Kelli said, “I really like your skirt.”
“Thanks,” Liza said.
“It’s cool, but like in a really conservative, non-sexy way. Definitely wouldn’t attract the wrong kind of attention, or any attention. Huh?”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Liza said.
“If I wore something like that back where I’m from I’d practically disappear. But I guess people are more understated here in the city. I mean, I wouldn’t be, but I can see how some girls might choose that road.”
“Well, I suppose I did,” Liza said.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.” Kelli tugged her sweater up, so more of her belly was visible. And then she shrugged and smiled at Liza and Jane. “It’s like I already forgot you,” she said, and raced up the stairs after Mickey.
Liza Komansky watched Kelli go. From Liza’s vantage point, the lines of Kelli’s purple thong were visible. Kelli wobbled once and Liza stared at her cheap red pumps.
“That was unpleasant,” Liza said to Jane as they watched Kelli go. They could just hear her make a whooping noise as she arrived at the top floor.
Jane looked contemplative. “She definitely has that cat eye thing going for her though.”
“Sure,” Liza said. “You know that completely overblown sexiness they taught Christina Aguilera in the Mickey Mouse Club? She’s got it, too.”
“I see you’re not a fan.” Jane stared after Kelli.
“I’m over it,” Liza said. “Let’s go find Jonathan.”