“MARCO-MAN! YOU’RE HERE!” calls a waify-looking blond guy who’s so pale he’s almost see-through. He’s sitting on the kitchen table next to a gum-chomping brunette. They’re both drinking beer straight from the bottles, and my stomach goes down, down, down. I hate parties like this. I suck at parties like this.
“Hey,” Marco says. He sweeps his arm at the three of us. “Everybody, meet Vicks, Mel, and Jess.”
“It’s Jesse,” I say.
“Jesse. Sorry. Can I get you guys a brew?”
“Sure,” Vicks says.
I shoot her a look. I thought we were here so she could pee, not so she could fill up again.
“I’ll take one, thanks,” Mel says in a shy little voice. She’s such a teensy little thing, and she somehow seems even teensier around Marco. She’s gazing at him with big eyes—big blue eyes in a teensy-weensy girl—and Marco pauses for a second and grins, just at her. She turns bright red.
One beer’ll knock Mel flat—yet another reason to hit the road. A tipsy Mel is not something I need to see.
“I would kill for your hair,” the gum chomper says. “Are your highlights real or out of a bottle?”
Nobody answers. Her words hang like bubbles. Then I realize she’s talking to me, and I say, “Huh?”
She rolls her eyes. “Never mind.”
“Real,” I say. “They’re real.”
Marco grabs three beers out of the fridge and passes them out, starting with Mel. When he gets to me, Vicks says, “Don’t bother.”
“I don’t drink,” I say. It comes out stiff. I don’t mean for it to, but it does, ’cause that’s what happens to me in situations like this. I’m much more of a hang-out-and-watch-TV kind of girl. Or games. I do like games.
Tonight, for our weekly game night, Mama was going to make her sugar cookie cake with a layer of cream cheese and then cherry pie filling and then strawberries and kiwis and those baby oranges out of a can. R.D. was gonna bring his drink cart so we could all have icees.
I don’t like admitting it, but there’s a part of me that wishes maybe I was there instead of here.
Except, no. I’m off to Miami, thanks very much, just as soon as Vicks and Mel finish their stupid Buds.
“So, you guys up for staying a while?” Marco says. He looks straight at Mel, and I swear the girl stops breathing. Which is kinda cute. Only there isn’t any point crushing on a boy you’re never gonna see again.
“Sorry,” I say. “We gotta go.”
“No, we don’t,” Vicks says. She glances at Marco, then she glances at Mel, a smile dancing around her lips. “Hey, Mel, come find the bathroom, ’kay?”
She tugs Mel toward the hall, both of them giggling, and Marco is left with just me.
He shifts uncomfortably. “Well…”
I turn away, and Marco gets the hint. He says something pointless about catching me later, and in my head I’m like, Yeah, sure, whatever. Go play beer pong or put a lamp shade on your head, I don’t give a hoot.
He leaves, and now I’m the one left with just me, miserable and alone.