“That’s true,” she muses. With a laugh, she reaches for her tan clutch purse on her dressing table and then springs over toward the bed, extending a hand and clasping my wrist. She yanks me up to my feet and then widens her eyes. “Remember,” she says sternly, “drink as much as you can at Dean’s, because once we get to the beach, that’s it. No more booze.” Her bottom lip juts out at the idea of alcohol having a time limit attached to it.
“Got it,” I say. She lets go of me and twirls for the door while I pull on my sneakers. I reach back for my gray sweater on the bed and slip it on over my shoulders. Because the party is on the beach, I’m preparing myself for the ocean breeze. I steal a glance at myself in the mirror as I pass, deeming myself acceptable. “Let’s go.”
The two of us head downstairs and into the kitchen, where Dawn is busy stacking the groceries into the cupboards. She pauses when she sees us and tuts.
Rachael’s voice becomes overwhelmingly sweet as she twirls her hair around her index finger and asks, “Mom, can you give us a ride to Dean’s?”
“Rachael, you know I don’t want you to go to this party,” Dawn says, looking doubtful as she places a can of pineapple rings into the cupboard. She shuts the door and turns to study us, her arms folded across her chest. “You’re not even old enough.”
“But, Mom,” Rachael gasps in horror, “everyone’s going. Do you want me to be a loser? Is that all I am to you? A loser?”
I want to laugh at Rachael’s acting ability as Dawn arches her eyebrows at her daughter, like she’s debating with herself whether she should play cool mom or loser mom. Eventually she must opt for cool mom, because she heaves a defeated sigh. “Don’t drink too much,” she says quietly, and I think she’ll cave in to Rachael’s request for a ride. “You too, Eden. Do your parents know you’re drinking?”
“My parents are divorced,” I deadpan.
Rachael lets out a tremendous laugh, but Dawn just looks flustered. Thankfully she doesn’t press the question any further, because if she did, I’d have to tell her that yes, of course my dad and Ella are completely aware that I’m going to a party to consume as much alcohol as I possibly can. Actually, they think I’m at the movies.
“Wait by the car,” Dawn tells us. She wipes her hands on her pants and presses her palm to her forehead, soothing away the headache we seem to have caused. “I’ll get the keys.”
Rachael throws me a triumphant grin, and the two of us hurl ourselves down the hallway and out the front door before her mother can change her mind. We hover outside on the driveway by the Honda Civic for a few long minutes. Rachael takes advantage of the wait by checking her makeup in the right wing mirror while I stare at the house across the street. Tyler’s car is still parked on the road. It makes me wonder if he’s still inside, still getting ready for tonight by showering himself in that stupid Bentley cologne that Tiffani adores so much. The thought makes me grind my teeth, so I turn away from the house and stare at my reflection in the car window. Rachael’s done a good job of my makeup, so good that I wonder if it’s even me that’s peering back.
“That divorce line is an awesome way to dodge questions,” Rachael says approvingly, her head popping over the car roof as she straightens up.
“I think I’ll use it more often,” I say.
We hear the thud of the front door closing as Dawn unwillingly walks over to the vehicle. She unlocks it, and we all clamber inside, me in the backseat and Rachael in the passenger. It’s not until Dawn is backing out of the driveway that I suddenly feel nervous and slightly nauseous. I shouldn’t be. I’ve already been to a number of parties over the summer, because it’s the only hobby these people seem to have, but this time I’m especially apprehensive. Perhaps it’s because this is a community event, not just some trashy house party, or perhaps it’s because I know we’re underage yet we’re going anyway, daring to blend in with the adults. But maybe it’s this: I’ll be there, Tyler will be there, and Tiffani will be there.
The ride to Dean’s house takes only five minutes, and it occurs to me when we’re outside that I’ve never been to Dean’s place before. I wasn’t even aware that he lived in the same neighborhood as Rachael and me. Dean’s car is parked out front, and I think of the gas money again.
Abruptly, Dawn brings the car to a complete stop by the sidewalk and angles her body around to face Rachael. Her expression is earnest, her forehead creasing with worry. “Please don’t get drunk,” she says very softly. “Remember you’re four years away from being twenty-one, so be grateful I’m letting you go out in the first place. Be responsible.”
Rachael heaves a dramatic sigh and stares longingly at the house. “I know, Mom.”
Dawn cranes her neck to face me, a small smile on her lips. “You be careful too, Eden.”
“Thanks,” I say, but my tone sounds almost sarcastic, and for a split second I worry that she’ll assume I’ve got a serious attitude.