Skylar wasn’t lying only to her new friends; she was spreading her deceptions. She’d told her aunt that she was going to a party at Gabby’s tonight (conveniently not mentioning the coed pajama part), but she hadn’t divulged that she was throwing a party the following weekend in the Haunted Woods.
Skylar was excited for Gabby’s party, but she was more psyched for her own. Everyone was coming. Skylar knew that people loved any excuse to drink, but she liked thinking that all those kids were coming to the party for her. According to Gabby’s mom, it was even supposed to be unseasonably warm.
It was like the fates were smiling down on her. She’d been distributing invitations all week; they were printed on pink paper with an old-fashioned typeface that lent an antique edge to the lacy pastel.
In keeping with the old-fashioned theme, they were going to serve spiked cider and mulled wine out of kegs and oversized pots at the party—Skylar had already arranged for all of it to be delivered next Friday afternoon. (Meg was instrumental in this part of the process too—she had a fake ID.) Skylar felt a little bit guilty about the booze; it had been way expensive.
“Let’s just get a few bottles of wine,” she’d said to Meg early in the week, knowing she couldn’t afford much more than that. “And maybe people will BYOB.”
Meg had looked at her like she’d suggested serving cod-liver oil. “A few bottles of wine? For a party you want the whole school to know about? Sweetheart, you need to go all out.”
“But . . . how am I going to pay for it?” Skylar fretted.
Meg had looked around Skylar’s room, taking in the Victorian moldings and Aunt Nora’s antique mirror that leaned against the wall. “You can find a way. You’ll have to! Couldn’t you ask your aunt for some extra cash?”
Skylar knew she couldn’t ask Aunt Nora for money without telling her what it was for. So she’d come up with another plan. On Wednesday afternoon, her heart hammering with guilt, Skylar had crept into her aunt’s bedroom and grabbed a few necklaces. Then she’d had Meg bring her to a dingy store on Route 1, where she’d pawned them for a couple hundred bucks. Skylar was betting on the hope that Nora wouldn’t even notice. She had tons of jewelry! The earnings made up the difference in the alcohol bill, thank god. Still, as they drove away from the pawnshop, Skylar felt sick to her stomach. “Maybe we should go back . . . ,” she’d started to say.
“Guilt is a pointless emotion,” Meg had cut in with a soft smile. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You just did what you had to do.” She’d looked at Skylar sideways. “Right?”
“Yeah, totally,” Skylar had said, trying to believe the words. This party next week was so important for her. She had to give it her all.
More importantly, she would figure out some way to make it up to her aunt, or find a way to buy the necklaces back next month. Maybe Meg would get her a job at the ice cream shop after school. But she couldn’t focus on that now. She had other things to worry about.
Like the pajama party. It was Saturday afternoon, and Gabby’s Popcorn & PJ’s party was starting in a few hours. Gabby claimed that it was going to be low-key and exclusive, just a chance for her and her friends to recharge after what had been a really hard winter in Ascension. Two suicides, not even a month apart.
Gabby’s way of lifting people’s spirits was to remind them that life was fun and worth living, and what better way to do that than with a cozy get-together? It was amazing, Skylar thought, the way people responded to Gabby’s vibrancy.
Not only would tonight be a chance to observe the way Gabby played hostess, but Pierce would be there! Gabby had been so great about hounding him to make sure he was coming. And she’d been telling Skylar all about him, so that Skylar could dazzle him when they talked. Pierce was something of a football prodigy, with an arm that had astounded coaches since he was a kid. With Chase dead and Zach—Gabby’s ex, about whom she’d said practically nothing—at boarding school, the Ascension football team was depending on Pierce to carry them through next season.
“I know nothing about football,” Skylar had complained to Gabby earlier this week. “He’s going to hate me.”
“That’s the whole point, silly,” Gabby had replied. “Ask him about it! It’s what he loves talking about! Besides, boys like when they get a chance to explain things.” Gabby grinned, rolling her eyes.
Skylar had become slightly obsessed with the idea of Pierce asking her to the Spring Fling. He’d been talking to her a little bit more—asking her questions about the math homework, and dance committee, and Gabby (her pajama party, whether she was stressed out planning so many social events)—and Skylar was the tiniest bit hopeful that he was interested in her, too.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Gabby was always saying. “Just be yourself, be open to it, and it’ll happen if it’s meant to be.”