“Like really good,” Leti adds.
“They’re alright,” I say. What I’m really proud of are my other sketches—the ones of skirts and dresses and sexy little tops. But those are just for fun.
“You know what I’ve always wanted?” Driver asks. He’s sitting at the end of the table, but I can smell the smoke on him from three seats away. He nods to himself and says, “A cape.”
“A cape?” Adam asks, and Driver nods harder.
“Yeah. With hidden pockets and shit. That way if I get stopped by the cops, they won’t be able to find anything on me.”
“Couldn’t you just get hidden pockets put in your coat or something?”
Driver’s brows pull together with confusion. “You don’t think that’d be too obvious?”
Adam chuckles, and Shawn closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You think a cape would be more subtle?” he asks.
“No, I think a cape would be more cool,” Driver says, emphasizing the last word like Shawn’s having trouble understanding.
Shawn releases a heavy sigh, and I find myself laughing quietly with Joel.
“If he gets a cape,” Adam says, “I want one too.”
“Can mine be sherbet orange with vanilla trim?” Leti asks. “Oh! Wait, no! Orange with fuschia sequins.”
“That sounds hideous,” I gripe, and Leti scoffs at me.
“Your mom sounds hideous,” he counters.
I shrug. “My mom is hideous.”
My mom was only beautiful in ways that won’t matter once her skin starts to sag. On the inside, she’s disgusting, and I pray the last seven years have taken their toll on her.
The rest of the group continues imagining their capes and arguing over whose sounds the coolest, and I find Joel watching me. He does this sometimes now—stares at me like I’m a puzzle to solve or a maze to navigate. A few times, I’ve asked what he was thinking, but since I never like the answer—because it always involves him asking me something personal—I’ve learned not to ask.
“You should make Joel a cape with mohawk spikes running down the back for his birthday next week,” Adam says, and my eyes dart to him before settling back on Joel.
“Your birthday is next week?”
Joel looks back to his plate and scoops the peas out of his stir-fried rice. “Yeah. It’s not a big deal.”
My heart pulses painfully in my chest when I remember the story he told me about his mom selling his birthday presents to pay for booze. My childhood was filled with princess-themed birthday parties and more gifts than I knew what to do with. I doubt Joel has ever had a themed birthday party in his life.
“Are you guys having a party?” I ask.
“We usually take him out and get him wasted,” Adam says with a laugh. “Does that count?”
Joel gives Adam a genuine smile, but I cut in with an uncompromising, “No.” The guys stare at me, and I rush to resume my usual self-serving attitude. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a party. I want to throw one.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Joel stammers.
I brush him off with a flick of my wrist. “I love throwing parties. Ask Rowan about my Sweet Sixteen. It was amazing.”
Rowan nods, keeping her eyes trained on me. She knows something is up. “It was epic,” she says without missing a beat. “She had a DJ and everything. And she had three dates, and none of them were allowed to wear shirts.”
I snicker at the memory, but Joel still looks skeptical.
“Just trust me,” I tell him. “It’ll be awesome.”
Chapter Fifteen
THE FIRST TWO days after learning about Joel’s birthday are spent gathering intel. The next three, collecting materials. The following two, running around like a chicken with my head cut off while cursing Joel’s name for not telling me about his stupid twenty-fourth birthday a few months sooner.
“MOTHERFUCKER,” I shout, raising my needle-pricked finger to my mouth to suck the hurt away.
Rowan ignores me and finishes hanging streamers from one of the card tables lining the walls of our living room. She stands up, brushes off her knees, and smiles wide. “Joel is going to flip.”
Leti spins a mini Ferris wheel on top of one of the tables. Mini liquor bottles occupy each car as party favors. “You should be a party planner,” he says, and I huff out a breath.
“Party planner. Shirt designer. Cape maker to the stars.” I lift a neon-green cape with black spikes running down the back of it off of my lap, silently praying Joel likes it.
Leti turns on music while Rowan finishes setting out snacks and I stand in the middle of the room with my hands on my hips making sure everything is ready to go. When someone knocks on the door, I take a deep breath before answering it.
“Holy shit,” Shawn says as he walks inside, the expressions on the rest of the guys’ faces echoing his sentiment.