She tosses the napkin—and her plate—in the trash can as she walks back up to the counter. “You said whatever toppings I wanted,” I call after her, smugly taking a large bite of mushroom and pineapple.
She doesn’t turn around, but I do, because someone’s calling my name.
“Prentiss! See, told you it’s Jonah.”
It’s Mike Balaski and Zeke Manzano, two guys I know from Hamilton. They’re standing in the doorway, letting in bugs and letting out the AC.
“Hey, man, what’s up?”
“How’ve you been?”
They ask about Carly—so clearly the news hasn’t spread that far. I dodge the question and ask if they’re going to Jeff’s party.
“Maybe later. We’re picking up the girls from work and hitting the last show of Shriek 3.” Mike’s grinning like a fool, but I can’t remember whom Carly said he was dating.
“Tell them I say hi,” I bluff.
I don’t hear Brighton approach but notice when their eyes drift past me and widen in approval. She announces her arrival with: “You’ll want to bring a drink—it’s long.”
“They’re talking about Shriek 3.” At the last second I manage to strip the scoff and sarcasm from my statement.
“Yeah, I know. I heard you at the counter.” She smiles and gives her head a silly-boy shake that Mike and Zeke eat up. “It’s more than two hours, and it’s set in the desert—you’ll need drinks, trust me.”
Their thanks and intros take precedence over my “You’ve seen it?”
But after introducing herself with, “I go to school with Jonah,” she answers me, “I saw it last Friday.”
Carly won’t even watch previews for movies like that. I’m annoyed Mike and Zeke are looking at Bright with respect and interest. Why does she fall into conversation with them so easily when she and I are magnetic opposites?
“So, who’d you send to fetch your drink?” I want to expose her for the princess she is, but preferably without looking like a complete jerkwad.
“Jeremy North,” she answers nonchalantly, and both Mike and Zeke sigh—like they’ve forgotten all about the “girls.” I’m not much better, going through my mental Cross Pointe roster and identifying the center of the basketball team. That’s whose party she was talking about? “But only because Amelia wouldn’t let go of my or Peter’s hands. I don’t know why she goes to scary movies; she never sleeps afterward.”
“And you do?” I challenge, as Mike says, “Not so easy to scare, Brighton?”
“It’s just a movie—they don’t bother me.”
“So, what’d you think?” Zeke asks.
Ha! This is where she’ll expose herself: Bright doesn’t have opinions and they haven’t seen it, so she can’t just agree. I lean back and wet my lips.
“It’s hard to go wrong with a Lewis Marsh movie,” she says. A nice, vague, Brighton-type response. “But I hope he wraps up the Shriek films sooner than later. He dragged out the Gore series far too long. There’s only so many times a character can not be dead.”
She’s really seen them. And knows her stuff.
“I know, right? Six movies, and the plot ran out after four.” Mike nods and leans in toward her. “You know, you’re not half-bad for a Cross Pointer.”
“Gee, thanks?” Bright laughs and they join her. I’m analyzing her posture, her voice, her body language. She’s not flirting. She’s just … charming. And they’re thoroughly charmed.
“You want to come with us?” Zeke asks. At least he has the decency to aim the question at both of us.
I don’t realize how I’m standing until Bright puts a hand on my arm while answering. My muscles are tense, my posture’s rigid. “Thanks for asking, but we’ve got plans and Jonah’s pizza’s getting cold.”
My muscles unlock under her brief touch, melting whatever the hell’s wrong with me so I can say, “If you make it to Jeff’s, catch up with us, ’kay?” and wait for her to murmur, “Nice to meet you,” before returning to the table where my pizza is indeed cold and unappetizing.
She clears her throat and I brace myself for I-don’t-even-know-what she’s going to say about Mike and Zeke. Or the fact that I stopped being a functional person after she joined our group.
“It’s too bad you don’t have OnStar,” she mutters.
Only a spoiled brat would think OnStar is standard. Paul and Mom got me a car to erase their guilt about the move—or rather, they gave me her old car after spending days pouring over Consumer Reports and buying Mom the one with the highest crash-test ratings so Sophia would be safe. I only have AAA because of the time my battery died. Paul hadn’t appreciated driving out to the State Park in Hamilton at one a.m. to give me a jump. After that night Mom got me AAA, and I insisted Carly and I leave the dome light and music off when the car is parked.
I glare at the table. “Yeah. Too bad.”
“Because then you could’ve had it unlocked with a phone call and you wouldn’t be stuck here. With me.”