The scent of stale beer instantly assaulted her. People crammed the rooms, talking loudly. A small Christmas tree decorated with white lights rotated slowly on a plastic pedestal. A high-tech-looking stereo pumped out music, and a flat-screen TV was tuned to Comedy Central, not that anyone was watching. A gray cat perched on the stairs, licking her paws. When a girl barreled down from the second floor, spilling her cup of beer as she went, the cat screeched and took off.
There was no one at the party Emily even remotely recognized. She passed through the living room into a dining room with a stately old table laden with booze, and then into the kitchen, which had a stainless-steel fridge and expensive-looking pots and pans hanging from a rack above the island. Pinned up to the fridge was a neon-yellow Post-it that said, Cassie is a slutty beast! There were black bananas in a hanging basket over the oven, and a ton of dishes were piled in the sink. Emily wondered if Cassie was holding down the fort while her parents were away on vacation.
When her gaze clapped on the view of the Hollis spire out the back window, a pathway connected in her brain. The field hockey party she and Ali had attended all those years ago was in this very same house. It had been in the dining room behind her that Cassie plied Ali with vodka and Red Bulls and ignored Emily completely.
“Oops,” a voice said behind Emily. She turned just as a burly guy, wearing a T-shirt that had a drawing of a penis on it, spilled half his beer on her arm.
“Hey!” Emily cried, drawing back. Her sleeve was drenched.
“Sorry,” the guy half-spoke, half-belched. He wandered away.
The hip-hop song rose in volume, making Emily’s head ache. After toweling off her sleeve, she escaped back into the dining room, which was slightly less crowded. A guy stood behind the table, pouring vodka into a red plastic cup. He raised his eyes to Emily. “What are you having? Cassie’s making me be bartender so no one hogs the booze.”
“Oh, uh, I’ll just have some orange juice.” Emily pointed to the first nonalcoholic beverage she saw, thinking of her mother’s advice not to drink.
A slow smirk rolled across the guy’s face. “It’s not like I’m going to card you.”
“Really. Orange juice is fine,” Emily insisted, feeling like the most prudish girl in the universe.
She took the red cup from the guy—at least now she had something to do with her hands—and wandered through the crowd, looking for Cassie and the elves. People stared past her apathetically as though she wasn’t even there.
Then the crowd parted, and she spotted four figures lounging on plastic lawn chairs next to the radiator in the front room. It was Cassie, dressed in a leather skirt and a tie-dyed baby tee. She’d bleached her blue hair to white blond, though it was nothing like the blond hair from her field hockey days. Heather, Sophie, and Lola, each in similarly skimpy outfits, sat next to her, whispering and looking smug.
Emily pushed through the throng toward them. When only a few people stood between Emily and the elves, a tall boy leaned over Cassie, grinning mysteriously. “I heard you guys have been raising hell all over town. Is it true?”
Cassie gave him a cryptic smile. “That’s what elves do, isn’t it?”
“That’s for us to know and you to wonder about,” Heather added.
“You guys rock,” the guy said, giving Lola a fist bump.
Then Cassie looked up and stared squarely at Emily. Emily felt a swoop in her stomach and waved, but Cassie just peered through her. Lola glanced in Emily’s direction too, but she gave Emily the same blank, unwelcoming expression.
Emily shrank back. A high-pitched giggle lilted through the air. She knew the laugh was meant for her.
She drank the orange juice, pretending it was booze. So this was just a big joke. The elves wanted to make it clear how big of a loser she was. She ducked into the empty hall bathroom, feeling tears rush to her eyes. After fiddling with the old-timey glass knob so that the door actually shut, she plopped down on the side of the tub and placed her head in her hands. Talk about déjà vu—she’d locked herself in this very same bathroom at the party in seventh grade, shortly after Ali had headed upstairs with Cassie. The pain she’d felt back then was still so palpable. It felt like Ali had been breaking up with her—and, in a way, she had been.
Emily stood up, padded over to the mirror, and stared hard at her reflection. “Get over it,” she told the mirror. “You’re not that seventh grader anymore. You’re stronger than you used to be.”
She splashed cold water on her face and walked into the front room again. The crowd was just as thick, but she used her elbows to maneuver between kids until she was face-to-face with the elves. Emily tapped Cassie on the shoulder. Cassie squinted at Emily, her mouth pinched into a sneer.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Emily said sarcastically. “I’ve had a blast.”
Cassie peered at her from under her white-blond bangs. “Who the hell are you?”
Emily wanted to groan. “You know who I am. Emily.”
“Emily?” Cassie looked at Heather, Sophie, and Lola, who were now peering curiously at her, too. “Ring any bells, girls?”
“I didn’t invite anyone named Emily,” Lola said, slightly slurring her words.
“Me neither,” Sophie and Heather piped up.