“No!” Raychel yelps.
“Taco Bell?” Andrew starts the car.
She makes an alarmingly realistic retching sound. My door’s halfway open before she says, “No. No Taco Hell. Let’s go to Trenton the Third’s.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” I say.
“Annnnndreeeeeew,” she says. “You want to go, right?”
He smiles into the rearview. “Sure. Let’s go.”
My stomach feels like that puking noise Raych just made.
RAYCHEL
It’s way easier to walk if I watch my feet. People spill out of the house. Across the deck. Into the yard. Andrew and Matt greet them from either side of me. I watch my shoes. They are pointy. Our footsteps make a little beat: doot doot doot. Dootdoot doodoot doot. “‘Shakedown Street’!”
“What?” Matt sounds annoyed.
“That’s my third Dead song.”
“You’ve been thinking about that for three weeks?”
“‘Don’t tell me this town ain’t got no heart,’” I sing, bobbing my head in time. “Doot doot doot. Dootdoot doodoot—”
Both boys disappear.
“What the hell?” They were right here, holding my arms! I’m not that drunk. I look to where some laughing girls are pointing and see both boys sprawled on the ground. Matt is rubbing his chin. Andrew sits up and rubs his neck. “What the hell?” I repeat.
“Clotheslined.” Andrew points up, to the rope I easily walked under but those two giants hit full speed. I fall down laughing, in the grass right between them.
Matt glares at Andrew. “This was your idea.”
Andrew shrugs.
MATT
“Andrew!” Raychel barks, drill sergeant–style. “Will you get me a beer?”
“No,” I answer for him. She sobered up some in the car, but not enough. “Drink some water.”
“Can I have a beer and some water?”
Andrew looks between us.
She reaches for his collar and I know he’s done for. “Puh-leeze?”
He stands up, smiling a little, and goes inside.
“Damn, Raych.” I dab at her knee with my thumb. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bleeding?” Tiny dots of congealed blood speckle her cool skin. Last week’s hundred-degree temperatures are gone. Why do girls insist on wearing nothing when it’s cold outside?
She examines her leg. “It’s no big deal.”
I rub the blood off my hand in the grass, then pull her up, half dragging her into the house.
“Where’s your brother?” she asks.
“Getting you a beer you don’t need, remember? Seriously, you might want to slow down.”
“And you might want to chill out,” she says, pulling her arm away. The crowd inside smashes us against the wall. To my right, the dark living room throbs with dancers. “Holy crap! Trenton set up a disco ball!” she yells.
“You can barely walk, much less dance,” I say, but she ignores me and keeps going.
I start to follow, but I can see Andrew cutting through the crowd to intercept her. “Fine,” I say to no one. We have a DD, I have a decent buzz, and for once, I’m going to have fun at a party. Andrew insisted on bringing her here, and if he wants to be Mr. Responsible, then he can start by being the heavy for a change.
I turn around with a conviction I don’t really feel. Maybe a few more beers will help.
RAYCHEL
Wow, that will suck to clean up. Mindy Merrithew just spilled red punch all over the carpet. I bet Trent gets grounded. No, I bet he has a cleaning lady to fix it before his mommy gets home. I picture Mom scrubbing his floor and my pulse spikes. Again. All I want is to have some freaking fun, but noooo, something always has to get in the way. Like Matt, always trying to tell me what to do. He’s not my dad.
Ha. If he were, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.
I laugh bitterly to myself. But a good song starts so I move toward the music, to the music. My hips already have a life of their own. Ghostly faces in the living room laugh and sing along speckled with light. Sparkling. Some I recognize. Smile. Say hi. Some say hi back. Others whisper when they see me.
Whatever.
A girl from chemistry seems friendly, so I make my way over to her. “You want some schnapps?” she offers.
Schnapps. High school kids are so cute. I can’t remember her name. Karen? Carley? I thank her and take a sip. Ugh, peach, of course.
Everyone has to smoke outside, but the air still seems thick, more solid than normal around me. Chemistry Girl pulls me under the disco ball to dance. I catch a glimpse of Andrew leaning against the wall. He holds out a cup in my direction, so I dance over and take it.
“Water?” I ask him. “Really?”
“I’ve got a beer for you too.” He pulls a bottle from his back pocket.
“Such a good boy.” I kiss him on the cheek and go back to Chemistry Girl.
“Is that Andrew Richardson?” she yells over the music. “He is so hot!”
“Is he?” I glance back. He’s smiling at us. And she’s right. Andrew is pretty damn hot.
“Oh my god! Are you blind?” she squeals. “I have the worst crush on him.”
My dancing slows. “You do?”
“Yeah.” She sighs, pretending to pout. “We’ve actually been spending a lot of time together lately for school, but you know how he flirts with everybody.” She seizes my elbow. “Hey, you’re friends with him! Can you help me out?”
“Um…” Now what? Because seriously. Part of me wants to claw her eyes out.
But part of me wants to know where I stand. And why they’ve been spending time together that he didn’t tell me about. “I—I don’t know,” I stammer. “We’re not that kind of friends, really?” It shouldn’t be a question, but I obviously don’t know either.
“Oh, are you guys … Oh my god, are you guys together?” she yells. “Oh no, I’m so sorry!”
“No!” I shout back. We’ve both stopped dancing and the crowd knocks us into one another. Water sloshes out of my cup. “It’s fine! We’re not, I mean…”
“Oh yeah, you’re his brother’s girlfriend, right?”
The relief on her face is so tangible, I can’t bring myself to break it. “We’re all friends. We drove here together.”
And this is the moment Andrew chooses to join us. “Hey, you know Keri?” he asks me.
Keri! That’s it. Chemistry Girl is Hot Pep Rally Girl. Up close, she doesn’t look much like Matt’s ex. Hana’s hair is lighter, and Keri’s eyes are bigger. They follow Andrew’s arm as it slides around my waist. “Hey!” I fake protest, pushing him off. “We have chemistry together,” I tell him, and turn to her. “But y’all know each other?”
She blushes. Andrew gives an easy smile.
I tip my bottle toward him before either one can answer. “Dance with Keri. I have to pee.”
And I leave them together. Don’t look around to see where Matt has gone. Don’t check to see if Andrew watches me go. Don’t care.
Try not to care so much.
MATT
“Richardson!” Trent yells from the middle of a rowdy game of flip cup. “Help yourself, man.” He gestures at the line of ice chests along the far wall of the kitchen.