“Yes.” I look over at her and smile. “Why are you repeating everything?”
She holds up her hands. “Just making sure you understood the question. Kinda feel like you either missed the key details, or I’m in the Twilight Zone right now.”
“I understood,” I say, laughing. “I’ll go, and I’ll drive. What time should I pick you up?”
“Eight-ish?” Her pinched face makes it clear that she still doesn’t believe me, and in the back of her mind, I know she’s forming a plan B for when I don’t show up to give her a ride.
“Savannah, I’ll be here,” I assure her as I pull up to her house. “I promise.”
“Okaaay,” she drawls as she climbs out of my truck. “What are you going to tell your parents?”
“The truth: that I’m spending the evening with you. But,” I continue, pointing a finger at her and leaving no room for argument in my tone, “Sebastian isn’t my parent. So if he asks, don’t tell him I’m going with you.”
“Yeah, of course, no worries there.” She dodges my stare, then runs to her door. “See ya at eight!”
When I get home, Kingston’s truck isn’t there, and only my mom and Sammy are sitting on the couch. Perfect. I can get this over with right now.
“Hey, Mom!” I call over my shoulder, pretending to be digging for a snack in the pantry. “Is it okay if I hang out with Savannah tonight? We haven’t spent much time together lately.”
“Of course it is, honey. What do you girls have planned?”
“You know Savannah—no tellin’ what the night will hold.” I laugh past my stitch of guilt.
I didn’t lie…but I do trim around the edges of the truth more and more these days.
“All right, you girls just be smart. Are you sleeping over?”
“Um…not sure yet. I doubt it. But if I change my mind, I’ll call you.”
That was easier than expected, and as I climb the stairs to my room, I feel more my age than I ever have. I’m going out on a Friday night…to a party. I don’t even know what to think, but I know I’m tingling with excitement. I’m finally going to explore this whole best-years-of-your-life stuff my mom’s always talking about.
It doesn’t take much for me to get ready; I own very little makeup, and my hair is a short pixie cut that pretty much styles itself. I dress in jeans, a lightweight but long-sleeved sweater, and ankle boots. I feel pretty good about my ensemble.
That is, until I honk from Savannah’s driveway and she strolls out to my truck. Not that I’d ever wear anything close to what she has on—I think her “dress” was manufactured with the intent of being worn as a shirt—but if all the girls tonight are similarly scantily clad, I’m going to stick out like a plain, boring thumb, thus drawing attention to myself by trying not to draw attention to myself.
Yeah, I suck at this social stuff.
“Are you wearing makeup?” she asks as she climbs in the truck.
“Are you wearing a bra?” I retort.
“No,” she scoffs, looking at me like I’m crazy. “You can’t wear a bra with this dress, Echo.”
“I think you may be using the word ‘dress’ wrong,” I grumble, wondering what my brother would think of her outfit. “So where am I going?”
She rattles off the address and I start down the street, beginning to rethink this whole night.
“Please promise you won’t leave me standing alone in a corner like a social leper tonight, okay?” I plea, my anxiety mounting.
“Of course I won’t, silly. Plus, Clay will be there. And Crai-aig,” she sing-songs. “You’ll have plenty of people to talk to, don’t worry.”
Fantastic. Hearing that Clay and Craig will be there actually has my stomach twisting even harder.
“This is it.” She points. “Turn right. It’s the house with all the cars out front.”
“Which house? The whole street’s lined with cars. My God, the whole town must be here.” I creep down the street, unsure what the hell I was thinking when I agreed to this. “Whose party is this, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I heard about it from Sadie. There’s a spot—park there!”
Sadie? Did I hear her correctly? There’s only one girl I know of by that name, because Savannah hangs out with her on campus. That means…I’m at a college party?
I park and switch off the ignition with numb, tortured movements. If my brother or parents find out about this...
I inhale deeply, futilely searching my depths for optimism. Tonight better be worth it.
It’s a good five-minute walk from our parking spot to the actual party. The front door’s wide open when we get there, and Savannah saunters right in like she owns the place, with me glued to her back.
“Hey! Aren’t you Sebastian’s little sister?” a huge guy with blond hair and beer breath asks me immediately.
“No, sorry. You must have me confused with someone else,” I mumble, ducking my head and pressing myself tighter against Savannah’s back.