I look around to see if anyone saw, but it’s just me, Dri, and Agnes in our own little circle in the vast backyard.
“Holy crap, did that just happen?” Agnes asks, and starts to giggle.
“It’s not funny,” I say, though I wish it were. “What the hell?”
“Gem’s been all messed up since her dad got arrested last year. It was, like, all over the tabloids,” Agnes says. “I mean, she wasn’t that nice before, but since then she’s gone full-on raging bitch. I hear he could go to jail.”
“What did he get arrested for?” I ask, though I don’t really care. I hate her. No Wood Valley sob story is going to get sympathy from me.
“Her dad solicited a prostitute,” Dri says. “And there’s some sort of tax fraud thing.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Whatever,” Agnes says.
“Just tell me one thing?” Dri asks, and I can hear the plea in her voice. “Before, were you just about to say you liked Liam?”
“No, of course not,” I say, but I can’t tell if she believes me.
Me: I’m DRUNKY.
Scarlett: Me too.
Me: Having fun?
Scarlett: A BLAST.
Me: Yeah, me too.
Even through my drunken haze, I realize I’m lying. My hands are shaking. My teeth are chattering. I want to go home. No, home doesn’t really exist anymore. I lower my expectations. I want to go to bed.
—
I see Ethan only once more before we leave the party, on our way out the door. He is lying down on one of the lounge chairs, alone. I’m pretty sure he’s sleeping. Good, I think. He needs it. It takes all of my willpower not to brush the hair from his forehead.
CHAPTER 19
Me: Three Things: (1) I have a headache. (2) The room is spinning. (3) I’m never drinking again.
SN: (1) I intend to waste most of my day playing Xbox, with occasional breaks to eat pizza, preferably with eggplant, which I get a lot of shit for, but whatever. sue me. I don’t like pepperoni. never have, never will. (2) I was up early, so I’ve been listening to Flume all morning. (3) my mom is still sleeping, like she’s the teenager in the house.
Me: You’re American, right?
SN: yeah, why?
Me: PEPPERONI! Not liking pepperoni is like not liking apple pie.
SN: will that analogy be on the PSATs?
Me: So you ARE a junior?
SN: relax, Nancy Drew.
Me: I’m doing homework today. Calc is kicking my ass.
SN: and what a fine one it is.
Me: Shut up.
SN: was that objectifying? sorry.
Me: Have I mentioned lately that you’re a weirdo?
SN: I seem to recall you saying something like that.
Me: Later I have to work. Do you have a job?
SN: nah. my parents won’t let me. rather give me an allowance and have me focus on my schoolwork.
Me: How Wood Valley of them. I’m glad they’re supporting your Xbox habit.
SN: I know we’re all ridiculous to you, and I couldn’t agree more. where do you work?
Me: I’m not sure I want to tell you.
SN: ?
Me: Too stalkerish.
SN: yesterday you were begging to meet me, now telling me where you work is too stalkerish?
Me: I wasn’t begging.
SN: sorry. poor word choice. asking.
Me: Guess.
SN: where you work?
Me: Yeah.
SN: ok, but let me ask a few questions first. (1) do you like it? (2) do you come home dirty?
Me: (1) Actually, yeah, I like it a lot. (2) NO!
SN: coffee shop?
Me: Nope.
SN: The Gap.
Me: Are you making fun of me?
SN: no! why?
Me: Never mind.
SN: I got it. I forgot for a minute that you’re a book nerd. Barnes and Noble. am I right??? I’m totally right.
Me: Close. Book Out Below! Up on Ventura. You should come visit.
SN: so fickle. now you want me to visit?
Me: Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.
? ? ?
Me: So…
Scarlett: If you must know…
Me: I MUST, I MUST.
Scarlett: My hymen is intact.
Me: Surely you could have told me in a less graphic fashion.
Scarlett: I know, but it wouldn’t have been as much fun.
Me: I’m hungover.
Scarlett: Me too. And my face is all chafed from Adam’s beard. I think he must have practiced a lot after smooching you.
Me: What makes you say that?
Scarlett: Dude, THAT BOY CAN KISS.
—
When I come downstairs, my dad is in the kitchen wearing an apron that says CHEF BITCH, which I assume belongs to Rachel but could just as easily belong to Theo. Music is playing in the background, something country, an overly sentimental ode to pickup trucks and short denim shorts. What Scarlett calls WPM: White People Music.