“What?”
“Do you honestly believe any of this is important? That in a hundred years, one of your great-great-great-whatevers is going to write about how you went to a party, got hammered, and tried to avoid being groped by every boy with hands? None of this matters, Audrey. We’re all fucked.” I opened the car door but didn’t get out.
Audrey’s bottom lip trembled, and tears welled in her eyes. It was a dirty trick, and she knew it. “I miss Jesse too, but you deserve better than Marcus McCoy. Please tell me you get that.”
“If I really deserve better, then maybe Jesse shouldn’t have killed himself.”
I was out and walking toward the house before Audrey could kill the engine and follow. Calling her was a mistake, and I vowed to walk home before asking her for another ride.
? ? ?
The two-story tall front doors of Marcus’s house were wide open and welcoming. Couples and crowds flowed in and out—their cheeks flushed, pleasantly drunk—stumbling and stoned or just laughing at some joke I’d never hear. I was worried as I entered that they’d see me and cringe, wonder who let Space Boy in, but no one noticed me. I snagged a beer from the kitchen and wandered through the house. I knew the rooms; the rooms knew me. Marcus and I had made out on that leather couch, I’d gone down on him under that baby grand piano, he’d chased me through the library and caught me on the stairs. We’d fucked on that counter and that floor and in that bathtub. After all we’ve done, I’m still his dirty secret.
Marcus fucks Henry. In the grammar of our relationship, I am the object.
I chugged my beer and grabbed another.
“Henry Denton?”
Diego Vega was standing with his back against a wall, holding a bottled water. He said something to the girl standing near him and met me at the keg. He was wearing faded jeans and a thin orange hoodie that made him stick out like that one dead bulb in a string of lit Christmas lights. When he reached me, he gave me a stiff one-armed bro-hug.
“Only in school a week and already at the coolest party in Calypso. I’m impressed.”
Diego buzzed with energy, like the physical confines of his body couldn’t contain him. “I’ve never been in a house this big.”
I sipped my beer and tried to think of something witty to say. I hadn’t expected to see Diego, but I was glad he was there. “They’ve got two pools.”
“What?” Diego cupped his hand to his ear. Someone was blasting shitty power-pop in the other room, and it was drowning out our voices.
“Come on!” I pulled Diego away from the kitchen, toward the family room. I was hoping it would be empty, but there was a group playing pool. It looked like girls against guys, and the girls were kicking ass. The music wasn’t as loud, though. “That’s better.”
Diego took in the room. Shelves stuffed with books were built into three walls, and a TV dominated the fourth. “How rich is this guy?”
“Marcus?” I shrugged. “The McCoys are super rich. His dad’s an investment banker or something.”
“Who?”
“Marcus McCoy? The guy who lives here?”
Diego smacked my chest. “That’s his name! He’s in my econ class. It’s been driving me crazy.” He had dimples like quicksand, and his hazel eyes reminded me of the sluggers’ skin. “Anyway, I was hoping I’d run into you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Seriously.”
“Why?”
Diego shrugged. “You’re the only person I’ve met who hasn’t asked me what kind of car I drive.”
“Well, then you’re the only person at this party who actually wants me here.”
“I doubt it.”
“That’s because you’re new.” Diego had an honest face, but I found it difficult to believe he’d come to the party to see me when I was practically invisible to everyone else. “How’re you liking Calypso?”
“Honestly? It’s weird. Sometimes there are too many people and I just want to find a quiet closet to read in. Other times I want to surround myself with as many people as possible. But I love the beach. I’m there so often, my sister jokes about buying me a tent so I can sleep there.”
“Keep the zipper locked or you’ll wake up being spooned by a bum.”
“So long as I get to be the little spoon.”
Diego’s laugh made me smile in spite of myself. Maybe I’d been wrong to fear the party. I’d been there an hour, and not only had it not turned into a disaster, I was actually having fun.
“You’ll have to work that out on your own.” I finished off my beer and set the cup down on a bookshelf ledge.
We lingered in that awkward stage of a conversation where there was no logical next topic but the silence hadn’t yet grown uncomfortable.
“If you knew the world was going to end, and you could press a button to prevent it, would you?”
Diego raised his eyebrow. “Is there something I should know?”
“It’s a hypothetical question.”
“Then hypothetically, yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not keen on dying.”