to set up the cups for pong?” he asked, dropping the torches at my feet.
“I’m not an idiot,” I said, wishing he’d eat some toothpaste. “You put them in a triangle.”
Adam looked hurt. “I meant would you do it.”
“Sure,” I said, turning to avoid another kiss.
“Everything’s in the garage,” he said. “Shout if you need help with the table.”
The garage smelled like motor oil and gasoline. I wrinkled my nose. Dragging the folding table across the cement, I pinched my finger in the stupid leg brace. Sucking my pinky, I unpacked red plastic cups and eggshell-thin balls, a case of gold-and-black cans, and then texted Lisa again. Please come, I begged. Bring Katie and Ryan. It was bound to be the tamest party ever. Especially with Adam’s stepmom hovering. Lisa responded with a frowny emoticon, Just bought our tickets .
As if on cue, Linda ducked into the garage with a basket of cheese curls. “Adam said to put some snacks out here,” she said, putting down the basket and picking up a can. “I don’t know how you kids can drink this stuff,” she said, scanning the label. “Oh, by the way, the next time you and Adam sleep in the car…”
My face burned. I knew I’d felt someone watching that night. It wasn’t my imagination. But it wasn’t Banana Man, either. It was Linda—Scary Stalker Mom. Lucky for me, Rachel came dancing down the driveway. I shouted and waved, and Linda gave me a tight-lipped smile before marching back to the house. Rachel’s eyes raked the garage. “Where’s Lisa?” she asked.
Sometimes I think Lisa and I are too close, and I can’t socialize without her. I could never talk to Rachel the way I talk to Lisa. After a few minutes, the conversation fizzled out and we drifted, searching for our boyfriends. Hers was arguing politics with the foreign exchange student. Mine was hooking up speakers. I sat at the picnic table, alone, waiting for someone good to show up. Adam had invited theater people, mostly, but then someone he worked with rolled in with a couple of girls from Nisky. Keira, I think, and her friend Something Snobby. I hated them instantly, with their long, smooth hair and manicured nails, faces looking like they’d spent the day at the makeup counter. They reminded me of Jeanine. Which reminded me of Foley. Warm hands cupped my eyes. Everything went dark. My heart did a little dance.
“It’s not so bad,” Adam said. “I think everybody’s having fun. Trent’s got a case in his car if you want something to drink.” Adam’s skin was usually pretty clear, but that night his forehead was a constellation of angry red bumps.
“What’s going on with your face?” I asked, grimacing slightly, and then hated myself for asking.
“It’s from the kitchen,” he said, dragging his bangs to his chin. “I was on the grill. All that grease.”
I brushed the hair from his eyes and kissed him gently. I loved him. I did. Foley meant nothing to me, and I meant nothing to Foley. My mom had it all wrong.
I spent the rest of the party acting like Katie at the pool that day, wading past faces, searching, and then bored. Eventually I parked myself beside Chris and watched him whip one of the Nisky girls at energy-drink pong. When that got boring, too, I wandered out to Trent’s car for something to numb the ache in my chest.
“Get in,” Trent said. He reached behind the seat and passed me a green bottle. “Listen, I’m sorry I started all this bullshit. I didn’t think anybody would actually believe it.”
I took a swig and shook my head, confused.
“This stuff with Lisa. About Banana Man. Gabe says she’s kind of gone off the deep end.”
“You didn’t do that thing with the other eye, did you?” I poked him with the bottle, hoping he’d confess, but now Trent looked confused.
“What ‘thing’ with the other eye?”
He shifted his weight. The upholstery squeaked. In the dark of the car, the closeness made me reach for the door handle, but
“I’m not an idiot,” I said, wishing he’d eat some toothpaste. “You put them in a triangle.”
Adam looked hurt. “I meant would you do it.”
“Sure,” I said, turning to avoid another kiss.
“Everything’s in the garage,” he said. “Shout if you need help with the table.”
The garage smelled like motor oil and gasoline. I wrinkled my nose. Dragging the folding table across the cement, I pinched my finger in the stupid leg brace. Sucking my pinky, I unpacked red plastic cups and eggshell-thin balls, a case of gold-and-black cans, and then texted Lisa again. Please come, I begged. Bring Katie and Ryan. It was bound to be the tamest party ever. Especially with Adam’s stepmom hovering. Lisa responded with a frowny emoticon, Just bought our tickets .
As if on cue, Linda ducked into the garage with a basket of cheese curls. “Adam said to put some snacks out here,” she said, putting down the basket and picking up a can. “I don’t know how you kids can drink this stuff,” she said, scanning the label. “Oh, by the way, the next time you and Adam sleep in the car…”
My face burned. I knew I’d felt someone watching that night. It wasn’t my imagination. But it wasn’t Banana Man, either. It was Linda—Scary Stalker Mom. Lucky for me, Rachel came dancing down the driveway. I shouted and waved, and Linda gave me a tight-lipped smile before marching back to the house. Rachel’s eyes raked the garage. “Where’s Lisa?” she asked.
Sometimes I think Lisa and I are too close, and I can’t socialize without her. I could never talk to Rachel the way I talk to Lisa. After a few minutes, the conversation fizzled out and we drifted, searching for our boyfriends. Hers was arguing politics with the foreign exchange student. Mine was hooking up speakers. I sat at the picnic table, alone, waiting for someone good to show up. Adam had invited theater people, mostly, but then someone he worked with rolled in with a couple of girls from Nisky. Keira, I think, and her friend Something Snobby. I hated them instantly, with their long, smooth hair and manicured nails, faces looking like they’d spent the day at the makeup counter. They reminded me of Jeanine. Which reminded me of Foley. Warm hands cupped my eyes. Everything went dark. My heart did a little dance.
“It’s not so bad,” Adam said. “I think everybody’s having fun. Trent’s got a case in his car if you want something to drink.” Adam’s skin was usually pretty clear, but that night his forehead was a constellation of angry red bumps.
“What’s going on with your face?” I asked, grimacing slightly, and then hated myself for asking.
“It’s from the kitchen,” he said, dragging his bangs to his chin. “I was on the grill. All that grease.”
I brushed the hair from his eyes and kissed him gently. I loved him. I did. Foley meant nothing to me, and I meant nothing to Foley. My mom had it all wrong.
I spent the rest of the party acting like Katie at the pool that day, wading past faces, searching, and then bored. Eventually I parked myself beside Chris and watched him whip one of the Nisky girls at energy-drink pong. When that got boring, too, I wandered out to Trent’s car for something to numb the ache in my chest.
“Get in,” Trent said. He reached behind the seat and passed me a green bottle. “Listen, I’m sorry I started all this bullshit. I didn’t think anybody would actually believe it.”
I took a swig and shook my head, confused.
“This stuff with Lisa. About Banana Man. Gabe says she’s kind of gone off the deep end.”
“You didn’t do that thing with the other eye, did you?” I poked him with the bottle, hoping he’d confess, but now Trent looked confused.
“What ‘thing’ with the other eye?”
He shifted his weight. The upholstery squeaked. In the dark of the car, the closeness made me reach for the door handle, but
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