“We’ll figure it out later if we haven’t been busted by then. I’ll be shocked if all three of us are texting your mom and she doesn’t figure out it’s not you,” Wes says.
Sophie moves to the line of invitations. “What’s the party tomorrow?”
“There are actually two,” I say. “A luncheon for Sarah Brooks. I think the theme is tea party? It’s the one with the hat. And tomorrow night is a toga party.”
Wes’s head pops up. “I think I was invited to that.” Then he turns to Sophie. “There’s a toga party tomorrow night. You’re coming, too.”
She laughs and lightly punches him in the arm. “Thanks for the advance notice.”
Charlie nods. “Yeah, I got an invite, too.” He turns to look at me. “But you should be finished by then, right? So we can all go?”
“Yes, I’m sure I’ll be done by the afternoon. And, Sophie, hopefully I can get away for an hour so I can make an appearance at the luncheon. I really would hate to miss it.”
“Okay, good!” Sophie says. “Now to find some sheets for the toga party….”
Once every closet and cabinet of my house is raided, we’re back downstairs, sitting in the den, trying to find something on TV.
“We should think about dinner soon,” Charlie says.
Wes and Sophie are lying on the couch. “You know Nonna has something fixed,” Wes says.
Just as Charlie is about to say something else, he, Wes, and I all get a text at the same time.
“Okay, so I’m feeling a little left out,” Sophie says when we reach for our phones.
Charlie jumps up from his chair and pumps his fist in the air. “Hell yes!”
I swipe open the message and it’s a picture of a wagon wheel with a message below that reads8 P.M.“Tonight? It’s Monday!” I say.
Wes is showing Sophie the text. “What is this, like some sort of Bat-Signal?” she asks.
“Exactly! Party tonight!” Charlie yells.
“We’re all right here,” I say.
The Wagon Wheel is an old bar just outside of town. It went out of business like twenty years ago and the land it sits on was bought by a family with sons at our school—Miller and Will Hudson. They love throwing parties there because it’s less likely to get busted, but they give almost no warning. It’s their way of keeping things from getting out of hand, since there’s less time for word to spread.
“I have to be at the course at seven thirty in the morning, so we can’t stay too late,” I say. I wouldn’t miss this for anything, but I am a little worried about how a late night tonight could make tomorrow even worse than it’ll already be.
Charlie looks at me like I’ve lost it. “It’s Senior Party Week. We’re not coming home early!”
Yeah, tomorrow is going to be exactly as bad as I think.
We arrive at the Wagon Wheel at eight o’clock on the dot. The building itself is a square cinder-block structure with a rusty metal roof. There’s no sign, just a very large wooden wheel that looks a hundred years old leaning against the side of the building. The parking lot is more grass than gravel and there’s actually a thin tree poking out of a side window. Inside, the long bar is still in place, but dirt took over the floor years ago. There are a few holes in the roof that make it cold in the winter, but for the most part, it’s a pretty cool place to have a party when you’re in high school and have nowhere else to go.
And just because we got here right on time does not mean we’re early. There are probably twenty cars already parked in the field next to the building.
Everyone lives for these parties.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here,” Sophie says.
Wes shrugs. “Well, the few times since Christmas they’ve had a party, we were in Minden hanging out there.”
Inside, the music is loud and the only light comes from the zigzag of twinkle lights hanging from the ceiling.
There’s a keg in the center of the room and people are lined up, red cups in hand.
“I’m glad you drove, Wes!” Charlie says as he gets in line. A few minutes later, he’s back with a cup for Sophie, me, and himself, and a bottle of water for Wes.
