“I’m not sure I can get off the floor,” I say at the exact same time.
“You’re going. At this rate, this may be the last grad party you make,” Charlie says. Then he adds, “Get Sophie to tell you how she fell out of a window today.”
Sophie rolls her eyes. “I tripped.”
“You fell out of a window?” I shriek. “Please tell me it wasn’t at that tea party.”
Sophie helps me up. “I’ll tell you all about it while we’re getting ready.”
An hour later, we’re heading back downstairs and I can tell Sophie is having a hard time not laughing. While I’m totally fried from the elbows down, my tan skin looks pale in comparison from the elbows up, including the one bare shoulder. Except for my neck and face. Those parts are red as well. And the burn seems especially red and the skin especially pale against the stark white of a toga.
It’s…not a good look.
I hold my arms out in front of me. I don’t want to miss tonight’s party, especially since I missed Sarah’s tea today, but this is ridiculous. “I don’t know if I can show up like this.”
“It’s not that bad,” Sophie tries to assure me between giggles. “I promise.”
But when Wes and Charlie get here, I know it definitely is that bad. They can barely keep themselves from crying, they’re laughing so hard.
Charlie holds up the edge of his red polka-dotted sheet. “Maybe we should trade! You could blend in a little better with this one.”
“Let’s go before I change my mind,” I say as I walk past him to his truck.
It’s a twenty-minute drive to the party. I’m riding shotgun while Wes and Sophie are in the backseat.
“There isn’t a party tomorrow night, is there?” Wes asks.
“No, thank God,” I say, and then hate how grumpy I sound. This is supposed to be the best week of high school and I’m miserable.
“No, why?” Charlie asks.
“Judd joined a band,” he says. There’s a pause, and then we all crack up.
Sophie chokes out, “I hope he’s not the singer!” We’ve all had the unfortunate experience of listening to Judd sing karaoke.
“Nah, he’s on the drums,” Wes answers.
Charlie glances back at Wes in the rearview mirror. “Since when has Judd played the drums?”
I turn around in my seat and see Wes just shrug. “No idea. But they have their first gig tomorrow night at Superior. I told him we’d come by and watch them play.”
“Oh yeah, not missing that,” I say, laughing. Then I cringe because all this movement is making the burn on my face hurt.
We finally arrive at our destination. It’s a monstrosity of a house in one of the nicest gated neighborhoods in town. There are six different families throwing the party honoring four guys, so it’s big. Like over-the-top enormous.
Charlie pulls up to the house and there’s a valet there, ready to whisk his truck away.
“I don’t know how I feel about this.” Charlie holds his door closed while he and the valet have a staring contest through the closed window. “No one drives this truck but me.”
We pile out, leaving Charlie alone in the truck. He finally gives in but watches until it’s out of sight.
There’s a pair of guys in white togas—real-looking ones, not the kind made out of sheets—off to the side next to two big white freestanding columns.
“Party’s this way,” one of them says, pointing us down a path lined with more columns, each pair about twenty feet apart.
Charlie steps closer to one of them and asks, “How’d y’all get this gig? And what’s it pay an hour?”
They ignore him.
