I slide by her, antsy to leave already. “I will.”
I blast my music loud as I make the short drive to Breck’s house. It’s a beautiful, cloudless Texas night with the slightest stirring of a breeze. The stars are bold freckles on the sky, brighter than I remember them being in Portland. Once I park, I grab my purse and head inside.
Surprisingly, the party is pretty low-key. There can’t be more than three dozen people here, including a majority of the boys’ basketball team. I say hi to a few girls I know from the Wavettes as I step through the doorway, moving past a small group chugging from red Solo cups.
I spot Colton first. He’s wearing a black skull T-shirt with his headphones around his neck, and he waves when he sees me.
“Glad you showed,” he says, and I notice he’s traded his green braces bands for black ones. “Whitney and Lin are outside.”
I almost say a quick thanks and leave, but I remember my list and the fact that he’s number 9. Colton and I were never close, but we were friends. I don’t want to dismiss him so quickly.
“How’s band practice going? Don’t you have a show coming up?”
He looks surprised that I remembered. “Actually, yeah. Two Fridays from now at the Pit. You should come.”
“For sure,” I say. Even though Colton’s music isn’t my particular taste, I still want to support him. “Let me know?”
He grins. “Rad.”
I turn toward the sliding doors and head into the backyard. This is Breck’s mother’s pride and joy. A few summers ago, she built a wooden porch with an overhanging terrace. Fairy lights are strung above it, giving the patio a soft, magical vibe. The rest of the yard consists of perfectly manicured grass and an abundance of strategically placed planters, pots, and patio furniture.
Lin grabs my attention first. “Kira!”
I wave, then head over to the farthest corner of the porch where they’re standing. Whitney’s armed with a plastic cup and a lazy smile. She’s wearing a navy dress that enhances her cleavage in what has to be a purely intentional way. Lin stands next to her wearing a Peter Pan–collared blouse that’s patterned with cherries, paired perfectly with a black skirt. She has on her signature purple cat-eye glasses, and a bright-pink color is slathered on her lips.
Even though Whitney is adamantly disinterested in rekindling our friendship, I’m still determined to make things right between us.
“Are we being antisocial?” I say, gesturing to the exclusiveness of the corner.
Whitney brushes a piece of stray hair away from her face. “We’re avoiding Jay. He’s being a dick.”
My eyes widen in surprise. Not only because she directly answered my question, but at her blatant insult toward her boyfriend. I look to Lin for clarification.
She sighs. “He had Jennifer buy them beer.”
“HeknowsI don’t like her!”
“Wait,” I say. “Who’s Jennifer?”
Whitney takes a long chug of her drink.
Lin sighs. “Jennifer White? She hangs out with that other girl, you know, Jessica?”
Oh. Right. The college girls who are “obsessed” with Jay.
“Then she hung around for like,thirtyminutes,” Whitney says. “You should have seen her. She was all over him, and he was eating it up.”
I’m surprised at how much she’s confiding in me. I think back to my list. Maybe we’re actually making progress. But then she swigs what’s left of her drink and I realize that must be the source of her sudden chattiness.
I’m not a prude when it comes to alcohol. Back when we were freshmen, Whitney would insist on going to house parties she heard about from sophomores. I always preferred more cranberry than vodka in my drinks, but I never gotwasted. And when my dad’s addiction became increasingly worse, I lost interest in drinking. With everything I’d been through with him, it didn’t seem worth it.
She shakes her empty cup. “I need a refill,” she declares, then walks back inside.
I want to get more details from Lin, but before I can she turns to me. “Want to go in?”
I shrug, so we do. Breck has his Spotify playlist blasting in the kitchen, so almost everyone is sitting in the living room so they can talk without shouting. From across the room, I see Whitney has propped herself up on a beige love seat next to Breck, who polishes off the rest of his beer. I don’t see Jay, which is weird. He was never one to disappear at these kinds of things. He likes the attention too much.
“How are decathlon practices going?” I ask Lin.
