I eye the cup warily. “Should I stop drinking? I mean, I can call my parents, I guess, if I need to.”
“Relax.” Asher rolls his eyes. “I said I wasn’t drinking. And despite what you saw last time, I’m not a raging alcoholic.”
“You’re a midlevel alcoholic?” I try to school my smile but the punch is pushing it to the surface.
“I’m entry-level at best.” He picks up a bottle of Coke and fills his cup. “But I’m thirsty.” With his cup in his left hand, he grabs my hand with his right, and we’re back into the mess of people.
“You’re very pushy, you know,” I say, tugging on his hand.
He laughs. “I know, but if I don’t drag you somewhere better, you’ll just sit in the backyard like a mosquito buffet.” We’re pushing through the living room and Asher is smiling and nodding at people as we pass. “I’d have to help Kara identify your remains by the time she got here.”
It’s true, mosquitoes love me. “It’s because I’m so sweet,” I say mockingly. That’s what my mother always said, anyway, while I was slathering myself with cortisone cream, trying to soothe the welts after a hike or a particularly rough bonfire.
“You’re mockingyourself? How much of that punch have you had?”
“Just trying to pick up the slack.”
Asher stops and looks at me. “I don’t mock you.”
I put my one free hand on my hip, my other still trapped in his.
“When?” His voice is incredulous. “When have I mocked you?”
“How about every morning?” He looks at me blankly and I grab a piece of hair between my fingers. “‘Your hair looks really pretty today.’” I do my best impression of his mocking, singsong voice, and roll my eyes.
“Idothink your hair looks pretty.”
“Whatever.”
“Okay, Ididsay it to annoy you. But that’s because I knowyoudon’t like it. I think it’s really pretty.” He shrugs, like this is a totally normal thing to say to me. “I’m glad you’re not flattening it anymore.”
I can’t help but smile. “Straightening it.”
“Whatever.”
I don’t say anything, because life makes no sense anymore. My brain might be broken by how little sense it all makes. But while I’m contemplating the weirdness that is now my life as Asher’s ally, he continues to pull me across the room, until we hit a carpeted stairwell leading to a basement. He lets go of me and we make our way down, single-file, barely squeezing past people making their way up.
The basement is one big long room with light green walls and a floor full of retro brown tiles. At the bottom of the stairs there’s a cluster of chairs and couches to our left. And beyondthat, there’s a big round table in the corner. It’s a game table, the kind that has a wooden lid, and usually hides a poker board inside. As we approach I can make out a guy and two girls sitting in metal folding chairs around it. Three more chairs sit empty, and Asher tugs me by the hand until we’re standing behind two of them.
“Hey,” Asher says, and the guy nods. The girl to his right smiles, and the girl on his left is… Nadine’s daughter, Lindsay. A little wave of guilt washes over me when I think about the fact that we were lurking around in her yard not too long ago. She’s smiling especially wide at Asher until her eyes meet mine, and then travel down to our hands. I free my hand of Asher’s, having forgotten it was still there. I suppose being dragged from room to room will do that to you. Like Stockholm syndrome for your hands.
I wave my previously captive hand at the group in front of us, trying to prove that I am not, in fact, a hermit.
“This is Sidney,” Asher says as he pulls a chair out for me. I look at him, shocked by the gesture, and he winks at me. “Pancakes,” he whispers, before turning back to the table. “This is Trevor, Hannah, and you know Lindsay.”
“Hi.” I sit down in the chair Asher still has a hand on, and he sits down next to me.
Asher looks past me to Lindsay. “I thought you were up at school for the summer.”
Lindsay sets a handful of cards on the table in front of her. “I am, but I’m home most weekends. Not many freshmen stay for the summer, so it’s pretty dead.”
I take another sip of my drink and remind myself that being at a table full of strangers and Lindsay is still better than wandering around in the house or sitting alone at the bonfire until Kara gets here. I take another big gulp of my punch.
In front of us, the table isn’t covered in the cards or other cliché drinking games I was expecting. It’s a giant game board. Anintricate map with mountains and lakes and rivers. Little dotted lines to show borders. There are silver, gold, black, and bronze pieces scattered around the board, but I don’t know what any of them are. I have no idea what game they’re playing, but anyone could tell whatkindof game this is. It’s a war game. I look at Asher and smile. Game on.
Asher
“Is it cool if we play as a team, since she’s new?” I ask, knowing no one is going to argue. Everyone at the table has played before, and also everyone is drinking, so it’s not the best time to introduce a virgin to the mix.
