I clean myself up and pull my panties and shorts on so I can make my escape into my ownbathroom.
As I walk by Dylan’s room, I see the two of them sitting on the edge of his bed, back at the video games, both with the same look on their faces. It’s soobviousnow.
“Buddy,we have to be on our best behavior tonight, okay?” I tell Dylan, although I suspect he’s not going to take what I’m saying tooseriously.
“Sure,” he says with asmile.
“Dylan, it’s my first party with you. Don’t make melookbad.”
He rolls his eyes. “Julia, look in the mirror. I don’t have to do that because you’re doing such a good job of it yourself.” Yeah, my mouth falls open. I can’t believe he just said that to me. “Just put a little make-up on and maybe something other than jean shorts and you’llbeokay.”
“Dylan!”
“Just saying how it is,” he says, unfazed by the rude things he’s saidtome.
“You don’t say that toalady.”
“You’re not a lady,” he replies.” This kid is looking for a fight, and I’m not giving ittohim.
“Fine, you’re right. I’m a man,correct?”
“You do have a little bit of a mustache.” For ten, he sure does know how to get under awoman’sskin.
“That’s enough,” Itellhim.
“Mom has always told me honesty is the bestpolicy.”
“That’s because your mom doesn’t want you dating at ten years old,” I retort. I probably shouldn’t have said that, but it is likely the case. I’ve heard the things these kids are getting into nowadays. “In any case, I’m going to go get ready, and it’s not because of what you said. I’ll be back here in ten minutes, and we’re going downstairs to join theparty.Okay?”
“Suit yourself,” he says,mischievously.
I’m quick to throw on a simple sundress and powder my face, line my eyes, layer on some mascara and lipgloss, blah blah blah. I lean forward, glancing into the mirror, pushing my tongue into my top lip for mustache inspection. There is nothing there. That was justcruel.
I step into a pair of wedge sandals that lace up to the bottom of my calf and then spritz a mist of perfume into the air as I spinbelowit.
Done.
I haven’t seen Liam since I saw them playing video games a couple of hours ago, but I’m sure he’s been cooking up a storm downstairs. The house smells like decadent food mixed with the saltiness of the ocean air. It’s making my stomach speakoutloud.
Dylan begrudgingly put on the clothes I laid out for him, and he looks dapper in his tan cargo shorts and white collared polo. “You look very handsome,” I tell him, pitching my elbow out for him to loop his armthough.
“You’re kidding me, right?” he asks with sarcasticlaughter.
“I was just trying to be nice,” Itellhim.
“Well, stop. It'sannoying.”
“Kid, do you want to have a fight or something?” I’m leveling with him because he’s pushing every one of my buttonstoday.
He smiles sinisterly at me. “Actually, I can’t think of anything I’d love todomore.”
“Get downstairs,” I tell him, pointing at thestairwell.
He charmingly takes each step one at a time as if he were making some kind of debutant appearance, waving at people as he descends to the firstfloor.
I follow behind him, wondering what to expect when we get downstairs. When we do, I quickly notice no one is in thehouse.
“Who were you waving at?” I askDylan.
