“So what?We can get a head start.”
I grin.She’s always so eager to party.“I don’t know.What if they throw us out again?Those IDs are just not that good—”
“We’ll go to another place.It doesn’t have to be Aristotle.”
Aristotle is by far the coolest club in the city.But Leah was right—there were others.
“Okay,” I say.“Let’s do it.Let’s get a head start.”
Leah picksme up at 9 p.m.
She’s dressed for clubbing—dark skinny jeans, a sparkly black tube-top, and over-the-knee high-heeled boots.Her blond hair is perfectly smooth and straight, falling down her back like a highlighted waterfall.
In contrast, I’m still wearing my sneakers.My clubbing shoes I hide in the backpack that I intend to leave in Leah’s car.A thick sweater hides the sexy top I’m wearing.No makeup and my long brown hair in a ponytail.
I leave the house like that to avoid any suspicion.I tell my parents I’m going to hang out with Leah at a friend’s house.My mom smiles and tells me to have fun.
Now that I’m almost eighteen, I don’t have a curfew anymore.Well, I probably do, but it’s not a formal one.As long as I come home before my parents start freaking out—or at least if I let them know where I am—it’s all good.
Once I get into Leah’s car, I begin my transformation.
Off goes the thick sweater, revealing the slinky tank-top I have on underneath.I wore a push-up bra to maximize my somewhat-undersized assets.The bra straps are cleverly designed to look cute, so I’m not embarrassed to have them show.I don’t have cool boots like Leah’s, but I did manage to sneak out my nicest pair of black heels.They add about four inches to my height.I need every single one of those inches, so I put on the shoes.
Next, I pull out my makeup bag and pull down the windshield visor, so I can get access to the mirror.
Familiar features stare back at me.Large brown eyes and clearly defined black eyebrows dominate my small face.Rob once told me that I look exotic, and I can kind of see that.Even though I’m only a quarter Latino, my skin always looks lightly tanned and my eyelashes are unusually long.Fake lashes, Leah calls them, but they’re entirely real.
I don’t have a problem with my looks, although I often wish I were taller.It’s those Mexican genes of mine.My abuela was petite and so am I, even though both of my parents are of average height.I wouldn’t care, except Jake likes tall girls.I don’t think he even sees me in the hallway; I’m literally below his eye level.
Sighing, I put on lip gloss and some eye shadow.I don’t go crazy with makeup because simple works best on me.
Leah cranks up the radio, and the latest pop songs fill the car.I grin and start singing along with Rihanna.Leah joins me, and now we’re both belting out S&M lyrics.
Before I know it, we arrive at the club.
We walk in like we own the place.Leah gives the bouncer a big smile, and we flash our IDs.They let us through, no problem.
We’ve never been to this club before.It’s in an older, slightly rundown part of downtown Chicago.
“How did you find this place?”I yell at Leah, shouting to be heard above the music.
“Ralph told me about it,” she yells back, and I roll my eyes.
Ralph is Leah’s ex-boyfriend.They broke up when he started acting weird, but they still talk for some reason.I think he’s into drugs or something these days.I’m not sure, and Leah won’t tell me out of some misplaced loyalty to him.He’s the king of shady, and the fact that we’re here on his recommendation is not super-comforting.
But whatever.Sure, the area outside is not the best, but the music is good and the crowd is a nice mix of people.
We’re here to party, and that’s exactly what we do for the next hour.Leah gets a couple of guys to buy us shots.We don’t have more than one drink each.Leah—because she has to drive us home.And me—because I don’t metabolize alcohol well.We may be young, but we’re not stupid.
After the shots, we dance.The two guys who bought us drinks dance with us, but we gradually migrate away from them.They’re not that cute.Leah finds a group of college-age hotties, and we sidle up to them.She strikes up a conversation with one of them, and I smile, watching her in action.She’s good at this flirting business.
In the meantime, my bladder tells me I need to visit the ladies’ room.So I leave them and go.
On my way back, I ask the bartender for a glass of water.I am thirsty after all the dancing.
He gives it to me, and I greedily gulp it down.When I’m done, I put down the glass and look up.
Straight into a pair of piercing blue eyes.
