“Um, who exactly did you invite to this party?” I ask.
“Yeah,” says Alex. “You’ve been very cagey with the invite list.”
Kyle clears his throat. “Well, I invited the Prism Club. And the choir.”
The only thing that cuts the silence is the whirring of the ceiling fan in the living room.
“Do you know how much booze I got?” I manage to say. “There’s enough alcohol in your shed to get a small country hammered.”
“I wanted it to be a special night,” Kyle says. “A party forus. Notthem.”
For the first time since I’ve known him, I can see Alex’s blood begin to boil. “But we don’t want it to be us versus them. We want to be them! And throwing a badass party is a step in the right direction.” He lets out a frustrated shriek and storms out.
This ship is sinking fast. I look to Hannah. She nods, instinctively.
“We could call the rest of the prom court,” I offer.
The doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it,” says Alex. “Our one single guest has arrived!”
“Do whatever you want,” says Kyle as he pushes back from the table. “It’s probably the pizza guy,” he calls to Alex. And then to us, or maybe to no one, he says, “I try to do one adventurous, wild thing and plan a memorable night for us to tell our kids about, but no, it’s not enough. I didn’t invite the right people. Well, fine, Waylon. Invitethem. Invite the jocks and the cheerleaders and the popular kids and the stoners. Sue me for wanting to have a party with people who actually like and respect me.”
Clem looks to Hannah and shakes her head while Hannah is very clearly biting her tongue.
Kyle marches off to the door to help Alex with the pizza.
“Should I break it to him that like and respect are both very strong words?” Hannah asks once the coast is clear.
“You two are awful,” says Clem.
“This party is going to be less exciting than an overnight sleep study,” I say.
“I said you were awful,” Clem says. “I didn’t say you shouldn’t call your prom squad.”
I step out to the backyard, where Kyle’s pool glitters under a canopy of string lights, and hold my phone to my ear. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
“Waylon?” asks Tucker, shouting into the receiver over the sound of a jackhammer in the background.
No turning back now.
“Hey,” I say, unable to help myself from shouting back. Neither of us have even so much as texted since last night.
“Is everything okay? You’ve never called me before.” He continues to yell, even after the noise behind him quiets.
“I can hear you,” I tell him.
“Oh, sorry.”
“And I’m fine.” He’s right, though. I’ve never heard his voice on the phone, and now that I have, it might besomething I need to hear again. “What time do you get off work tonight?” I ask.
“I’m putting in overtime right now, so I guess whenever I want.”
“How do you feel about a party?” I ask. “And how quickly can you help me get half the school here?”
“I feel like watching Netflix and eating cold pizza, but I could be persuaded. As for half the school, I’ve got a few group texts going that could fill a house in thirty minutes.”
In the forty-five minutes it takes for anyone else to arrive, Kyle stress-eats a whole pizza and then begs Alex to forgive him through a locked bathroom door while Hannah and Clem run out for a few extra bags of ice.
