I hang out in the living room, nibbling on pizza while the strobe lights from Kyle’s karaoke machine dance around me.
When Hannah and Clem return, they’ve brought with them Willowdean, Ellen, her boyfriend Tim, Amanda, Callie, Mitch, Millie, and a boy holding Millie’s hand who I’ve seen around school with her.
“This is the party?” Callie asks when she sees me eating pizza solo by strobe light.
“I’ve never been to an unsupervised party like this before,” Millie says with a giggle.
The guy holding her hand, with thick black hair and a caramel-brown complexion, who also manages to make a sweater vest and loafers look cool, gives her a kiss on the cheek.
She wraps her arms around his waist. “Malik stole a boxof wine from his parents’ stash,” she whispers.
“A box of wine to myself sounds like the kind of party I need right now,” says Willowdean.
Malik laughs. “I was thinking the box could be more of a communal situation. I don’t know much about box wine, but solo box wine sounds sort of depressing.”
Millie nods thoughtfully.
Ellen takes Willowdean’s hand and pulls her closer, whispering something to her.
Clem and Hannah emerge from behind them with bags of ice.
“There’s a freezer in the garage,” I tell them.
“Come in, come in,” says Kyle, sweeping down the stairs as he pulls Alex behind him, and Alex’s eyes are a little bit puffy and red. Drama in paradise! “There are refreshments in the kitchen and libations as well. Please leave your keys in the cookie jar to help me monitor drunk driving.”
“I’ve got no desire to drive drunk,” says Amanda, “but I don’t think you’re going to get many people who are willing to give up their car keys.”
Before Kyle can respond, the doorbell rings. “I’ll get that!” Alex says, and moments later a flood of vaguely familiar people we’ve all sort of known since kindergarten trickle in.
“Make yourself at home,” Kyle says, but his voice is drowned out by laughter and banter, and soon, our new guests have found the kitchen and the beer.
After that, it’s a near-constant stream of people coming through the door. Some ring the doorbell. Others don’t.Someone helps themselves to Kyle’s parents’ sound system, and soon music is pumping through every room of the house.
Me, Hannah, and Clem laugh ourselves silly as we watch Kyle try to rope off the upstairs using an old winter scarf.
A few people from Prism seem a little startled by the crowd at first, but apparently underage drinking and the end of the school year are the ultimate unifying factors for teenagers everywhere.
“Am I at the right party?” a voice behind me asks.
I turn to find Tucker, freshly showered with still-damp hair and a six-pack of root beer dangling from his fingers.
Kyle rushes between us, one second away from asking someone to take their shoes off in the living room, when Tucker hands him the soda. “I wasn’t really sure what to bring, but I thought I should contribute.”
Kyle gasps, momentarily distracted from his mission. He clicks his tongue. “A host gift! How thoughtful! Let me put this on ice.”
Tucker shrugs and Kyle’s off again.
“Well, he’s going to love you forever and ever as long as you both shall live,” I say. “If you leave now, there might still be time to escape him.”
“Nah,” says Tucker. “I’ll take my chances.”
A swarm of guys led by Bryce walks past us and someone pats Tucker on the back.
“What’s up, man?” he asks, and bumps fists with basically the whole football team.
Once they’re gone, I hold my fist up. “’Sup, bro?”
Tucker goes to bump my fist, but instead his fingers snake around my wrist. He tugs me toward the back door. “Come on, let’s see what’s going on out here.”
