“Ryder Daniels,” Danika responds, scrolling through her iPod to select music.The speakers blast with techno that makes it too loud for anyone to be heard.It’s intentional.Danika’s patience with Laurel’s questions is running thin.She’s stressed many times that she didn’t sign up to be an honorary member of the welcoming committee.
I’m waiting for Danika’s curt responses to sting, but so far, she’s kept her barbs hidden.Even though I’ve known Danika my entire life, we’ve only recently become close friends.She changed a couple years ago, and she’s made a point not to hold anything back—her thoughts, her feelings or her attitude.And I’m one of the few who appreciate her candor.Especially since it’s not a skill I possess.
I think that everyone deserves a chance.That we can’t judge based upon appearances, assumptions or even first impressions.But I get it.There’s a limit.Laurel’s not a bad person, really.But after spending the last six weeks introducing her to Hollis High, it’s become more obvious that she’s notourperson.And now I don’t know how to ease her loose without hurting her feelings.
Danika types on her phone.Turning down the music, she reports, “Jaz and Darcy are leaving the school now.The football players are extra tonight.Guess some of the guys are already shotgunning beers.This party could get messy.”
“That’s good, right?”Laurel leans between the seats to contribute.“The last few parties have been so lame.I mean, why doesn’t anyone ever dance?They just stand around and talk.”She flops back with a heavy sigh.“I miss Brooklyn.”
Danika’s face fights for composure, contorting and tightening.I press my lips together to hide the smile.
“Last time,” Danika says to me.She takes in a deep breath through her nose to remain calm.
“I know,” I reply, getting it.
Every time Laurel talks about Brooklyn or compares us to her old school, Danika and I share a look.It happens a lot—at least three times a day.
Before Laurel can ask what we’re talking about, Danika turns up the music and starts bellowing along.I join in.We’re going to a party, after all…notin Brooklyn.
We’re only a couple hours north of the city, except we’re in the woods.And there isn’t much to do here other than sports and drinking.I mean, there’s more, but only if you make an effort.And Laurel is kind enough to remind us just how pathetic our town is.Every.Day.
We follow the line of cars into the driveway like a row of ants returning to the hill.If the neighbors didn’t know there was a party happening next door, they do now.
“Five dollars each,” the pimply-faced freshman demands at the door.Lowerclassmen aren’t allowed at Ryder’s parties, so he makes them work for the privilege of saying they were there.
“Are you serious?”Laurel looks offended.
“Keg money,” the kid drones as if he’s had to say this a hundred times already tonight.
“But I already paid Livvy for lemonades.Why am I paying for crap beer I’m not even going to drink?”
I hand over a twenty.“I got it.”
“That’s shit,” Danika proclaims, offering me a ten.“You’re driving.You shouldn’t be paying.We should pay foryou.”
I decline with a shake of my head.“I owe you.”I glance at Laurel, who’s craning her neck to see who’s here.
Danika rolls her eyes.“True.”
Laurel pushes through with a huff, not bothering to thank me.But I’ve learned not to expect her gratitude—for anything.And I’m not one to demand it from anyone.
“We’re leaving her here,” Danika says, eyeing the back of Laurel’s auburn head with a curl of her lip.“I’m done putting up with your pet project.I can’t listen to her talk about Brooklyn one more time.”
I sigh.“Yeah.She… misses home.”I squeeze through a group who are determined to block the entryway, not caring that every person who arrives has to walk between them to get access to the rest of the house.
“People.I swear.They’re all assholes.”Danika elbows her way through to make her point, earning some colorful protests in return.
We just arrived, and I already want to leave.“Give it an hour?”
Danika nods.
I stand beside Danika in the keg line.“I can get you a beer if you want to walk around and see who’s here.”
“Why bother?I won’t be able to put up with anyone while I’m sober.”
By the time we each have a beer in our hands—I plan to give Danika mine when she’s done with hers—the football players have started to file in.The cheers and fist bumps announce their entry.They revel in the attention, hollering back with their arms in the air.Apparently, their win earned them free entry.
An arm snakes around Danika’s waist, and lips crash against her neck.She turns her head to intercept them, and I shift my attention to the pale yellow beer I’m babysitting.
