This is a low play, even for me. But if she wouldn’t accept a nice invitation, I wasn’t beneath begging and guilting her into coming.
I shove Jeanette lightly in the gut, hoping she’ll get my cue and say something that’ll pressure them into going with us. But my sister shoves me back, without a trace of consideration, and frowns at me.
“We already have plans.” Brook turns her back to us and going down the hall she dismisses us completely.
“We really do have…” Amelia starts defending her friend but stops when she hears woman’s voice shout over TV in a living room.
“Brook, honey, who’s at the door?”
“No one important, Mrs. C. Just some kids from school.”
There is rustling in the living room, and I can hear Amelia sigh in defeat as she lowers the last few steps, squats down, and picks up the Beast as he jumps into her waiting hands. The dog cuddles into her embrace and places his head right under her hand for Lia to pat it.
“You two made new friends?” Excitement and surprise in Mrs. C’s voice are crystal clear.
A small woman comes to stand at the door of the living room. She’s dressed casually in sweats and shirt. Her blond hair is pulled into a ponytail, and her face clean of makeup only makes her big brown eyes—Amelia’s eyes—stand out even more.
“I’m Amelia’s mom, Holly.” She comes to us, offering us her hand in greeting with a big smile on her face.
Amelia introduces us to her mom, telling her I’m the guy who helped her around the first day when she had car problems, and we shake her hand apologizing for dropping in unannounced. At that moment, Brook decides to come out from hiding and rolls her eyes at me like she knows I’m full of bullshit and I can’t fool her.
“What brings you two around?” Mrs. Campbell inquires, looking between all of us.
When Amelia doesn’t jump to answer right away, and I see Brook open her big mouth on the other side of the hall, I cut her off quickly. “There is this party going on and we came to see if maybe Amelia,” I look over her shoulder, but don’t let my smile fall when I see Brook frowning at me, “and Brook would like to join us for a while. We just moved, and we don’t hang out much with other guys so it would be nice to see some familiar faces.”
Mrs. Campbell looks at Amelia, then switches to Brook before returning to Lia. If I didn’t know better I would think they are both her daughters. She looks at them the same way. “Why didn’t you tell me about the party before now, girls?”
Her question is followed by a pregnant pause.
Than Amelia sighs loudly, the dog barks, and Brook grits her teeth, ready to kill me.
Gotta love being surrounded by women.
Amelia
I take one measured step forward, crossing the doorway, and look around me, wary of what I’ll find. I’ve never been to one of Andrew’s parties before, and I’m just waiting for somebody to start pointing fingers in our direction, laughing and mocking us for even daring to think we’re welcome to step one foot inside his house.
My only solace is that Brook feels as out of her skin as me. Even more, if that’s possible, but I’m feeling too uneasy myself to pay a lot of attention to my friend right now.
On the other hand, Max is completely relaxed, talking to people we pass by, joking, and laughing. Jeanette’s her usual, moody self, walking behind her brother looking more bored than ever. Is there something that interests this girl?
The music is blasting so much that we heard it as soon as we parked a few houses down the street. It’s one of those popular club songs with a strong beat you can’t deny. You simply have to let your body move. It’s the one talking about drinking, dancing, kissing, and enjoying life. Not that I know much about clubs, but some things are hard to miss even if you’re bookworm closed in your own universe most of the time.
For the first time ever, I came this close to Andrew’s house. It’s more like a mansion than a house, built in the best part of the town. The one filled with rich and high class people, where houses are at least as twice as big as my parent’s house. Big yards are perfectly maintained, and long roads lead to round driveways with a fountain in the middle.
Once you pass the doorway you enter the hall, in the middle of which is a double staircase that leads to the upper floors. It looks old, but well preserved. For all it’s worth it could have been original from the time the house was built. Andrew’s dad has that kind of money, being a big ass lawyer and, if you could believe the rumors, next mayor of our town. A chandelier is lighting up the room, showcasing works of art on the walls and some figurines and vases that probably cost more than both of my parents’ six month salaries. Just passing by them makes me nervous. What if I accidentally trip and one of them falls? I’ll have to pay them back for the rest of my life.
Some people are sitting there, on the staircase, red solo cups in their hands. One couple is sitting in the shadows close to the top, lips locked in make out session so heated that it makes me look away in discomfort. Thankfully we don’t remain there for long. Max waves in passing to the guys close by and moves on down the hallway that opens up in what I assume is one big living room, but with furniture rearranged so that there is enough space to make a makeshift dance floor.
I simply stand there—in the middle of the doorway—and watch. It’s like a scene from movies or how you’d imagine one of those parties in the books I like to read so much to look like. It’s hard to believe there are so many kids in our school, but then again some look younger and some way older.
The light is dimmed, and it’s so hot because of all the bodies scattered around. People are everywhere. It’s hard to see where one person ends and other begins: girls and boys grinding on the dance floor, people sitting in one corner on sofas, guys playing video games, and some couples making out in the darkness. Red cups and food are on every flat surface imaginable.
The double doors that lead to the back terrace are wide open and a light is on outside because more people are there drinking and playing games.
“Are you going to move today?” Jeanette questions me, her tone so monotone that it would surprise me to see her awake in five minutes.
I don’t get it—if she wasn't interested in partying, why did she want to go in the first place, and why did she come to my place to bring me out of the house? Jeanette Sanders is one big enigma, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to understand her. Or more importantly, will shelet meunderstand her? As far as I’ve known her, probably not.