Page 60 of Do You Ship It

‘No.’ She caught his hand within hers. ‘Stay. Just one more dance?’

He took her in his arms once more. ‘Anything for you, my lady.’

They could not dance the entire night away, she knew that, and from the shadows of the ballroom she was sure she could feel the watchful gaze of the Moonwalker upon them.

But this dance with Devon was hers; just as she was his, until the end.

CHAPTER 21

‘Be nice,’ I hiss to Mum and Dad, who are sat at opposite ends of the living room. The TV is on – a cheesy crime drama, one of the few things they’ve always enjoyed together – though Mum’s also reading articles on her iPad and Dad has the laptop open, browsing for some new trainers. I’m acting like an old biddy twitching anxiously at the blinds, waiting for Anissa to get here.

‘Of course we’ll be nice!’ Mum clicks her tongue in admonishment. ‘Honestly, Cerys.’

‘I meandon’t embarrass me.’

‘When have weeverembarrassed you?’ Dad drawls, and Mum laughs, and why, WHY have they chosen now, of all days, to band together and act all pally? This is definitely weirder than the fighting.

Why is Dad even here?

Oh, God, I hope they’re not having adate night. Gross.

‘I think it’s nice,’ Mum says, ‘that you’ve made all these lovely new friends. And that you’ve gotten friendly with Anissa, even though you didn’t know each other well at school. Didn’t you invite the other girls to this party, too?’

‘I … Well, it’s not someone I know hosting, is it?’ I point out. ‘I didn’t want to show up with the whole gang in tow, that might’ve been a bit rude.’

It’s not untrue. Just … not exactlythetruth. She hums in agreement, though, so I’m off the hook.

‘Mind you don’t go drinking too much,’ Dad says.

‘Yes,’ Mum agrees, and I swear to God, I am going to riot. They argued over my bloody birthday presents, but this? A party? Oh,nowthey’re a united front. ‘You know the drill, Cerys, don’t go drinking anything you haven’t poured yourself, keep hold of your drink –’

‘We’d tell you not to drinkat all,’ Dad says, then laughs, ‘but we’re not so old and decrepit that we don’t remember what it’s like being sixteen and going to a house party.’

‘Who are you calling old!’ Mum cries, but eventhatmakes them both laugh, and I really will scream if they keep on. ‘Jake’ll look after you, though, I’m sure.’

‘Mind you look afterhim, too,’ Dad jokes, and again, they both laugh.

I am spared spontaneous combustion at the totalpersonality transplant both my parents seem to have had, because a car has pulled up outside, and Anissa is climbing out of the passenger seat with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder, calling, ‘Bye, Mum!’ as she closes the door behind her.

‘Ohmigod she’s here!’ I jump away from the blinds and run halfway across the room, then stop, remembering I have to wait for her to ring the doorbell. It’s just beenagessince I had anybody round that wasn’t Jake, and I haven’t had a sleepover since someone’s birthday party when we were about twelve years old. I hope my parents don’t embarrass me, and I hope Anissa doesn’t either by mentioning any of the fandom stuff, and –

She rings the bell.

Mum pulls a face at me, making a show of setting aside her iPad. ‘Shall I get that, then, Cerys?’

‘Oh, shut up,’ I mutter, and dart out into the hallway. Behind me, Mum whispers something to Dad, and the two of them muffle their laughter.

I guess at least they might seem halfway normal to Anissa, like this.

Not normal forthem, of course, but …

I undo the latch and hold the door open for Anissa to come in. ‘Hi!’

Her mum has idled on the kerb, and gives me awave through the car window before rolling it down. ‘You girls have fun tonight!’

‘We will!’ Anissa shouts back. As the car pulls away, she whispers to me, ‘My mum mixed us some gin and lemonade. And she took me shopping for a new outfit. I think she’s more excited about this than I am.’

I grin, although something about the admission brings that shame crawling back up inside me, that Anissa’s been so left out of things before. I tamp it down though, and wave for her to follow me inside. We both stick our heads in through the living-room door. ‘Mum, Dad, this is Anissa.’

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