Page 5 of Sunshine

If she makes varsity and I don’t, it simply means she deserves it more.

“Or she was trying to decide if I deserve a spot at all.” Regan cringes, gripping my hand tighter. The rest of the students are getting up—the coaches must have dismissed the group.

David shakes his head, clearly unhurried. “No, trust me,” he insists. “I know her looks; I was here last year. She likes you. I promise.”

That seems to settle some of Regan’s nerves, but nowI’mfeeling them. “Let’s get out of here,” I say from my place between them. “I need to get home to my sister anyway.”

David nods, and Regan stands. She pulls the strap of her gym bag over her shoulder and says, “Do you guys . . . maybe we can hang out? This weekend?”

I smile. “What do you have in mind?”

She shrugs.

“You guys wanna go to a party tonight?” David asks.

We both turn to look at him. “A party?” I repeat lamely. I’ve never been to a high school party before, and from the look on Regan’s face, I can tell she hasn’t either.

David smirks. “I keep forgetting you guys are freshmen. Yes, a party. It’s what happens when a few dozen kids congregate at someone’s house and, you know, party.”

I scoff. “Riveting.”

David rolls his eyes as he gives my arm a playful nudge. I look back at Regan to see what she thinks—I’m not going if she’s not going. She must be thinking the same thing because her eyes widen and she shrugs once like,Up to you, girl.

A grin slices across my face. “Let’s do it.”

It didn’t take much convincingfor Mom to let me go out, though I didn’t exactly tell her thewholeplan. Between bites of the fried catfish we ate at dinner, I casually slipped into the conversation that Regan and David wanted to hang out tonight. She looked at me with a spark of approval in her eye before practically shoving me out the door as soon as we finished our meal.

“Do you even know where she’s going?” I heard my stepfatherask from down the hall as I changed into a comfortable pink dress.

“Oh Barry,” she whined, “don’t start already. It’s her first weekend of the school year and she’s making new friends. We should be encouraging this!”

Normally Barry doesn’t have much to say about my comings and goings, taking more of a hands-off approach with his wife’s daughter from a previous relationship. It suits me just fine, so I wonder why he’s suddenly acting concerned. Luckily his hesitation does nothing to deter my mother, and when I hear a honk from the street I say quick goodbyes before launching myself out the front door.

David’s driving an old golden minivan, and I have to do my best not to poke fun at it—I don’t know him well enough to rag on what’s probably a hand-me-down from his family. At least he has a car to drive. Regan waves from the front seat, rolling down her window to shout, “Get in here, bitch!”

I laugh, shaking my head as I pull the handle of the back door and slide in. The van smells like the black ice air freshener hanging from the rearview with a hint of stale french fries, and I suddenly find myself thankful for new experiences. Thankful to have two new friends who cared enough to pick me up and spend time together.

“You ready to party, freshy?” David smirks as he looks over his shoulder at me.

I smile. “Freshy?”

He dips his head. “You know: freshman, fresh meat, freshy.”

I laugh. “If you say so.”

The side of David’s mouth rises higher. “Just be cool and blend in. Freshmen usually aren’t allowed at these parties, butyou’re both girls and, well, you’re both hot.” Regan shifts in her seat, obviously pleased by the compliment. “Just don’t draw too much attention, and try to have a little fun, yeah?”

Regan and I both eagerly nod before we all burst out into laughter.

Ten minutes later, we’re pulling onto a curb where over half a dozen cars flank a two-story house. It looms over us, dark and stately and not at all like what I imagined when David mentioned a house party.

“Some party,” Regan whispers as we all stare up at it.

David snorts. “Just wait.”

We spill out into the balmy night air as the sounds of music and muffled chatter reach around from the backyard of the dark house. David leads us toward the side gate where a sharpie-written note on a piece of ripped notebook paper reads: DON’T COME BACK HERE UNLESS YOU BROUGHT BEER.

I look up at David as concern ripples through me. “We don’t have any beer.” How can a trio of underage teenagers be expected to get their hands on beer? It’s already nearly eight, and I have to be home by ten thirty—a curfew that Barry implemented just before I made it out the door.

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