The pinup photo ended up being way more of a success than Jo had anticipated, even though a photo of a relatively thin person in their underpants was hardly revolutionary online. Thanks to Bianca’s hard work, her skin looked rosy, her eyes looked wider with winged lines, and her glittery belly button was downright adorable.
The comments had been so positive and inspiring, full of people who commiserated with Jo gaining weight while unemployed and applauding her photos being obviously unretouched. An ass with some stretch marks. A visible patch on one leg she’d forgotten to shave.
“Would you not hire someone for having Instagram shots in a bathing suit?” Jo asked Wren as they cut across the lawn near the marquee. An hour ago, the whole street had been filled on both sides with honking parents. The tide had gone out, leaving Jo’s Mini alone in the distance.
“It isn’t a bathing suit,” Wren said. “The caption says it’s lingerie. You tagged the brand. It doesn’t offend me personally, but it doesn’t present you as the most serious job candidate, does it?”
“I told you that the orchestra called me in because of the Throwback List,” Jo said, possibly too sharp. “I’m sorry. Can we backtrack? I thought you were, like, morally opposed to social media. You still call Facebook ‘Fakebook.’”
“Well, publicly traded social media companies are morally bankrupt,” Wren said, lifting her chin. “But that doesn’t change the fact that they’re also valid news outlets.”
“Doesn’t…it…?”
Jo found the idea of reading social media without participating unsettling, a digital form of peeping. Jo loved the mini community in her comments, the people cheering her on and sharing their own happiness honeypots, but now she saw all the comments through Wren’s inherent judgment: strangers partaking of a false intimacy, leaving their approval in misspellings and meaningless emojis.
Jo’s tote buzzed. She reached inside, pushing past her bullet journal to get her phone.
“The orchestra?” Wren guessed.
Jo checked. Gia’s name was on the caller ID.
“One of my references.” She took the call. “Hello?”
“Jojo!” Gia shouted in Jo’s ear. “Where are you?”
Jo winced and turned the volume down. “I’m in Oregon, Gia. Where are you?”
“Can’t you hear the ocean behind me?” Gia pouted. “I am talking to your too-cute parents.”
“My parents?” Jo repeated. “Are you in Sandy Point?!”
“Yes! How have your parents not had their own post on the Throwback List, by the way? Your dad! Very Denzel.”
He wasn’t. At best, with the new gray in his beard, Phil was a LeVar Burton. Some people just had to prove they could list two good-looking Black men at the same time, even if the other example was always Denzel Washington.
Lo and behold, after Jo drove down the hill, there was Gia at the window seat of the Surf & Saucer. She had the same dye job with new change-of-life bangs. Jo’s parents were obviously spying from the other side of the room. Phil was pretending to dust the teapots full of surf leashes.
“They fired you!” Jo exclaimed as she sat down at the table across from Gia to avoid having to hug her.
Gia flicked her bleached-blond hair over her shoulder, eating individual sliced almonds from the top of a scone. “I would have quit, on principle, but I wanted to spend my severance on movers. While the paint dries on my new place, my sisters and I are taking a mini break here. Away from it all. Yoga on the beach in the morning. Blended drinks at Days at night. Totally inspired by you.”
“Seriously?” Jo inched her chair away from the table. “You actually came here? Because of my posts?”
“Oh, honey. Look at you. You look like I’m going to try to wear your skin. No, no, no. I picked here”—Gia knocked on the table and gestured out to the ocean—“because of you. But it was between here and wherever the Goonies house is. Somewhere halfway between home and Portland. My sister—you remember Rachel? She looks like me but older and plainer? Kidding! She’s overseeing a team of brand reps for my parents’ company right now, and she is in Portland—such a thriving bar market. I’m going to do the same thing in Tacoma. Anyway, she and our other sister are meeting me at our vacation rental. We’re staying in Waterfront Cove for a couple days, do you know it?”
“I’m familiar,” Jo said, not sure whether or not she was supposed to laugh. Did she know Waterfront Cove? Other than having her own getaway scheduled there, once, on a particularly boring weekend in high school, she and Autumn had watched the foundations of the suburb being poured, the two of them making up stories about the displaced ghosts of the demolished Waterfront Cove resort that would surely haunt the town from that day forward. She’d literally watched the cement dry on Waterfront Cove.
“I would love if you came and got a drink with us,” Gia said earnestly. Or, as earnest as she could be while breathlessly monologuing. She reached out and took both of Jo’s hands in a tight squeeze. “Because obviously I am ready to offer you a job on the spot, but you’re going to need to kiss Rachel’s ass a little. Mention how thirsty you are for sales goals and networking. Compliment her awful highlights—oh my God, you are not prepared, they got worse. I’ll pay for dinner. You come knock it out of the park.”
“You want me to come out for, like, a job interview?” Jo asked stupidly. “Over cocktails?”
“I told you that I would take care of you! I never got any reference calls, so I assumed you were still looking for a job?”
Stung, Jo sat back in her chair. A thousand pop-ups cluttered her brain—maybe the orchestra just needed more time, maybe Gia just didn’t check her voicemails often enough, she could be sort of flighty about that, maybe Wren was right and the lingerie shoot had ruined Jo’s chances to get back on track. Gia had once lost a job for being too fun. Maybe it was Jo’s turn.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jo could see her mother sneaking closer, pretending to bus a nearby table. It would have been more convincing if the table had been dirty.
“I’m still looking,” Jo told Gia. “Are you sure I’d make a good brand rep? I’ve never done sales.”
“It’s exactly what you already do, just a different job title,” Gia said, and Jo’s mom nodded in agreement before scurrying back to the prep kitchen. “It’s talking to people about products you like. You were selling things for the Q. You’re selling things on the Throwback List. You could sell boutique spirits. And the money is good. For you.” Her shoulders fell as her voice dropped to the least affected it had ever been. “I had to take a pay cut and eat the security deposit on my place. Fucking Devo.” She nibbled at an almond sliver like an agitated squirrel. Shaking herself, she gave Jo a strained smile. “Go home and get fresh. Your ponytail is looking ratchet. Meet us at Days at eight. Is it sing-along night?”
“Um, no,” Jo said. “It’s nineties night.”
“So much better!” Gia kicked Jo in the ankle with the toe of her snakeskin mules. “Cheer up, Jojo! Your ticket out has arrived! I mean, this place is adorbs, but you don’t want to get stuck in the boonies before the Goonies, do you? You came here to kill time. Consider it slayed and move on.”
COMPLETED ITEMS
TP Bianca’s house
Perform onstage
Get belly button pierced
Redo the yearbook prank
Eat the giant sundae at Frosty’s
Host a dinner party
Pose like a pinup girl
Get a pet
Learn an entire dance routine
TO BE COMPLETED
Surf the Point
Have a glitter fight
Get stoned
Try everything on the menu at Days
Do a keg stand
Play hide-and-seek in public
Break something with a sledgehammer
Climb the giant anchor on the boardwalk (and survive)
Get a high score at the boardwalk arcade
Have a bonfire
Eat breakfast
at midnight
Dig up the time capsule
AUTUMN: You guys, the seniors showed Pat the new 9 to 5 choreo during rehearsal today. They didn’t even tell me they were ready! But they did such an amazing job that Pat agreed to put dancing back into the Senior Showcase!!
JO: Is there still room for me in the back row of the dance? JK, can you imagine my sister’s face if I tried to crash her end of high school show? Lololol
I am at Days waiting for a spur-of-the-moment job interview (long story) but I have to tell you guys: the cotton-candy milk shake is equal parts cotton-candy vodka, milk, and ice cream. I have ordered it. Flo says it’s going to turn my insides blue.
AUTUMN: I want to drink that!!
BIANCA: I don’t trust any job interview that takes place at Days. Johanna, are you safe??
JO: I am waiting for a girl who called my hair ratchet earlier. If she doesn’t murder me, I will tell you all about it at the sleepover!
Seafoam Cottage—the name of the vacation listing on Ginger’s website and the Wi-Fi password—was the perfect setting for a girls’ night. Out front, rainbow wind socks fluttered in the breeze. Inside, everything was pastel, soft, and inviting. Birch logs were stacked in the fireplace. Wineglasses were set out on the kitchen island. Ginger Jay had even left them the customary welcome basket of wine and cheese, despite their not being officially booked guests.
Rather than making them go through the vacation-rental website, Ginger had marked the house unavailable for a day in exchange for Autumn doing a week of cleanup between guests over summer break. The busy season. Autumn was more than willing to trade her labor for her friends’ openmouthed surprise.
“Wow,” Jo said, standing stock-still in the middle of the foyer. “I saw the pictures of the house Gia rented from your stepmom, but this place is too nice to be in this town.”
“I have a mom. Ginger is my dad’s wife,” Autumn corrected lightly as she dropped her suitcase behind one of the low pale-blue sofas. “She says that people always want luxury on vacation, even if it’s just knowing that the sheets are better than the ones they have at home.”
“Look at these beautiful hardwood floors! And that couch!” Bianca said. “The chandelier is the same color as the outside! Okay. It’s official. This place is cuter than Florencio’s.”
“High praise!” Autumn said with a rush of pride.
Like anyone staying in a vacation rental, the girls’ first order of business was to open every door downstairs to see what was behind them.
“Florencio’s house is cute?” Jo asked, having located a downstairs bedroom. She reported its ocean view and coral lamp dispassionately. “It isn’t just a stack of dumbbells and posters of Rihanna?”
“Oh no. Flo’s house is adorable, just a little empty,” Autumn said. She looked inside a closet, empty except for wooden hangers awaiting coats.
“Melody wasn’t a good girlfriend, but she was a great interior designer,” Bee said. “She convinced me to paint my front door blue.”
“Who decides to be an interior designer?” Jo asked. “In Sandy Point?”
“No one who wants to stay long,” Autumn said. She found the downstairs bathroom and called it out. “But she did do a good job on Flo’s house before she disappeared into the night.”
“That makes it sound like either Flo murdered her or she Gone Girl’d herself,” Bee said, closing the door on the water heater. “Melody abruptly broke up with Flo and moved in with another dude in Seaside.”
“A taller dude,” Autumn grumbled. “So that was a whole thing.”
Bee and Autumn followed Jo upstairs. Rather, they followed Jo’s luggage, a dusty Disney Princess suitcase that Eden hadn’t been old enough to find ironically cool yet. When Jo had pulled the bag out of the front seat of her Mini, she’d announced, “Behold the glory of my girl Tiana front and center! My sister is never getting this back.”
“Bee, is your house cute?” Jo asked, glancing over her shoulder with one hand on the white railing. “Do you guys have the same layout as us? Two bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs?”
“Yes, but a rat’s nest is cuter than my house,” Bianca said, giving her watch an anxious glance as though expecting Lita’s face to appear and scold her. “My house is Birdy’s stuff piled on top of Lita’s stuff in a war for bad-taste dominance.”
“Where is your stuff?” Jo asked.
“My stuff doesn’t take up as much space as theirs. I have one overfilled vanity, most of which I brought in this box.” She lifted the metal travel case she was carrying in one hand. “For what Jo’s packing list called makeover montage accessories. I have lots of makeup and hair product. I have zero feather boas.”
“That’s totally fine,” Autumn said. “I made sure that the kitchen had wooden spoons to sing into. You never know when you’ll need an impromptu microphone!”
“Oh, I hope we all impossibly know all the words to the same song that happens to play by accident,” Bianca said.
“If I start dancing well, it’s demonic possession,” Jo said.
“We know,” Bee said. “We saw the “Mamma Mia” video and the 9 to 5 video.”
“Hey!” Autumn protested. “Jo did very well with her heaven hands.”
“Yeah, but my face did the sideways thing.” Jo shrugged. “All the comments are about how nervous I look. Little do they know my face is naturally awkward as fuck.”
On the second floor, the three fanned out again to open doors. Two small bedrooms and a hall bath.
Together, they explored the last bedroom.
“Oh my God, this place has a balcony hot tub and a separate Jacuzzi tub?” Bee called from the en suite bathroom. She reappeared in the doorway. “That is so needless, and I love it so much.”
“Why don’t you unpack in here, Bee?” Autumn said. She opened her arms and spun to show off the amount of space. “I mean, sleeping in different rooms almost defeats the whole purpose of the sleepover, but we’re all grown-ups and you’re entitled to privacy. That said, if anyone wants to bunk down in the living room together, let me know and I will whip us up a floor bed in a jiff.”
“We’ll keep you posted, sweets,” Bee said. “I might sleep like a starfish and fill whatever room I’m in with two years of farts. I have been on my best behavior since Birdy moved in, and it is killing me. I don’t have to have the biggest bedroom for that. Does anyone else want to stay in here?”
“I already sleep in an empty room at home. My whole house is a giant empty room,” Autumn said. She threw Jo a side glance, hoping for encouragement.
“Oh! Um yeah! You should have this room, Bianca!” Jo stammered to be helpful. She peered into the open bathroom. “After the way Autumn’s students and Dolly Parton beat me up this week, I couldn’t get down into that tub anyway. It’s sunken in. It would be wasted on me.”
“And I have to save Jo from the ocean view downstairs!” Autumn said. “You know how she feels about the ocean.”
“Hate it,” Jo agreed. “Yuck. It’ll keep me up all night with its dumb wet face…?”
“Fine, fine!” Bee laughed. “I will take this room. Thank you, guys.”
“Now that we’re done with the tour…” Autumn said, gearing up for her prepared welcome speech. She looked around for her suitcase. “Wait. Shit. I left my prop downstairs.”
“There’s a prop?” Jo asked.
“Remember who you’re talking to,” Bee said.
Jo nodded. “Of course there’s a prop.”
Autumn ran downstairs, rifled through her suitcase, and returned with the scroll she’d made with paper and dowels borrowed from the art classroom.
The scroll paper was dented from riding in her suitcase, but thankfully still readable. She unrolled it and held it aloft, like the town crier in Cinderella.
“Beloved besties,” she began grandly. “We are gathered together here in Seafoam Cottage to celebrate Bianca’s very first slumber party.”
“This is very elaborate,” Bianca said
, reaching forward to run a finger down the line of bubbled numbers in ROYGBIV marker. “Did you do this at work? Like, during work hours?”
“I gave up playing sudoku at lunch,” Autumn said evasively. She had also avoided grading some pre-spring-break quizzes in order to make the glittery bees around the border. “Can I go on reading the list, please? Ahem, Bee’s Very First Sleepover!”
BEE’S VERY 1ST SLUMBER PARTY
1. Pajamas
2. Cocktail hour + snacks!
3. Never have I ever
4. Makeovers
5. Dinner
6. Marijuana!
7. Chubby bunny
8. Charades and/or head’s-up
9. Movie marathon
10. Breakfast at midnight
*No phones** or flash photography, please!
**Yes, that includes your watch, Bianca!!
“I can’t take any pictures?” Jo asked. “What about just the outside of the building so that I can tag Ginger Jay’s company?”
“Tomorrow, in daylight,” Autumn conceded, laying the list gently on top of the lacy white bedding. “But the camera stays packed until then.”
“What in the fuck is chubby bunny?” Bianca asked with a grimace. She held on to her watch like she’d bite whoever tried to take it off her.
“You fill your mouth with mini marshmallows and see who can say ‘chubby bunny’ the clearest,” Autumn explained. “The most marshmallows wins! But everyone gets to eat a bunch of marshmallows, so no one really loses.”
“Didn’t someone die playing it?” Jo asked Autumn.
“Someone in the world, yes,” Autumn said. “Someone in Sandy Point, no.”
“Then it must be safe,” Bianca said. She frowned at the list. “The exclamation point after marijuana makes you seem like a narc.”
“Who could I narc to? Weed is legal in Oregon. I hope low-dose sour-apple gummies are good for everyone. I can’t sacrifice my lungs for the list—sorry, Jo—so I had Florencio pick out edibles that shouldn’t make us disassociate from our bodies.”
“Is that a thing that happens?” Bee asked, alarmed.
The Throwback List Page 20