Our Year in Love and Parties

by Karen Hattrup

  Tucker, meanwhile, had been hovering on the edge of things. He’d introduced Suzanne to Erika and Marissa, and now the three of them were cackling together in the corner about who-knew-what, while Tucker was standing there alone in his not-quite-crop-top, telling himself to forget about them and just have fun.

  “Remember that kid who wet his pants and you saved his life? None of his friends saw. NONE OF THEM.”

  Noah had appeared at Tucker’s side, slapping him on the back. He recounted Tucker’s small-time heroics before asking him about school and work, then rambling on about his new band. He suddenly broke into a rendition of the Cave’s bastardized version of “Happy Birthday,” which—like some kind of rallying cry—brought everybody to the center of the room. As he finished, Tucker elbowed him.

  “You should have brought your guitar. You could have done ‘Shake It Off.’”

  That set off a chorus of groans. The song had been on a mix that played for six months straight, and the system was always glitching and starting over, meaning they’d heard it five times a shift until they’d all loathed it beyond words. Tucker could remember singing it in a falsetto one morning before they opened while Erika threw bouncy balls from the prize bin at his head . . .

  And now here they were again, those opening beats, playing thinly but surely. When he looked around to find the source, there was Erika, holding her phone straight up in the air.

  The two of them locked eyes, and then Marissa was tugging on Erika’s arm, trying to get her to dance, but she wouldn’t budge. Marissa took the phone from her, wielding it like a baton as she approached Suzanne, who joined her somewhat reluctantly, followed by Noah and some other girls. Mikey got in the middle, pretending to mosh.

  This was Tucker’s moment, what he’d been waiting for, but he couldn’t quite get there, not yet. Instead, he grabbed a beer and sat on the prize counter, scrolling through his phone like he had something important to check.

  And then suddenly Erika was there, boosting herself up and sliding in beside him.

  Tucker put his phone in his pocket and sat up a little straighter.

  “We spent a truly disturbing amount of time talking about Harry Potter, right in this very spot,” she said. “Remember how you were always putting spells on the customers with those toy wands?”

  Tucker was glad for the dark, because he couldn’t think of what to say, too busy remembering what he was like back when he knew her. A loud, silly kid with such an obvious and hopeless crush.

  “I like your girlfriend, by the way,” Erika said.

  Say thanks. You should probably just say thanks.

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  Erika glanced at him, looking skeptical. “So it’s complicated?”

  “No, no,” he said, louder than he’d meant to. “It’s nothing like that. It’s nothing at all.”

  As soon as the words were out, his mind raced to justify them. Technically it was true, right? It had always been true, and now it was more than ever.

  “Okay, okay. Didn’t mean to assume.” She shifted a bit to sit on her hands. “So where did you work this summer? Some place better than here?”

  “I was at my stepdad’s office. He’s an orthodontist. So, you know. Dumb stuff like making the retainers.”

  “Hey, retainers are very important. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  She had a little smile on her face now, and Tucker started to loosen up.

  “Oh, for sure. I would never undersell the importance of retainers. But to be honest, I wasn’t very good at it. If I ever end up murdered, go to the police and tell them it was Steph, the tech who had to fix all my screw-ups.”

  Erika looked down at her shoes and laughed. He loved that sound.

  “Well, I was at Applebee’s. Very glamorous. Hey, you know who worked with me? Nina Martinez. She’s your year, at Gaithersburg. Her older brother is Marissa’s ex.”

  Tucker whipped his head in her direction and then started rubbing his temples.

  “Un-fucking-believable.”

  “What?” Erika asked.

  “You know Nina Martinez?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s just . . . nothing. I . . . nothing.”

  Her eyes were on him with an angry glitter. “What’s your problem?”

  “No, no, no. It’s nothing bad. I shouldn’t tell you this. If you know her.”

  She was looking more pissed by the second, and it undid him.

  “My friend Bobby. He’s liked her forever, and he never tells me things like that, so I’m pretty sure he’s massively in love.”

  The tension in her face broke, and she bit her lip, considering him.

  “Bobby . . . Did he used to come in here sometimes? To visit you?”

  “Yeah. Black kid? Baby face? Probably never spoke to you because he’s terrified of women?”

  She laughed and looked at the ceiling. “I remember Bobby.”

  “I definitely shouldn’t have told you that. Please don’t say anything.”

  “I won’t, I won’t. I helped Nina get a job this summer, as a hostess.” Erika was smiling now, swinging her feet. “She’s pretty awesome, so I get it.”

  “Bobby did one project with her sophomore year, and now he can barely say hi to her.”

  Erika was laughing again. “Aw, Bobby. C’mon.”

  “Last spring—she was in our lunch period. I’m pretty sure he was timing his trips to the trash can, to bump into her. But then he’d just run away.”

  “Oh my god, stop it. You’re killing me.”

  And he was, he could see it in her face, a gentleness that had come into her eyes. He started swinging his feet, too.

  “Maybe you can subtly drop a hint to Nina that you know him, while you guys are delivering mozzarella sticks. Tell her that he’s really nice and good at math. Say he’s amazing in bed.”

  “Hold up. Now I’m kind of interested,” she said, glancing over with a different kind of smile.

  He adjusted his position on the counter and had to look away.

  “Erika Green,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Tucker Campanelli.”

  Hearing his whole name on her lips gave him a little rush.

  “So, are you heading back to school soon? Where do you go?”

  “Next week. I’m at St. B’s?”

  “That’s the place on the Chesapeake Bay, right? The little artsy one?”

  “You got it.”

  “That’s right where my dad grew up. My grandmother still lives there, practically around the corner.”

  “So you spent a lot of time there?”

  Tucker paused, looking out into the gloom. “Not really.”

  The music shifted then. The dance party hit a new gear, people moving closer, hips swinging lower. A smile crept onto his face.

  “I feel like you pulled that first song up pretty quickly. Do you have Taylor Swift ready to go on your phone?”

  She turned to him, scowling.

  “There are two kinds of people in the world, Tucker—people who say they like Taylor Swift songs and liars.”

  He nodded very seriously, like he was really taking that in.

  “Have you heard this one? There are two kinds of people in the world—people who think there are two kinds of people in the world and people who are smart enough to know better.”

  She tried not to laugh and ended up snorting instead.

  “Got you,” Tucker said, and as soon as the words were out, he regretted them.

  Got you was a little game they had played when they worked at the Cave. He’d say it any time he made her laugh, and she would say it any time she managed to embarrass him. Usually he got her a couple times a shift. She only got him about once a month, despite her near-constant efforts.

  But that was all so long ago, ancient history. He got embarrassed a hell of a lot easier these days. Right now, for instance. He was sure that he’d come on way too strong . . . but then he saw that she was smiling.

&
nbsp; “Okay, you got me, after all these years,” she said. “What can I say? Irony will get you everywhere.”

  “Not flattery?”

  “No, not flattery.”

  “All right, then. I won’t tell you I like your hair.”

  The music shut off suddenly, and Erika mumbled that her phone must have died and she should probably go retrieve it.

  She hopped off the counter, and as Tucker watched her go, he realized with a sad pang that the party was almost over. Mikey was kicking them out right at eleven, a good half hour before he knew the security company patrolled the parking lots all along this strip. This rendezvous with the Cave was coming to an end, and even though it had been fun, Tucker felt a little hollow. He’d barely hung out with Suzanne at all, and had officially given up on the idea that she might be here because she wanted something more with him.

  Talking to Erika just now—that had been something, that had felt special. But wasn’t she about to disappear from his life again?

  Looking out into the dark room, he wished he could keep that from happening. He wanted a little more from this night, some reason to keep it going, a way to hold on to the spell that had been cast by nostalgia and circumstance and glow-in-the-dark mini golf.

  Tucker took out his phone and typed a message to Bobby.

  Are you at Adam’s yet? Is Nina there?

  4

  Erika

  Erika had brought a charger cord in her purse, and she found a quiet corner where she could plug in her phone and wait for it to come back to life. She also wanted a chance to breathe, to re-center herself after that conversation, which had made her feel a little giggly, a little nervous.

  As soon as the screen was glowing again, Erika saw a message from her mom.

  Out late for once??? I am both happy and worried, because being a mother is terrible that way.

  Erika looked around the room, taking stock of everyone and everything around her. She liked how the darkness turned all the people into shadows, how it made everything seem secret and special.

  I’m with Marissa. We’re doing some light trespassing and checking out younger men.

  And I wasn’t invited?

  EW. Go join an old lady book club or something.

  I’m already in an old lady book club, remember? We can’t find anything we hate-love as much as 50 Shades.

  Ew, ew, ew. Goodbye

  Okay—I love you. Have fun, but be safe, but have fun?

  Erika fiddled with her phone and sighed. When your mom had to tell you to have fun, that was pretty sad, wasn’t it?

  Her mom and Marissa: they were the only ones who were really there for her during that darkest period. No one else had any idea of what it had been like, when she’d had the apocalypse inside her head, all this noise, noise, noise that was part anguish and part defense, her mind churning up horrible thoughts and then screaming at itself to drown them out. She’d spent weeks talking out loud when no one was there and screeching into pillows at night and driving the heels of her hands into her eyes whenever she remembered the very worst part, the part when she’d started going faster, her head bobbing. All of it had been too much for her to stand, and eventually she’d started pinching herself with her nails, leaving little crescent moons in her skin.

  It was Marissa who’d seen those and told Erika’s mom, and because her mom had wept, Erika had finally agreed to go to therapy. She’d talked a bunch of shit out and learned all these coping techniques, and she was better now, so much better. There were hurdles still, but they were stupid things, right?

  Kissing someone, that would be a start.

  Erika looked out again at the dim room. She raised her phone and took a picture, thinking there was a chance that this would be a night she’d want to remember.

  Marissa had taken up residence in the ball pit, was lying there like it was a nice, warm bath, the most comfortable place in the world. Erika climbed the ladder that led up the side, but she hovered at the edge.

  “Plenty of room,” Marissa said.

  “Not happening.”

  “It’s a ball pit, Erika. If you don’t want to come in, I’m going to develop serious concerns about your well-being.”

  Erika thought again of the text conversation she’d just had with her mom, then lowered herself down into the rainbow of plastic as nonchalantly as humanly possible. Marissa made her way over to Erika with a butterfly stroke, speaking in a dramatic whisper when she’d gotten close enough.

  “So how’s our little Italian friend in the crop top?”

  Erika sank slowly into the balls until she was entirely covered, muttering to Marissa that she was absurd.

  “Can you believe he’s as yummy in person as he was online?” Marissa asked. “That never happens. I mean, too bad about the girlfriend, who—I have to say—is delightful, if slightly terrifying. I kind of want her to follow me around and straighten out my life? She could pluck unhealthy foods out of my hand. Make me do my homework.”

  From her safe space at the bottom of the pit, Erika laughed. After a pause, she said, “Actually . . . she’s not his girlfriend.”

  Marissa went very still, then poked the top of Erika’s head.

  “So he randomly volunteered that information?”

  “It came up naturally.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that it did.”

  Balls flew everywhere as Erika resurfaced, and she and Marissa were laughing and flailing as they tried to get resettled. Wanting to derail this Tucker conversation, Erika asked about Marco, which set Marissa off on a tirade about the current state of their relationship, how he’d freaked out when she told him about the test, saying he would have been there with her. Erika half listened, making all the appropriate murmurs, while her mind was busy replaying the conversation she’d had at the prize counter, lingering on certain moments . . .

  Marissa had trailed off, and Erika realized she’d completely stopped listening. Right as she was about to apologize, Marissa broke into a grin.

  “Incoming,” she said.

  Erika turned in time to see Tucker crashing down beside them. The girls both screamed and then pelted him with balls while he begged them to stop. He had his hands up to guard his face, and because of that stupid shirt, Erika could practically see his whole damn chest.

  It was pretty cute, a little fuzzy.

  “Stop, please stop!” he yelled. “I need your help. Desperately.”

  Erika looked at Marissa, and by silent agreement, they ceased attacking him. Slowly, he lowered his hands.

  “I texted Bobby. He’s at a party and you-know-who is there, and if you two come with me, we can finally get them to have a conversation. PLEASE.”

  Erika turned to Marissa, who was wide-eyed and waiting for an explanation.

  “Tucker’s best friend is apparently madly in love with Nina, but he’s too shy to talk to her.”

  Marissa sucked in her breath. Then she used both arms to scoop up a bushel of balls and toss them joyously into the air.

  “This is incredible. We have to go. That’s what nights like this are all about—stars aligning! Didn’t Romeo and Juliet meet at a party?”

  “Indeed,” Erika said. “And then they died.”

  “Killjoy,” Marissa whispered.

  “I’m stating a fact. And can I also state for the record that I’m not going to some party to serve Nina up like a piece of meat?”

  Marissa scoffed, gestured at Tucker. “Did he ask for that? It sounds like he just needs us to facilitate some pleasant conversation that could lead to a meaningful, well-paced relationship.”

  Tucker was nodding, an earnest look on his face. “Exactly. Yes. That thing that she said.”

  Erika ran a hand through her hair like she was thinking, but what was there to debate? The whole point of tonight was to loosen up, and wasn’t it working? She was in a ball pit. She was laughing. She was maybe, kind of checking out a boy.

  “Fine,” she said, with the biggest eye roll she could manage. “Bring
on the star-crossed bullshit.”

  Tucker and Marissa cheered and high-fived, then started pelting Erika with balls. She batted them away, screeching, doing her best to act like it was the most annoying thing in the world.

  5

  Tucker

  Tucker sat in the passenger seat of Suzanne’s mom’s SUV, fiddling with a Magic 8 Ball that he’d swiped from the prize counter right before they left. He felt a little embarrassed looking down at it because he remembered playing with one at work, quietly taking some small reassurance every time it gave the answer he’d hoped for, when he’d obviously been way too old for that.

  “No one ever got one of these, not in the entire summer I worked there. You needed like nine million tickets. It was impossible. A total scam.”

  Suzanne stared at the road ahead and didn’t answer. He knew things had gotten a little awkward when he’d asked to go to Adam’s and explained that Erika and Marissa were coming, too, but now the atmosphere in the car shifted another degree.

  “Should I ask it if you’ll end up playing tennis at Northwestern next year?” he asked. “We know you will, so it’s a perfect test case, for whether this thing works.”

  He shook the ball, still trying to elicit a smile from her.

  “Did you guys work together for a long time?” she asked.

  “You mean all of us?”

  Before she answered, there was a pause, great and yawning.

  “Yeah, sure. All of you.”

  “I was there for the summer. People were in and out.”

  She nodded, then leaned over to spin the volume up on the radio. Beyoncé came on, raucous and joyful. A few seconds later, Suzanne turned it off with a slap.

  “You didn’t have to take me, if you didn’t want to.”