by Robin Mellom
“Trying to find my friends!” I yel ed over the music, glancing around the room to find Al yson. I figured if she wasn’t here either, I’d have my answer as to where Ian had gone.
But nothing. She wasn’t anywhere to be found. Was she with him? My heart thumped double time. My fists clenched al on their own—my body was on autopilot. And it wanted to strangle.
“Strangle what?” The drunk guy asked.
I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud. “Ha,” I said. “Um, not strangle. I said . . . strangers. There are a lot of people here I don’t know.”
And sure enough, as I glanced over at the balcony, I realized I didn’t recognize anyone around me. No Al yson.
No Brianna. No one from Huntington High at al .
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Wait. Was this the wrong party?
“What’d you say?” He was confused by me. The guy leaned down toward me so he could hear better, but he was clearly unaware of the concept of gravity as it relates to angles of beer cups. He poured half his Budweiser down the front of my dress.
“I’m sorry!” He laughed, but stil managed to seem sincere. “Here, lemme clean you up.”
He didn’t bother to grab a towel, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt, so he reached out to wipe me down—with his bare hands! It was possible he copped a feel (I wasn’t sure . . . my Miracle Bra was ultra-padded) before I pushed his hands away.
“It’s okay. I don’t need help.” I lifted his chin so he’d concentrate on my words. “What party is this?” He raised his hands in the air, spil ing the rest of his beer on his head. “The best party in the world, gorgeous!” And then he howled, of course.
“No, I mean what school?”
“Ledbetter. Go Wolves! Hey, aren’t you in my geometry class?”
No wonder there was so much howling going on around here.
Then Officer Andy’s question popped into my head. The Hampton Inn west? But it didn’t make sense—why did Ian drive right by it?
“Wait, are there two Hampton Inns?” 216
“Sure,” drunk guy said. “But the one on the east side of the highway sucks. Don’t go there. It’s attached to a Big Boy, but it closes at midnight. Plus those Huntington High dickheads are partying over there. You should stay here—the west is the best—we’re attached to an IHOP. Open twenty-four hours, baby!”
Oh good god, leave it to this ridiculous town to have the same hotel on both sides of the highway.
He leaned into me, almost fal ing over my feet. “Hey, wanna go get some pancakes?”
Of course I did.
But I had to get to Ian. That was why he drove right past me—he was going to the east-side Hampton Inn. He may have cal ed her at the In-N-Out Burger, but he was looking for me, not Al yson.
I told my new drunk friend I’d go get him a refil , and pushed my way out to the balcony. The Mikes were deep in conversation with a guy holding a four-foot beer glass.
Serenity and Bliss were gone.
Ugh. When wil the Gods of Simplicity take over?
“Mike, where are the girls? We have to go!”
“We just got here.”
“This is the wrong party.”
“No, repeat after me.” Mike scrunched his eyebrows, looking very determined. “The motto is: any party is the right party.”
“No.” I put my hands on his shoulders, hoping he would 217
concentrate on the importance of the words I was about to say. “The right party is the one Ian’s at. The Hampton Inn.
East.”
“There’re two?”
I nodded. “And there’s a Big Boy attached.” I didn’t mention it would be closed, but we could make amends later.
“Let’s get another party started!”
The Mikes waited for me while I searched for Serenity and Bliss. Luckily, it wasn’t hard to find them; they were in the bathroom sharing a cigarette (not real y a cigarette).
“We have to go,” I said. “We’re at the wrong party.”
“This party is bitchin’!” Bliss yel ed as she pumped her fist in the air. “Didn’t you see the guy running around in his underwear?
“Which one? Not many people are ful y dressed out there.”
“The one wearing a motorcycle helmet. The Barracuda!” she yelped.
“Who?”
Serenity rubbed the joint out in the sink and calmly explained. “Frankie Aruda. We cal him The Barracuda. He’s a loon, man . . . gets crazy cash from the government. He’s my biology lab partner.”
Bliss threw her hands in the air. “Barracuuuuda! ” Serenity moved in closer to me. “Every once in a while the Barracuda stops taking his meds and gets drunk enough to feel the need to strip down to his motorcycle helmet and 218
tighty-whities. Bliss looks forward to this event.”
“Huh.” I wasn’t real y sure how else to respond.
Normal y I would fold and stay at a party I didn’t want to stay at just to avoid a problem, but I was done being Miss Accommodating.
“I’m leaving,” I said.
Serenity looked at me, a slow smile growing across her face.
“I have to find Ian. He’s looking for me.” I glanced at myself in the mirror, stained and wretched. “He’s going to be disappointed, though.”
Serenity pul ed a brush out of her insanely large purse and combed my hair until it shined. “Let’s go.” She smacked me on the butt and nudged me out the door.
But as soon as we opened it, we were overtaken by the sights and sounds of the Barracuda. He was wearing only a motorcycle helmet and tighty-whities, just like Serenity said, and he was on top of a table dancing.
Earlier in the evening, I hadn’t quite understood Bliss’
fascination with male anatomy and stir-fry vegetables. But when my eyes drifted down . . . Oh. My. God.
I suddenly forgot why we were leaving. My cinder-block feet were planted. I couldn’t move. Bliss was so happy she was shivering.
“Let’s go!” Serenity yel ed.
But we were frozen. A combination of disbelief and pure, unbridled state-fair-winning-penis curiosity.
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“Look away!” Serenity grabbed us both by the shoulders.
“We’re leaving. Justina is going to find Ian,” she explained, like we were toddlers. “We are al going to find him. Now march!”
And my group of the world’s best refrigerator magnets escorted me out to the car.
As we pul ed out of the parking lot, the Mikes and the girls leaned out their windows and howled back at their balcony friends. They seemed determined to have fun whether they were coming or going.
When we got to the east-side Hampton Inn, it was déjà vu. More screaming from the second-floor balcony. Only this time they weren’t howling, they were barking. (We are the Huntington High Bul dogs.)
And just like on the west side, the Mikes and their dates skipped into the party while I stayed behind to lock the car.
And unbelievably, I heard it again: the rumbling diesel engine of Ian’s Mercedes. I got up on my tiptoes and saw him backing out of a spot on the far side of the parking lot.
He was leaving!
“Ian, no!”
I ran across the lot, screaming his name, waving my arms, looking like a complete loon who gets crazy cash from the government.
He took a left and squealed out. Was he going back to the other Hampton Inn?
Oh no, this can’t be happening again. No, no, no!
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The heel of my shoe stuck in the grass of one of the medians, causing me to fal into a pitiful heap on the ground.
My body crumpled like I was covered with a wet blanket.
As my limbs became useless, my purse splattered to the ground, and out popped my cel phone, flipping and somersaulting and landing just on the edge of a sewer drain.
I flopped over on my stomach and lunged at it, but— tink, clink. Gone.
My only way to communicate with Ian was now at the bottom of a sewer drain. And his car lights were
getting smal er and smal er in the distance.
I needed something to throw at his car, anything to catch his attention and make him turn around!
In an act of desperation— extreme desperation, I’m ful y aware—I used the one and only thing I could to use as a projectile. I tore the daisy ring from my finger, took aim, and launched it at his car. And missed by a good fifty feet.
The ring hit the pavement. But I had no idea where.
I wandered aimlessly between cars, bending down to look under wheels while I murmured angrily to myself.
Stupid. Stupid! What is wrong with me?! He told me to meet him here, so I went to a tattoo parlor?! And why the hel did I throw my ring at him?! I couldn’t have thrown a shoe? These dumb, tanker-sized things are stil on my feet and I didn’t think to throw them instead?! And now it’s an hour past my curfew and . . . wait . . . AN HOUR PAST MY CURFEW?!
Al I could do was hope that Mom was in a deep sleep, 221
because I knew there’d be no way I could get the girls and the Mikes out of this party any time soon. Given the amount of beer that was sitting on that balcony, this was going to be a party they would dedicate some time to.
The Gods of Extreme Complication had clearly taken over my case.
Ian was gone. My phone was gone. My ring was gone. I was wandering in the Hampton Inn parking lot murmuring to myself, so clearly my dignity was gone, too.
Didn’t he know I would be looking for him?
No.
No, no, no.
I’m coming to find you, Ian.
Luckily, I found Serenity sitting on a love seat in the corner of the hotel room, oblivious to the mass of drunken people around her, pushing buttons on her phone.
“Here are the car keys. I’m not staying.” But she was busy, and only said, “Mmm-hmm.”
“I’m going to go find Ian. I’m going to walk if I have to.
I wil wander the streets forever.” Stil no response. “Like Cain. In Kung Fu.”
Stil nothing, so I gave up and scooched next to her.
“What are you doing?”
“Talking to Mike.”
“Where is he? Did he leave?”
She shook her head. “Over by the keg.”
“Then why don’t you just walk over there?” I glanced up, 222
and sure enough Mike was pushing buttons on his phone.
“We’re sexting. So hot. Look at this one.” I looked away. “Seriously. I’m leaving.” I jingled then dropped the keys next to her to make sure I got her attention.
“No you’re not. We’re here to find Ian.” She looked up from her phone and glanced around the room. “Where is he?”
“He left. Squealed out of the parking lot right as we came in,” I said, in a pretend-happy voice. “He must be going back to the other Hampton Inn. He’s looking for me and we keep missing each other—we are a living, breathing country song.”
“What? He was going to meet you here!”
“Oh! And my phone is at the bottom of the sewer drain.” My voice was high-pitched and singsongy and sounding seriously insane. “And I threw my daisy ring at him and lost it in the parking lot. The one thing I had to remind me I was his girlfriend almost. And it’s lost.”
“Oh, Sweetness.” She put her phone down and hugged me. “Wait. My phone! We can cal him with mine! What’s his number?”
Serenity, the bril iant one. “Awesome! It’s Two!”
“What?”
Oh no. I had put him on speed dial and Two was al I could remember. “I . . . I don’t actual y know his number.” I dropped my head. “Can you believe that? How could I not know his number?”
She draped her arm over me and sighed. “Stupid phones.” 223
I took in a few deep breaths and pushed away the tears.
It felt like Ian was fading from me. My regular sane voice came back, but it was weak. “I don’t know if Ian and I are ever going to land in the same place. Why is this so hard for us? I just want what you and Mike have. Not the sexting—
wel maybe—but I want someone to be at my hip. I want someone to cal me by my essence.” She laughed. “They do.”
“They who?”
“The guys, sil y.” She pushed back from me and we locked eyes. “They call you Sweetness because that is your essence.”
“Real y? It’s not because I’m a party girl?”
“Hel no. You’re al sweetness, through and through.
They’ve known that for a long time.” She bumped shoulders with me. “And I think Ian has, too.”
“Then why do we keep missing each other? Why aren’t we human magnets?” I cried like a blubbering mess. “It’s my reputation, isn’t it? It’l never go away.”
“What reputation, sil y?”
I wiped the snot from my nose with the back of my hand.
“Last summer at Jimmy DeFranco’s party”—I took a deep breath, scared to tel her the rest. So I closed my eyes and let it out—“I kissed two guys in one night.” She laughed. Like a big, deep, horse laugh. “You don’t even want to know what I’ve done with two guys in one night. Bliss and I used to play that game. I understand. I’ve kissed a lot of guys.”
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“But why’d you stop? Why Mike?”
“This one weekend, Bliss and I went to the lake. We were standing in line to rent inner tubes, and Mike introduced himself.” She tapped her finger on her cheek, taking her time to enjoy this memory. “My hands were ful , and he offered to carry mine. And that was it. Isn’t that stupid? Something so smal .”
It wasn’t stupid. I knew exactly what she meant. Ian did look good the day he wore that green shirt, it was true. But it wasn’t the shirt that changed everything. It was the licorice and Motrin. He knew when I most needed help.
He always gave me what I needed.
Peanut butter cookie.
Daisy ring.
That crease.
It never was the green shirt.
Serenity put her phone away and watched Mike as he fil ed cups and handed them out. “It’s easy with Mike. Al of it. I don’t worry we’l run out of things to talk about. I don’t worry whether or not he thinks I’m hot.” She looked across the room and winked at him. “With him it is seriously no worries.”
I took a deep breath, feeling the same way. With Ian, I never had worries. Not until tonight. “There has to be a reason Ian left, right?” I grabbed her by the arm. “Tel me there’s a good reason.”
“There’s an explanation. There always is.” She looked at 225
me with gleaming eyes. “Wait here. I’l go see what Mike knows.” She stood, then put her hand up like a stop sign.
“Don’t. Move.”
I sat frozen and watched Serenity walk over to Mike. But he immediately attacked her, and they started making out.
This must be the effect of sexting . . . uncontrol ed public displays of affection. Extreme affection. It looked as though Serenity had already forgotten why she’d gone over there in the first place. Wow. Graphic.
Sitting on that love seat by myself, I felt smal . Defeated.
Alone. I either needed to find Ian or go home.
“Want a slice?” It was Al yson, standing at my feet as she held out a piece of pizza.
The sudden appearance of pizza near my face caused my stomach to growl like a pit bul .
Double damn.
I was starving, and it was veggie—the only kind I eat—
but I wasn’t about to take pizza presented by Al yson Moore.
Because then I’d have to thank her. And make eye contact with her. And not inflict bodily harm on her.
No way. I couldn’t do it.
But I was secretly relieved. At least she was here, in this room, and not with Ian.
“I’m glad you final y made it to the party. We were getting worried.”
“We?” My adrenaline started flowing. I popped up off the sofa and faced her. “As in you and Ian?” 226
“Everyone. And yeah, Ian.”
> Oh, no. Here we go. “You talked to him. You did.”
“You turned your phone off.”
“So did he!”
“But he turned it back on and now he can’t get a hold of you.”
That was it. Some people have boundaries or lines or whatever. And this was mine. She wasn’t going to talk about Ian as if she knew him better than I did. As if she had knowledge of that crease.
“I was in the bathroom at the In-N-Out Burger, Al yson.
I know you’ve been talking to him al night.”
“We were planning this.” She motioned her hands across the room.
“Exactly. You were the one asking him for favors. You were making plans with my date!” I gritted my teeth, feeling the werewolf grow inside me.
She shook her head. “That’s not it.”
But I didn’t want to hear one word of her worthless explanation. “Back the hel OFF!”
She batted her eyes, stunned by my words, or maybe my growing sharp teeth, and she stood speechless.
I hadn’t pul ed her ponytail or pushed her into the pool or thrown a concoction of Herpes In A Jar at her—but I had made my point.
Damn, that felt good.
I sat back down on the sofa, gingerly, purposeful y, as if 227
I sat on sofas for sport. But when I heard Al yson’s perfect shoes walk in the other direction, I covered my face and started praying.
Help me find Ian. I need to get to him!
And then the Gods of Simplicity returned from their rafting trip and answered my prayer.
“Dude, it’s tradition, we have to go do this. Finish what we started.” Brian Sontag was in a corner, deep in discussion with this lanky guy named Boner—no one knew his real name. Apparently he got the nickname because of an incident that happened at Whitney Malone’s sixth grade birthday party at a bowling al ey. Something about a stuck zipper and a plate of cheese fries. I don’t know. I wasn’t there.
But the name stuck and we’ve been cal ing him Boner ever since.
“We’ve got to find someone to drive.” Brian shook his head. “Al yson doesn’t understand.”
Boner didn’t say much, but seemed in agreement as he picked at his Styrofoam cup.
Serenity was now hovering next to the keg, showing her texts to anyone who’d read them. I thought she was going to find out where Ian was, but her thoughts were on Mike, not me.