“And cake! Like presents and cake! Noah! We should do the cake!”
“I got you a cake,” he said. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Aw. “Thank you,” I said.
“April, act surprised, ’kay?” Vi hoisted herself out of the tub.
I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself. “I think I’d like to be wearing clothes for my cake.”
She winked. “Party pooper.”
“Gimme two secs.” I picked up my dress from the dock and then ran back inside. I did not feel like putting the dress back on, so instead I pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. I removed the makeup that had pooled under my eyes, and brushed my hair. It was exactly twelve oh one. My birthday. Happy birthday to me! When I returned upstairs. The lights were off, and Noah was holding a cake lit up by eighteen candles. Seventeen and one for good luck.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you . . .”
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I was surrounded by over a hundred people, all singing me ‘Happy Birthday.’ Maybe I didn’t have a family to celebrate with. Big deal. I had a hundred friends to celebrate with. That was good enough.
After the song was done and the cake was cut, I still couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I squeezed Noah’s hand. He didn’t squeeze back.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
I pulled him toward me. “Thanks for the cake. And for the earrings. I love them.” I lifted my hands to touch them and felt . . . one. Not two. Crap.
I hoped he hadn’t noticed.
He noticed. “You lost one already?”
“I’m sure it’s somewhere,” I said quickly.
“Yeah. Somewhere in the Long Island Sound.”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. “I’ll find it. It’s probably in my room.”
He looked down at the floor. “Whatever.”
“It’s time for birthday shots!” Vi said, grabbing a bottle of schnapps, a handful of shot glasses, and squeezing between us.
“I’ll pass,” Noah said, then turned and walked away.
“Noah, wait—” I said, but he had already gone outside to the deck.
“What’s his problem?” Vi grumbled. “Why does he always have such a poker up his ass?”
“Vi!”
“He does.”
“Where’s the aluminum foil?” Lucy asked popping up. Then saw our glasses. “Me too!”
“Top drawer to the left of the stove,” Vi said. “Why?”
“I think Zachary deserves a tiara. Did you see that stomach? Whoa.”
“First we do shots. Marissa! Birthday shots!”
Marissa joined us, and Vi passed out the glasses. “To the birthday girl!”
“To the birthday girl!” they cheered.
“Thanks, guys,” I said, feeling teary. I loved my friends. Loved loved loved.
We drank.
“Again!” Vi ordered.
THREE SHOTS LATER
“Do you hear that?” Marissa asked.
Everyone around us was loud so hearing wasn’t so easy. Also my ears were buzzing.
But then I heard a distinct: WEEEooooWEEEoooo-WEEEoooo!
“My phone,” I said. It was in my back pocket. I took it out and looked at the display, expecting to see DAD, but then realized that it wasn’t actually ringing.
WEEEooooWEEEooooWEEEoooo!
“That’s not good,” Vi said.
The four of us rushed up to the window and peered through the blinds. Indeed, there was a police car driving down the block. It pulled up across the street from our house and stopped.
“Shit,” Vi swore. “Shit, shit, shit.”
My heart beat furiously against my chest. “What now?” They were going to call our parents. We were going to get arrested.
Vi put down the bottle of schnapps on the counter. “We’re screwed.”
“Everyone, shut up!” Lucy screamed. “The police are outside! Follow me out the back! Quietly! Single file! We’ll cut across from my house and disperse at the end of the block!” She hurried to the back and then waved at the crowd to follow her out. I spotted Noah behind her, beside Corinne and Joanna. Thanks a lot, Noah. I appreciate all your help.
“We should spill out the booze,” Marissa said. “Get rid of the evidence.”
Outside, a policewoman was getting out of her car. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“What about the huge mess?” Marissa asked, looking around the party. “It’s a war zone in here.”
“Let’s get rid of the booze first,” Vi instructed. “We can’t get arrested for mess.”
I nodded. At least I think I did. My brain was schnapped out. “Someone help me with the punch.”
Together the three of us lifted the bowl and carried it over to the sink and carefully spilled it down the drain.
“April?” Vi asked.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know you’re only wearing one earring?”
“Yes. I am aware. Thanks.”
“Next,” Vi said.
“Peach schnapps.”
Vi picked up a leftover shot from the counter and downed it. “One down. Your turn.”
I laughed then did as told. It burned. But honestly, if I was about to get arrested, I didn’t want to remember it in the morning.
“Guys!” Marissa hollered. “We have to get rid of the bottle!”
“Good point,” I said. “More shots!”
Vi poured me another and I downed it. “One more for good luck!” I cheered.
“No,” Marissa said, reaching for the bottle. “We should spill the rest down the sink.”
“No,” Vi whined. “Not the schnapps! Don’t kill the schnapps!”
As the two of them had a tug-of-war, I peeked out the window. The policewoman was in front of our house on our side of the street! And she was . . . talking to someone? Hudson. Hudson was here? When had he gotten here? Unless I was imagining Hudson? What did it say about me if I was imagining Hudson?
The policewoman had her hand on Hudson’s shoulder.
Oh no.
What if Hudson really was into something illegal? And now he had gotten caught here, right in front of Vi’s house? Would he go to prison?
The policewoman stepped back. And turned around. And walked back to her car. She turned off the siren and drove away. What the . . . ?
The doorbell rang.
“We have to spill it!” Marissa hissed, finally wrestling the bottle from Vi. “And we forgot about the beer bottles! And the cups! So many cups!”
“Wait!” I said. “It’s fine.” I hurried to the door and sprung it open. “How did you do that?”
Hudson smiled. “Do what?”
“Get rid of the police officer?”
He cocked his head to the side. “What police officer?”
“Don’t give me that,” I said, pulling him inside and closing the door. “I saw you talking to her.”
“She had the wrong address,” he said, shrugging. “She was looking for a house down the block.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “She was coming here to arrest us all, and then you talked to her and she—” I froze. “You didn’t promise sexual favors, did you?”
He laughed.
Wait. I got it. “Omigod. I figured it out.” I leaned closer to him and whispered, “You’re an undercover cop.”
He laughed. “I am?”
“Yes. Absolutely. That’s it. You’re investigating some crazy illicit teen ring at our high school! That’s why you’re always sneaking off at all hours. For stings. And that’s why you have so much money. You have an adult-person job!”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“A lot. But that’s beside the point.”
Vi and Marissa came over. “Is the cop gone?” Vi asked.
“She’s gone,” I said.
“What did you do, pay her off?” Vi asked.
“Yup,” Hudson said. “I slipped her a twenty. Where is ever
yone?”
“They snuck out the back,” Marissa said.
“The coast is clear,” Hudson said. “But you should try to keep it quiet here for the rest of the night.”
“I’ll call Aaron and co. and tell them it’s safe to come back,” Marissa said, dialing.
I poked Hudson in the chest. “You are undercover! Wait a sec.” I circled him slowly. “Are you even a high school student? Maybe your whole life is a cover. I never thought you looked like Dean. Maybe you’re like in college or something pretending to be a high school student. How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Hmm. Sure you are. And are you really Dean’s brother? Maybe that’s just your cover.”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll tell you the big secret, but it has to stay between you and me.”
“Yes! I can do that!” I screamed. I lowered my voice. “I can do that,” I repeated.
“Here it is. You want to know the big secret? Why Officer Stevenson listened to me when I promised her that you’d send everyone home?”
“Yes! Tell me!”
“Okay, but I’m swearing you to secrecy.”
“I swear.”
“You swear swear? Because my rep is on the line here, April.”
“I swear swear.”
“I can trust you?”
“You can trust me.”
“I’m only telling you because it’s your birthday. . . . Happy birthday, by the way. . . .”
“Thank you. And thanks for the beer. Now get on with it!”
“All right then. I babysit her kids.”
“You . . . what?”
“Babysit. Max and Julie. Max is six and Julie is three and a half. I sit for Officer Stevenson on Sunday nights so she and her husband can go to the movies.”
“You babysit,” I said disbelievingly.
“I do. But that’s our little secret, right?”
“That’s how you have so much money. From babysitting.”
“Babysitting is surprisingly lucrative. Fifteen bucks an hour, five nights a week . . . more in the summer and on holidays. I make almost twenty thousand a year.”
I almost choked. “That’s insane.”
“Well. No taxes.”
“That’s why I saw you at Ms. Franklin’s house?”
“Tommy and Kayla are crazy about me. I let them stay up late and watch American Idol.”
Talk about anticlimactic. “That’s it? That’s your big secret? You’re a manny? Why a secret then?” I threw my hands in the air. “Who cares?”
“It didn’t start off as a secret. I just didn’t mention it. ’Cause, whatever, I was trying to seem cool or something stupid. Then people started making shit up . . . and I don’t know. Dean thought it was funny.”
I wasn’t sure if I was buying it. “But . . . maybe babysitting is just another lie. I still think you’re an undercover cop.” Dean chose that moment to return through the back door I waved him over. “Dean! Your fake brother is here!”
“My what?” he asked. Aaron and Brett followed him in.
“Your fake brother. I figured out why he doesn’t look anything like you.”
Vi shook her head at me.
“What? I did!” I shrieked. “Hudson isn’t even related to him! He’s just using Dean’s family as a cover! That’s why he doesn’t look like Dean!”
I expected some laughs. Or a “Totally!” Or something. Not the flushed, embarrassed stares that I got in return.
“April, I’m not an undercover cop,” Hudson said. Then he laughed. “I’m adopted.”
Well. I turned bright red. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“I guess that explains it then,” Marissa said. She made a “you stuck your foot into it” face at me before deserting me for Aaron.
“No biggie,” Hudson said.
I covered my face with my hands and laughed. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. What an idiot. Why didn’t I know that? Was that a secret or something?”
“No,” he said. “It just doesn’t come up often. At a party. Yelled across the room.”
“Riiight. I am really sorry.”
He leaned over to me and whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about being adopted.” His breath smelled like mint gum. “I suppose it should occur to me that people would wonder why Dean and I are so different.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I did wonder. Is it . . . do you know who your birth parents are? Is that a bad question?”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t know who they are.”
“Do you want to know?”
“Yeah. No. Both.” He laughed. “I might look into my adoption records next year when I move out.” His eyes burned right into mine.
“Wow.” I felt like we were connected somehow. We were both missing parents, one way or another. Missing, and not missing at the same time.
“April,” I heard. Crap. Noah. Again.
I stepped back and turned to him. “Sorry,” I said. And then wondered why I’d said it. Sorry? For talking to Hudson? For talking to Hudson about something real? Why was I sorry? Should I be sorry?
“I’m going to go,” Noah said. His face was tight.
I reached for his hand. “What? No.”
He pulled away and headed out the door.
“Noah, wait!”
I followed him outside. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re flirting with Hudson in front of me!”
My cheeks flushed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I was just talking to him. Why are you being such a jerk?” I screamed.
“Why are you acting like a slut?” he yelled back.
“What?” Had he really just said that?
“Running around in your underwear, hot-tubbing nearly naked with half the school, chugging schnapps and then holing up in a corner with that douche.”
It felt like he’d slapped me across the face. I staggered back, as though he had. “Fuck you,” I said.
We’d fought, but we had never yelled at each other like this. And he had never said anything so awful. I had never said anything so awful.
Noah turned and walked away.
I stood on the porch, reeling.
Then I went to find Hudson.
ON YOUR MARK, GET SET, GO
My mom once told me that the first thing a divorced man wants to do is get married again. Immediately.
She also told me that a man never leaves his wife unless he has another woman in the wings. She said people found running to something easier than running from something.
I guess that’s why she had the affair. To have someone to run to. Or to give my dad something to run from.
TEN THINGS THAT ARE CLEAR AT THREE A.M.
1. It’s pouring.
2. Hudson’s car keys are in Pinky’s purse. (Dean’s fault.)
3. Pinky’s gone.
4. Dean and Vi are in love.
5. Brett is out cold on the couch, still in his wet surfer shorts.
6. I am still missing an earring.
7. Zachary and Lucy—also missing.
8. I am very drunk.
9. Noah is an ass.
10. Hudson is hot.
THE AFTER-PARTY
“Hud, how did you get here?” Vi asked. The four of us were sitting on the couch.
“Got dropped off.”
“By?” I asked. My legs were on Hudson’s lap. My head was on the couch cushion. The cactus was moving. It had a white bra on it. Was that mine? I felt my chest. Nope. I was wearing mine.
He smiled. “Mr. Luxe.”
“Mr. Luxe, father of . . .” I began.
“Leo. Age six.”
I rolled my head from side to side. “Adorable, adorable, adorable. What did you do with Leo, age six?”
“Taught him how to play Monopoly. Had pizza. Read him stories.”
“I guess you two will have to bunk with us, too,”
Vi told the brothers.
“I call your room,” Dean said. “Unless you’re going to be a bitch about it.”
Vi laughed and kicked him.
“Hey, where’s Donut?” Hudson asked me.
Donut! My sweet little Donut. I loved Donut. And her teeny-tiny cast. I wanted to cuddle with Donut immediately. “Downstairs. Wanna come check on her?”
“Sure.”
As we walked down the stairs, I held on to the banister for balance. Had I really just invited a boy to my room? Yes. A boy who wasn’t my boyfriend? Yes. While I was fighting with my boyfriend? Yes. Probably should not have done that. Even if I wanted to. When we opened my door, Donut was curled on my bed. She purred when she saw us.
“Aw, when does the cast come off?” Hudson asked, looking at her hind leg.
“Two more weeks.” We should go back upstairs. But my eyes were heavy. My head was heavy too. Like a hundred pounds. Why was my head so heavy? Was Donut on my head? Where was Donut? Where was Noah? Noah Noah Noah. Ass. Douche. I hated the word douche. I hated Noah for using the word douche. And slut. He’d called me a slut! I couldn’t believe he’d called me a slut!
“Poor Donut,” a guy who wasn’t Noah said. He crawled over my covers and scratched under Donut’s chin. “You’re a little sweetie, aren’t you?”
Hudson! It was Hudson. Hudson was a sweetie. No, Hudson was a stud.
“Hi, Hudson,” I said, lying across my bed. Now my room was spinning. Maybe it would stop if I put my head on my pillow. No. Still spinning. But spinning more comfortably. Donut rubbed her ear against my hand. My jeans were too tight. I should take them off. But that was definitely an invitation. Was I ready to make that invitation to the guy in my bed who was not Noah? Maybe I could just take them off without him seeing. I got under the covers, unbuttoned them, and kicked them somewhere under the sheets. “Not an invitation,” I said.
Hudson had put his head down on the mattress. “I should go,” he said.
He was lying in the bed beside me. In my bed. This was wrong. I knew it was wrong. I had no pants. Maybe Noah was right about me.
“Go where?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. He stood up.
No. Do not go. He could not go. “Stay,” I ordered. “You have to listen to me. It’s my birthday.” Maybe I should make Noah right about me.
He paused over me. “Well . . . let me turn off the lights.”
MY MOM’S AFFAIR
I never told my dad what I heard. The dirty talk on the phone.
Ten Things We Did (and Probably Shouldn't Have) Page 20