Of All The Stars

by Ally B

  “The Panthers?” I ask him.

  “Yeah.” He nods, snapping out of his daze and looking back down at his menu. “What’s good?”

  “It depends on what you like.” The restaurant is buzzing with a mix of chatter and game commentary as different sporting events play on every screen. I pull off my coat and fold it over my arm, setting it down next to me in the booth.

  “A lot of barbecue, huh?” He asks.

  “Their specialty.”

  “A barbecue restaurant in upstate New York?” He furrows his eyebrows in suspicion as he reads the menu carefully.

  “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, Carolina.”

  “I guess I’ll have to then.” He snaps his menu shut.

  The waitress in the familiar black apron takes our drink orders before buzzing away from the table and toward the kitchen. This isn’t the Paulie’s location we typically go to, but I’ve been to this one a few times.

  “Are you actually seventeen yet?” He asks, setting his menu down on the table.

  “Not until 11:57.” I shake my head.

  “That’s weird,” he says, accepting his drink from the waitress.

  “Thanks.” I give her a small smile.

  “What can I get you guys?” She asks, attentively holding a pen to her notepad.

  Graham looks to me, encouraging me to order first. “The Southwest salad, please.”

  On any other occasion, I’d be getting some messy sandwich and getting barbecue sauce on my face, but I opt not to for the sake of not embarrassing myself.

  “I’ll have the pulled pork sandwich,” Graham says. “With the fried pickles and the fries.”

  “I’ll put that right in for you, kids.” I watch as her blonde ponytail bounces through the crowd, walking back toward the kitchen.

  I struggle to think of things to talk about with Graham, but he’s luckily distracted by the game behind me.

  And we say not a thing as he watches the game and I watch him, watch the game until the waitress brings our food.

  “That salad is huge,” he says as the waitress sets our food down in front of us. His plate is nearly overflowing with pulled pork and oily fries. “You’re really gonna eat all of that?”

  I was. “No.” I laugh nervously. “I never do.” It’s true that I’ve never gotten a salad at the best barbecue restaurant in our area, but yeah, I was going to eat all of that.

  We don’t talk very much for the rest of the meal. Graham gives the food a six out of ten and raves about the barbecue ‘back home.’

  “You really don’t watch football?” He asks.

  “Nope. More of a soccer girl.” I say, pushing the remainder of the salad around my plate.

  “You’re missing out.” He shakes his head, returning his attention to the slow-moving game.

  By the time we leave the noisy restaurant, I’m almost excited to go home.

  The ride back to Emerson is nearly as dull as dinner was. We reach for the volume knob to turn up the radio at the same time, which is both awkward and somehow endearing.

  “Just this next street.” I point as we turn into town. “Then, a left.”

  But he just continues straight.

  “Oh, if you take a left here, you can get there too.”

  He continues wordlessly past that stop sign too.

  “If you’re kidnapping me, it was probably a bad idea to come back to Emerson.” I half-joke.

  “Kidnapping isn’t really my style.” He laughs as he turns onto Smith Street.

  “Happy Birthday,” he says with a smile as we slow down in front of Jackson’s driveway, already full of familiar cars.

  “What’s this about?” I ask him.

  “You had to have at least one high school birthday party.” He grins.

  I genuinely don’t know what to say.

  “You planned this?” I ask him.

  “Can’t take credit for that. Max and Violet’s plan, I was merely the diversion,” he says, parking before quickly unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out.

  I quickly do the same.

  “I told them no.” I shake my head as I follow him to the front door and walk inside. He grabs my hand as we weave through the crowd. Judging by the amount of spilled drinks on the ground and the discarded cans lying around, they’ve been here for a while.

  I spot Violet by the fire pit, and she shouts my name.

  Graham and I walk over and sit down next to Violet, Kendall, and Tommy around the fire.

  “Finally got you!” Violet shrieks. “Happy birthday!”

  “I can’t believe you actually planned this without me knowing.” I shake my head. “What happened to Vermont?”

  “It was all a cover story; your mom was in on it too! I actually had to text Max.” She shudders. “That’s a scary, scary emoji-less world I never want to live in again.”

  “Max planned something?” I ask her with a laugh, not quite as shocked as the façade I put on.

  “I know, right? He even added songs to the playlist, which I told him was totally against the rules.”

  “There were rules for this?” I ask her.

  “One, don’t tell you. Two, don’t touch my playlist.” She crosses her arms. “That was literally it.”

  “Hey, Pheebs!” I hear Max shout as he runs around the pool, sitting down next to us. “Happy birthday.” He grins.

  I roll my eyes as I stand to hug him, nearly setting my skirt on fire as I turn my back to the flame.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to work tonight.” Vi shakes her head, holding out a bag.

  I take it from her, digging through the bright pink tissue paper.

  “It’s just the outfit from yesterday. I can’t believe you didn’t figure this out already.” She shakes her head. “You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

  “She’s good at school. Absolutely no common sense.” Max butts in.

  “Okay, she’s a dumbass. We get it. Go change.” She instructs, pointing toward the house.

  I roll my eyes. “Be right back,” I tell no one in particular.

  I weave through the crowd and into Jackson’s house, avoiding the bathroom next to the kitchen and walking upstairs toward the one next to Jackson’s room. Everything is quieter up here and much less chaotic than downstairs.

  I can see the color-changing lights through the white curtains covering the bathroom window as I lock the door behind me. I pull out a pair of black skinny jeans and a black bodysuit. I mentally curse Violet for forgetting that it’s sixty degrees at the warmest in October.

  At the bottom of the bag, there’s a shoebox. I pull the box out of the bag and feel my heart drop.

  I know that the Doc Martens are at least a hundred and fifty dollars, I’ve had them in one of my online shopping carts for two years. More importantly, I know there’s no way that I’ll be able to give her a gift of the same caliber to make up for it.

  I pull off my mom’s boots and lace-up the Docs, pulling the hair tie out of my hair and staring at myself in the mirror. I pull my hair over my arms the best I can, desperate to hide the red bumps covering my arms.

  I feel like a scene kid from the early 2000s in my all-black outfit, but I leave the bathroom nonetheless, taking a deep breath before walking down the stairs toward the increasingly loud music.

  “Happy birthday!” I nearly run face-first into Ava as I turn into the kitchen. She’s wearing jeans and a white tube-top with a fluffy pink jacket over it, her long blonde hair in a messy bun and her brown eyes flicked with liner. She’s holding a raspberry White Claw in one hand, and an empty plastic shot glass in the other, and the way she stumbles over her own feet indicates that she’s probably had a little more than just those.

  “Thanks,” I say simply, feeling a bit awkward as people push past us in the dimly-lit kitchen.

  “Do you want a drink?” She stumbles toward the row of coolers. “Oh, you don’t do that, right?” She leans against the counter, knocking over a stack of red Solo cups.


  I begin to grab the cups from the floor, stacking them on top of each other before placing the pile on the counter.

  “I can clean up my own messes.” She sighs, leaning against the counter again.

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Parties aren’t really your thing, are they?”

  I shake my head ‘no.’

  “Cute outfit,” she says before abruptly walking away.

  “You too,” I say softly, walking through the already-open sliding door to go back to the fire pit.

  I set the gift bag—with my other outfit inside—down on the ground before sitting carefully next to Graham.

  “See? It’s cute!” Vi defends.

  “It’s October.” Kendall scolds.

  “Being cold is worth looking cute.” Violet shrugs.

  “Here.” Max quickly pulls off the green and blue flannel he’s wearing over his black hoodie, offering it to me.

  “I’ve got her.” Graham glares at Max, offering his coat.

  Violet stifles a laugh as Max pulls his hand back, the confusion on his face juxtaposing the anger on Graham’s. I look to Violet and then to Max as Graham puts his coat over my shoulders.

  “So, do you feel old?” Kendall attempts to cut the tension.

  “I’m not seventeen yet.” I shake my head.

  “When were you born?” She asks. “It’s almost midnight.”

  “11:57.” Max and I say at the same time.

  “That’s weird.” Tommy shakes his head.

  “I’m bored.” Violet declares, standing from the couch and turning to face us. “You guys are too sober.”

  “I’ll get drinks.” Graham offers.

  “Raspberry White Claw, or I’ll never talk to you again!” Violet shouts as he disappears in the low light to the other side of the pool.

  “How was your dinner?” Kendall asks as Vi sits back down between her and Jackson.

  “Good.” I lie.

  “That’s not very convincing,” Vi says while setting her empty White Claw can down on the edge of the gas fire-pit a little too aggressively, causing it to fall into the pit.

  Jackson quickly reaches in and grabs the can, chucking it into the pool.

  “You’re going to burn your hand off!” Violet shouts over the music.

  “Better than my mom being pissed at me when she finds that in the pit because I forgot it in the morning,” he huffs.

  “So, you had a good date?” Kendall changes the subject back to me.

  “Mmhmm.” I give her a slight smile.

  “That’s not very reassuring.” Vi raises her eyebrows.

  “Neither is the fact that none of you told me about this.” I turn it back on her rather than actually talking about dinner.

  “They weren’t exactly subtle about it.” Tommy chuckles.

  “You’re just a little oblivious.” Kendall grins. “A Graham-based stupor distracted you.”

  “Who’s that?” Vi points as an unfamiliar group walk through the sliding door, drinks in hand.

  “Holy shit,” Max mutters. “That’s Calvin Woods.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me.” Tommy stands, but Kendall grabs his hand and pulls him back onto the couch.

  “I’ll get him out of here.” Jackson sighs.

  “Who the hell is Calvin Woods? A forest or a clothing brand?” Vi slurs.

  “McArthur’s Max Sanchez,” Jackson answers quietly.

  Max follows him with his eyes as he walks around the pool toward us, a posse of blondes in tow. I squeeze Max’s hand, and I feel him relax. “Be nice. Please?” I ask quietly.

  “Just want to know why he’s here,” he answers quietly as they stop on the other side of the fire.

  “What’s up, boys?” Calvin grins, taking a sip from his red Solo cup.

  “Not much, you?” Jackson answers before either of the others can.

  “Heard there was a party, figured we’d come check it out.” Another boy speaks up.

  I notice people on the other side of the pool quiet down and begin to stare. It’s unfamiliar territory. Technically, McArthur kids are in the Emerson school district, so it’s not weird for them to be here, but they usually stick to the football parties. Football’s rival team is Blue Valley, so it’s not as weird.

  This is definitely weird.

  “People don’t show up to my parties unless they’re invited,” Jackson says, obviously finding some sort of amusement in the situation. He normally wouldn’t, but he’s clearly had a little more to drink than Tommy and Max.

  “I was invited,” One of the blondes speaks up, her voice wavering.

  “Not by me.” Jackson holds up his hands, looking around at the rest of us.

  “I’m so sorry.” I hear Gabby shout as she rushes toward us from the other side of the pool, Graham at her side. “What are you doing here, Emmy?” She asks the blonde.

  “You told me I could come.” The blonde defends.

  “You. Not the fucking soccer team.” Gabby corrects her.

  Graham begins to pass out his handfuls of drinks, handing me a red Solo cup of fruit punch with a smile before sitting on the opposite side of Max.

  “Let’s go, guys. I’m so sorry.” Emmy apologizes. Her face turns bright red as the others glare at her.

  “We’re already here,” Calvin says. “I’ll pay for whatever we drink. What’s the harm in a little fun?”

  “I don’t care what you drink.” Jackson sighs. “You guys good with this?” He looks to Max more than Tommy.

  “Don’t fuck anything up,” Tommy warns them.

  “What about you, Stanford?” Calvin asks Max, a cocky smirk on his lips.

  “Never heard that one before.” Max gives a sarcastic smile. “I don’t care what you do.”

  “I’m a little hurt.” Calvin presses his hand to his heart.

  “You should be.” Violet gives him a sickeningly, sweet smile.

  “You’re cute,” Calvin speaks up. “What’s your name?”

  “Not your problem,” Jackson answers before Violet can.

  “I love a good problem.” Calvin raises an eyebrow.

  “And I love a good soccer player.” Violet gives a sarcastic smile. “So, you can go.”

  “I don’t know if I’d be messing with Cruz if I wanted a good soccer player. Where are your offers to again?” Calvin asks him.

  “I think you’re getting a little too comfortable, Woods.” Tommy stands.

  “What are you going to do? Punch me? I wouldn’t even have to duck, and you’d still miss.”

  “Calvin…” A brunette with Instagram eyebrows warns.

  “Are you guys sober enough to drive? Or do you need a ride?” Riley appears out of nowhere.

  The group looks around at each other, all of them holding some form of alcohol. Even Calvin looks a little guilty as the group looks to him for instruction.

  “I haven’t had anything to drink,” Emmy speaks up, flipping her red Solo cup over to prove that it’s empty.

  “You don’t have your license,” Gabby says softly.

  “I have my permit. It’s just a few miles,” Emmy answers, obviously only meaning for Gabby to hear her.

  “You can stay for an hour. If you come anywhere near any of us, I’ll kick your ass.” Jackson’s threat is directed toward Calvin and obviously empty, he couldn’t hurt a fly.

  “I’ll drive them.” Gabby offers.

  “Don’t go.” Ava’s speech is slurred as she pushes through the crowd to grab Gabby’s hand.

  “My problem, A, gotta get rid of it.” She’s clearly pissed, jerking her shoulder out of the blonde’s grasp.

  “Careful, Gabby. Might hurt your pretty friend.” The dark-haired boy beside Calvin warns.

  “Did anybody fucking ask you?” Gabby steps toward the boy, causing Ava to lose her balance and nearly fall into the pool.

  “Sit, Av.” Max grabs her hand and leads her to his spot on the couch, essentially having to force her to sit before walking behind t
he couch. I can see his hand as he rests it gently on her shoulder.

  “Why don’t you guys go into the house? I think Jake is inside.” Gabby suggests to Emmy, still glaring at the boy.

  “Come on.” Emmy waves to the rest of the group, but they stand their ground.

  “Get out of here, Calvin.” Max seems more annoyed than angry. “Leave when one of you is sober enough to drive.”

  Calvin and Max make eye contact for a while before Calvin speaks up. “Let’s go.”

  “Happy birthday, by the way. Whoever Phoebe is.” Emmy squeaks before following the group around the pool.

  Conversations finally resume as they make it to the house, the entire party feeling like they’re letting out a collective sigh of relief.

  “How much have you had to drink?” Gabby asks Ava.

  “Not enough.” She giggles.

  “Max, get her some water?” Gabby lets out a deep breath, clearly pissed at her friend.

  Max walks toward the other side of the pool wordlessly.

  “I’m so fucking sorry. Emmy’s my neighbor, and I told her it was cool for her to drop by. She’s really a good kid. I doubt she even wanted to come. I should’ve asked.” Gabby rambles.

  “It’s fine, Gab,” Jackson waves it away. “Not your fault.”

  “Tell it to big boy over here.” Violet giggles. Tommy’s face is bright red as he takes a sip of something from his cup. If he were a cartoon character, steam would definitely be coming out of his ears.

  “Big boys had a little too much to drink.” Kendall stifles a laugh.

  “Just don’t know why the fuck they think they can come here,” Tommy mutters.

  “I invited them. Blame me.” Gabby waves.

  “You invited the one girl. It’s not your fault.” I reassure her before taking a sip of my drink. It’s weird for fruit punch, but I know Jackson’s dad is the same as Camila in his fascination with organic versions of every unhealthy thing in the world, so I think nothing of it.

  “Emmy’s really a good kid.” Gabby shakes her head. “She tries too hard with those guys.”

  “She lives on this side of town?” Kendall asks.

  “Right next to me.” Gabby sighs. No side of Emerson is poor by any means, but our side of town is the poorer of the two. Violet’s gated community is the only one on the east side, whereas the west side of Emerson is made up of them. Our parents are doctors and pilots, theirs are old money in oil and energy, or their families have owned a law firm since the Revolutionary war.