“I should have worn a bow tie,” he whined, pulling at his navy skinny tie. “Em looks so cool. I’m so lame.”
I tuned him out as we waited our turn for the valet. Abe was sixteen, and his birthday present had been this car, a respectable little Corolla my parents had bought from a used dealership in town. It was a little nicer than mine, a Honda that was a few years older. But I didn’t really care about cars. I think my mom was bummed she couldn’t drive her new Corvette, but it didn’t have a backseat. Plus I’d done some research, and although it was worth a lot, my aunt was right: it was supposedly pretty poorly made, as far as fancy cars go. They’d only made three hundred before they went back to the drawing board.
When it was our turn for the valet, Abe took his ticket and we got out of the car to the sweet smell of salt and flowers. I carried a small purse with my wallet, my phone, and Aunt Helen’s third envelope inside it, and part of me wanted the party to be over so I could read it. I couldn’t wait to find out what came next.
Except I had to wait, because Dad had grabbed me by the arm and was clenching me so hard I thought he might break something. He didn’t like parties. He was an anesthesiologist; he most liked being around people who were asleep.
Mom, on the other hand, was looking up at the Nautilus with wide, excited eyes.
“Everybody liked your aunt Helen,” she said proudly, looking around at the droves of people arriving and being ushered into the hotel.
I sympathized more with my dad. Neither of us were thrilled by crowds. They made me anxious; they always had. To be fair, a lot of things made me anxious. Aunt Helen’s first letter came back to me—I know things come a little harder for you—and I hated that she was right, that they did, that I could already feel my anxiety humming somewhere in the back of my throat. I coughed once, trying to dislodge it. But of course it didn’t actually work like that.
“It’s going to be fun,” I said to Dad, but in reality I probably sounded like I meant the exact opposite.
“It’s going to be fun,” Mom repeated, and she actually made it sound plausible. She slipped in between my dad and me and linked an arm through each of ours, leading the charge into the hotel, following the trail of candles to the ballroom.
It was unreal.
The entire place was lit by candles—they hung fromchandeliers and lined the walls in delicate sconces and crowded every table. They were the only decoration. A hundred million candles and white tablecloths and music from hidden speakers. The buffet tables were set along one wall, and a wide, open balcony surrounded the entire room. All the doors were open to the night, and guests moved from inside to outside, some with plates of food and others with tall skinny glasses of bubbling champagne.
“Holy crap,” Mom said. “Look at the food!”
She made a beeline for the buffet table, Dad following behind closely, looking terrified they may get separated. I headed to the balcony, suddenly needing some air.
It was a breezeless, warm night. The balcony too was lit by candles in mason jars, and it was less crowded out here as people moved inside to eat at the tables. I was wondering whether I could successfully sneak a glass of champagne when I felt something brush my arm. I turned to find Em beside me, holding two glasses.
“You’re a mind reader,” I said. “She told me to drink champagne.”
“Apparently I’m a mind reader who looks twenty-one,” she responded with a wink. Then, “Wait—who told you to drink champagne?”
Aunt Helen. And I would tell Em about the letters soon, but not right now. Right now I just wanted to try to enjoy myself.
“My mom. You know how she gets at parties,” I said.
We toasted and sipped from the glasses—
Which is when I discovered that champagne is disgusting.
“Oh nooo,” Em said, looking into the glass.
“Maybe it grows on you?”
“It tastes kind of like vomit? Or that moment right before you vomit.”
“Charming.”
“I thought it would be like... sweeter?”
“We can see if there’s something else.”
“Let’s pour these out for Helen,” Em said.
Together, we stretched our arms over the railing and overturned the glasses. The champagne spilled into the water, and I wondered how much of the ocean was made up of other things. Diluted other things, but other things nonetheless.
Em took my glass from me and disappeared inside again.
And because pouring out my champagne made me miss Aunt Helen, I took the third envelope from my purse and opened it before I was supposed to.
