Blue and Percy are on the porch steps. Blue is sipping the beer he has been nursing for an hour. Percy has his elbows on his knees, looking at the fire. I sit down on the step next to Blue.
Lucy was crying tonight. I want to know why, and a large piece of me hopes she’s not crying over some idiot. I take a long sip of my beer and stare at the fire. I’m going to sit on this porch with my best friends and finish my beer and not think about it.
Chapter 10
Lucy
Marahasmywrist.She is pulling me out of the kitchen and into the living room. The couch is pushed back against the wall. The coffee table is in the middle of the floor, and there is, on top of the coffee table, a person.
The person is the same guy who stuck his head into room 3B at the library and talked to Benson. Benson called him Stanley.
Stanley is barefoot in his unbuttoned button-down. He has a Solo cup in one hand, and his other arm is extended. He’s reciting the bridge ofAll Too Well.
“And I left my scarf—”
The room screams.
“—there at your sister’s house—”
The room screams again.
“—and you’ve still got it in your drawer, even now—”
Mara has fallen against my shoulder, laughing. Gianna is on the floor between two strangers’ legs, also laughing. Walsh is filming. Stanley, eyes closed, hand on his sternum, hits the next line clean and on key.
He opens his eyes and sees me. “Hey, tutor!” He extends the Solo cup. “You’re here!”
Gianna says, “It’s not your party, Stanley.”
He replies, “Every party is my party.”
Stanley, mid-bow, takes a step that is not on the coffee table, finds nothing where the coffee table is supposed to be, and starts to fall. Walsh and Carlson catch him under the armpits like a sack of laundry. The Solo cup goes one way. Stanley goes another. The bridge ofAll Too Welldies on the carpet.
The music swells back up. Whatever drink Mara has put in front of me is now in my hand. I take a long sip without checking what it is. Oh, it’s the punch. Now I have a beer in one hand and a Solo cup in the other. I am cracking up, laughing at Stanley. My head spins, and I can’t stop myself.
Mara grabs my beer and asks, “Where did you even get this? Do you like this?”
Stanley keeps belting the lyrics, and I keep laughing with the rest of the room.
Mara takes my cup, finishes the rest of it for me in two swallows, and hands me a new one. She is, at five-foot-three and ninety-nine pounds, a more accomplished drinker than I will ever be.
Gianna comes up on my other side with a third cup that she is not sharing. “Lucy, you’re doing great.”
The song switches, and what starts blasting is the first beat of my favorite song in the entire world. The only one that Gianna knows will make me dance because she’s my roommate and has the privilege of knowing random facts about me. She has held this song over my head like ammunition whenever I’m being agrump in the apartment. I have never danced to this song in front of another human being.
She turns to me. Her eyes are huge. “This is a sign!”
“You did this on purpose.”
She shakes her head. “I swear I didn’t. Mara,” she says, pulling her over. “Tell her that I didn’t request this song.”
Mara shakes her head. “No, we didn’t request anything.”
“See!” Gianna squeals. “It’s a sign. Come on!”
The first chorus hits, and they scream the lyrics at me at point-blank range.
Maybe Gianna has convinced me. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the inspiration from Stanley on the coffee table a couple of minutes ago. I don’t know what gets me, but I scream them back.
