“I’m a weird gal,” Amber says brightly.
“I like any holiday where there’s no school,” Bennett says.
“I like any holiday where there’s food,” Holden says.
“I like any holiday where lists are involved,” Other Zadie pitches in, and everyone laughs, the atmosphere getting a little warmer.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” I tell Marcus, stating the obvious.
“No way,” he says, sarcastic.
This is…not one of my favorite memories. I’m a little surprised that Marcus and I landed here, that the dream gods would send us to this night rather than, say, the night Jason and I exchangedI love yous.
“So what’s on the agenda for this Not-Party?” Holden asks.
“Scary movies? We are in a freaking cinema,” Mo points out.
Jason, never one to let a compliment on his state-of-the-art home theater system slide, says, “Yeah, everything in here is the best on the market right now. The speakers, the seats. The screen is the big thing, though—here, let me show you the picture quality.”
Other than soccer, the only thing Jason will geek out over is technology.
In answer to no one’s question, he picks up the remote control and points it at the television, and the screensaver image, a ring of blue poppies, disappears from the giant television screen.
“Did you see that?” I ask Marcus. “It was those flowers again.”
“Uh, no,” Marcus says.
“Some of these movies aren’t even officially out yet, but you can see them in insane quality. Whatever you want to watch,” Jason is saying. He flicks through a list, calling out some titles.
“I’ve seen all those,” Amber says. Coming from a similar wealth bracket, she’s the least impressed by extravagance.
“Does anyone want to just talk?” Zadie offers, her voice pitched high like she’s surprising herself just as much as everyone else.
“God, really?” Jason doesn’t just seem uninterested; he seems annoyed. But Bennett is on Zadie’s side.
“I’m down.”
Amber nods. “Yeah, let’s do that!”
Holden groans. “I’m feeling the emptiness of the amounts of booze I am not currently drinking.”
“Holden, grow up,” Mo says. “Let’s take a vote.”
By a vote of four to two, sitting and chatting wins. A resigned Jason turns off the television and slumps into a theater seat.
When the six of them eventually lower themselves to the ground, passing snacks between them, Marcus gives me an incredulous look. “Cartwright, tell me we’re not here to watch these peopletalk,” Marcus says. “On New Year’s Eve. In a dream world where we can probably fly.”
I focus on Other Zadie and Jason and our friends. “Shhh, I’m listening. Maybe there’s something Jason or Zadie says that is significant.”
Marcus sighs. “Holden’s a dumbass, but he might be right just this once.”
“Shhh,” I say again.
“The rules of the game,” Amber says, “are that you can pick one person to direct a question to, and they have to answer with total honesty. Then, after they answer, they ask someone else a question.”
Other Zadie claps. “I love this. Our little truth circle.”
That night, I remember feeling like everyone could see straight through my attempts to be light and jokey, the attempts I’d been making for the last week. The last few months, actually. Fall, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas, then the prospect of a new year, the first without my father. But from the perspective of the real me, months older, I realize that nobody else can see what Other Zadie is feeling.
