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“Sure,” said Layne easily. Thank god they were going early.
“Then you can meet the other girls.”
It actually worked out better than she expected. Taylor and Heather were full of charm at the door, assuring her dad that Heather’s mom was going to be home from the store any minute, and did he want a cup of espresso? Taylor leaned on Layne’s shoulder and whispered loudly about never realizing she had such a sexy dad.
It was probably the first time Layne had ever seen her father blush.
“All right,” he said, jingling his keys in his pocket. “I should probably get back to Simon.”
Yeah, like he could get Simon to come out of his room. Layne stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Daddy.”
When he was out the door, Taylor giggled. “Dads are so easy.”
“Please,” said Heather. “All I have to do is wiggle my ass and my dad hands me his platinum card.”
Layne almost choked. She wiggled her ass for her father?
“Your house is amazing,” Kara breathed.
It was, too. Layne never wanted for anything, but her own house was traditional, all polished wood and marble. The back wall of Heather’s house was entirely glass, looking out over an expansive pool deck, with a view of the Severn River beyond.
Torches were lit along the patio, and the sound system was on low, one of those top-forty songs that sounded like every other.
Heather shrugged. “It’s all right.”
Taylor pulled a wine cooler out of the fridge. “Want one?”
she asked, holding out something peach colored.
Kara took it immediately.
Layne shook her head. But then she didn’t want to seem bor-ing, so she said, “Not yet.”
“I hear you,” said Heather, who didn’t take one either. “I hate being trashed before everyone gets here.”
“I say what’s the difference,” said Taylor. She pointed a manicured nail at Layne. “Now you,” she said, her voice sharp, almost challenging.
Layne flinched, suddenly ready for the worst. “Me?”
“Yeah. You. Hot rollers. Now.”
CHAPTER 22
Layne sat in a darkened corner of the pool deck, wondering when she could go home.
She’d entertained thoughts of some massive prank where they’d cut off her hair or throw her in the pool fully dressed. But Taylor and Heather had wrapped her hair in hot rollers for a while, then brushed makeup across her cheeks until she didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. When the hot rollers were pulled free, her hair fell in thick curls down her back, dark tendrils that looked like they belonged to someone else.
And then the party started, and they seemed to forget she existed.
The night was pitch-black now, the torches blazing against the sky. It was too cold to brave the pool, but a dozen students were crowded into the hot tub including Kara, who had to be on her fourth wine cooler by now. Layne had tried to talk her out of the second one, but Kara had screeched to stop being such a goody-goody.
Everyone had laughed.
That’s when Layne had found a place in the dark.
She’d tried mingling, but she didn’t know anyone here, and every time she approached a group, they stared at her in this confused way, like she was a random stranger who’d just wandered in off the street. At first she tried to join their conversations, hoping the awkwardness would dissipate. But she didn’t know much about sports, she didn’t go to parties every weekend, and she wasn’t on any of the committees these girls seemed to care about. Fall formal? Yearbook? Yeah, right.
Hey, guys, want to talk about the social dynamics in the Brontë sisters’ novels?
