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“It’s British,” she says, donning a terrible British accent.
“Ah, I see.” I put on my best British accent and say, “He’s a tosser!”
“A wanker!” she yells, still in a full accent.
“An arsehole!”
“A slag!”
“A knobhead!”
“A cu—”
“What are you two doing?” Trevor asks, cutting Mackie off as he and Hyla look between us.
“British insults, babe,” I say, still with an accent.
He shakes his head. “You two are nuts, but I’ll drink to that,” he says, raising what I’m sure is a thoroughly-spiked soda. Hyla raises hers too.
I raise mine and Mackie raises her cup of straight vodka, and we all drink.
And then we drink and drink some more.
Eventually, I start to feel both bored and antsy, and I want to go somewhere, anywhere, other than here.
I look at Mackie, Trevor, and Hyla. “Wanna get out of here?”
They raise their eyebrows.
“Uh yeah, but where are we going?” Mackie asks.
“Anywhere else.”
“Problem. We’re all too buzzed to drive,” Trevor says.
We look solemnly between each other. None of us have ever made the decision to drink and drive, and we never would, but given the severity of the car accident that happened recently, there’s an extra weight to his words.
“I know who we can call,” I say, after a moment, a smile growing on my face.
I grab my phone and dial Jesse.
“Rae Rae. What’s up? Thought you guys were at that party tonight?”
“We are, but I dumped Davey’s ass, and I wanna get out of here. Mackie, Hyla, and Trevor, too, but we’re all tipsy. Any chance you wanna come get us and go have some fun?”
I can feel his smirk through the phone.
“What about my brother and the rest of them?”
“You know how they get protective. I don’t want protective. I want fun!”
He laughs. “I’m on my way. Greg’s, right?”
“Yes, sir.” But then I add, “Hey, actually, meet us at the church down the road.”
“Will do. Ten minutes.”
“Bye, J.”
