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“What?!”
“Yeah. I can be nice.”
“It’s not you we’re worried about,” Amanda says.
“You don’t think I could take Heidi?” I roll my eyes. “Please.”
“Who would win in a fight?” Lucy asks, lost in thought.
“Amanda,” Micky answers.
“She’s not fighting,” I tell her. “Tell her to come over and that I want to fight her. I’ll set up a ring in the back yard. We can settle this right now.”
“Really?” Lucy says, her eyes wide as she sits up higher. “Fuck yes!” She’s excited. Way too excited.
Amanda laughs.
“I was kidding, Luce. Calm down,” I tell her.
“You really want me to tell her to come over?” Micky asks, her thumb hovering over her phone.
“Yes.”
“Okay. It’s your funeral.” She answers the call and brings the phone to her ear. “Hey.” Pause. “Yeah, we’re at Riley and Dylan’s.” A longer pause. “Book club. But Riley said you’re welcome to come over.” An even longer pause. Micky’s eyes shift to me. “She wants to fight you.”
My jaw drops.
Micky laughs. “I’m kidding. We’re just sitting around now. Amanda killed the book for everyone.” The longest pause in the history of the world. “Sure. I’ll text you the address.” She hangs up and drops the phone to her lap. “She’ll be here in fifteen. She’s bringing gloves.”
“Gloves?” I ask.
“Boxing gloves.”
“Fuck yes!” Lucy shouts, now on her knees, her arms raised in victory.
Micky laughs. “I’m kidding, Luce.”
“Stop messing with my emotions!” Lucy yells.
Fifteen minutes later, Heidi shows up, causing the most awkward half hug in the history of half hugs. She’s carrying a huge duffle bag and holding a plate of brownies. “What’s in the bag?” I ask her, hoping to God she didn’t plan on staying the night. “Just cosmetic stuff.” She shrugs. “I know this is your night—the whole book club thing… it’s just that I don’t really read so…”
I return her shrug. “Cool.”
She nods. “Cool.”
“Hey,” Lucy whispers, her eyes already half hooded from the booze. “Are you guys going to fight? Because I need to make room on my phone to record it. And if you do could you do it in your underwear? Cameron and I would really appreciate it.”
Ten minutes later and a now empty plate of brownies, we’re all lying on the floor. I’m light headed, and the room is spinning, and Lucy is loud. So damn loud.
“I could eat an entire truck of faces,” she says.
“Me too,” Amanda says.
Micky adds, “Did you guys watch that thing on the thing about the lady who eats her hair?”
“But did she die?” Heidi asks.
Lucy says, “My hair smells like the morning dew on a holy sunset and praying elephants.”
I sit up quickly, gasping, and looking at Heidi. “Where did you get those brownies?” I ask.
She sits up too, a lot slower than I did. “They were in my fridge. They weren’t that good. My mom sucks at baking.”
“Heidi.” I shuffle on my knees until I’m in front of her. Reaching out, I shake her shoulders, hating that her hair stays as perfect as her face while I do it. “Is there weed in those brownies?”
She slaps my hand away, scowling at me. “Why the hell would there be weed? It’s just my parents at home. Why would they have weed brownies? Why is it called weed? And what is brown?”
Amanda chuckles. “Heidi’s parents are stoners.”
“Shut up,” Heidi retorts, her face paling as realization sets in.
Mikayla gasps. “We’re stoners!”
Heidi clicks her tongue. “You’re all full of shit,” she says, swaying on her feet when she stands up. She walks over to her gigantic bag. “Let me do your face now.”
“With your vagina?” Lucy asks.
“Luce!” Heidi squeals.
Lucy sighs. “I have such strange lesbian tendencies. I apologize.”
We all giggle like schoolgirls, watching Heidi attempt to apply make up on Mikayla’s face.
“You look like a clown!” Amanda shouts. She’s louder than Lucy.
“A sexy clown,” I add, seeing Micky’s frown.
“You look like a fucking whore!” Lucy yells.
Micky gasps. “Fuck off. I’d rather be a lesbian with Roxy than with you!”
Lucy’s gasp matches Micky’s. “That was a low blow.”
Micky’s gaze drops, her frown back in place. “It was. I’m sorry.”
“Who’s Roxy?” I ask, fisting a bunch of compacts in Heidi’s bag. I pull them out and drop them on my lap. Then I open one—blue eye shadow. I smear it across my lips and find a brush to apply what I think is blush across my entire face. Because my mind tells me to. And the brush feels so damn good against my skin.
Lucy says, “Roxy is a fucking cunt of a whore and we shall never speak her name again.”
“Yeah, Riley,” Amanda spits. “Her name is Dylan.”
“I thought her name was Roxy,” I mumble using a tube of mascara to paint my nails.
Heidi turns to me. “What are you doing?”
