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It’s too easy to pretend it’s just the two of us sitting in here. After giving me Graham’s address, Sydney is totally quiet in the back.
“Your truck is nice.” Cassia isn’t as willing to sit in silence.
“Yeah?” I glance over at her before taking a left-hand turn, surprised by the choice of comment. Her car is at least a decade newer than mine. There’s a lingering tobacco smell in the cab and the brakes squeak. I’m not sureIwould call it nice. More like functioning.
“Yeah. It seemed like it took a lot to get it running.”
It did. I spent weeks fiddling with the engine in the driveway. Mark helped some and so did his dad, who’s a mechanic. ButI did the bulk of the work myself, watching videos online and reading manuals to make sure it runs reliably.
“It seemed that way, huh?”
Cassia’s house is directly across the street from mine. I’m not sure if she meant to insinuate she watched me work on this truck last fall, but that’s what I got out of what she said just now.
The dim light and fact I’m driving make it difficult to tell for sure, but I think she’s blushing. At the very least, I watch her shifting in the seat, fiddling with the strap of the seatbelt and looking out the window instead of me.
It only takes another five minutes to reach Graham’s house. It’s a two-level Colonial, well-maintained and modest. I eye the basketball hoop visible to the left of the driveway. Maybe I’ll just hang out here instead of heading to Finn’s. My muscles are sore, but it doesn’t take much effort to just stand and shoot.
There’s no one stumbling down the front steps. No flashing lights or music.
“Looks like a rager,” I say, as we walk up the brick front path.
“I told you, you didn’t need to come,” Sydney says.
The door opens before we reach it. A tall, skinny guy with a mop of curly blond hair is standing in the doorway. Graham, I’m assuming.
“Hi, Sydney!” He beams at my sister, making no attempt to hide his excitement about seeing her. It’s cute, watching them exchange shy smiles. He greets Cassia next. His tone is just as friendly, but it lacks the same eagerness, making my opinion of him rise a little more. Treating Sydney well while having no romantic interest in Cassia are the two best ways to endear himself to me.
“Graham, this is my brother, Holden,” Sydney says. “He wanted to come.”
Wanted is a stretch. But I did choose to. I wasn’t dragged along, so I don’t dispute it as I hold out a hand to Graham. “Nice to meet you, man.”
“You too,” Graham says, as he shakes it. His grip is firm, but not tight. “Although we’ve, um, we’ve met. We had Physics together freshman year. Mrs. Liberman, third period. Remember?”
No.I barely remember taking Physics, let alone anyone in the class. But Sydney and Cassia are watching me closely. If bonding with Graham over sitting in the same classroom for an hour three years ago will make this “party” easier, I’m fine with lying.“Right. Yeah.”
“Come on in,” Graham says, stepping to the side so we can enter the house. The open floor plan is similar to the layout of my house, with the living room to the left and the kitchen back behind it. About a dozen people are sitting in the living room, most of them spread out on the fluffy rug covering the floor. Everyone has textbooks or notebooks spread around them.
A few faces look familiar. Probably people I’ve shared classes with over the years slightly more memorable than Graham.
Everyone stares as we enter.
“Grab a spot wherever,” Graham says. “And help yourself to anything.” He gestures toward the coffee table covered with snacks. “I’m just going to grab some more chips from the kitchen.”
Graham heads deeper into the house, leaving us standing here. Cassia and Sydney start talking with some of the “party-goers.” I’m not sure who came up with the term study party, but I think studysessionwould be the more accurate descriptor.
I smile at the two girls who make eye contact with me but don’t engage anyone in conversation. I head toward one open corner of the living room and take a seat on the rug, leaning back against the bookshelf covering the wall.
My muscles protest the movement and the sitting on the ground. I’m going to be sore as fuck tomorrow. Practice was rough and lounging on the hard floor isn’t helping.
I unzip my backpack and pull out my laptop. While I’m stuck here, I might as well be productive. Whenever I’ve done work at a friend’s place, there’s always been a lot going on in the background. Finn is usually playing video games or smoking weed. Mark likes to tinker around with his dad’s old cars when we’re at his home.
Graham’s house is silent and clean. There’s not even music on. It feels like working in a library during study hall.
I glance up from the essay I’m typing when Graham walks back into the room. He takes a seat on the edge of the couch, right near where Sydney has settled. They smile at each other and then both start on homework. I want to laugh but don’t.
Cassia is standing near the opposite end of the couch. She’s whispering with the same blonde girl she walked into the cafeteria with on the day I approached her table.
I refocus on my essay before she catches me staring. I very much feel like the outsider in this studious group. Cassia and Sydney were right—there was no reason for me to come. If Sydney hadn’t been acting so strangely and the word party hadn’t come up, I wouldn’t have.
