“Puh-leeze,” Manda said. “Just go home.”
“Omigod,” Sara added. “Seriously.”
Manda turned to Bridget and Dori.
“I thought you said Burke and Scotty would bring friends for me and Sara!”
Just when I thought that maybe, just maybe, Dori had put The Scotty Scandal nonsense behind her, she proved otherwise.
“Did you actually think I’d encourage my boyfriend to come here?” she asked. “So I could watch Jessica flirt with him? Ha!” Then she quickly looked at me and said, “No offense!”
Ever notice how the rudest insults are often followed by the phrase “no offense!” as if that magical phrase cancels out the dis? I was really regretting Dori’s presence at the party. (But not as much as I would later on.)
Manda and Sara were throwing a fit.
“Seriously, Bridget,” Manda huffed. “You promised.”
“Omigod! You totally did.”
“Whoopsie! The boys have a mandatory team-bonding night,” Bridget said. “Didn’t I tell you?”
I honestly wasn’t sure whether Bridget had genuinely forgotten to tell Manda and Sara or had forgotten on purpose. In other words: lie. Manda’s and Sara’s eyes turned to slits. Their opinion on the matter was clear.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Having boys crash my sleepover would’ve been very cool, but only if the right boys had crashed. Aleck, Mouth, and Cheddar were definitely the wrong boys.
“So what’s up first?” Aleck asked.
“There’s a dance-off!” Dori offered.
Manda and Sara glared.
Without hesitation, Aleck launched into a pop, lock, and robot.
“Dance-off,” Aleck said. “Check.”
“And makeovers!” Bridget put out there.
Aleck patted the electric-socket red frizz atop his head.
“I need a makeover,” he said. “Check.”
“And Truth or Dare,” Dori added.
“I live for Truth or Dare,” Aleck replied. “Truth or Dare is my life. Isn’t it, Clem?”
Well, he’d certainly told the truth when he dared to crash my sleepover. And that fact made me dumbstruck with awe and anger and… something else.
“I’ll start off with a dare right now,” said Mouth eagerly. “I dare you ladies to sneak out with us!”
“Puh-leeze,” Manda said dismissively.
“As if,” Sara added.
“We know where the Octofire is tonight,” Mouth said.
Manda and Sara laughed in the boys’ faces.
“You do not,” Sara said. “If I don’t know where the Octofire is tonight, there’s no way you do.”
“My brother is the lighter of the torch,” Cheddar said.
This got Manda’s and Sara’s attention.
“The lighter of the torch?” Manda said.
“Omigod! That’s, like, a huge honor,” Sara said with genuine awe. “My brother’s a senior, and he’s never been the lighter of the torch.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Octofire!” answered everyone in the room.
Yes, everyone. Even Hope, who was back on the couch and had barely muttered a word all night long. I’m quite sure that if Gladdie, Bethany, and Rodger-not-Rodney had been in the room, they would have yelled it, too.
“What’s Octofire?”
Sara had opened her mouth to tell all when Manda cut her off.
“Having to explain everything all the time is just so…” Manda exhaled deeply. “Exhausting.”
Sara nodded, even though explaining everything all the time is pretty much her favorite thing to do.
“The Octofire is always held on the first Saturday after the full moon in October,” Aleck clarified. “It’s the secret bonfire to celebrate fall.”
“If it’s such a secret, why do you all know about it, but I don’t?”
Everybody looked around the room at one another and shrugged.
“Word of advice, Jess,” said Manda smugly. “Spend less time running around in circles with the cross-country team and more time paying attention to the important stuff.”
How am I supposed to pay attention to “the important stuff” when I don’t even know what it is? And more to the point: WHY DOES EVERYBODY KNOW “THE IMPORTANT STUFF” BUT ME?
Mouth was getting impatient. “Are you in or are you out?”
Manda and Sara looked at each other and came to a mutual conclusion.
“We’re in!”
“You’re in?” I asked. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Manda said. “We’re leaving with the boys.”
“Those boys? Mouth and Cheddar?” I gulped. “And Aleck? You don’t even know them.”
“His brother is the lighter of the torch,” Sara said, nodding toward Cheddar. “How bad could they possibly be?”
On cue, Aleck, Mouth, and Cheddar smiled like innocent choirboys.
“Your sister is totally gorgeous, and look at the nerd she was hanging out with tonight,” Sara said.
“She’s using him!” I cried. “To hack into my dad’s computer!”
“Well, no duh! Of course she is!” Then Manda leaned in close so the boys couldn’t hear. “Tons of cute boys will be at the Octofire. High school boys. We don’t have to stick with—ugh—them.”
And then Manda put on one of her biggest, fakest smiles and waved at the boys she was so eager to dismiss. They smiled back because they were, as usual, clueless.
“What am I supposed to tell Gladdie when she asks where you are?” I said. “You’re her responsibility, and if something happens to you…”
Manda and Sara rolled their eyes.
“You’re, like, literally the old-fartiest girl I know,” Manda said.
“Omigod, yes!” Sara agreed. “Gran it up, granny.”
And at that point I was so annoyed with both of them, I couldn’t wait for them to get out of my house. And quite frankly, I didn’t care what happened to them after they did. I led them to the back door so they’d go undetected by Gladdie.
“Just go,” I said. “Now.”
“Keep the door unlocked,” Manda reminded me. “So we can sneak back in later on.”
So that’s how, just an hour after my slumber party had begun, Manda and Sara were heading out the door with two boys from my Woodshop class who they didn’t even know.
That’s right. Two.
Aleck stayed put.
“I’m ready for the dance-off,” he said to me, Bridget, Dori, and Hope. “And my nails are a mess.”
Bridget inspected the chewed-up fingers on his right hand.
“Ew,” she said. “They are.”
“You’re going to miss out on the Octofire—whatever that even is—to stick around here and get a manicure?” I asked.
“Tonight, Clem,” he said, “I’m putting the man back in manicure.”
Bridget and Dori exchanged confused, curious looks.
“Why do you keep calling her Clem?” Dori asked.
“It’s a long story,” Aleck and I said in unison.
It sure was. And it was getting more and more complicated by the minute.
Chapter Fifteen
Gladdie came charging into the room holding a tray stacked with fresh snacks.
“More guests require more foo—” She swiveled her head. “What happened to your friends? And don’t tell me they’re in the bathroom, because it is most definitely not coed!”
The rest of us kind of just looked at one another and held up our half-manicured hands like, “I dunno.”
“Somebody better start talking!” Gladdie said with take-no-prisoners toughness.
“They left,” I answered truthfully.
“Together?” Gladdie asked. “The girls and the boys?”
“We tried to stop them,” I answered less than truthfully, because—let’s face it—I’d practically shooed them out the door.
Gladdie wasn’t about to waste any time.
“NOT O
N MY WATCH,” she bellowed, thrusting her fist into the air. “I’ve still got a friend or two down at the police department. You kids don’t worry about a thing. Just go back to enjoying yourselves.”
Then she marched away like she was BOSS OF THE WORLD.
“Is she really calling the cops?” Aleck asked.
“Yes,” Bridget, Dori, and I replied simultaneously.
We looked at one another and laughed. I knew we were all thinking about the time in second grade when Gladdie called her friends down at the police department when she thought 3ZNUF had been kidnapped ON HER WATCH. We were picked up by the authorities about a half mile away from Wawa. We had taken a vote and unanimously decided that we were totally old enough to buy cherry slushies without adult permission or supervision. We were, evidently, mistaken.
Well, so were Manda and Sara if they thought they could fool my grandmother. It served them right if they got picked up by the police! And I know this sounds totally goody-goody, but I was grateful for my grandmother’s interference. Gladdie had taken control of the situation, and the rest of us could just get back to the business of having fun. And for a few moments there, it felt like this could turn out to be a totally normal slumber party. Well, except for one totally abnormal male guest. We’d finish filing and painting our nails. We’d listen to music. We’d munch on Gladdie’s delicious junk food.…
“What was in those bars your grandmother made me?” Dori rasped.
“I dunno,” I said. “Peanut butter and some kind of jelly.”
“It. Wasn’t. Graaaaape.”
Bridget picked a PB & Jellyroll off the tray, broke it in half, and took a tiny bite.
“Strawberry!” Bridget screeched.
“Never. Strawberry. Only. Grape,” Dori wheezed.
“I think Gladdie wanted to give you something a little different,” I lied.
It had been my idea to mess with the recipe, not Gladdie’s. In a weird way, I thought it could be kind of a peace offering. Like, Hey! You’ve changed! You’re not as boring as grape jelly anymore! You’re strawberry jelly! Not that I actually said any of this to her, of course.
“She’s allergic to strawberries!” Bridget yelped. “How could you not know that after all these years?”
She was right. How could I not know that?
“She needs help!” Bridget was on the verge of hysterics. “Help! HELP! HELLLLLLLLLLLLLP!”
“What the h—?” Bethany asked as she ran into the room. “Gladdie’s on the phone with the police? And—”
“Dori is dyyyyyyyyyyiiiiiiiiing!”
This was bad. Really bad. Just minutes earlier, I had contemplated taking a Sharpie to Dori’s face in revenge from her “no offense!” offensiveness. Was it possible that I’d subconsciously attempted to MURDER HER WITH STRAWBERRY JELLY?
Thankfully, Dori was tougher than she looked. “I’m.” Wheeze. “Not.” Wheeze. “Dying.” Wheeze.
Dori rummaged through her overnight bag. Very calmly, she removed and uncapped an EpiPen and stabbed herself in the upper thigh—right through her jeans—as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The rush of medicine to her system had an almost immediate effect on her.
“See?” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m not dying.”
But Bridget was inconsolable at this point. She threw her arms around Dori and wept and wailed and went totally bonkers.
“You’re my bestie!” she sobbed. “What would I do without yoooooouuuuuu?”
Well, it was official. I’d been replaced. I don’t care what Bethany’s IT List says about having infinity BFFs. I had no doubt who Bridget had chosen as her bestest of the best. Dori was number one. And that made me feel like a steaming pile of number two.
“This happened to a girl in my sorority once,” Bethany said. “We really need to get Dori home to her parents. I’ll drive.”
“I’ll go with you!” Bridget croaked through her tears. “It’s my fault she’s here. She didn’t even want to cooooommmmmmme.” She barely glanced in my direction before adding, “No offense.”
Of course not.
Bridget and Dori grabbed their overnight bags and took off to wait for Bethany in the driveway. The party was officially kaput. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Hope quietly asked if my sister would drive her home, too.
“I need to be in my own bed tonight.”
Hope had been suffering in silence all evening. In fact, I’d kind of forgotten she was even here. But after everything that had happened, I was too angry and annoyed to take anyone’s feelings into consideration but my own.
“Oh, go ahead and have fun with Manda and Sara at the Octobofire.”
“Octofire,” Hope corrected. “And you’re joking, right?”
I just glared at her. And when Hope realized I wasn’t kidding, she reeled back with shock. It was the most expression she’d shown all evening.
“What? Are you crazy? Noooo,” she protested.
“Whatever,” I snapped. “Just go.”
As soon as I said it, I felt sort of bad for saying it. But she had already turned away from me and picked up her bag, and it seemed too late to apologize. Besides, I was also sort of peeved at her for being such a bummer. I was, like, half-sorry and half–not sorry. It was a very confusing way to feel.
So Bethany and Rodger-not-Rodney drove Dori, Bridget, and Hope home. That left only one guest remaining. But not for long.
“Get out!” I yelled at Aleck.
“Oh, come on, Clem,” he said. “I didn’t even get to finish my manicure.…”
“OUT!”
Aleck had nothing to do with the sleepover’s failure, but it made me feel better to blame him, anyway.
For about a minute.
And then I felt more awful than ever.
Chapter Sixteen
The next morning, Gladdie shook me awake shortly before noon. I should’ve known she’d never let me sleep the day away.
“Come on,” she said, clapping her hands. “Time to clean up your mess!”
And she wasn’t referring to the sad, stale, and soggy remnants of the junk-food buffet. I knew she was right, but that didn’t make me any happier about all the remorseful phone calls I had to make. To ease myself into it, I decided to start with least sorry and work my way up to most sorry from there.
So I called Manda first to apologize for Gladdie getting police involved. As it turned out, Manda was beyond excited about her run-in with the law.
“Everyone is buzzing about us!”
Wait. What? Whoa.
“So you’re really not mad that my grandmother had you picked up by the cops?”
“Mad? It’s practically the best thing that’s ever happened. I mean, it’s not every Saturday night that two seventh-grade girls get taken home in a squad car! We’re…” Manda paused before settling on the right word. “Notorious.”
And then she said she had to go because someone was waiting for her. And that’s exactly how she said it, too.
“Gotta go! Someone is waiting for me.”
Manda put mysterious emphasis on “someone” so I’d be left wondering who this someone was. And even though I know she said it that way on purpose to pique my curiosity, she totally succeeded in piquing my curiosity, which was both annoying and a powerful testimony to Manda’s mind-gaming expertise. Ugh.
Next up was Sara. She responded similarly to my call.
“Omigod! We’ve got, like, reputations now. We’re rebels!”
Sara went on and on and onnnnnnn with each and every detail of their notorious reputation-making rebellion.
“Omigod! It was all so dramatic with the siren and flashing lights of the squad car and all! And the boys took off like, BANG! ZOOM! They were outta there! And Manda started bawling like a baby, but I was like, ‘Chillax, chick, it’s not like we’re getting arrested.’ The cops just reminded us that there’s, you know, a curfew for unaccompanied minors after dark and blahblahblah and then they drove us home.”
&nbs
p; Funny how Manda failed to mention the whole bawling-like-a-baby part of the evening.
“So your parents aren’t mad at you for coming home in a cop car?”
If I ever came home in a cop car, my parents would ground me for infinity.
“Um, actually, they’re mad at you and the lack of adult supervision at your slumber party,” Sara said matter-of-factly. “Expect a strongly worded letter from Daddy’s lawyer.”
And then she laughed like this was the funniest thing ever, and I was too afraid to find out if she was joking.
Next up? Dori. I wasn’t exactly sure what to say.
Sorry I almost killed you last night.
“Hello?” answered a male voice that was sort of familiar.
“Uh, hello?” I said, uncertain that I’d dialed the correct number. “This is Jessica Darling. I’m looking for Dori?”
“Oh, hey, Jess! It’s Scotty.”
OF COURSE IT’S SCOTTY. Just add him to my list of apologies.
Sorry I almost killed your girlfriend last night. Oh, and while I have your attention: I DO NOT HAVE THE HOTS FOR YOU.
“Uh. I was kind of hoping I could check in with Dori to make sure she’s okay.”
“That’s really cool of you,” Scotty said. “She’s still worn out from the whole thing, but I’ll ask.”
There was a brief muffled conversation followed by the passing of the phone.
“Hello?” Dori asked in a tiny, tired voice that was so much worse than I had expected.
“Dori! Holy cow. Are you okay?”
“Scotty,” Dori said in a wheezy voice. “Could you be the best boyfriend ever and get me a glass of orange juice?”
I heard Scotty say, “Sure thing!” followed by fading footsteps.
“Thanks,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
“Dori! You sound terrible! I feel terrible!”
Dori giggled.
“Don’t feel terrible! This is awesome! I’ve got Scotty waiting on me hand and foot!”
“Huh?”
“He feels guilty for not being there when I almost died!”
“W-w-what?”
“Don’t freak! I didn’t almost die! I’m totally fine!” Dori insisted in a low but robust tone. “But Scotty doesn’t know that, and you can’t tell him, okay? I am loving all this attention! This is the best thing ever to happen to our relationship and—oh! Here he comes with my OJ!”