Georgie, a fellow student, fresh from a summer glow-up, becomes the new queen bee.
But one person close to the drama has the power to stop the gossip in its tracks.
The question isdo they even want to?
Credit: Disney
It should have a lot of smiles and laughter.
The energy of it overwhelming, leaving a buzz through you.
And most of all, it should make you feel like you’ll never be alone ever again.
Those are the only kind of parties I throw, and everyone wants an invitation.
But not everyone will get one.
I’m the jot down of girl that gets to choose you.
I add more sliced peaches and vodka to the punch.
I look around, basking in this.
I need to take it in.
A habit I picked up from my momma, that pride.
The only thing we have in common.
I need to make every moment, every party, count.
Everyone will remember me.
Everyone who’s stuck at homeor better yet, not invitedwill be ridiculously jealous.
Shouting pulls me outside.
“What happened?”
I hand him a towel.
Rage shoots through me as I scan the yard.
How dare she show up hereat my houseafter everything?
She wasn’t always this dumb.
Used to be one of the smartest people I knew.
Anger bubbles up in my stomach.
We had big plans and she ruined it, and I don’t even understand what happened.
Over the summer, she changedwent from driven and compassionate to suddenly obsessed with her boyfriend, Jase.
From my wickedly-smart best friend to a lovesick stalker who couldn’t do anything but run after him.
All because of her.
Adele stumbles up to the pool.
The opposite of me.
Her freckly white cheeks are bright red, like she’s been scalded.
I touch her shoulder.
She’s definitely had a lot to drink.
She grabs my hand and yanks me back into the house, pulling me into a quiet corner.
have to tell you something."
The words sputter out, her eyes bulging.
“What is it?
My heart does a tiny flip.
“It’s bad.”
“Out with it.”
“Baez what?”
I search her face for the answer.
“He’s hooking up with Georgie right now.
I roll my eyes.
“He would never.
We’re, like, super good.
He has no need for that.
And I don’t know any Georgies, so she wouldn’t have been invited.”
You know that Indian girl?
She’s in AP Calc with us.
She used to be really fat but isn’t anymore.
I heard her mom made her go to a camp or something.”
“Don’t sayfat,” I correct.
“It’s been reclaimed,” she argues.
“But not by your skinny ass.”
“Whatever, just listen.”
Adele takes my hand and leads me to the back staircase.
“Everyone’s talking about it.
I even saw them go upstairs.”
Her eyes cut up at the ceiling.
Everyone knowsespecially Baezthatnobodyis allowed upstairs.”
I kiss her cheek.
People are ridiculous."
As I reach the top, I hear voices, then drunken laughter.
“Who’s up here?”
Baez steps out of my room.
“Ahhh, babe.”
I can’t help it; a peel of laughter bubbles out of me.
“What’s going on?”
I ask, and give him a little kiss.
“No one’s supposed to be up here.”
Then I see her.
A girl standing awkwardly outside my room.
Georgie, I guess.
Not the shy, overweight Indian girl who always needed her eyebrows plucked and her mustache waxed.
I feel like a terrible person because that’s the first thing I remember about her.
But it’s true.
“Spilled a drink on her shirt.”
I want to say:And I should care, why?
If my sister, Millie, was here, she would’ve blocked anyone from coming upstairs.
Because she and her boyfriend, Graham, usually hide out up here.
But she’s busy.
“And I needed a hair dryer.”
I look her up and down.
She could be a model.
The kind guys like.
Which no one should care about, but they do.
People might just think she’s hotter than me.
Exotic, or whatever.
Which explains why people are gossiping downstairs.
People love it when pretty girls tear each other down.
“Nice shirt.”
I don’t ask her where she got it.
That would be too friendly.
“Thanks,” she replies, too confident.
Much more than I remember.
“I hate people being upstairs,” I say.
“That’s one of my party rules.
On every invite.”
“Oh, okay, sorry I didn’t know.”
She blushes, and stumbles down the stairs.
I want to say:That’s because I didn’t invite you.
But Baez is being so sweet, I bite my tongue.
I wave her away, watching her disappear back into the party.
“People said y’all were up here hooking up becauseeveryoneknows my rules.
No one’s allowed up here.
You know that, Baez.”
He pulls me closer.
“I know, babe.
Brought her up here to clean up.
She’s really shy.”
I decide to give him a little attitude.
“And how would you know?”
“You’re really beautiful.”
His compliment sends goose bumps over my skin.
I bite his bare shoulder.
His skin reminds me of the dark crust on Momma’s corn bread.
He looks back at me with big eyes.
I pull Baez to the nearest room.
The walls are still papered in stripes, the telescope pointing out the window.
I wonder if I could see all the way to Cambridge, Massachusetts, from here.
On her vanity is a picture of the two of us.
Momma had us in matching dressesmine peach and hers pinkand no one could tell us apart.
Two little brown faces.
A smattering of freckles on our noses.
And the other is left behind.
Our lives couldn’t be more different.
She’d be pissed if she knew I was in her room.
I plop onto her bed.
She still has our little-girl canopies draped over hers.
She’s taped words onto the fabricHarvard, Lawyer, United Nations.
My life as a six-word memoir:I’m a badass, too/basically Beyonce.
My new obsession courtesy of Mrs. Perkovich, my English teacher.
“She’s gonna be pissed that we’re in here.”
Baez points up at her goals and smiles.
I roll my eyes.
She might be smarter, but I’m captain of the cheer squad a second year in a row.
Student body vice president, voted in with sweeping margins.
My boyfriend is the hottest guy at Foxham Prep.
I’m good with people.
That It factor, my ex JuJu calls it.
I kiss Baez again, and he pauses.
“You okay?”
“Headache,” he replies, rubbing his temple.
“You had beer, didn’t you?”
“It triggers migraines, love,” I remind him.
“All that gluten.”
“I know, I know.”
They’ve gotten worse since the car accident and the concussion.
“Lay here for a while.
I’ll grab some aspirin.”
I head back downstairs.
I don’t even know some of the people.
Some from other DC and Maryland private schools.
Some I don’t want in my house.
My heart thuds alongside the music.
Second six-word memoir:This party was a terrible idea.
“All right, guys, party’s over,” I shout.
I smile as people respond to me.
Their eyes brighten, and they follow my directions.
I’m like the song everybody knows the melody to, the one whose chorus no one can un-remember.
I start cleaning up.
The crowd thins out in the backyard and inside the house.
Adele stumbles down the stairs, drunk and happy.
“I am so totally obsessed with your bedroom.
I love that your mom still uses wallpaper.
It never sinks in.
I should’ve locked the bedroom doors.
“Oh, relax, Cor.
It was just me and Lei up there.
I looked in all the rooms like you asked, and I was checking on that thing.
“You cuss him out?”
“Nothing happened,” I say.
“People say dumb shit.
He’s drunk and snoring.
“You’re hotter than her,” Adele says.
“Oh, Iknow,” I reply.
“So bring your hot ass with us.
After-party at Jase’s.
You gonna wake Baez?”
“Or staying here?”
Knowing they won’t.
Only Bryn used to do that.
I ignore the pinch.
It’s the first party I’ve thrown without her.
But I guess I didn’t know her that well after all.
“My mom”
“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Adele says.
“I’ll text you if anything interesting happens.”
She grabs Leilani’s hand, and they’re out the door.
Millie’s boyfriend, Graham Williams, strides up.
He’s light brown, tall and lanky.
Should play basketball, but he’s a clumsy mess.
“You good?”
he asks, pushing his glasses up on his nose.
“I could stay and help you clean, like always.”
I smile at him.
He started dating my sister last year when she finally realized it was okay to have a boyfriend.
That it didn’t have to derail your focus.
Anything to be close to Millie with her so far away now.
“I’m okay.
Baez’s going to help.”
“Where is he?”
“Oh, those still?”
Jase grabs Graham, locking an arm around his neck.
“Yo, yoooo.”
His words are all slurred and his white face red.
“Where’s our boy?”
“Wake him up.”
“He can rally.
After-party at my house.”
“That’s what triggered the migraine in the first place,” I snap, rolling my eyes.
“Let’s go.”
“Tell him I’ll text him.”
“Awesome party, Cora,” a stranger says on their way out.
Most people are setting down their cups and heading out.
Some wait in a line to get to the powder room.
I cringe, thinking about how I’ll have to clean the bathroom, too.
Maybe Baez will do it.
“Thanks,” I say.
Then the house is empty.
My head’s a mess of should-haves, would-haves.
Why did I even throw this party?
I stand up straight.I’m fine.
I have to be.
you’ve got the option to’t ever let yourself lose control.
Because then you could really lose everything.
