"Ok, guys. So, I'm having a party at my house this Saturday. You all are invited, and you can bring a guy, if not your boyfriend then just a friend is fine... preferably single," Liv tells the lunch table. "I'll also put this on the group chat to see if the people at the other lunch table can come."
"Ooooh, boys. That'll be fun. Does anyone know boys they can bring?" Katherine asks, "maybe you should ask Kolby, Pamela!"
"He lives in Connecticut, and why would he come to a party of a bunch of freshman? He's a senior!" I say.
"Ok, then ask Bradley," she suggests. I do archery with Bradley. I think he's good-looking, but I'm not sure what he thinks of me.
"Maybe," I respond.
"I know boys I can bring!" Mia pipes up. That's no surprise to anyone, she probably knows more boys than the rest of the lunch table does combined!
"Ok, good. This is going to be so much fun guys! What time should we come to your house, Liv?" Emmie asks.
"Around five, I think, and my parents are letting us go till eleven," Liv says, "Oh, and there will be lots of food, and I have some games picked out, notably truth or dare."
~~~~
I finally worked up the nerve to ask Bradley at archery on Tuesday, but he can't come; he's going skiing with his family the whole weekend. Of course he'd be going skiing, how could this NOT happen to me.
I have an hour to get ready before I need to leave, so I just lounge on my bed and try to beat my PB (personal best) on my Rubik's cube for forty minutes and text Kolby.
Liv said just to wear semi-dressy/casual clothes, (whatever that means) and they insisted that I had to wear a skirt, just because I never wear anything girly.
I get up and put on a black skirt with tights and a tank top under my Pink Floyd tee shirt. I brush and braid my hair, and glance at the mascara and lip gloss my mom got me last year, but immediately decide against it. I slip on black flats, and a navy sweater, with my black winter coat over everything.
"Ready, Pamela?" my dad calls from the other room, car keys jingling as he walks to the front door.
"Yes," I respond as I follow him out into the car. I reach into my pocket to pull out my phone, but it's not there, "Wait! I need to run back in and get my phone."
"Ok, I'll warm up the car," my dad says, turning the heat all the way up and rubbing his gloved hands together.
