20 Million Tiny Particles

4. The First Diamond Party

Sheridan's house was smaller than we expected, a little ranch-style home about twenty minutes north of downtown, where the school and my parents' shop were, among other townie hotspots.

Mariah was on the same wavelength as I was, as usual. "Funny," she said quietly as she pulled her car up to the curb on the quiet subdivision street. "I always pictured her richer."

I agreed, but still, I knew it was hard to tell, especially around here, where the more rural townsfolk more often elected to be house-rich rather than the alternative. Mariah's family did not take that route; despite certainly not living outside their means, the Hawks maintained a large family home for their three children, Mariah being the oldest before two middle-school twins, Darius and Devon.

My family — well, my dad and me — were somewhere in the middle. I suppose my parents invested some nominal funds into the shop, but I didn't have a clue what our profits looked like or if we could've afforded to move out of the apartment into a real home. We never really seemed to need a bigger place, even though sharing a room with Ava hadn't exactly been fun, particularly during the years that we were in high school together. But she moved away for college my sophomore year, and since then, I barely bumped elbows with my parents, much less feel like I needed a five-bedroom estate to stretch my legs in.

Lately, the place has felt like a cavern around the two of us.

Outside Sheridan's home, Mariah had parked her car. She'd offered to drive — she liked the control of being the one to decide when we left. "Do you think we're the first ones here?" I wondered aloud.

"There's a couple cars in the driveway," she noticed. She looked at the dashboard clock: 7:33. Sheridan had told us to come between seven and eight, that she'd have "games and super fun stuff" to do once everyone arrived.

We decided to head in and walked together up the long driveway. "Do you think her parents know what this is?" Mariah wondered.

"Maybe they're supportive," I offered.

"Maybe they're in on it too."

I reached the front door, lifting a knuckle to knock only for the door to open on its own. My hand jerked back and I watched the door swing back to reveal our host. "Hello, girls," she said brightly. The dog I'd recognized from her Facebook nosed around her feet, and she gingerly kicked it back. "Get back inside, Chloe," she cooed. The dog pitifully obeyed, stomping back into the foyer behind her.

Sheridan was dressed in cranberry-colored leggings and a slouchy white t-shirt, casual in a trendy way. She held a stemless wine glass with a pink-tinted liquid inside. It looked like the Crystal Light that my grandmother would drink out of Aquafina bottles.

She pushed herself onto me for a hug. My skin bristled at how sharp she felt. Her arms on my back weren't a warm embrace, but a shove into her body, stiff and pointed. She was bony in a way I didn't expect, full of dense muscle and corners.

I watched her pull Mariah in next. She held her forearms for a second after letting Mariah out of her grasp. "I'm so glad you made it." She looked at me next. "This is going to be so much fun. Come in!"

With that, she ushered us into the foyer and closed the door hard as we began our very first diamond party.

The recruiting began early, when Sheridan escorted us toward the kitchen and asked us what we'd like to drink. She laughed off my suggestion of a Diet Coke. "We don't have any soda here. We're, like, complete health nuts."

We followed behind her as she traipsed into the large, open kitchen space at the back of the house. Ten or fifteen girls in various shades of leggings and pastel denim, sleeveless shirts blowing under the hum of the ceiling fans, stood about, chatting. They were all so tan. Chloe the dog wiggled between feet, interrupting the hum of girl talk with a yap every few seconds.