Some girl was flirting with me; hair twirled around her finger, her head tilted. I had zero interest so I was blocking out every word she said. I heard ‘spring break’ and ‘party’ and ‘join me – I mean, us’ and left it at that. I’ve heard so much about this stupid party I’m not even pumped anymore. It seems like instead of it being a huge deal to be invited to, the whole school is planning on going. It’s at Drummond Hill, as usual. They have the whole set up there; fire pit, tables, chairs. No one ever touches it because Drummond Hill is in a totally hidden area and is usually known for its weed selling instead of its view. It is a really cool view. When you get there about eight the sun is just dipping and it starts to get darker. And the girls … don’t even get me started. It’s as if all of them drop the school appropriate attitude and become totally different people. The one you least expect to find making out in the back corner are, the ones you wouldn’t think would dance like an MTV music video are.
“So can you?” She asks, not once dropping her innocence.
“Sure,” I give her a smile and she smiles back.
“Great,” she puts a hand to my arm and leans over a little and then walks off, her hips matching the flick of her hair.
“Whore,” my friend Max coughs not so subtly under his breath.
“Who? Me or her?” I ask him and we laugh.
“How many have asked you out?”
“Eight and still counting,” I tell him and see that Rebecca chick looking at me. I’m not a fan of that whole stare at someone and then when they look at you, look away. It’s crazy stupid. If you look at someone you’re supposed to wave back at least. That’s just the thing to do. Or act like you were waiting for them to look at you. We met eyes for like, a second and she turns away to her friend. Her friend. The bitchy one. My jaw tightens. I don’t mean for it to – everyone knows I go through girls like people change underwear – but at least I’m the one that usually ignores them.
“Impressive. Anthony has a fan club,” Max smiles. We always try to count how many girls swoon at it. His smile, I mean. I have to admit, I’m a tad jealous. I don’t think it’s that much of a smile, just some teeth and whitening strips but I’m not a female. We’ve decided he has the smile and I have the general looks.
“Hey, you know,” I shrug and smile. Max smiles with me and a few girls walk by, giggling and smiling at us like we’re celebrities.
“It’s so wrong where looks put you on the popularity scale in high school,” Max says and shakes his head the second the girls disappear. He would know. Most of the guys I hang out with have been popular and just well known for what feels like forever. Max went through braces for four and a half years, bad hair and a bad band camp experience (poison ivy, don’t ask). But it seems like last year he came out of no where. He was really cool and him being attractive made it a major plus. Girls swarm us like bees.
“It really is,” I say and smile.
-
“Sweety!” I hear the second I walk in the door after school. That’s not normal. I get greeted by silence. It’s been weeks since anyone has been home when I get here. I drop my back pack (our homework has been slowly decreasing as spring break is only a few days away.)
“Hi mom,” I say slowly and take in seeing someone home when I am. I try to look happy she’s there but it’s hard. I was planning on playing Xbox straight on all night until she got home. Our conversations aren’t really mom appropriate. I pop open a coke and look at her. Her hips are pressed against the counter and it looks like she could be posing for a magazine or something. My friends, even though I tell them over and over that it’s totally gross, have major dork crushes on her. They always joke around about it. My mom surprisingly hasn’t caught on with the pervy motions and innuendo we use. Either that or she ignores it. I glance at the white paper she’s looking at and then at her face. Not a school thing. If it was she would be frowning, her forehead not creasing in one spot (she might not be a model but she pays to look like it, that’s for sure. She claims it’s natural. Yeah, right.)
“I was invited to a high school reunion!” She smiles and shows me the letter.
“Congrats, mom,” I give her a weak smile.
“Oh I loved those years… I haven’t seen them in forever it feels like. I remember Karen. We were the best of friends… she was such a sweetheart. She made me look like the devil in heels while she was made completely out of sugar. We were opposites in everyway but I adored her and she adored me…” she goes off into flash back world and I look at the counter awkwardly.
“Alright,” I tell her. “What are you here for?”
“You’re coming! I got it and just had to come home and order tickets and organize the hotel. It’s been so long since we had a vacation and we needed it. Oh this is going to be so much fun! What a way to spend spring break…” she smiles and I can see her inner preppy girl come out. I haven’t seen her this excited about well, anything ever,
That’s when it hits me.
I’m joining her. Over spring break. For a stupid high school reunion.
“Wait, what?”
“I thought you should see where I lived and went to high school and such. I heard about it forever ago but when the last-chance letter came I decided I just had to go! I miss all my friends too much not to see them again!”
“But mom…”
“Sweety, there is no way I’m trusting you alone in this home,” she tells me, her smile not once wavering.
“Great mom. Thanks for the advanced warning. Oh yeah, thanks for ruining my spring break too,” I add and her smile goes a tiny bit smaller. Her face isn’t glowing as much. Ah crap. This isn’t good. My stomach twists and I look at her. I really don’t want to attend this. At all. It’s going to be all older men and women that are married and their kids won’t have to come because there would be an adult to watch them at home.
“You’re coming,” she tells me flat out. “I called Karen and we decided we would stay at the same hotel. We might even get the presidential suite!”
Great. I’m going to look like a lesbian love child.
“Oh,” I tell her and she gives me a bright smile.
“Wonderful. We leave in three days.”
“Great, mom,” I tell her with a tight smile and go upstairs.
Great.
