Marnie and Meredith's dad works in the oil business.
He lives in Dubai all but two weeks of the year, but their mom, Sandy, is constantly flying over seas and leaving them to their own devices. Sandy is currently flying over the pacific ocean en route to a Parisian weekend with Mr. Maslin and is oil money.
"You got the cups?"
I respond by throwing a plastic bag of red solos on the counter top.
Soon after, Petra comes barreling through the front door with a cardboard box, carefully setting it in the middle of the kitchen. She's nearly out of breath, resting her hands on her hips.
"I would say I'm shocked it worked, but I'm not." Marnie hovers over the box, hands firm across her chest, her weight resting on one hip. The rest of us follow suit, surrounding the box, almost waiting for something to jump out of it. Marnie leans down and rips the tape seal with a pick of her nail. "Do you really think this was necessary?" she says as the tape flies through the air.
"Better safe than sorry. What if the cops pulled me over? I could've just said, like.... 'I'm moving! The box is filled with family heirlooms!' Rather than leaving it untaped and on show for the world to see."
"A 17-year-old moving in the middle of January with a car full of field hockey gear and school books. Super believable, Petra."
"Can't you just thank me for pulling all the weight?"
Marnie unfolds the cardboard closures-nine bottles of Svedka lined up perfectly like the squares on my Instagram feed. "Nine!" Meredith proclaims. "We're not gonna get through nine handles of this shit!"
"Sure we are. Might not even be enough. Guest list is at, like, 30 people now."
"30? Marnie. What did you do?"
"Mere, calm down. 30 isn't a lot."
"Sure, but if each person brings an extra, that's 60. 60 people and we're dead. 60 people and the cops shut us down. 60 people and we're suspended from school. We don't live in the middle of nowhere. Hell, Mrs. Andrews next door will snitch, I know she will."
"Seriously, don't worry. The four of us will be able to hold down the fort. I'll take the kitchen. Mere, you take the second floor. Make sure nobody gets in Mom's room. Petra, you can be the floater. Make sure nobody stays in the bathroom for more than seven minutes. Keep all doors and blinds closed. Music must stay at an appropriate level. Have at least three bandaids, two condoms, and a bottle of water in your reach at all times." Petra solutes Marnie. "E, you take front door." Marnie takes a step closer to me, her warm, lively brown eyes into my crystal blues. "We trust you to make the best decisions on who can come in and who we won't allow. If anyone is giving you trouble, text the group chat. That goes for every one of us, actually. If you see something or hear something, call or text for help."
"How about we have a word," Meredith recommends.
"We don't need a word."
"Just for peace of mind. Please, Marn."
"Fine. How about-"
"Quinn," I say. "Text Quinn to the group chat and we'll know there's a problem."
"Good call, E." Marnie pats my back. "Using Principal Quinn's name will not only instill fear in our hearts but also kick our asses into action." She rubs her hands together as if our box of alcohol is aflame. "Ready, ladies?" she says.
"Girl, we were born ready."
We leave the bottles in the middle of the kitchen as we work around them. Time moves so fast that our laughter and preparation for tonight's house party seems like fast cuts in a movie.
