When Tiffany and I pull into the garage on Friday afternoon, we're surprised to see Mom's car. Mom's rarely home before midnight on weekend nights. She shows houses late, then goes out with co-workers or clients. Mrs. Bryar's car isn't parked at the curb. I didn't leave her a check. I hope Mom paid her.
"Did someone die?" Tiffany asks, peevishly, when we enter the kitchen.
Mom's leaning against the counter, flipping through a cookbook. My heart does a slight leap. Is Mom going to cook something? For the first time in three years? "No one died," Mom replies, crossly, shutting the cookbook. She straightens and tugs on her lavender blouse, which is extremely low-cut. That kind of exposure ought to be illegal. "Your father and I are having a dinner party tomorrow night. I told you about it."
Tiffany and I exchange a look. "No, you didn't," I say, speaking to my mother for the first time since Saturday. I decided to give my parents the silent treatment until they apologize for missing the Creative Arts Faire. So far, they haven't noticed.
"Of course, I did," Mom snaps. "I just finalized the menu with Mrs. Bryar. She's certainly gotten uppity these days. Here's a shopping list, Shanny. You'll have to go to the A&P in the morning. Mrs. Bryar will be here at one o' clock to begin preparing dinner. Make sure you're back by then." Mom flicks a folded sheet of paper at me and instinctively, I reach out and catch it. I study the list closely, knowing I should rip it up and throw the pieces in Mom's face. But if I don't do the shopping, Mrs. Bryar will have to. I'd only be punishing her, not Mom.
"What time is this dinner?" Tiffany demands with a scowl. "I work until four."
"The guests will arrive at five. Please be home before then. I don't want anyone seeing you in that tacky uniform," Mom says with a disdainful look. "Now, your father has invited the Jardins, of course. Then the Browns are coming and the Kerners and a couple of my co-workers." Mom laughs, breezily. "Oh, you'll just love Raymond, our office comedian. And Julian is an absolute doll."
"Can I invite Tyler?" Tiffany asks.
Mom waves at her, dismissively. "I don't care. Just don't embarrass me."
"I have plans already," I tell Mom. It's true. As of today, Wes and I have been dating for two weeks. He can't take me out tonight because his parents are flying in from Miami and he has to drive all the way to La Guardia to pick them up. But tomorrow night, I'm going to his apartment for the first time. He's making me dinner.
It's my turn to receive a dismissive wave. "Change them," she commands.
"I can't."
Mom stares at me, hard. "You can and you will."
Maria runs in then, a duffel bag thrown over one shoulder and a sleeping bag over the other. "Did you buy the chocolate and marshmallows, Shanny?" she asks. Tonight, the entomology club's having a campout. Normally, I'd object considering it's late-October and much too cold for camping. But the campout's in a tent in some kid's backyard and there's a portable heater.
"Of course. They're in the pantry in a plastic shopping bag. I bought them yesterday," I tell her. "Mom? Can you drop Maria off at Luke's?"
Mom sighs, heavily. "I suppose. Although, it'll probably make me late for my appointment." Another heavy sigh, but I don't retract my request. "Let me change my shoes." Mom disappears out of the kitchen.
As soon as she's gone, Tiffany and I turn on Maria. "Did you know about this dinner party?" I demand.
"No! She insisted she told me. She insisted she told Mrs. Bryar, too. They got into an argument about it. Then Mom asked if Mrs. Bryar would serve at the party."
My mouth gapes. Mom has some nerve! "What did Mrs. Bryar say?"
"She said she's not a waitress. She said she's not a cook either, but eventually agreed to do that. She looked pissed though."
"Don't say 'pissed'. It's vulgar," I scold, but inside my stomach turns with worry. What if Mrs. Bryar quits? She and Mom have argued several times before. If she finally gets fed up and leave, what will I do?
"Mom's such a raging bitch," Tiffany says, nastily, hopping onto the counter.
I know Tiffany has more to say, but we're distracted by someone screaming out on the front lawn. I mean, screaming at the top of their lungs. Tiffany, Maria, and I rush into the foyer and throw open the front door. To our disappointment and displeasure, it's only Greer, down on her knees on the sidewalk, hands raised to the sky, bellowing for Kristy and Abby. Sally White's standing behind her and Meg's just pulled up at the curb behind Greer's Miata.
"What the hell is going on?" Mom shrieks from behind us. "Greer Carson! Knock it off!" Mom yells a few other choice words that I won't repeat.
How Greer hears Mom over her own screeching, I don't know. But Greer stops screaming and rises from the sidewalk, dusting off her knees. She's still in uniform, just like Meg and Sally. Greer strolls up the walk toward us. "I want Kristy and Abby to come over," she explains.
"We have a telephone," Mom snaps. "Get your stuff, Maria. You're making me late."
"Mrs. Kilbourne, this is Sally White," Greer tells Mom, who ignores her, pushing passed, barreling toward the garage with Maria trotting behind her.
"Friendly," Sally comments.
I glare at her, then turn to Greer. "What are you doing here?" I ask, which I realize is a bit rude. But Greer knows our routine. We do homework right after school, then are free in the evenings. I haven't even seen Tiffany's progress report yet.
"Hanging out," Greer replies, shoving passed me into the house. "Let's call Kristy and Abby. We attempted to kidnap Lindsey, but her grandfather was home."
Sally wags a finger in my face. "No, no, no. She's being punished," Sally mimics, although I seriously doubt Mister Dr. Dupree shook a finger in anyone's face. "I think they have her chained in the basement."
In the kitchen, Greer's already on the phone with Abby, sitting on the counter, gabbing away. Meg walks right to the pantry and opens the door. "Do you have any cookies?" she asks.
"This isn't the A&P," Tiffany says, irritably.
Meg's already opened a new box of Double Stuf Oreos and crammed two in her mouth. "Mmuh mah wuh mu meah," she says and no one understands, but it probably has something to do with her mother.
"Thank you, I would like a glass of water," Sally announces, opening a cabinet. It's filled with bowls. She tries the next one.
"Get out of our cabinets," Tiffany snaps.
"Why is everyone descending upon my house?" I exclaim.
Greer takes an Oreo from Meg. "All our parents are home," she answers through a mouthful of cookie. The front door creaks open. "There's Kristy and Abby! Let's order pizza. Kristy, what's the number to Pizza Express?"
"KL5-2242," Kristy recites, automatically, walking into the kitchen with Abby behind her. When Kristy sees Sally, she wrinkles her nose at me, like it's my fault Sally's here.
"Just order me a salad and breadsticks," Abby says, taking a handful of Oreos from Meg. She's allergic to milk and tomatoes, so pizza's out for her.
The pizza negotiations begin between Greer, Kristy, and Tiffany, although I don't recall giving permission for anyone to eat pizza at my house. Meg and Sally appear disinterested in the discussion. Meg probably because she has a four o' clock curfew or something ridiculous like that and won't be here for the pizza delivery. Sally, who has found a glass and filled it with water from the cooler, is busy opening all the drawers and cabinets, checking out all our stuff. If I didn't know better, I'd suspect she's casing the place. Greer, Kristy, and Tiffany finally settle on pepperoni with half olive and half onion.
"Tell them to put a rush on it," Kristy instructs when Greer gets on the phone. "I'm sitting for Sari Papadakis in an hour."
Sally finishes her search of my kitchen and sits down at the table with Abby. "What a fabulous way to spend your Friday night, Kat," she says.
Kristy scowls. "I happen to enjoy - wait, what did you call me?"
"Kat. Your name is Kristin Amanda Thomas. That's KAT. It's a much better name than Kristy."
"I like Kristy."
"Would you prefer I call you 'Kristin'?"
"I'd prefer you didn't call me anything."
Sally raises an eyebrow at Kristy and takes an Oreo from the open package. There are only six left. Sally twists the Oreo apart, perfectly, so all the creme is on one side, unbroken.
"You can't just go around changing people's names," I inform her, hotly, shooting a narrowed look at Greer, who's leaning casually against the center island, completely unbothered.
"Sure can, Starshine. See, I just did it again." Sally licks the Oreo creme, then begins scraping it off with her teeth.
Great. Now I'm going to spend senior year being called Starshine by Sally White. Kristy has nothing to complain about now. Kat is twenty times better than Starshine. If I don't react, she'll drop it. That's all Sally is after, a reaction. I turn away and walk through the laundry room into the garage. Everyone will want root beer with their pizza. I open the garage cabinet where we keep boxes of soda and begin stacking my arms with cans of root beer. I kick the cabinet door closed, pretending it's Sally White's face.
"See, your implants are much more proportionate to your frame," Sally is saying to Meg when I walk back into the kitchen.
Meg touches her breasts, self-consciously. "You can tell they're implants?"
Sally nods. "I didn't say anything before because I didn't want to be rude."
Kristy and I snort at the same time.
Tiffany looks at me from where she's sitting cross-legged on the counter. "Sally was just commenting on Mom's breast implants," she tells me.
I almost spit out the warm root beer I've just taken a sip of. "What?" I cry when I've managed to swallow.
"It's really obvious, Starshine. Haven't you told your mother that?" Sally asks. "My mother had her implants removed years ago. They leaked and gave her breast cancer."
Abby looks across the table, sympathetically. Her grandma was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years ago and had a double mastectomy.
Meg's jaw drops. "They can give you cancer?" she shrieks, absolutely horrified, clutching her breasts.
"The silicone ones. Yours are probably saline."
That doesn't quell Meg's newfound fear. "My mother is such a cow! She didn't say anything about cancer! I have to go home!" Meg grabs her purse off the counter and tears out of the room. The front door slams behind her.
Tiffany rolls her eyes. "Meg Jardin is dumber than a box of hair."
Kristy isn't amused. "Now you've totally freaked Meg out!" she exclaims.
Sally shrugs. "She needed to know."
Just as Kristy and Sally launch into an argument, I hear my phone ring upstairs. I don't even excuse myself. I just run out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time. Behind me, drifting in from the kitchen, I hear Greer and Abby join the argument. I hope they're done by the time I return.
I drop into my desk chair and pick up the receiver. "Hello?" I say, breathlessly.
"Shannon?"
"Wes?"
We laugh.
"Hi," Wes says. "I'm about to leave for the airport. I don't think my parents could have possibly chosen a more inconvenient airport to fly into. Before I left I just wanted to make sure we're still on for tomorrow night."
"Of course," I tell him. Mom can have her dinner party without me. Nothing I do is important to her. "I'm looking forward to seeing your apartment."
"I guess I should clean then," he says with a laugh. "Do you have the directions?"
"Yes. It's on Birch Street. It'll be easy to find."
"You should be able to find my unit. It's right by the parking lot," Wes says. "Hey, do you want to watch a movie after dinner? I could run to Mega Video tomorrow."
"Sure! Have you ever heard of Tahitian Orchid?" I ask. Ever since Mrs. Stevenson told us about Sally's mother's claim to fame, I've been dying to see her movie. Kristy and Abby have zero interest in it though. When I was at the Stoneybrook Public Library on Tuesday, I looked Sally's mother up in an old entertainment magazine, so I can recognize her.
"Yes," Wes says.
"Have you seen it?"
There's a short pause. "Uh...yes."
"Would you want to see it again? I'd like to see it and my friends won't watch it with me."
"Uh, sure. We can watch it, if you want."
Wes and I chat a couple minutes more, then hang up. I check my reflection in the mirror and run a brush through my hair, smiling. I am so lucky. When I go back downstairs, the pizza has arrived. Everyone's crowded around the table already. No one's arguing. I slide into the last remaining chair and lift a slice of pepperoni and onion out of the box.
"What have you guys been talking about?" I ask, taking a small bite of my slice.
"You don't want to know," Kristy says, then crams the rest of her slice in her mouth. She chews very quickly. Either because she's in a hurry to get to her sitting job or because she wants to escape my house.
Abby tears a breadstick in half and sets one piece on my plate. "Greer has been regaling us with stories of her sexual escapades again," she tells me, dully.
I swallow quickly. "In front of my little sister?" I demand, gesturing across the table at Tiffany.
Tiffany gives me a pointed look. "I have heard these stories a million times like everyone else."
"You have not," Greer protests, narrowing her eyes, slightly. I wish Greer wasn't like this. She doesn't have to brag and show off for us. And she certainly doesn't need to show off for Sally White. Greer wants Sally to know she's our Queen Bee, our alpha dog. But bending over backwards to prove it isn't having the desired effect. "I lost my virginity two summers ago at Camp Erie. He was our tennis instructor. I was the first to have sex. I beat Lindsey by a day and a half," Greer says, importantly.
Sally scoffs. "Lindsey has had sex?" she asks.
"Yes, but not at Camp Erie. Her grandparents send her to some church camp in Maine."
Sally laughs. "Sex at a church camp? Yeah right."
"All right. That's it for me!" Kristy announces, jumping out of her seat. There's a half-eaten slice of pizza in her hand. "Have fun continuing this conversation in my absence. As if the topic has not been discussed to death already. Goodbye!" Kristy waves and disappears out of the kitchen.
Greer sighs. "Kristy can be such a child," she says.
"Hey, I don't want to hear about this again either," Abby says, taking a swig of her root beer.
Greer ignores her and focuses on Sally. "I've slept with five guys. How many have you been with?"
"Only the guy on the Italian Riviera," Sally replies. She takes a bite of her pizza. She doesn't seem interested in Greer's topic of choice.
Greer looks disappointed. "Oh." She pushes the uneaten crusts around on her plate. "Shannon's still a virgin," she says.
"Greer!" I exclaim, dropping my pizza.
"I thought you were proud of it!"
"But you don't need to tell everyone!"
"Who's everyone? It's just us. Abby and Tiffany already knew. If you weren't so squeamish about discussing the subject then - " Greer stops and folds her arms. "Never mind."
"Then what?" I demand, although I already know. We've had this conversation a million times in a million different ways.
Greer looks at me and sighs. "If you weren't such a prude, Shannon, Mick wouldn't have dumped you. Especially not in such a horrible fashion."
I set down my slice of pizza, insides growing hot. What is wrong with Greer? Where has my best friend gone? I stare at her, harder and harder, trying to see the old Greer. My Greer.
Abby blows up. "Greer Carson! That's a nasty thing to say to Shannon! If she has to sleep with some jerk to keep him around, then he isn't worth her time. Shannon has morals, unlike some people. You're lucky Kristy isn't here!"
Sally leans back in her chair. "Yeah, Kat would rip you apart for being a sexist douche."
Greer frowns, trying to figure out if Sally's actually saying she is a sexist douche.
"Where are all the boys you've slept with, Greer?" Tiffany asks, snidely. She stands up and grabs my arm. "Come on, Shanny. Let's go upstairs, so Greer can leave."
Greer sits silently for a moment, watching us. "I'm sorry, Shannon," she finally says, but I'm not sure she means it.