nostrils had actually flared.
Just as Heather hit the crowded living room, someone grabbed her arm and spun her around so fast, it took the rest of the room a few seconds to catch up with her. It all slid into focus and bounced to a stop like a ball on a roulette wheel.
"You're never going to believe who's slumming with Gaia Moore." It was Megan's voice. Her face wasn't all sharp yet, but it was definitely her voice.
"She's here?" Heather said, feeling the mixed drinks start to remix themselves in her stomach.
"Yeah. And she's talking to Charlie Salita," Megan answered, almost sounding pleased that she was the one who got to deliver this mind-bending news. Her little tendril curls bounced so crazily around her face, it made it all the more difficult for Heather to focus.
Heather turned, slowly this time, and scanned the fuzzy-figure-filled room. Sure enough, Gaia Moore was leaning against the far wall, looking like a homeless shelter reject, laughing it up with Charlie Salita, who was looking like he'd just stepped off a Milan runway. Charlie Salita. The unattainable. The only guy Heather had ever liked that she had never gotten to kiss.
Charlie laughed. Heather's stomach turned. It was either flee to the bathroom or the bar.
Heather chose the bar, although she was pretty sure she was done drinking for the night. She found a stool and plopped down next to one of Charlie's friends -- a semicute jock named Scott Becker.
"Can I get you a drink?" Scott asked, leaning toward her and grinning.
"Uh, just a water. Thanks." Heather threw one last glance in Charlie's direction, but she was determined to at least
look
like she was having a good time. When she turned back around, Scott was still grinning and holding a beer in his left hand.
"Thought you might like a beer instead," he whispered, nudging her. Something in his smile put Heather on edge.
"Whatever." She shrugged, taking the beer and sliding off her stool. As she started making her way back toward Megan, she looked over her shoulder toward Scott. He was scowling at her back as she walked away. What a creep, she thought to herself Heather Gannis knew when a guy was trying to get her drunk. And Scott Becker had picked the wrong girl to take advantage of, she mused, as she took a sip of her beer.
ACTUAL LAUGHTER
GAIA WATCHED AS CHARLIE PLACED a peanut on the dining-room table and crouched down. He brought his eye level with the top of the table and studied the crowd as if he were lining up a cue with the ball. Then he reached up, pressed the tip of his thumb and forefinger together, and flicked. The peanut flew off the table and pelted some kid in a plaid shirt with a choppy haircut on the back of the neck.
He flinched, reached back to touch his wound, and turned around, glaring in Gaia and Charlie's direction. "What are you --"
"Duck!" Charlie whispered. Before Gaia could even ask him why they should bother, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her to the floor. His face was inches away from hers as he laughed like a little kid who'd just found a dollar on the sidewalk. He had good teeth but onion-dip breath.
"Do you think he saw us?" Charlie asked, pressing one hand against the carpet to keep his balance.
Gaia rolled her eyes. "No. We're both invisible, actually."
"Your turn," Charlie said, pressing a few sweaty peanuts into her palm.
"I don't think so," Gaia said. "You've already taken out most of the room." She suddenly wished Mary
had
shown. Fun didn't get much cleaner than using Planters' Best as miniature weapons. And she had a feeling Mary would have perfect aim.
Charlie bit his lip and grinned. "Come on," he whispered. "There's gotta be someone you want to peanut pelt."
How about half the world's population? Gaia reached above her head and opened her fingers above the edge of the table, rolling the peanuts onto the thick surface. Then she pushed herself up on her knees so that just the top of her head was visible over the table. She scanned the room for
Just as Heather hit the crowded living room, someone grabbed her arm and spun her around so fast, it took the rest of the room a few seconds to catch up with her. It all slid into focus and bounced to a stop like a ball on a roulette wheel.
"You're never going to believe who's slumming with Gaia Moore." It was Megan's voice. Her face wasn't all sharp yet, but it was definitely her voice.
"She's here?" Heather said, feeling the mixed drinks start to remix themselves in her stomach.
"Yeah. And she's talking to Charlie Salita," Megan answered, almost sounding pleased that she was the one who got to deliver this mind-bending news. Her little tendril curls bounced so crazily around her face, it made it all the more difficult for Heather to focus.
Heather turned, slowly this time, and scanned the fuzzy-figure-filled room. Sure enough, Gaia Moore was leaning against the far wall, looking like a homeless shelter reject, laughing it up with Charlie Salita, who was looking like he'd just stepped off a Milan runway. Charlie Salita. The unattainable. The only guy Heather had ever liked that she had never gotten to kiss.
Charlie laughed. Heather's stomach turned. It was either flee to the bathroom or the bar.
Heather chose the bar, although she was pretty sure she was done drinking for the night. She found a stool and plopped down next to one of Charlie's friends -- a semicute jock named Scott Becker.
"Can I get you a drink?" Scott asked, leaning toward her and grinning.
"Uh, just a water. Thanks." Heather threw one last glance in Charlie's direction, but she was determined to at least
look
like she was having a good time. When she turned back around, Scott was still grinning and holding a beer in his left hand.
"Thought you might like a beer instead," he whispered, nudging her. Something in his smile put Heather on edge.
"Whatever." She shrugged, taking the beer and sliding off her stool. As she started making her way back toward Megan, she looked over her shoulder toward Scott. He was scowling at her back as she walked away. What a creep, she thought to herself Heather Gannis knew when a guy was trying to get her drunk. And Scott Becker had picked the wrong girl to take advantage of, she mused, as she took a sip of her beer.
ACTUAL LAUGHTER
GAIA WATCHED AS CHARLIE PLACED a peanut on the dining-room table and crouched down. He brought his eye level with the top of the table and studied the crowd as if he were lining up a cue with the ball. Then he reached up, pressed the tip of his thumb and forefinger together, and flicked. The peanut flew off the table and pelted some kid in a plaid shirt with a choppy haircut on the back of the neck.
He flinched, reached back to touch his wound, and turned around, glaring in Gaia and Charlie's direction. "What are you --"
"Duck!" Charlie whispered. Before Gaia could even ask him why they should bother, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her to the floor. His face was inches away from hers as he laughed like a little kid who'd just found a dollar on the sidewalk. He had good teeth but onion-dip breath.
"Do you think he saw us?" Charlie asked, pressing one hand against the carpet to keep his balance.
Gaia rolled her eyes. "No. We're both invisible, actually."
"Your turn," Charlie said, pressing a few sweaty peanuts into her palm.
"I don't think so," Gaia said. "You've already taken out most of the room." She suddenly wished Mary
had
shown. Fun didn't get much cleaner than using Planters' Best as miniature weapons. And she had a feeling Mary would have perfect aim.
Charlie bit his lip and grinned. "Come on," he whispered. "There's gotta be someone you want to peanut pelt."
How about half the world's population? Gaia reached above her head and opened her fingers above the edge of the table, rolling the peanuts onto the thick surface. Then she pushed herself up on her knees so that just the top of her head was visible over the table. She scanned the room for
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