the dog collar.”
She wrinkles her pert nose. “What does that mean? It’s pretty nice of him to agree to come all the way over from his winter home on the mainland to pick me and Becca up.”
“He should apply for sainthood,” I agree.
She cranes her neck to look at the clock, then sits up straight. “Well, I’ve got to jet. I need to get a shower in.”
I scowl at her. “Are you going out with him tonight?”
“Arf, arf,” she says, pretending to beg like a puppy. “No dog collars here. It isn’t just with him. It’s a group thing.”
“You’re going to a party on the first night of school?”
“It’s not a party,” she says. “At least, I don’t think it is. He said something about going to the Airport. Like, a bunch of people are going to hang out there. I think it’s the name of a new restaurant or something. It can’t be the real airport, like where planes and stuff come in, right?”
I shrug and suddenly want to stab myself in the eye with my pencil. My own sister is going to be welcoming Wish back to Jersey tonight, and I won’t be there. Who knows, maybe they’ll have a parade and strippers and fireworks, too. I wonder if, with all the fanfare, he’ll even care that I’m not there.
11
T HAT NIGHT , I can’t sleep. I have these two competing visions in my mind: one of Wish trying to find me among his horde of admirers, then bursting into tears when he realizes I’m not there, and shouting to the heavens, “Why, God, why?” And the other of him being tackled by a crowd of hot, naked cheerleaders as soon as he comes up the ramp.
A little after eleven, I hear voices on the street below, and then a car door slams and footsteps quickly but lightly ascend the rickety staircase outside. Evie. When the door swings open, I almost tackle her in the kitchen, in the dark. She lets out a little scream and then I realize I must look like a complete psychopath, jumping on my sister like that. So I cover up by whispering, “Oh, sorry. I forgot you were out. I thought you were a burglar.”
She takes a deep breath, recovering. “Who the hell would want to steal from this place?”
“Sorry,” I say. “So, how were things?”
“Fine.” She yawns and makes a move like she’s going to head to her bedroom, and I jump in front of her, nearly tripping over our kitchen table.
“Where are you going?”
“To pee, and then bed,” she says.
It’s late, and I’m tired, too, but the only thing I’m fully aware of is that if I have to go to bed without getting the lowdown on what happened tonight from her, I will not live through the night. I grab her by the wrist, open the fridge, and say, “You want something to eat?”
She yawns again. “God, no.”
I slam the refrigerator door and stand there, blocking her from the bathroom. “Um, so, really, did you have a good time?”
She shrugs. “Look, you have nothing to worry about with Rick. I don’t even think he’s my type.”
“I don’t care about that,” I say, which is true, for the moment. Right now, all I want to know is whether Wish got naked with some pom-pom-wielding harlots. “Like, so did that new restaurant have good food?”
She laughs. “Oh, get this! It wasn’t a restaurant. We actually went to the Philly airport. To see Wish. So why weren’t you there?”
At least it occurred to her that I should have been part of the welcoming party for my boyfriend. “Well,” I say, “I thought it would be overwhelming, so many people there …”
“You got that right. It was a madhouse. I think the whole school was there.”
Except me. Great; my boyfriend, the celebrity.
“Oh. How does he look?”
She nods. “Good. Really good.”
I’m not sure why I asked that. Evie isn’t the best at description. Everything looks good or fine or okay to her. Fishing for information with her is about as fun and easy as clothes shopping for me. “Did he … say anything to you?”
“I didn’t really talk to him. He was kind
She wrinkles her pert nose. “What does that mean? It’s pretty nice of him to agree to come all the way over from his winter home on the mainland to pick me and Becca up.”
“He should apply for sainthood,” I agree.
She cranes her neck to look at the clock, then sits up straight. “Well, I’ve got to jet. I need to get a shower in.”
I scowl at her. “Are you going out with him tonight?”
“Arf, arf,” she says, pretending to beg like a puppy. “No dog collars here. It isn’t just with him. It’s a group thing.”
“You’re going to a party on the first night of school?”
“It’s not a party,” she says. “At least, I don’t think it is. He said something about going to the Airport. Like, a bunch of people are going to hang out there. I think it’s the name of a new restaurant or something. It can’t be the real airport, like where planes and stuff come in, right?”
I shrug and suddenly want to stab myself in the eye with my pencil. My own sister is going to be welcoming Wish back to Jersey tonight, and I won’t be there. Who knows, maybe they’ll have a parade and strippers and fireworks, too. I wonder if, with all the fanfare, he’ll even care that I’m not there.
11
T HAT NIGHT , I can’t sleep. I have these two competing visions in my mind: one of Wish trying to find me among his horde of admirers, then bursting into tears when he realizes I’m not there, and shouting to the heavens, “Why, God, why?” And the other of him being tackled by a crowd of hot, naked cheerleaders as soon as he comes up the ramp.
A little after eleven, I hear voices on the street below, and then a car door slams and footsteps quickly but lightly ascend the rickety staircase outside. Evie. When the door swings open, I almost tackle her in the kitchen, in the dark. She lets out a little scream and then I realize I must look like a complete psychopath, jumping on my sister like that. So I cover up by whispering, “Oh, sorry. I forgot you were out. I thought you were a burglar.”
She takes a deep breath, recovering. “Who the hell would want to steal from this place?”
“Sorry,” I say. “So, how were things?”
“Fine.” She yawns and makes a move like she’s going to head to her bedroom, and I jump in front of her, nearly tripping over our kitchen table.
“Where are you going?”
“To pee, and then bed,” she says.
It’s late, and I’m tired, too, but the only thing I’m fully aware of is that if I have to go to bed without getting the lowdown on what happened tonight from her, I will not live through the night. I grab her by the wrist, open the fridge, and say, “You want something to eat?”
She yawns again. “God, no.”
I slam the refrigerator door and stand there, blocking her from the bathroom. “Um, so, really, did you have a good time?”
She shrugs. “Look, you have nothing to worry about with Rick. I don’t even think he’s my type.”
“I don’t care about that,” I say, which is true, for the moment. Right now, all I want to know is whether Wish got naked with some pom-pom-wielding harlots. “Like, so did that new restaurant have good food?”
She laughs. “Oh, get this! It wasn’t a restaurant. We actually went to the Philly airport. To see Wish. So why weren’t you there?”
At least it occurred to her that I should have been part of the welcoming party for my boyfriend. “Well,” I say, “I thought it would be overwhelming, so many people there …”
“You got that right. It was a madhouse. I think the whole school was there.”
Except me. Great; my boyfriend, the celebrity.
“Oh. How does he look?”
She nods. “Good. Really good.”
I’m not sure why I asked that. Evie isn’t the best at description. Everything looks good or fine or okay to her. Fishing for information with her is about as fun and easy as clothes shopping for me. “Did he … say anything to you?”
“I didn’t really talk to him. He was kind
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