Page 1 of Life of the Party

PART 1

CHAPTER 1

My father was peering at me over his newspaper, watching in disgust as I sprinkled yet another spoonful of sugar on my grapefruit.

“I think that defeats the purpose, Mac.” My father grinned.

The look I gave him was as sour as the fruit. “It’s gross,” I replied.

“Mac.” My mom frowned as she bustled about the kitchen. “You’ll give yourself a cavity. What’s the matter? You always liked grapefruit.”

I had no answer for this, stabbing at the poor fruit with my spoon instead. Mom shook her head and yawned. She had just walked in the door from another night shift at the hospital and was probably in no mood to deal with me. She poured herself a coffee instead.

I pushed the fruit aside as my father shook his head and returned to his paper. My black nail polish was chipping. I sat back and picked at it.

“You know, Mac, it’s supposed to be a really hot day.” Mom eyed my hoodie then. “Maybe you want to wear something lighter. What about the skirt I got you?”

I sighed. “I don’t do skirts, Mom. You knew that when you bought it for me.” Of course she did, but it bothered her when I didn’t dress up all pretty for school. She felt inclined to leave these subtle hints on my bed from time to time, skirts and trendy shoes and button-up blouses that I threw into a pile in the back of my closet.

It’s not that I don’t care about my appearance, I’m not a grunge or anything, but I’m not into the valedictorian-wear my mom feels is necessary. My typical outfit involved blue jeans, some sweet t-shirt, a hoodie, and any kind of dark skater shoes that made my size nine feet look at least two sizes smaller.

I knew she hated it.

“So Mac.” My father intervened, setting his paper down. “How goes the job search?”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “This again?”

“Yes, this again. You’re seventeen years old with no plans for higher education. You can live here, that’s fine, but not for free. You’re plenty old enough to get a job. When Marcy was your age—”

“I’m well aware of Marcy’s fantasticness, thank you.” I interrupted, turning my focus to the ends of my long, curly dark hair, pretending to look for split ends.

I hoped he’d get my hint. He didn’t.

“Well, fine. I’ll be back Saturday. I’d like to have some answers by then. Maybe you could get a job at the hospital. Are they still hiring, Deb?”

“Oh, there’s always work.” Mom perked up. “You may have to volunteer at first, but that always looks good on a resume. Do you want me to speak to Doug for you, Mackenzie?”

I looked at their hopeful faces incredulously. No way in hell.

“Uh…we’ll see,” I answered. I was saved then by the loud, off-key baap of the car horn out front. “Oh, Riley’s here,” I said with relief. “I gotta go.”

Mom made her face then, almost on cue, the face that makes its appearance whenever Riley’s name is mentioned. It’s not that she hates him exactly, but she feels I could do with better friends, a bunch of girlfriends preferably.

Girlfriends…on the right side of the tracks.

I rolled my eyes at her and waved absently to my father.

“All right, bye.” Nothing annoyed me more than ‘the face.’ I grabbed the books I’d brought home Friday (and hadn’t touched since) on my way out the door.

Riley’s car was a sight. It was giant, purple and rusty, with red velour upholstery and a beaten-up dashboard—but it was my chariot to freedom. I gave him my first sincere smile of the day and hastened happily towards his car.

“Hey,” I greeted my best friend breathlessly, sinking into the plush, threadbare fabric of his front seat.

“Hey.” Riley smiled back, gazing warmly at me, waiting until I was settled before he pulled the car back onto the street. I dug through my purse for my pack of cigarettes, lighting two and passing one over to him, taking that first precious drag and blowing the smoke satisfyingly out the window.

I could feel the tension of the morning melting away.

“So.” Riley cleared his throat. “That was some party, hey?”

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